with a long white beard
donning a maroon turban
and an orange robe
balances comfortably
in his wooden crutches
walks into a small Himalayan town
begging for alms from homes
Charming, sombre and charismatic,
he’s a soft-spoken man of few words
with a quiet, striking presence
A young boy offers him
some coins that he
gracefully accepts and in return
chants goodwill mantras
and marks the boy’s
third eye with holy ash
as a sign of spiritual blessing
The boy awaits each month
and builds an affinity with him
like his own grandfather
The ascetic, however,
has fully transcended—
he regards the whole world
as his family and his home
He is in peace with
anything he receives—
coins, grains or food,
even nothing would
still be accepted as alms
These quiet observations
are sublime wisdom—
gradually bequeathed
on every visit
Time passes—
his ethereal meanderings
have disappeared into a mist
He may have moved on
for he’s a free man,
or he may have come to an
end of his worldly journey
The boy longs to see the
ascetic who taught him
something so subtle
without teaching anything
Decades later—
the boy is getting old himself
but still holds the memories
vivid in his mind
Such is the power of
unspoken wisdom