Mustards

Buddha’s mustard is everyone’s death .Keep counting the stars like little mustards of our common death. And now keep counting them from where your son had left four years ago. Bring me a mustard from a house that has not seen death,said a smiling Buddha.

The water motor keeps pumping and everyone goes about their sun business. From our porches and the corners of our verandas the sun is going about its business. Everyone is going about their business.

(To a mother asking for the return of her dead son,Buddha said ‘bring me a mustard from a house that has not seen death’)