When Hera Spurted Out her Milk

When Hera Spurted Out her Milk

When Hera spurted out her milk,
did others realize
that going shopping too, one day,
could make a mortal wise?

While walking to the supermarket,
I found I'd lost my way.
But then I realized I'd strayed
beyond the Milky Way.

And so, I found nirvana in
a borough of New York,
beside an arrow sign that said,
"The Home of Kosher Pork".

Ah wonders, that, in wandering,
we sometimes stumble on!
But when I went next day, that sign
and store were vanished—gone!

And then, recalling how I'd been
suspended, out in space,
beyond our starry whorl, I knew
I'd landed on my face.

Oh Zeus, and your green-eyed wife,
with spurting mammaries!
How strange, that we and all were born
from household rivalries!

******

But wait! A fellow told me, who
has doctorates and more,
that truth is stranger, far, than all
we dolts were told before.

So you and all your kin are myths,
Jehovah-Allah too!
The devas and asuras are
an ill-imagined crew.

And verily, the truth is such
as Arjuna could not
conceive, though he beheld, in awe,
what humans have forgot.

So in that mouth immense, wherein
this universe was swallowed,
there were such things that mortals such
as we could not have followed.

As Krishna sat beside him,
being a devil-god indeed,
Arjuna then was bent, in awe,
to do the dreadful deed.

So drawing out his arrow from
its quiver then he drew
his bow, as horses galloped towards
the kinsmen that he slew.

******

So then, resolving to return
to this, the world that's plain,
I turned towards my home again,
with something to explain.

"So where's that kosher ham?" she said.
"There's a sandwich I must make."
But all I then could do was stand
and in my innards shake.

2016 November 6th, Sun.
Brooklyn, New York
-------------------------------------------------
  
For the reference to Hera and her milk, please see
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Milky_Way_(mythology)
and look under "Greek and Roman". This describes a Greek myth about the origin of our galaxy.
     
For the reference to Arjuna and his vision of the true nature of his charioteer, the god Krishna, please see:  
http://www.thenazareneway.com/gita_chapter_11.htm
This is a horrifying passage in the Bhagawad Gita, part of the Hindu epic Mahabharata.
   

When Jesus Christ is CEO

 
When Jesus Christ is CEO

When lamas, popes are set on thrones,
And ayatollahs throw their stones,
Who heeds Gotama's words? Alas!
The one who does is deemed an ass!

When Mammon rules the hearts of men,
What chance is there for Yesu then?

So missionaries once would bless
The remnant natives who'd confess
That they had sinned, so greedy Spain
Was not to blame for all their pain.

The peasants labored in the field,
As kings and priests enjoyed the yield.

A king, enthroned, could sip his wine
As priests declared that he's divine.
The temples then were filled with gold
As pigs and slaves were bought and sold.

It then was so and now is still.
The names have changed, but not the swill.

So presidents invoke the Lord,
And guns have now replaced the sword.
The gods on high, it now appears,
Have bombs that burn. They shed no tears.

The TV's used by reverend Stash
For praising God and raising cash.

When godmen and the Aga Khan
Are weighed in gold, should we demand
That they be gilded then as well?
So Mammon leads us all to hell.

When Jesus Christ is CEO,
It's time for us to quietly go.
 
2016 May 22, Sun
Brooklyn, New York
    

Kaker Gan—কাকের গান—The Cawing of the Crows

  

The late poet of Bengal, Kazi Nazrul Islam, had written:

Hinduism and Muslimism can be borne.  But their topknotism and beardism are unbearable, for these lead to violence.  Topknotism is not Hinduism, perhaps it is punditism/brahminism.  So also, beardism is not Islam, it is mullahism.  It is about these two clumps of hair, marked with their “isms” , that we have, today, so much of hair-pulling.  The violent conflict that has started now is also a fight between topknotism and beardism.  It is not a fight between Hindus and Muslims...  Humans do not quarrel over light.  But they do so over cows and goats.

-- [Rudra Mangal (Rudro Mo`ngol), Written Works, Volume 1, p.707]

The verses below, in the traditional Bengali  script, are  followed by two transcriptions into Roman letters.  After  these, there is a loose translation into English. 
    
কাকের গান
  
টিকি ও দাড়ির লড়াই,
আলোর থেকে ঘুরে,
আজো চলেছে, তাই
শুদ্ধি রয়েছে দূরে৷

সাতাল্লিশে দুই –
ভারত, পাকিস্তান৷
একাত্তরে  তিন৷
তাও ত কাকের গান৷

তাও ত টিকি নরে,
তাও ত দাড়ির ঝোঁক৷
চুলোচুলির ফলে,
খুনোখুনির শোক৷

জানি না নজরুল নাকি,
লিখেছিল কেঁদে কাল:
যতদিন চুলের কানুন,
ততদিন মাটিতে লাল৷

শোনেনি, শোনেনি তারা,
ব্যথিত মানুষের ডাক৷
মোল্লা, পণ্ডিত যারা,
রয়েছে এখনো কাক৷
  
রবিবার, ১লা নভেম্বর, ২৹১৫ খ্রি
ব্রুক্লিন, নিউয়র্ক
------------------------------------------------
   
Kaker Gan   (transcription 1: follows standard pronunciation)
   
For a summary of the transcription scheme used here, please see the the preface to the post at  Bharot Xadhin (India Free). 
  

T’iki o dar’ir lo`r’ai,
alor theke ghure,
ajo coleche, tai
xuddhi roeche dure.

Xatallixe dui – 
Bharot, Pakistan.
E`kattore tin.
Tao to kaker gan.
  
Tao to t’iki no`re,
tao to dar’ir jho~k.
Culaculir pho`le,
khunankunir xok.
  
Jani na nojrul naki,
likhechilo ke~de kal:
Jo`todin culer kanun,
to`todin mat’ite lal.

Xoneni, xoneni tara,
be`thito manuxer d’ak.
Molla, pon’d’it jara,
roeche e`khono kak.
  
1-la No`bhembo`r, 2015 Khri.
Bruklin, Niu Io`rk
------------------------------------------------

Kākēr Gān   (transcription 2: follows traditional spelling)
 
This is the "machine transcription" for Bengali that is available 
(along with "machine translations" that are not yet palatable) at 
https://translate.google.com/ .  I have edited that transcription lightly 
to remove those"a" letters (usually at the ends of words) that are silent 
in current spoken Bengali. These are implicit in the traditional syllabic 
script but are made explicit in the machine transcription.  I have also 
added periods (full stops), along with capitalization in the English style.
  
Tiki ō dāṛir laṛā'i,
ālōr thēkē ghurē,
ājō calēchē, tā'i
śud'dhi raẏēchē dūrē.

Sātālliśē du'i --
Bhārat, Pākistān.
Ēkāttarē tin.
Tā'ō ta kākēr gān.

Tā'ō ta ṭiki narē,
tā'ō ta dāṛir jhōm̐k.
Culāculir phalē,
khunākhunir śōk.

Jāni nā najrul nāki,
likhēchilō kēm̐dē kāl:
Yatadin culēr kānun,
tatadin māṭitē lāl.

Śōnēni, śōnēni tārā,
byathit mānuṣēr ḍāk.
Mōllā, paṇḍit yārā,
raẏēchē ēkhanō kāk.

1-lā Nabhēmbar, 2015 Khri.
Bruklin, Ni'uẏark
------------------------------------------------
 
The Crows’ Song  (The Cawing of the Crows)

The beards’ and top-knots’ battles,
Retreating from the light,
Are raging still.  And sadly
Correction’s not in sight.
  
In two, and then in three bits,
As pyres and graveyards fill,
The land has been divided.
Yet crows are cawing still.

And still the top-knot wiggles,
And still the beard’s the trend.
The fashions change with seasons,
But when will slaughters end?

Was it Nazrul then who wept once
And penned these lines in dread?
“As long as hairstyles rule us,
The ground is wet with red.”
  
They did not, would not hear then
The cries of those in pain—
Those mullahs, pundits, others,
Who still, as crows, remain.

2015 November 1st, Sun.
Brooklyn, New York
    

Vanished

   
Vanished

I tried to be a Muslim, then a Christian, then a Jew,
But failed at being each of them – and Hindu, Buddhist too.
And all the other paths I tried, from Bahai, Shinto, Jain
To Zoroastrian – all, alas, I struggled on in vain.

But then, among the shamans, I retired and beat the drums.
And so, in time, the spirits all around became my chums.
I blew upon the didgeridoo, I danced beneath the stars,
In places far from cities and their speedsters and their cars.

But then the cities called to me.  I rode upon a train,
And soon enough, I found myself among the cars again.
I wondered, if by worshiping those cars, I could be free,
But found instead my bit of shade beneath a ragged tree.

And begging for my food one day, among the bhikkus, I
Saw Humpty Dumpty sitting on a rainbow in the sky.
"Oh HD, save me now!" I cried.  He vanished right away.
And where he went, I do not know, until this very day.

2015 April 24th, Fri, 9:17 pm
Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, New York
  
Note: The Pali word bhikku (Sanskrit bhikshu / bhikshuk) means  "beggar". But Buddhists also use this word for Buddhist monks.  These, like their Jain and Catholic or Orthodox Christian counterparts, are supposed to have few or no possessions of their own. In theory, and to some extent in practice, the bhikku monks are supposed to beg for their daily sustenance, relying on the charity of the laity.

Unfortunately, as happened also in other religious orders, this had led, in certain places, such as Tibet, to a theocracy that fed off the labor of the peasants, with a hierarchy paralleling that of other feudal systems, presided over by a head lama who was worshiped as a god-king.  This clearly violated the basic precepts of Buddhism as expounded by Gotama Sidhatta and preserved in the sutras, including the core atheism that Buddhism had in common with Jainism and some other spiritual traditions of south and east Asia.

It is possible for people of diverse cultures, including theistic and atheistic ones, to coexist in mutual respect and so also to intermingle, sharing cultures as well as genes. Indeed, this seems to have been the normal situation for most people in most places.

The great swaths of populations ravaged by the extreme aspects of the monotheistic faiths of the Abrahamic tradition have been the most well-known and perhaps most long-suffering exceptions to the normal tendency towards cultural intermingling.

And then there were the other great sections of humanity afflicted by policies of separation that barred intermarriage. Among these, we had, until fairly recently, the official apartheid policies in South Africa and the segregationist policies in the United States. In the subcontinent, we had the Hindu-Aryan caste system.  

Policies of separation of cultures and/or genes are often based on perceived notions of cultural or racial superiority, along with collective insecurities. Together, these are used to justify atrocities. The attitudes, policies and actions of the National Socialists in Germany were a horrific example. But genocide was hardly invented in the 1930's.  Entire continents had been largely cleared of their indigenous human populations over the past several centuries. And there are many other fascists and their little or great Hitlers rising and flourishing all over the world, even in our times.  

Of course, genes and cultures tend to mix, no matter what barriers to this mixing may be imposed, short of outright extermination. 

Sadly, every organized religion has both its cynical and corrupt exploiters and degenerates on the one hand, and its fanatical zealots on the other. This is also true, as we have seen in our lifetimes, of every economic system and its ideology, 
  

বড়দিনের ছুটি এল (Bo`rodiner Chut'i Elo--A Gray Christmas--Bangla)

  
To get a very crude literal translation of this, see the note, "Translation", at the bottom of the post Notun Juger Upohar .  (The original English piece, A Gray Christmas, of which this is a free and rather divergent translation, is at the link below, underneath the title.) 
 
A transcription into Roman, using a scheme that represents the spoken sounds rather than the standard Bengali spellings, follows beneath the version in Bengali script.  A brief summary of this transcription scheme can be found in the preface to Bharot Xadhin (India, Free).
 
বড়দিনের ছুটি এল

(“A Gray Christmas” -এর  ভাবানুবাদ )
 
বড়দিনের ছুটি এল,
কোথায় গেলে তুমি?
ফিলিস্তিনে ফিরলে, পাবে
রক্তমাখা ভুমি৷
  
প্রতি দেশে রক্ত বয়ে,
নিষ্ঠুর খুনাখুনি৷
তারি মাঝে তোমার গলা
অতীত থেকে শুনি৷
   
তোমার নামে কত খুন,
কত অত্যাচার...
জানলে পরে মরতে কি?
আসতে কি আবার?
     
কত আশা এনেছিলে,
রয়েছে এখন কি?
ছাইয়ের ঢিপির ভেতর থেকে
বলছে মরা, "ছি!"
  
পুর্ব দেশে বুদ্ধ এল,
ফিলিস্তিনে তুমি৷
ভালবাসা, শান্তি কোথায়?
পাইনি  খুঁজে আমি৷
 
রয়েছি আমি শীতের দেশে,
শীতের চটে কাঁপি৷
সাগর পারে, হেঁটে হেঁটে
তোমার কথা ভাবি৷

ছাইয়ের রঙের মেঘের নিচে,
ছাইয়ের রঙের ঢেউ...
শীতের দেশে, মরন কালে,
হাসছে কি আর, কেউ?

সন্ধ্যে যখন আসবে ক্রমে,
ফুটবে তখন বাতি৷
জমা হবে গির্জা-ঘরে,
দুঃখে, মানুষ-জাতি৷

গাইবে তখন সবাই মিলে
তোমার ভজন গীত৷
আস্তাবলে জন্মেছিলে,
বাইরে যখন শীত৷

সুর্য এবার ফিরছে শেষে,
দক্ষিন সীমা ছুয়ে৷
দিনের আলো বাড়বে এখন
আস্তে, একে দুয়ে৷

কষ্টে বছর কাটল, যাদের
দেশে যুদ্ধের বলি৷
বাচ্চাগুলো হাসবে আবার,
এই আশাতেই চলি৷

নরক দেখে, মরন কালে
তোমার খোঁজে যাই৷
অন্ধকারে, আলোর আশা
রয়েছে তবু তাই৷

বড়দিনের ছুটি এল,
গাইব তোমার গান৷
শ্মশান ঘাটের ছাইয়ের থেকে 
উঠবে জেগে প্রাণ৷

সোমবার, ২৯এ ডিসেম্বর, ২০১৪ খ্রি
ব্রুক্লিন, নিউ ইয়র্ক
==============================
Bor’odiner Chut’i Elo

(“A Gray Christmas”-er bhabanubad)
 
Bor’o-diner chut’i elo,
kothae e`khon tumi?
Philistine phirle, pabe
ro`kto-makha bhumi.
   
Proti dexe ro`kto bo`e,
nixt'hur khunakhuni.
Tari majhe tomar go`la
otit theke xuni.
 
Tomar name ko`to khun,
ko`to ottacar...
Janle po`re morte ki?
Axte ki abar?
   
Ko`to axa enechile,
roeche e`khon ki?
Chaier d’hipir bhetor theke
bolche mo`ra, “Chi!”

Purbo dexe buddho elo,
Philistine tumi.
Bhalobaxa, xanti kothae?
Paini khuje ami.
 
Roechi ami xiter dexe,
Xiter cot’e ka~pi.
Xagor pare, he~t’e he~t’e
tomar ko`tha bhabi.

Chaier ro`nger megher nice,
chaier-ro`nger d’heu…
Xiter dexe, mo`ron kale,
haxche ki ar, keu?
 
Xo`ndhe jo`khon axbe kro`me,
phut’be to`khon bati.
Jo`ma ho`be girja-gho`re,
dukkhe, manux-jati.
 
Gaibe to`khon xo`bai mile
tomar bho`jon-git.
Astabo`le jonmechile,
baire jo`khon xit.

Xurjo ebar phirche xexe,
dokkhin xima chue.
Diner alo barbe e`khon
aste, e`ke due.
 
Koxt`e bo`chor kat’lo, jader
dexe juddher boli.
Baccagulo haxbe abar,
ei axatei coli.
  
No`rok dekhe, mo`ron kale
tomar khoje jai.
O`ndhokare, alor axa
roeche tobu tai.

Bor’o-diner chut’I elo,
gaibo tomar gan.
Xo`xan ghat’er chaier theke
ut’hbe jege pran.

Xombar, 29-e Disembar, 2014 khri
Bruklin, Niu Io`rk  
  

Broverbs – A Long Sentence

    
Broverbs – A Long Sentence
 
When we’re exhausted, though the work remains,
when we’ve labored, yet had punishment,
when all that we had built ignites and burns
and only ashes, smoldering, are left –
then those with faith in gods might duly turn
to them for consolation – while the ones
without such faith might see a deeper truth,
and realize that gain and loss – reward and
punishment – are waves upon the sea,
but he or she, who dives beneath, can find
an understanding and a vision deep
that’s often lost to those who ride the waves.
 
There’s zen, in which we see it all at once,
as still expounded by the Japanese,
and gyan, which can’t be gathered instantly,
as Indians have known for centuries,
and then there’s chan, which scholars learn about
when they've read what's written in Chinese –
yet strangely these are all the very same,
and even in the West, there’s knowledge and
there’s wisdom – which are linked, yet different.
 
On being served a sentence that is long,
we might not comprehend it fully yet,
but when we’ve worked that sentence partly through,
we then might start to sense its import more,
and finally, when we’ve labored to its end,
we might perceive, in whole, what’s truly meant –
or figure out the sentence made no sense,
and so regret the wasted time we spent.
 
So when you’re standing in the dock, beware –
there’s more to it than words the judge might speak,
yet bear in mind your future’s being parsed,
but what that sentence was, you’ll only know –
when, if fortunate, you’ve been released.
 
Our stanzas shorten as we reach our ends,
and yet enlightenment remains "afar",
for “seeing” might mean one of many things,
and so “extinguish” can, as well.
 
When flights of fancy and achievements end,
we’re back to where we started – there to dwell.
   
Our nibbana is here, not there, dear friend.
 
2014 July 30, Wed.
Brooklyn, New York
    

Resurrection

  
Resurrection
   
It’s said¹ that, close to solstice, Jesus, born

To Mary, lay within a manger, there

In Bethlehem, in ancient Palestine.

It’s also written in the Gospels that,

At Easter, he was crucified – and then,

From where he lay, he rose – as Christ, reborn.

And is this true or not?  I cannot say.

So many myths and truths have mated, mixed,

With men, who’re born to women, turned divine…

But resurrection is an ancient theme –

And one, in which we gladly would believe.

We harvest seeds, from plants that die, yet live.

And each who dies has left a seed behind,

Be it from loins issued or from mind.

And if that grows or not, depends on soil.

But water, air and sunlight too, it needs.

And if these all are granted, lo, behold –

As Jesus rose from dying, so does each.

2013 December 25^th, Wed.
Gregorian Christmas Day
Brooklyn, New York 
  
Note: 
  
1.   The actual day, month and even year of Jesus’ birth is unknown.  From the accounts in the Gospels, it was during a season when shepherds were still out with their flocks and a census was being conducted.  If the climate in Palestine was similar to that which now prevails there, with cold, drizzly winters and temperatures occasionally dipping below freezing, this points to a season other than winter, thus excluding December.
  
So the choice of December 25^th (which currently falls on the Gregorian January 7^th in the uncorrected Julian calendar still followed by the Orthodox churches) may have been a compromise with paganism, or a co-opting of the pagan winter-solstice festival.  
  
Similar accommodations mark much of traditional Christianity, including the core belief in Jesus’ resurrection and divinity.  So this Christianity may be thought of as a confluence of Hellenic (more generally, Indo-Perso-European) cultural and religious outlooks, beliefs and customs with those of the monotheist Hebraic stream.
   
The latter may be represented, somewhat more faithfully, by current Orthodox Judaism and much of Sunni Islam.  Some Protestant branches of Christianity moved, during and after the Reformation, closer to these and away from Catholic and Orthodox (including Armenian, Coptic and Ethiopian) Christianity, as well as most other previously dominant Christian Church traditions.