Down and down in the deep dark void,
down and down we go
Helpless puppets on unseen strings,
dancing to and fro
Down and down in the deep dark void,
where all is dark and low
Rivers of sorrow and the vales of loss,
all misery and woe
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Once upon a time, there lived in a jungle far far away, a tiny squirrel named Katto. She was a beautiful squirrel with a silver coat of fur, a long graceful, and bushy tail and to top it all – a charming toothy smile.
God had blessed Katto with a heart as lovely as her looks. It was large enough to shame even the heart of an African elephant. But like all really good things in this world, her beauty was not perfect. Katto’s beauty was marked by a misfortune. She was totally blind. But it made no difference to her. She was one happy squirrel, though unaware of her own beauty and charm.
Katto lived within a comfy old crack in the trunk of the tallest Oak in the forest. The crack had always been her home. There was a bed made of the softest moss and ample space for the winter nuts.
The days were wonderful and the nuts were abundant. Katto, being a good and kind soul, was always ready to help other creatures in tough times. She was always willing to lend a sympathetic ear. This made her very popular in the jungle.
Rabbits came jumping to ask her the whereabouts of the sweetest carrots.
Birds landed on the Oak’s branches to discuss their domestic troubles.
Bats visited her hole to get beauty tips.
Even the mighty lion sometimes stopped under the oak and roared a loud greeting:
‘Roaaaaaar!!!!! What’s up my little Katto?’
Katto always bowed and replied courteously:
‘Everything is honky dory, your majesty’.
But popularity is not a blessing. It is a curse. Seeing Katto, the other squirrels became madly jealous.
‘Who does she think she is – Queen of the jungle?’ They all thought so and the jealousy filled their tiny hearts with an evil green poison.
The squirrels started hating Katto. They despised her beauty and her kind and sweet nature. But their hatred did not stop them from exploiting Katto. They drank her ginger beer and ate her nuts while making evil faces at their poor blind hostess. Katto was oblivious to this all. Her heart was too innocent to feel the jabs of sarcasm, dipped in hatred. To her, the world was an eternal playground and her friends were the perfect playmates.
Seeing no other way to harm Katto, the other squirrels started poisoning her ears. In the beginning, it was just:
‘Katto, you are such a good soul. It’s a pity that you are not good-looking.’ When this did not have the desired effect, they started saying:
‘Katto, you sure are ugly. How can you live with a face like this?’
And finally:
‘Katto, we understand that you believe you are all kind and good. But you need to look deep within yourself. Beneath all this soft feathery kindness, there might be breathing a venomous selfishness. Maybe, you do good things only to cover your ugly bitter, and selfish heart.’
At first, Katto did not pay any heed. But as she always trusted her friends, she gradually chose to believe in their every word. It did not matter how cruel the words were. Those were the words of apparently well-meaning friends. With the passage of time and like constantly falling drops of water, the ugly comments wounded her heart. The poison worked its dark magic and corrupted her self-perception.
Katto was not happy anymore. When alone, she wept tears of misery.
‘God! Why have you made me so ugly and my heart so selfish?’
But God kept quiet. Apparently, He really did not give a damn for a tiny squirrel’s troubles.
When God did not reply, Katto grew lonely….very lonely. A time came when her loneliness isolated her from her friends. Her delicate heart tried its very best to sustain. But finally, it could no longer fight bitterness and cruelty; and turned into a piece of ice-cold white marble.
Loneliness itself is quite terrible. But do you know what really kills the soul? It is self-pity that really butchers the soul. It slithers in slowly. It wraps itself around lonely hearts and starts feeding on all the misery. Slowly and gradually, you get addicted to her sweet but poisonous embrace. Then, it gives a triumphant smile and with a single master stroke, kills your soul.
Self-pity finally killed Kattos’s soul. Her beauty transformed into harsh lines of sadness. Her kindness turned into a wretched disregard for others’ miseries and troubles.
The squirrels had already abandoned her. Her other friends tried to approach her. They begged her to see the truth. But she shunned everybody and slunk into a self-created carapace.
She thought her loneliness would give her solace but it embittered her more. As time passed, her tears dried up into tracks of dried salt on her lovely cheeks and finally faded away.
But then one day something happened out of the ordinary. A wild pigeon was shot by a hunter’s arrow. Wounded and howling in pain, he looked for refuge. He saw the Oak and threw himself at the mercy of the thick blanket of leaves.
Katto heard the tortured cries for help. At first, she deliberately muffled her ears and tried to ignore it. But, then she could no longer control herself. Carefully approaching the wounded pigeon, she felt his gaping wound with her small hands.
Though, devoid of sight, Katto could still feel the pain of the wounded pigeon. So she dragged him into her home. She cleaned and dressed his wounds. She comforted him during dark silent nights and sang him songs when it rained. Her dedicated attention worked miracles and gradually, the pigeon grew better. But still, he was too weak to fly away.
The pigeon was a loner himself. He was as intelligent and sensitive as he was wild. All these traits made him quite a charming bird. Unlike Katto, who remained blind to his charms, the pigeon was hooked. He saw Katto’s beauty and charm and felt drawn to the sadness residing deep within her heart. As the days passed and the sun completed countless journeys, the pigeon gradually fell in love with Katto.
Love can be a terrible thing if not reciprocated. But once it is reciprocated, love blossoms into a flower. But that is another story altogether.
One day, when Katto was changing his dressings, the pigeon gathered courage. He placed his wing on Katto’s head and lovingly caressed her fur. But instead of smiling, which the pigeon quite expected, Katto got infuriated:
‘How dare you repay my kindness with such a vile gesture?’ she fumed.
‘Vile?’ the pigeon fumbled with the words, ‘No, it is not vile. I think I love you Katto’.
‘What? Love me?’ Katto laughed bitterly. ‘Can’t you see I am ugly? Can’t you feel the hardness of my ice-cold heart? How can you love such a miserable and pathetic creature?’
The pigeon was both confused and shocked:
‘Katto, you are beautiful beyond words and have a soft and delicate heart. How can you say such dreadful things about yourself? Come, let me tell you about your beauty and goodness of heart.’ He desperately pleaded.
But Katto was too convinced of her ugliness.
‘Liar!’ she shouted and brutally kicked the pigeon out of her home. The poor heartbroken pigeon tried to flap his wounded wings but fell down on the forest floor. His wings fluttered once, twice and then he died.
The jungle grew real quiet – shocked on the violent end of a beautiful and loving heart. But life goes on. In a few hours, the scavengers ate up the pigeon’s carcass.
The other squirrels ran down the trunk in glee and approached the spot. Katto was lonely again and her loneliness made them happy. They looked around and found that the pigeon’s eyes were somehow still intact.
‘Let’s take the dead pigeon’s eyes to Katto. It would surely make her more miserable.’
‘Hey look Katto, what has your poor lover left you.’ The squirrels announced together.
Katto felt the small round and smooth objects with her tiny claws: ‘What are these?’
‘These are the pigeon’s eyes. He left them for you’. And they left her alone with her misery.
‘For me?’ Katto thought and then hesitatingly, slipped the dead pigeon’s eyes into her empty sockets. Magic happened. She looked into the mirror and saw a beautiful squirrel. Her charming image was peering back at her shyly.
‘Is it really me? I can’t believe it.’
Katto came out of her hole and looked around. She saw the deep green forest and the clear blue sky. She saw the silver clouds kissing the Oak’s branches and the bees circling around the vibrant and colorful flowers.
‘Yes, I am beautiful and my world is beautiful.’
Then she looked down and saw the blood-stained grey-white feathers of the dead bird.
‘The poor pigeon was right all along. He really loved me’.
Hearing this, two warm tears slipped out of the dead pigeon’s eyes. They fell onto Katto’s heart and dissolved her self-pity forever.
Up in the heavens, God smiled his tired sad smile.
#English #fiction #story #squirrel #pigeon #jealousy #self-pity #love #loss #God #loneliness
Introduction
A contemplative poem featuring an old monk under an oak tree who explores the profound relationship between anger and silence through a series of striking metaphors. This meditative verse contrasts the destructive chaos of anger with the transformative power of silence, presenting them as mother and child, thunder and rain, sword and force. The poem delves into Buddhist philosophy and mindfulness teachings, examining how anger represents momentary experience while silence embodies lasting wisdom.
_____________________________________________________________________
Under a Banyan tree, an old monk sat,
his life - cool shade and a bamboo mat
Eyes were closed, and his heart so still,
oblivious to pain and sharp n’ harsh chill
_____________________________________________________________________
‘Anger is the wind,’ he muttered to himself,
‘whispering in the trees, calming down itself
Anger is the mother, and silence is the child,
a fiery dragon and her offspring, so mild’
_____________________________________________________________________
‘Anger is scalding chaos, silence brings order,
chaos and order - there is only a vague border
Anger is the thunder, silence is the rain,
anger is so loud while silence stills the pain’
_____________________________________________________________________
‘Anger is a sword, while silence is a force,
violence and the power, the ego is the source
Anger is a hammer, while silence is patience,
anger is so bold, while silence brings complacence’
_____________________________________________________________________
‘Anger is a curse, while silence is a blessing,
what is true and what is not, there is no harm confessing
Anger is a burden, while silence is a treasure,
shedding and protecting, both beyond measure’
_____________________________________________________________________
‘Anger is experience, silence is the wisdom,
anger is a moment, while silence is a kingdom
Anger lights the blaze, silence is the smoke,
knowing is the product, wrapped in a cloak’
_____________________________________________________________________
‘Your time has ended, now leave me all alone!’
the monk addresses anger and marks it in the stone
‘Silence has begun - its reign feels so cold,
along comes the knowledge - so cruel and so bold’
Note: Within first the Iranian and then the Russian folklore, Gamayun is the symbol of knowledge and wisdom. In the myth, she appears in the form of a prophetic bird, who resides on a lonely island situated somewhere in the east. As she knows everything about the true nature of human beings, gods, creation, and eternity, her prophecies are divine and magical – though difficult to comprehend and understand.
The night is silent and Gamayun sits atop a lonely rock, looking down on a landscape of magical lights and dark smoke. A gentle breeze is blowing from the northeast, carrying faint shades of some long-lost and ancient fragrance.
Suddenly, she senses a presence – there is someone beckoning her attention from the shadows. Gamayun raises her hand and commands:
‘Come forth! O child of misery and gloom;
step forward and seek, even if it is your doom
Come forth! O dweller of grey desolation;
Beg for wisdom, if it’s of any consolation
The presence crawls forward, his tired knees digging deep grooves in the sand. He grabs hold of Gamayun’s feet and cries his heart out:
‘O Gamayun! The wise and the knowledgeable;
here I am, laying all my cards on the table
O Gamayun! The herald of divine prophecies;
all my dark visions unfolded, terrible atrocities
O Gamayun! Spread your golden wings in the sun;
for I am desperate and making my last run
O Gamayun! Behold my pain and tell me what I ask;
see this darkness, it is very real, it is not a mask
Of all the God’s children, I am the child of autumn;
the failure is so terribly deep, that there is no bottom
I am not alone I know, yet unique in what I need;
I feel like a hollow dead tree, with neither fruit nor seed
It is not that I demand either wealth or riches or gold;
I just beg that my dream be fulfilled, single and untold
It is not that I ask for life everlasting or a great power;
I just implore that my heart be happy, not bitter or sour’
Sensing the man’s anguish and hearing his plea, Gamayun bends down her head and thinks for a while. She carefully prods her heart but finds nothing but dark tidings. She finally raises her head and whispers back:
‘You have come from afar – have my sympathies with you;
my heart weeps for you, yet there is nothing I can really do
Having asked your question, you have unburdened yourself;
your cause is lost, and what to tell you, I am lost myself
Of all the God’s many children, you are the most despised;
He made all his children out of love, all of them prized
You dream in vain, you cry in vain and you beg in vain;
He carved you out of sadness, dark soil, and cold rain
He hates you with a vengeance so very terrible and dark;
His distaste for you is so very naked and so very stark
He looks at you with pity though, the most what He can spare;
you may die or you may suffer, that He doesn’t at all care
Being a child of autumn, it is a dark curse you carry;
you will always be sad and you will never be merry
It is your burden and your fate, how dark it may seem;
abandon all hope, you will never get what you dream’
Up there, sitting on His golden throne, God listens to all and smiles a tired smile. He is the wisest of all and the most powerful. Yet He is lonely because his wisdom goes beyond the understanding of mortals. He looks down kindly upon the child of autumn and his heaving shoulders; and whispers softly:
‘O Child of Autumn – you tread a treasured path;
yet you are blinded by grief, your fate a bloodbath
Of all my children, you are the most blue-eyed;
all my children are loved, you are the most prized
You dream in my way; an immense imagination;
I carved you out of wisdom, foresight, and adoration
I love you with an intensity, so very focused and clear;
it might appear as abstract, but I hold you so dear
I make you feel the pain and the agony of all others;
so you may suffer the suffering of your brothers
Being a child of autumn, it is not a curse you carry;
it makes you all patient so that you don’t tarry
It is not a dark burden, but a blessing filled with light;
with understanding comes wisdom, lofty and bright
Go in peace my child, go and serve the world and life;
you will grow and learn to walk the edge of a knife’
#English #poetry #poem #opera #Gumayun #God #misery #anguish #path #life #test #kindness #life #death #wisdom #help #love #light #darkness #curse
Each one of us – you and me and even us all;
we walk and we run and sometimes we crawl
We laugh and shout and we love and we hate;
so many feelings, yet our ego is a great wall
Each one of us hides within, a giant black hole;
hungry enough to swallow the whole human soul
This is the heaviest burden that we must carry;
life is the theatre and it is our abhorrent role
Each one of us floats along a dark river of pain;
winding through the valleys of loss and of gain
This is our longest journey from birth till our death;
this is our miserable life – grey and filled with rain
Each one of us is addicted to the morphine of pleasure;
the sudden rush surging – no limit and no measure
This is our downfall and our biggest dilemma;
regret is the poison, there is no hidden treasure
Each one of us is different, each one of us is the same;
yet we hate each other, we fight for name and fame
This is why we fail to grow, this is why we lose;
admitting weaknesses, a prospect filled with shame
All of us are one, yet we choose to tread alone;
becoming rabid dogs when life throws us a bone
This is the grand sin; this is why we always fail;
we fail to hold hands, we always act for our own
#English #poetry #poem #hatred #life #humanity #discrimination #love #kindness #competition #growth #failure #sin #strength #weakness #selfishness #materialism
Shehryar khawar 