Where are they, the phantoms?

Last night I let darkness fall on my eyes

Shadows crept into my home

Sneaks of all sizes confidently poured in

Clinging to any little hard thing they could get hold of

Seep, creep, slither thither

‘Left, right, tiptoe

Here we are, never to go’

Hop stop In

I slashed away in all directions

They gave way like red butter

Fell into gory little pieces

But one would not go

Dead, lifeless but not powerless

The crabby, skeletal ghost won’t let go

I hit hard but it clings tight

I jerk, I shrug, I chuck

I toss, I fling, I throw

I do everything so that it goes far,

Out of my way

It does that.

But I sense its ruthless march back

Oh, I don’t have the strength to halt it!

(Or is it that I don’t have the mind?)

I am left with the perpetual remnant

Am I?

The soft sun caressed my eyes

The holy waters are wetting them

Where are they, the phantoms?

Where have they drifted away to,

those dry flakes?

Ah, Darkness is thy doing

Let at least the lightest of flames be

(That will do, to drive away

the darkest of demons)

Till thou catch the blaze

From tip to toe

(or Till thou art all ablaze)

.... and then later..

*Thanks to http://onlinespiritualstories.blogspot.com/2009_04_01_archive.html

Once this disciple went about the streets

Saw a fat landlord kicking up his keep

Heart shed tears as he saw the boy weep

He intervened and stopped the heavy beats

Rage frustrated, the landlord rained his fists

On our holy boy, he fell down senseless

Brothers and teacher heard the news, and themselves

Brought him gently home laid in bed to rest

One sprinkled water and he came around

'Nother fed him milk and asked him `Do thou

Recognize him who feedest milk to thou ?'

Hear his words with halo shining round

`He, the Great God, who beat me indeed sits

Lovingly with concern with milk me feeds'

* the photo is that of young Sri Ramana Maharishi. It is here to serve the purpose of illustration. My most respectful pranams to Sri Maharishi.

The Disciple and the mad elephant

Thanks to http://www.anecdote.com.au/archives/2010/01/the_mahout_the.html

Once in Hindustan was a hermitage

With his disciples there lived a wise sage

He taught the highest truth that to always

Keep in mind that God sports in many ways

`It's God alone that takes up many shapes

Beasts, plants, humans and as all that exist'

A disciple walking in deep woods gaped

In wonder at God's forms he was amidst

An uproar broke out there in the deep woods

Trees wrenched by roots and a mighty trumpet

A warning voice rang out, `Fast as you could

Run,Run, Run away, mad tusker 's about!'

`Thou my God!' the boy sang before the beast

Was thrown, bones broken, his God cared the least.

The hurt boy lay, more at heart than body,

Was sore that elephant God had failed him

`I saw God in all but He had His whims,

And had hurt me much, ah, God is naughty'

His good brothers carried him home lightly.

`Why didn't thou run ?', the wise Guru asked

`I stood praising him, thou said all is God,

He didn't play his part, hurt me mightily!'

The good teacher laughed, `the tusker 's indeed God,

So was the warning mahout you should know.

His warning too was God's very own show!'

As knowledge flashed the boy did slowly nod

So long thou feelest pain heed the mahout

He merges as knowledge dawns, with the behemoth

Death

http://www.freedigitalphotos.net/images/Religious_buildings_g294-Graveyard_p24011.html

Amidst all the mourning kin

He stands alone with ghostly pale

Starring stunned with disbelief

At the mystery before him

A day before

With joyous hearts

They had bid

Farewell to him

And had gone

To enjoy their

Twentieth spring

Of togetherness

Did they wave

Goodbye to him

Or were they

Saying that

They will not

Return to him?

Was it them

Which returned

Or is it

The empty nest?

The old puzzle

Left him dumb

In the screen

Of his heart

Flashes past

Vivid scenes

Of happy days

In company

As the scenes

Change and change

A sudden thought

Chills his heart

A day before

They had been

A day hence

Nothing will be

An old fool’s

Lifeless words

Resonates

With life anew

As he asks

`All a dream?’

The priest juggles

With strange words

Machine-like

He complies with

All that is

Asked by priests

His infant hands

Had fed before

Tender food

To eager mouths

The hardened hand

Feeds now

Coarse rice

To forced mouths

The eyes that were

Flashing stars

Stares lifeless

At the sun

Two fire-pots

Come to him

Holding these

He goes ahead

Along the road

With bare chest

Can one know

Where he looks ?

The curious

Passers-by

Seem to be

Dead to him

They come to a

Stop now

The two lie on

Their last bed

Covered by

A professional

The fire pots

Become light

The fires start to burn without

The fire starts to burn within

The fires now rage without

The fire now rages within

Ashes start to collect without

Ashes start to collect within

Cracking sound are heard without

Cracking sound are heard within

A big cracking sound is heard

`Shiva’ he cries and comes to life

He springs towards the piles of ash

Undaunted by the shouts of all

Before they all could contain him

He had grabbed two handfuls

Now his face shines with ash

All his clothes tear apart

`Poor boy’ they say of him

They all begin to call him mad.

This is an instance of `Smashana Vairaghya’ (Cremation ground renunciation) turning to birth of real knowledge. Nothing like this happened with the boy whose father died. But these were the reactions in my mind.

Tales and Parables of Sri Ramakrishna - The Wise Farmer

THERE was a farmer who lived in the countryside.
He was a real jnani. He earned his living by
farming. He was married, and after many years a
son was bor to him, whom he named Haru. The
parents loved the boy dearly. This was natural,
since he was the one precious gem of the family.
On account of his religious nature the farmer was
loved by the villagers. One day he was working in
the field when a neighbour came and told him that
Haru had an attack of cholera. The farmer at once
returned home and arranged for treatment for the
boy. But Haru died. The other members of the
family were grief-stricken, but the farmer acted as
if nothing had happened. He consoled his family
and told them that grieving was futile. Then he
went back to his field. On returning home he
found his wife weeping even more bitterly. She
said to him: "How heartless you are! You haven't
shed one tear for the child." The farmer replied
quietly: "Shall I tell you why I haven't wept? I had a
very vivid dream last night. I dreamt I had become
a king; I was the father of eight sons and was very
happy with them. Then I woke up. Now I am
greatly perplexed. Should I weep for those eight
sons or for this one Haru?"

The farmer was a jnani; therefore he realized that
the waking state is as unreal as die dream state.

There is only one eternal substance, and that is the
Atman.

The Wise Farmer

Once, there lived a peasant couple with a son

Haru, they fondly called him, their only one

Long awaited child, they loved him dearly

Did the best for him. All he wished for, had he.

The father, a pious man, head held high

Respected by all lived he. Days went by.

Gained wisdom as he mused while he tilled day long

Mother with her son, fussing all along

One fine morn, the farmer woke up musing

Found his only son ill and dying

Brought the best doctors, did all that he could

The boy died but no tears did he shed

Grieving mother grieved the more seeing him

Unmoved. `Your only son, young, full of vim,

Fate struck him but you grieve not, cry not !

Heartless you are, a stone's what you've got !'

The gentle farmer replied, `Hear my dear,

I am puzzled for whom to shed my tear

In the early morn I ruled a rich kingdom

Had six strapping princely sons with wisdom

And valor to win the world twice over

Then woke up to find them gone for ever

Now tell me dear, whom should I cry for ?

My Haru or those sons valorous in War ?'

This a dream ? That true ? Or the real is beyond, far ?

Truth flashed on her too. Dim brooding she quit.

Life with scenes of waking and dream is but

Tip of the living force solid and spread out.