[pic by Ruwan Balasooriya] |
My
sweetest childhood memories are of Kurunegala. ‘Kurunegala’ was not the
capital of Wayamba for me. It was not a bustling township, not for me.
Kurunegala, to me, was the home of my maternal grandparents. It was
where we spent all our school holidays. It is a place of magical
memories.
Among them, one which is indelibly etched in my mind
is early morning pirith. It was customary for my grandfather to wake up
early, his head covered with a shawl for it could be quite cold at that
time and sit by the radio listening to the recitation of the thun sutra.
He didn’t turn up the volume. It didn’t make me jump out of
bed. It just blended with the birdsong that indicated night was done. I
didn’t know the meaning. I didn’t ask and he didn’t venture to explain.
We didn’t mind.
When I was older, there were days when he would
get us; that’s my sister, brother and myself; to read from the Maha
Pirith Potha which contained the Mangala, Rathana and Karaniya Metta
sutras. He knew these by heart. He recited along with us, pausing
whenever we stumbled over a word that was particularly difficult to
pronounce. We didn’t know what it meant. He didn’t tell us. We didn’t
mind.
Years later, I did learn the meaning of the Pali stanzas.
The music lingered though because what wafted out of that ancient radio
was pleasing. And therefore from time to time some lines would pop up in
my mind.
Sometimes it’s a line from the Ratana Sutra (Jewel
Discourse) which is found in the Sutta Nipata and is usually chanted to
bless those who face any form of evil, negativity, sickness and fear of
death. I ‘hear’ the Karaniya Metta Sutra (Discourse on Loving Kindness).
Today it was the Mangala Sutra (Discourse on Blessings) and I can’t
really figure out why. Two verses came to me.
The first:
Pa.tiruupa-desa-vaaso ca
pubbe ca kata-puññataa
Atta-sammaa-pa.nidhi ca
etam-ma"ngalam-uttama"m.
Living in a civilized country, having made merit in the past,
Directing oneself rightly:
This is the highest good fortune
‘Pa.tiruupa-desa’
could be translated as ‘ideal land’ or ideal country/nation. A place,
then, of wholesome social order. It’s easy to conclude, ‘we are not
blessed.’ So we can ask two questions. First, is there a pa.tiruupa-desaya
and if so where is it, what is its name? If there isn’t such a land, we
can ask, ‘how do we create such a land?’ We could also abandon the
search for a pa.tiruupa-desaya and the creation of one. The
Mangala Sutra is not prescriptive after all. It simply says, if such and
such things are evident, then it is a blessing.
This side of
the pursuit of enlightenment, the lay person does imagine ideal
communities, ideal social systems. So it is essentially a political
project. In such a land, perhaps, it is easier for people to reflect on
the elements of the doctrine that could lead to ultimate emancipation.
It is good to think of creating such a community and system, as
advocated by the Buddha in the Chavalata Sutta (Firebrand Discourse)
where four types of people are discussed: those who practices to benefit
neither themselves nor others; those who practices to benefit others,
but not themselves; those who practices to benefit themselves, but not
others; and those who practices to benefit both themselves and others.
So, on to the second stanza that came to mind:
Maataa-pitu-upa.t.thaana"m
putta-daarassa sa"ngaho
Anaakulaa ca kammantaa
etam-ma”ngalam-uttama"m.
Support for one's parents, assistance to one's wife & children,
Jobs that are not left unfinished:
This is the highest good fortune.
This line in particular: anaakulaa ca kammantaa or jobs that are left unfinished. In relation to the first one referred to above, the unfinished job is that of creating the pa.tiruupa-desaya.
The ‘how’ of it is a challenging task. If people knew, we would not be
inhabiting this nation that is so far removed from ‘wholesome,’ and is
almost the polar opposite of a pa.tiruupa-desaya.
Of
course one might say that such a ‘pure land’ is an impossible
proposition. And yet, we do have reference to such an abode in some
Mahayana discourses where two elements are privileged, wisdom and
compassion.
The fourth type of person described in the Chavalata Sutra is best prepared to undertake the task of creating the pa.tiruupa-desaya.
Such a person would want to engage in practices that benefit that
person as well as others. And such a person needs to be empowered with
wisdom and compassion. Thus, we can conclude that the cultivation of
these is the pathway to finish the unfinished job(s) related to the pa.tiruupa-desaya.
Today,
thirty one years after he passed away, I feel my grandfather’s presence
and I offer him what merit has accrued to me for a swift journey to the
end of samsara and for the compassion and wisdom necessary to play his
part in delivering the pa.tiruupa-desaya, be it in some
well-defined territory or in the more elusive land that is his mind as
he listens, contemplates and acts upon conclusions reached.
While
wisdom is being acquired, compassion can be wished and that could very
well be what my grandfather probably wanted for himself and others.
['The Morning Inspection' is the title of a column I wrote for the Daily News from 2009 to 2011, one article a day, Monday through Saturday. This is the 281st article in the new series that began in December 2022. Links to previous articles are given below]
malindadocs@gmail.com
Other articles in this series:
Autumn days and nights thirteen centuries apart
Texts are ancient, transcription error-ridden
The word as a sword held to the throat of truth
Residents of and residency in heart and mind
Merit, integrity and seniority in the superior courts
Hunters and 'victims' of immemorial light
The unbearable lightness of pause
Seasons bookeneded by leaves on park benches
The world shall not be emptied of poetry
Reclaiming the everyday with solidarities of tender fury
An Aussie broke a SLan heart in Ind for Afg
Writing magical pieces about something beautiful when time permits
The scattered archives of art and protest
Friendship that keep friends permanently at 16
Amherst: silent, rural, poetic and serendipitous
The virtues of unemployability
A breathless hush at the close
Ahmed Issa, fearless and audacious in Gaza
Let us take a deep breath now...
How Grolier Poetry writes 'Harvard Square'
Following children and their smiles
Let's plant words in cracks and craters
When the earth closes upon us...
Let us now march to the battleground of words
The most pernicious human shield
Who bombed Frankfurter Buchmesse
Love's austere and lonely offices
The mysteriously enjoined in the middle of nowhere
Reflections on the unimaginable
Jackson Anthony is a book and will be read
A village called Narberth Bookshop
'Irvin' and other one-word poems
Earth pieces Kerala and Sri Lanka
In the land of insomnial poets
When you don't need an invitation, it's home
When the Canadian House of Commons applauded a Nazi...
The importance of not skipping steps
No free passes to the Land of Integrity
Hector Kobbekaduwa is not a building, statue, street or stamp
Rajagala and the Parable of the Panner
Let's show love to Starbucks employees!
Octavio Paz and Arthur C Clarke in the stratosphere
9/11 and the calm metal instrument of Salvador Allende's voice
Whitman, Neruda and things that wait in all things
Thilina Kaluthotage's eyes keep watch
Profit: the peragamankaru of major wars
In loving memory of Carrie Lee (1956-2020)
Mobsters on and off the screen
We're here because we're here because we're here
Sha'Carri Richardson versus and with Sha'Carri Richardson
A stroll with Pragg and Arjun along a boulevard in Baku
Daya Sahabandu ran out of partners but must have smiled to the end
Sapan and voices that erase borders
Problem elephants and problem humans
The 'inhuman' elephant in a human zoo
Ivan Art: Ivanthi Fernando's efforts to align meaning
Let's help Jagana Krishnakumar rebuild our ancestral home
Do you have a friend in Pennsylvania (or anywhere?)
A gateway to illumination in West Virginia
Through strange fissures into magical orchards
There's sea glass love few will see
Re-residencing Lakdasa Wikkramasinha
Poisoning poets and shredding books of verse
The responsible will not be broken
Ownership and tenuriality of the Wissahickon
Did you notice the 'tiny, tiny wayside flowers'?
Gifts, gifting and their rubbishing
Journalism inadvertently learned
Reflections on the young poetic heart
Wordaholic, trynasty and other portmanteaus
The 'Loku Aiya' of all 'Paththara Mallis'
Subverting the indecency of the mind
Character theft and the perennial question 'who am I?'
Saji Coomaraswamy and rewards that matter
Seeing, unseeing and seeing again
Alex Carey and the (small) matter of legacy
The insomnial dreams of Kapila Kumara Kalinga
The clothes we wear and the clothes that wear us (down)
Every mountain, every rock, is sacred
Manufacturing passivity and obedience
Sanjeew Lonliyes: rawness unplugged, unlimited
In praise of courage, determination and insanity
The relative values of life and death
Poetry and poets will not be buried
Reunion Peradeniya (1980-1990)
Sorrowing and delighting the world
Encounters with Liyanage Amarakeerthi
Letters that cut and heal the heart
A forgotten dawn song from Embilipitiya
The soft rain of neighbourliness
Reflections on waves and markings
Respond to insults in line with the Akkosa Sutra
The right time, the right person
The silent equivalent of a thousand words
Crazy cousins are besties for life
The lost lyrics of Premakeerthi de Alwis
Consolation prizes in competitions no one ever wins
Blackness, whiteness and black-whiteness
Inscriptions: stubborn and erasable
Deveni: a priceless one-word koan
Recovering run-on lines and lost punctuation
'Wetness' is not the preserve of the Dry Zone
On sweeping close to one's feet
Kumkum Fernando installs Sri Lanka in Coachella, California
To be an island like the Roberts...
Debts that can never be repaid in full
An island which no flood can overwhelm
A melody faint and yet not beyond hearing
Heart dances that cannot be choreographed
Remembering to forget and forgetting to remember
Authors are assassinated, readers are immortal
It is good to be conscious of nudities
Saturday slides in after Monday and Sunday somersaults into Friday
There's a one in a million and a one in ten
Kumkum Fernando installs Sri Lanka in Coachella, California
Hemantha Gunawardena's signature
Architectures of the demolished
The exotic lunacy of parting gifts
Who the heck do you think I am?
Those fascinating 'Chitra Katha'
So how are things in Sri Lanka?
The sweetest three-letter poem
Teams, team-thinking, team-spirit and leadership
The songs we could sing in lifeboats when we are shipwrecked
Jekhan Aruliah set a ball rolling in Jaffna
Awaiting arrivals unlike any other
Teachers and students sometimes reverse roles
Colombo, Colombo, Colombo and so forth
The slowest road to Kumarigama, Ampara
Some play music, others listen
Mind and hearts, loquacious and taciturn
I am at Jaga Food, where are you?
On separating the missing from the disappeared
And intangible republics will save the day (as they always have)
The circuitous logic of Tony Muller
Rohana Kalyanaratne, an unforgettable 'Loku Aiya'
Mowgli, the Greatest Archaeologist
Figures and disfigurement, rocks and roses
Sujith Rathnayake and incarcerations imposed and embraced
Some stories are written on the covers themselves
A poetic enclave in the Republic of Literature
Landcapes of gone-time and going-time
The best insurance against the loud and repeated lie
So what if the best flutes will not go to the best flautists?
There's dust and words awaiting us at crossroads and crosswords
A song of terraced paddy fields
Of ants, bridges and possibilities
From A through Aardvark to Zyzzyva
Words, their potency, appropriation and abuse
Who did not listen, who's not listening still?
If you remember Kobe, visit GOAT Mountain
The world is made for re-colouring
No 27, Dickman's Road, Colombo 5
Visual cartographers and cartography
Ithaca from a long ago and right now
Lessons written in invisible ink
The amazing quality of 'equal-kindness'
The interchangeability of light and darkness
Sisterhood: moments, just moments
Chess is my life and perhaps your too
Reflections on ownership and belonging
The integrity of Nadeesha Rajapaksha
Signatures in the seasons of love
To Maceo Martinet as he flies over rainbows
Fragrances that will not be bottled
Colours and textures of living heritage
Countries of the past, present and future
Books launched and not-yet-launched
The sunrise as viewed from sacred mountains
Isaiah 58: 12-16 and the true meaning of grace
The age of Frederick Algernon Trotteville
Live and tell the tale as you will
Between struggle and cooperation
Neruda, Sekara and literary dimensions
Paul Christopher's heart of many chambers
Calmness gracefully cascades in the Dumbara Hills
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