My long poem: "The Miracle".

THE MIRACLE

By

John Wallen

PART ONE: Meet Hari Chand

Hari Chand—investigative journalist

Determined to illuminate

The terminal decline of Bharat;

With a special roving commission

From Anil Patil,

Concerned kshatriya of Maharashtra

Province: late professor of dermatology

At Jizan Health College,

Saudi Arabia,

Now expatriated to New Zealand;

Living along the outreaches

Of the Western world,

In Tauranga,

Dispensing

Ayurvedic remedies

To dissipated Europeans

O where did it all go wrong?

When Patanjali’s sutras

Explained the Vedic scheme

Siddharta’s wheel of Dharma

Already ruled supreme.

While Krishna and Arjuna

Discussed the pith of life

The chariots of ignorance

Disseminated strife.

At Vulture’s Peak, the Buddha

Revealed the Tantric path;

But my dear friend, Anil Patil,

Only makes me laugh!

The Mughals came

The Mughals built;

Shah Jihan, to his cost

Spent all his wealth on Mumtaza

Until his realm was lost.

In latter days he viewed “the Taj”

Through iron prison bars

Incarcerated by a son

Who’d kicked him in the arse.

Caste, Caste, Caste, Caste;

Caste deflated India…

If I can’t touch you,

And you can’t touch me,

How happy can we ever be?

Brahmin priests and all their rituals,

Friends to the worldy ones,

Undid India.

Brahma. Vishnu. Shiva.

Did you ever really need them?

Brahma created without their incantations.

Vishnu, Krishna, Buddha,

Sustained and enlightened, indifferent to their technical mumbo-jumbo:

Shiva’s dance of death destroys, regardless of Brahminical threads and pride

Pride destroyed India.

And yet,

Avalokiteshvara’s infinite compassion still abounds; His thousand arms waiting                                  To rescue all sentient beings from the chains of their ignorance,                                                          Into the Sambhogakaya :                                                                                                                      The Buddhafield.

Om Mani Padme Hum.

**************

I watched a snake charmer’s cheap trickeries

Outside Rajghat.

He wanted money.

Is it possible that one who is able to control

The dancing snake head

Can be in need of a few coppers from me?

O dissolute nation

Who had everything the world systems can provide,

But threw it all away--

What price must you pay

For your own unvirtue?

Hari Chand’s a secret guy;

You’ll find him in the bar,

Listening to private talk

(Not near, nor yet too far).

Whenever India’s discussed,

He’s got it on his mind

That something just might be picked up

Explaining her decline.

And as we know, he works for one

Inextricably bound

To the travails of Bharat and

The Ganges’ rushing sound.

It’s good to know that even when

Anil is in his dreams

Hari Chand is on the case

And life’s not what it seems.

PART TWO: Delhi Musings

I spent some time in Delhi’s maze

Of beggars, rickshaws, bikes and shit;

And everywhere I felt the gaze

Of those who would abandon it

A mother with her bundled child,

Tapped upon the moving glass.

Her eyes roamed, desperate and wild,

And wouldn’t let me pass.

I offered up some gift of notes

And suddenly there came

A hundred more in tattered coats

And each one had no name.

I looked upon their greedy eyes,

Then waved the driver on;

And inwardly, without surprise,

I felt compassion gone.

***********

The poor and desolate are our friends,

They teach us generosity;

Let’s love our enemies better than our relatives

(As those who hate us give an opportunity for the practice of patience).

Perhaps one day I can become wild and homeless myself,

Though without the unmindfulness of a Delhi street beggar;

No, no, but with the green tinge of an enlightened Milarepa

Seeing beyond the limitations of

Nirmanakaya.

**************

Ashkhardan is beautiful

And, in just five years,

Volunteers built its stone temple

In the old way, fashioned from the imagination and love,

Without steel and iron.

Krishna consciousness pervades the essence.

Om Hari Krishna

Om Hari Krishna

Om Om Om

Hari Chand is on the case. He sees all, but says little. Everything is placed in the balance.

Dr. Anil will have his answer.

PART THREE: Dr. Anil in Motion and Still Life

Dr. Anil gave up all his glamour

When he travelled to Jizan.

Nevertheless,

He tried to show the Jizanis,

Through an innate pride in his nation,

The glory of the Vedas:

What they are, had been, and ever would be.

Even when they scoffed,

And asked him if the sacred cow had been his mother,

He persevered,

Watching old movies about Gods and Avatars

In his pleasing home,

Surrounded by a loving family:

His wife, Priyanka,

And blessed daughter Vishakha

Who, as the reincarnation of Anil’s maternal grandmother,

Was (somehow) close to Shiva

Lord of the dance.

Dr. Anil, disciple of Shankacharya,

Why did you come to Jizan?

Get away as quick as you can!

Talking’s just a barrier

To the enlightenment of man.

Leave it all to Hari… Hari Chand.

Hari’s built for sniffing out the meaning of life,

And the reasons for strife.

He’s a smooth operator

And sooner or later

He’ll find out all you want to know

Of virtue, knowledge, death and View:

He’ll show you what to do,

Explain the transcendental light

Of wisdom, just for you.

Om Hari Hari Chand.

Take refuge in the Hari.

PART FOUR: Vulture’s Peak

Rajgir was the setting for

The Dharma’s second spin:

The prajnaparamita core

Of emptiness within.

Thus have I heard: at Vulture’s Peak

The Thusly-Gone one taught

All aspirants who truly seek

To find a secret thought.

“Nam m’yoho renge kyo”:

The blessings showered down;

The diamond and the lotus show

The heart within the crown.

Assembled Boddhisattvas watched

Shunyata’s face arise

From Union with Emptiness

(And in the Buddha’s eyes).

Oh India you were not fit

To learn the Tantric truth

From Uddiyana’s great pandit

(Nor Krishna’s guileless youth).

Ganges, Yamuna, Saraswat:

Sweet Gangetic plains!

Holy rivers of Bharat,

Filled by monsoon rains!

Why did the flowing Dharma cease?

Why was the Tantra dumb?

Why did that mighty soul decrease?

Why didn’t Moksha come?

Why did the Buddha at Rajgir

Decide to hide the truth,

From India and all the world,

In Nagar serpent tooth?

Oh why is Ramakrishna’s faith,

Nandranath’s noble jewels,

Diluted by some Pretan wraith

Into a billion fools?

PART FIVE: Hari Reports Back to Anil

Slowly,

Anil rebuilds his life in Tauranga;

And even Vishakha,

And his dear departed grandmother

(Who now holds a New Zealand passport),

Is/are content.

Life is good.

Furthermore,

Hari Chand’s report

Has just arrived from Delhi, giving meaty food for thought.

According to Hari

Life is a bitch

And we just have to try and get over it.

Anil (on the whole) finds himself in concurrence with these noble sentiments.

Om Tat Sat!

© John Wallen