A page from memory

It was in the year we had celebrated

The twenty fifth birth centenary of the Buddha,

And it was few months after my marriage

When my cousin took the surprise decision

To perform himself ‘Somayaga’ with the zeal

To follow the footsteps of his father and forefathers

And to make himself a link of an unbroken chain

Of ‘Somayagj’ s, whose first ring might have wrought

In the sacrificial fire several centuries before.

Earthen pots, wooden ladles, queer equipments,

Hymns form scriptures and rites, they opened

Before us a page from ancient history of a tribal life

Spent in pastures and greenwoods in Gangetic plains.

But to us it was a festive function

Spilling over a week of feasts.

We were melted in the crowd and occasionally

My wandering eyes got a glimpse of my life

Moving in company of girls and young women.

They lost themselves in talk and laughter,

A flock of swans afloat over a slow current.

It was in the year we had celebrated

The twenty-fifth birth centenary of the Buddha

That a sacrificial goat was suffocated to death

Amid loud chantings of Vedic hymns in chorus

After the high priest had sprinkled holy water

Over the body of the hapless animal whose bleating

Should not be heard thereafter, scriptural injunction

The palms of death had covered the goat’s mouth

And nose when several fists downed on its body.

I was a witness to the slow death that crawled

In agony in between the killer’s hands.

But my heart beats were as leisurely as before.

Not be otherwise as we know the Buddha now

As statues in stones and his gospels as edicts on rocks.

The fleecy and moon white lamb lay motionless,

Its legs outstretched, neck extended

Eyes half closed and mouth half opened.

That night I lay in wait for sleep,

But what came were disturbing thoughts,

Worse than nightmares, or wails of dried up tears,

Laughter of shackles, floggings of whips,

Bleeding backs, noiseless sobs and desperate flutter.

The rising moon melted into white hot flames,

And, in the murkiness dancing shadows grinned as ghosts.

My wife, was fest asleep, her gentle snoring

Was audible, I quietly rose up and glanced her

Who lay on her side, hands and legs stretched out,

Eyes half closed and lips gently opened,

A sudden chill pierced through my spines

And I saw one tiny tear drop falling on her cheeks.

(Image: Tallest Buddha statue excavated from Kerala (at Mavelikara). Source: Wikimedia)