Monthly Archives: June 2011
ஷெர்லாக் செயல்முறை!
Posted by lovecoffeestories on June 30, 2011 in Prasanna Subramanian, Short Stories
010. Shoan and His Mother
Shoun became a teacher of Soto Zen. When he was still a student his father passed away, leaving him to care for his old mother.
Whenever Shoun went to a meditation hall he always took his mother with him. Since she accompanied him, when he visited monasteries he could not live with the monks. So he would build a little house and care for her there. He would copy sutras, Buddhist verses, and in this manner receive a few coins for food.
When Shoun bought fish for his mother, the people would scoff at him, for a monk is not supposed to eat fish. But Shoun did not mind. His mother, however, was hurt to see the others laugh at her son. Finally she told Shoun: “I think I will become a nun. I can be a vegaterian too.” She did, and they studied together.
Shoun was fond of music and was a master of the harp, which his mother also played. On full-moon nights they used to play together.
One night a young lady passed by their house and heard music. Deeply touched, she invited Shoun to visit her the next evening and play. He accepted the invitation. A few days later he met the young lady on the street and thanked her for her hospitality. Others laughed at him. He had visited the house of a woman of the streets.
One day Shoun left for a distant temple to deliver a lecture. A few months afterwards he returned home to find his mother dead. Friends had not known where to reach him, so the funeral was then in progress.
Shoun walked up and hit the coffin with his staff. “Mother, your son has returned,” he said.
“I am glad to see you have returned, son,” he answered for his mother.
“Yes, I am glad too,” Shoun responded. Then he announced to the people about him: “The funeral ceremony is over. You may bury the body.”
When Shoun was old he knew his end was approaching. He asked his disciples to gather around him in the morning, telling them he was going to pass on at noon. Burning incense before the picture of his mother and his old teacher, he wrote a poem:
For fifty-six years I lived as best I could,
Making my way in this world.
Now the rain has ended, the clouds are clearing,
The blue sky has a full moon.
His disciples gathered about him, reciting a sutra, and Shoun passed on during the invocation.
Posted by lovecoffeestories on June 29, 2011 in 101 Zen Stories
உலகக்கோப்பை
இந்தியா வெல்ல கடைசி ஆறு பந்துகளில் 21 ரன்கள் தேவை.
ராகுல், இந்திய கிரிக்கெட் அணியின் தீவிர ரசிகன். அவனுக்கு இந்த உலக்கோப்பையின் இறுதியாட்டம் மிகமுக்கியமானது.
அடுத்த ஆறு பந்துகளில் ஒளிந்திருக்கும் ரகசியம் அவன் நெஞ்சுக்குள் ஏதேதோ செய்தது. ‘இந்தியா வென்றாகவேண்டும்’ என்று அவன் மூளைக்குள் யாரோ ஒலியெழுப்பியதைப்போல் உணர்ந்தான்.
ராகுல் எதிர்பார்த்தது போலவே இறுதி ஓவரை ‘மலிங்கா’ வீச ஆயத்தமானான்.
ராகுலுக்கு இன்னும் பதற்றம் அதிகமானது. இந்த உலக்கோப்பை போட்டிகளில் அதிக விக்கட்டுகளை வீழ்த்தியவன் மலிங்கா. அவன் பந்தின் வேகத்தில் 21 ரன்கள் மேலும் கடினமாக தென்பட்டது.
யுவராஜ்சிங் மலிங்காவின் பந்தை எதிர்நோக்கத் தயாராக உள்ளான்.
இதோ மலிங்காவின் ஓட்டம் தொடங்கிவிட்டது.
யுவராஜ்சிங் கண்சிமிட்டும் நேரத்தில் பந்து அவன் மட்டையை தவிர்த்து, முட்டியில் பட்டு, இலங்கை வீரர்கள் ஒருசேர கோஷமிட்டனர்.
நடுவரின் ஆள்காட்டிவிரல் உச்சிவானை சுட்டிக்காட்டியவுடன் ராகுலின் கண்ணில் நீர் தேங்கத்தொடங்கியது. இருந்தும் அவன் நம்பிக்கை அடுத்து களமிறங்கும் தோனியின் மீது நூறு சதவிகிதம் இருந்தது.
அடுத்த பந்து – தோனியின் கால்களை குறிபார்த்து வீசப்பட்டு, அதை தோனி லாவகமாக திசை திருப்பி இந்தியாவிற்கு ஒரு பவுண்டரி கிடைத்தது.
மூன்றாவது பந்திலும் நான்கு ரன்கள்.
நான்காவது பந்தில் சிக்ஸர்!
ஐந்தாவது பந்தில் ஜயவர்தனேயின் அசாத்திய ஃபீல்டிங்கால் இரண்டு ரன்கள் மட்டுமே கிடைத்தது.
இறுதிப்பந்து.
இந்தியா வெல்ல இன்னும் ஐந்து ரன்கள் தேவை.
இலங்கை வீரர்கள் அத்தனைபேரும் பவுண்டரியை தடுக்க, கோட்டை மதில்சுவரைத் தற்காக்கும் போர்வீரர்களைப்போல் தயாராக நின்றனர்.
ராகுலின் இதயத்தின் கனம் அதிகமானது.
மலிங்காவின் ஓட்டம் தொடங்கிவிட்டது!
ராகுலின் கைகள் நடுங்கியது.
பந்து நிலத்தில் குத்தியவுடன் தோனி மட்டையை விலாசினான். பந்து விண்ணைக்கிழித்துக்கொண்டு பறந்தது.
இந்தியாவின் வெற்றியை சுமந்துகொண்டு பறந்த பந்து, இறுதி மில்லி செக்கண்டில் தில்ஷானின் கைகளில் கட்சிதமாக சிக்கிக்கொண்டது.
ராகுலால் இதை நம்பமுடியவில்லை.
ராகுலின் மனம் பதறியது. செய்வதறியாது தவித்தான்.
தோனியின் கைகளில் உலக்கோப்பையை பார்க்க அவன் எத்தனைதூரம் கடந்து வந்திருந்தான்.
‘இல்லை! இந்த முடிவு சரியில்லை!’
இறுதியில் சுற்றும்முற்றும் பார்த்த ராகுல், தான் கடைசியாக பதிவு செய்த ஆட்டத்தை மீண்டும் ‘லோடு‘(LOAD) செய்தான்.
இப்போது மீண்டும் கடைசி ஆறு பந்து.
மீண்டும் யுவராஜ்சிங். மீண்டும் பந்துடன் மலிங்கா.
முற்றும்.
Posted by lovecoffeestories on June 27, 2011 in Prasanna Subramanian, Short Stories
008. THE BUDDHA
Posted by lovecoffeestories on June 26, 2011 in 101 Zen Stories
007. LAUGHING BUDDHA
Anyone walking about Chinatowns in America will observe statues of a stout fellow carrying a linen sack. Chinese merchants call him Happy Chinaman or Laughing Buddha.
This Hotei lived in the T’ang dynasty. He had no desire to call himself a Zen master or to gather many disciples around him. Instead he walked the streets with a big sack into which he would put gifts of candy, fruit, or doughnuts.
These he would give to children who gathered around him in play. He established a kindergarten of the streets.
Whenever he met a Zen devotee he would extend his hand and say: “Give me one penny.”
Once as he was about to play-work another Zen master happened along and inquired: “What is the significance of Zen?”
Hotei immediately plopped his sack down on the ground in silent answer.
“Then,” asked the other, “what is the actualization of Zen?”
At once the Happy Chinaman swung the sack over his shoulder and continued on his way.
Laughing Buddha
Posted by lovecoffeestories on June 25, 2011 in 101 Zen Stories
தோழர்கள்
தீர்த்தத்தின் தாக்கத்தால் பேருந்தில் தள்ளி அமர்ந்தனர் எல்லோரும். என் நிறுத்தம்! பேருந்தில் இருந்து இறக்கிவிடப்பட்டேன்.
என் தடத்தில் என்னை கண்ட நாய் ஒன்று தன் காதை விடைத்து எனக்கு எச்சரிக்கை செய்தது. ஏனோ அருகில் என்னை கண்ட அது இயல்பாக தன் குட்டிகளுடன் விளையாடத்துவங்கியது. துணை இன்றி நடக்கும் எனக்கு ஒரு வழி தோழன்.
என் பாதையில் ஒர் நூறு அடியில் மீண்டும் ஒரு எச்சரிக்கை!!
வெள்ளையாய் இரு பெண் பிம்பங்கள். நான் வெடவெடத்து அங்கேயே நின்றேன். எங்களுக்குள் இடைவேளை குறைய… அங்கே! மல்லிகை பூ… கால் கொழுசு… பெரிய பொட்டு… என்ற இலக்கணமில்லா ஒரு சுடிதார் பேயும் அதன் தோழி ஜீன்ஸ் பேயும்!
அவைகள் (அவர்கள்) தங்களுக்குள்,
“இவண்டி! இன்னிக்கும் லேட்டா வராண்டீ! “.
Posted by lovecoffeestories on June 24, 2011 in Mahesh Ramasamy, Sudden Fiction
006. The Last Poem of Hoshin
The Zen master Hoshin lived in China many years. Then he returned to the northeastern part of Japan, where he taught his disciples. When he was getting very old, he told them a story he had heard in China.
This is the story:
One year on the twenty-fifth of December, Tokufu, who was very old, said to his disciples: “I am not going to be alive next year so you fellows should treat me well this year.”
The pupils thought he was joking, but since he was a great-hearted teacher each of them in turn treated him to a feast on succeeding days of the departing year.
On the eve of the new year, Tokufu concluded: “You have been good to me. I shall leave you tomorrow afternoon when the snow has stopped.”
The disciples laughed, thinking he was aging and talking nonsense since the night was clear and without snow. But at midnight snow began to fall, and the next day they did not find their teacher about. They went to the meditation hall. There he had passed on.
Hoshin, who related this story, told his disciples: “It is not necessary for a Zen master to predict his passing, but if he really wishes to do so, he can.”
“Can you?” someone asked.
“Yes,” answered Hoshin. “I will show you what I can do seven days from now.”
None of the disciples believed him, and most of them had even forgotten the conversation when
Hoshin next called them together.
“Seven days ago,” he remarked, “I said I was going to leave you. It is customary to write a farewell poem, but I am neither poet nor calligrapher. Let one of you inscribe my last words.”
His followers thought he was joking, but one of them started to write.
“Are you ready?” Hoshin asked.
“Yes, sir,” replied the writer.
Then Hoshin dictated:
I came from brilliancy.
And return to brilliancy.
What is this?
The poem was one line short of the customary four, so the disciple said: “Master, we are one line short.”
Hoshin, with the roar of a conquoring lion, shouted “Kaa!” and was gone.
Posted by lovecoffeestories on June 23, 2011 in 101 Zen Stories
005. THE MOON CANNOT BE STOLEN
Ryokan, a Zen master, lived the simplest kind of life in a little hut at the foot of a mountain.
One evening a thief visited the hut only to discover there was nothing in it to steal.
Ryokan returned and caught him. “You may have come a long way to visit me,” he told the prowler, “and you shoud not return emptyhanded. Please take my clothes as a gift.”
The thief was bewildered. He took the clothes and slunk away.
Ryokan sat naked, watching the moon. “Poor fellow, ” he mused, “I wish I could give him this beautiful moon.”
Posted by lovecoffeestories on June 21, 2011 in 101 Zen Stories
Arrear
Posted by lovecoffeestories on June 20, 2011 in பத்மா மகன், Sudden Fiction
004. GREAT WAVES
In the early days of the Meiji era there lived a well-known wrestler called O-nami.
O-nami was immensly strong and knew the art of wresting. In his private bouts he defeated even his teacher, but in public was so bashful that his own pupils threw him.
O-nami felt he should go to a Zen master for help. Hakuju, a wandering teacher, was stopping in a little temple nearby, so O-nami went to see him and told him of his great trouble.
“Great Waves is your name,” the teacher advised, “so stay in this temple tonight. Imagine that you are those billows. You are no longer a wrestler who is afraid. You are those huge waves sweeping everything before them, swallowing all in their path. Do this and you will be the greatest wrestler in the land.”
The teacher retired. O-nami sat in meditation trying to imagine himself as waves. He thought of many different things. Then gradualy he turned more and more to the feeling of waves. As the night advanced the waves became larger and larger. They swept away the flowers in their vases. Even the Buddha in the shrine was inundated. Before dawn the temple was nothing but the ebb and flow of an immense sea.
In the morning the teacher found O-nami meditating, a faint smile on his face. He patted the wrestler’s shoulder. “Now nothing can disturb you,” he said. “You are those waves. You will sweep everything before you.”
The same day O-nami entered the wrestling contests and won. After that, no one in Japan was able to defeat him.
Posted by lovecoffeestories on June 18, 2011 in 101 Zen Stories