My third venture into the 2015 Prime
Minister’s Literary Awards Shortlist (Poetry) sees me explore a raft of
Buddhist themes in Judith Beveridge’s “Devadatta’s Poems”.
Judith Beveridge’s collection, in her own
words, is a highly fictionalized and dramatized” sequence imagining the voice
of Devadatta, Siddhattha’s (the Buddha, note that here I’ve used the spelling
in the collection not the more common spelling ‘Siddhartha’) cousin. Devadatta
attempted to murder the Buddha on three separate occasions in order to usurp
control of the Order (Sangha) of monks. He was in love with Siddhattha’s wife
Yasodhara, and befriended Prince Ajatasattu, also a Buddhist, who wanted
control of the Kingdom of Magadha.
For those without any Buddhist knowledge this
collection includes an introduction, explaining the relationship between
Devadatta and Siddhattha, their caste, the fact that Siddhattha left the town
of Kapilavatthu to lead a mendicant life in search of enlightenment, and other
historical learnings. The detail around the Buddhist Four Noble Truths and the
Eightfold Path are explained in the notes at the conclusion of the collection.
Alms Round, Sarnath
I smell ripe
figs, dates, pomegranates; cumin and onions
sizzling in hot ghee. There are pies of sesame and honey cakes,
teas scented with cinnamon and cloves, but we must wait
sizzling in hot ghee. There are pies of sesame and honey cakes,
teas scented with cinnamon and cloves, but we must wait
Along the town’s
outskirts, keep our eyes downcast,
try to be grateful for whatever’s given. Mostly all I’m given
are scrawny parings of stalks, maggoty wheat crawling
try to be grateful for whatever’s given. Mostly all I’m given
are scrawny parings of stalks, maggoty wheat crawling
In the centre of
my hands. Don’t these other monks
want to look these folk squarely in the eyes and demand
mangos, melons and handpicked beans? Don’t they want
want to look these folk squarely in the eyes and demand
mangos, melons and handpicked beans? Don’t they want
To stuff their
mouths full of rice and roasted coconut,
with almonds, cashes and pickled beets? Aren’t they tired
of seeing their bowls as bare as their shaved heads?
with almonds, cashes and pickled beets? Aren’t they tired
of seeing their bowls as bare as their shaved heads?
I want to tell
Buddha to chew his rules about patience
and frugality into a sloppy cud. I want to hold my bowl out
as boldly as a symbol and clang it loudly with my spoon.
and frugality into a sloppy cud. I want to hold my bowl out
as boldly as a symbol and clang it loudly with my spoon.
I want to tell
these miserable, skinflint, pinch-fisted folk
to stop tossing us husks, rinds, cores, thorns, rats’ tails,
roosters’ claws and – oh! – so many stinking lepers’ thumbs!
to stop tossing us husks, rinds, cores, thorns, rats’ tails,
roosters’ claws and – oh! – so many stinking lepers’ thumbs!
Devadatta’s love an obsession with Buddha’s
wife Yasodhara, is explored through a number of poems, musings on this
unrequited love:
Her Hair
At night I think
of her hair like a free hoard
of honey in my hands. Sometimes I imagine she is letting
me thread jasmine, or strips of perfumed bark through her hair;
that I’m rolling her hair into a thick bun at her nape,
dressing it with oil, or adorning it with feathers.
of honey in my hands. Sometimes I imagine she is letting
me thread jasmine, or strips of perfumed bark through her hair;
that I’m rolling her hair into a thick bun at her nape,
dressing it with oil, or adorning it with feathers.
Sometimes I
dream she lets me colour her parting
with the same vermillion stick she’ll later apply to her lips.
I think of her hair and I smell musk, myrrh,
then the peregrine rain. When insects fizz and snap
at the lamplight, I dream they are the sound of the teeth
with the same vermillion stick she’ll later apply to her lips.
I think of her hair and I smell musk, myrrh,
then the peregrine rain. When insects fizz and snap
at the lamplight, I dream they are the sound of the teeth
of one of her
ivory combs, breaking as I draw them
down hose heavy strands, the light stroking,
then filling her hair with shadow. When the days
and nights pass with unremitting rain, I dream I hear the sighs
of her bracelets slipping into my secrets whisperings
down hose heavy strands, the light stroking,
then filling her hair with shadow. When the days
and nights pass with unremitting rain, I dream I hear the sighs
of her bracelets slipping into my secrets whisperings
of her name. But
some nights, all I can hear is her
cracking in half all of her gem-studded combs; then the rasp
and harrow of the stone-handled knife: Yasodhara
hacking her hair back to her scalp – the flump of it falling –
and Yasodhara sobbing out Siddhatta’s name.
cracking in half all of her gem-studded combs; then the rasp
and harrow of the stone-handled knife: Yasodhara
hacking her hair back to her scalp – the flump of it falling –
and Yasodhara sobbing out Siddhatta’s name.
This is a collection that through exploring
a jealous man’s obsessions and musings, as well as the day-to-day activities of
being a Buddhist monk, also explores the Four Noble Truths of Buddhism:
- All existence is suffering
- Suffering is caused by selfish craving
- Selfish craving can be destroyed
- It can be destroyed by following the Eightfold Path
The Eightfold Path consists of:
- Right view;
- Right resolve;
- Right speech;
- Right action;
- Right livelihood;
- Right effort;
- Right mindfulness;
- Right concentration.
Throughout this collection of forty-eight
poems our narrator, Devadatta, moves through the various human rejections of
the Eightfold Path, this is a collection rooted in Buddhist learnings and
references (Even the fact that is collection is forty-eight poems is probably a
reference - Siddhattha sat under a Bodhi tree for 48 days to understand the
nature of reality and the universe, leading to enlightenment and Buddhism, a
less likely reference are the forty-eight vows of Amida Buddha, Hōzō Bosatsu Hōzō).
The human mental struggle to meditate
whilst the mind wanders, in Devadatta’s case wandering to thoughts of Yasodhara
and the aches in his body, is a Buddhist musing on “distraction”. The poem
itself repetitive signifying the human mind’s propensity to wander to the most
pressing issue at hand. There is also a poem on “karma” and Devadatta’s
jealousy and spite of the Buddha so out of control that he doesn’t care if his next
birth is from “the egg of a louse, a worm, a flea…”.
Another very readable collection from the
Prime Minister’s Literary Award Shortlist, one that is rooted in Buddhist
thought and teachings, but at the same time explores the human frailties of
jealousy, desire, rage, indignation and ignorance. Judith Beveridge a lecturer
on poetry writing at the University of Sydney, shows she has a deft hand at
presenting a large range of themes in even small collections.
Source - personal copy. This work can be purchased directly from the publisher here.
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