Heaven's Fool

The eye of heaven, somber and wide awake
A thing of wonder to the little parish boys
Hark hither! O the great lamp of the world
The silent globe of darkness, whilst thou speck
I stand hither since the misty dusk broke in
Feeling delighted as thou rise from behind the hills.
I rise this hand, if thou should fail to locate me
Or do I not stand visible to thy great eye?
Now have thou traveled this far distance
What have you gathered from the place afar?
Or did thou all thy time spent in spree?
Watching the lovers roll on the petals of love.
Now say you, of the things I urge to hear.
Did thou chance to hear my darling shout?
Did my darling not send a piece of message?
For thousands miles while we are parted far
Thou must have beheld a tiny Lass amidst green vales
Speaking of the things I needed to hear today.
O fool! What in the world is this empty face of yours?
Again I ask thee, have thou got any message for this soul?
So much a pride has fallen, thy face a fool's rice bowl
And now all you have got is a blank look on my face,
What in the Hell's name is this conjuring trick?
On the lap of heaven thou sit, but fail thy sacred duty
Not so tough to deliver the message of the parted
And yet, thou fail me and how many others like me?
Or did thou check some mad men on the other side?
Lighten them break the shield of the glass dome.
For she said thou never did cross the path she waited.
Go, hide behind the thick sheets of white foam
And hurry down the meandering roads behinds red hills
Conceal thy insolence with white cotton and away you go
For thou art not one I can trust, thou do nothing good.
Now when the heaven with all respect condemn thee
How gay will I be, to not to see you cross my way.
I shall not send any notes of love to my darling love
Not in thy hands, smeared with guilt of disgusting fate.
Thy brother shall wait for my call at the dawn
Who will but all with gay pass his chariot from my way
To her, he shall prove better loyal than a fool.
Now I see him come, would you serve a justice,
And disappear, wherever it may be, but far away?

Behest of Destiny

 A smile, along with the light in his eyes, formed a beautiful prism of a rainbow as Jimmy approached me, freeing himself from the log of wood he was carrying. As the cold wind rushed past, I looked up and saw my younger brother—the young, chubby face I had missed for so long. He wore the tattered clothes I had left for him the year before I went away to study. The outfit hung awkwardly on him, with the fringe-less belt wrapped around his waist in two loose folds. He was barefoot, and his feet looked like they hadn’t been washed since our last bath together.

“Your belt is loose. Tighten it up,” I said with a brotherly look, reaching for my bag.

He smiled endlessly as he tugged at his gho and tightened the belt. I handed him a wrapped packet along with some edibles—the kind of things children expect when they return home after a long time.

“What is it?” he asked.

Then he eagerly helped himself to the chocolates I had brought for him. I could tell he felt special by the way his eyebrows raised in delight. While it was just some books and art supplies, he cherished it.

That night, he laid out the best mattress for me and took a thin sheet to place right beside me.

“I’m sure you won’t mind me sleeping next to you,” he said with a smile, hesitating to meet my gaze. He confided that the long, lonely nights he spent by himself had been terrible. I felt a deep sense of incompleteness in his life—more than I could have imagined. I realized he needed affection and love.

“How did you do on your exam?” I asked later that night, but he remained silent, not even stirring. 

The night was so still that I could hear the faint ticking of my own heartbeat. Concerned by his stillness, I lit the lamp and glanced around. The dim light barely matched the brightness of the glow worms outside. He faced the wall, his face fully covered. At first, I hesitated to touch him, but my anxiety grew. I gently pulled his hands away, revealing that he was drenched in tears. He sobbed bitterly but said nothing. My heart ached to see him in distress.

Without uttering a word, I enveloped him in a warm embrace. He wiped his tears and began to recall everything that had happened.

It was the beautiful beginning of spring, and everyone was resuming their routine for school. Climbing the stiff terrain through the thick woods used to be terrifying, and I knew they had no better choice than what I had endured. Jimmy sometimes felt that school was unnecessary if it meant suffering through seasonal disasters. The long journey of two hours every morning and two hours back home, combined with cold, uninviting packed lunches, made him think staying at home was far better. He found no solace in books or teachers and dreaded waking up early to return home late in the evening. He felt it was unfair that he was sent to school while other children his age remained home, carefree and excited, avoiding the grueling routine he followed five days a week. 

To him, it meant 60 hours of torture.

His desire to discontinue his studies began to take shape when Tandin, a senior monk from a distant religious school, visited our village, searching for boys interested in becoming monks. The idea of leaving school to be ordained was a popular topic among children on their way to school. Jimmy didn’t realize that it was merely a way to escape what he wished to flee until he overheard friends discussing how to approach their parents about it.

Intrigued, he considered asking his own parents. Most of his friends received their parents' consent, but Jimmy didn’t dare to ask. He feared it would disgrace them, believing that discussing it would betray their trust. Shackled by his own imaginary fears, he remained silent.

One morning, his dreams of asking his parents shattered when he saw Tandin returning with a group of young boys. Jimmy noticed the zeal in their eyes and felt they were fortunate, but he never considered the fate that awaited them. Even though he seemed conscious of his parents' wishes, he failed to mention this inner conflict.

As he neared school, he began to loosen the snares of his fear and walked in their footsteps. With each step, he grew more focused on what he wanted to do. His determination regained its vibrancy, and he felt himself becoming one of them.

Ten miles is a vast distance to cover on foot with baggage, and most would feel exhausted by the end. But Jimmy’s experience was different. The journey from home to school, which used to exhaust him, now felt short. Even after walking for seven hours that morning, he felt light and fresh. His eyes sparkled with energy, and he could have traveled double the distance without complaint. He watched the cars leave brief marks on the road, and the smell was delightful—it was his first time seeing cars. An innocent young boy began to calculate the folds of happiness as they prepared to leave, watching them help one another load their bags onto the mini-bus for the next two days.

After they had boarded the bus, a rigid voice halted Jimmy. It was Tandin, who comforted the frightened boy with a simplicity in his eyes, but he was resolute—he couldn’t take Jimmy along.

“They didn’t let me in. My dreams disappeared before me. What could I do than return home crying?” Jimmy said, his voice cracking. 

“I didn’t realize that when I unleashed the fear of disappointing my parents, I would be trapped in an even graver desolation. From that day, I stopped dreaming about school. I have just one dream now, and I cannot change it: to become a monk.” 

He looked into my eyes, and for the first time, I saw a plea for help.

His mature way of speaking left me speechless, but he understood my tears; he knew I was truly sorry for what had happened. Even as a brother, I felt trapped in my dreams, longing to be someone who could wipe the pain from his eyes. That night, I promised him that whatever happened would not be repeated. I assured him I would support him in living his dream, though it would take time.

Years later, when I was still in high school, Tandin returned to our village for the second time. But this time, Jimmy sensed fear in Tandin. The monk assured him of guidance in the monastery, but Jimmy perceived betrayal and injustice. He saw the masked goodness in Tandin, aware it could be unmasked at any moment. In the first encounter, he had been betrayed by his own risk; in the second, he feared the risks taken by others. Yet, he didn’t take this opportunity for granted—he became meticulous about every word.

On this second occasion, Jimmy confronted the risk, and it was worth taking.

The way people change over a short time amazes everyone, even the individuals themselves. At 11, Jimmy had been an insignificant boy who dropped out of school and remained with our parents. Scorned and despised for his choices, many considered him a burden. But today, at 22, when he visits the same place, the way people greet him has transformed dramatically. Perhaps the robe he wears silences the ignorant whispers.

Far from home, Jimmy now resides in a distant place in India, pursuing his dream, journeying deeper into the valleys, uncovering wisdom many would never have imagined. Who would have thought this boy, initially denied by all, would embrace a wealth of love, affection, and the long, indestructible chain of coexistence with Buddha-hood—the only path a mortal could take to be freed from suffering?

Today, I see him not just as a brother, not merely as a neighbor, but as a person chosen by our great savior to follow his path—someone destined to serve all sentient beings. 

This is how I perceive the miracle.