Road to Nirvana

Watch your step. The floor is uneven, not meant for old bones. And you have to walk in the centre. They have told you this. You cannot lean against a wall to support yourself, they have said this too. If you ignore this warning, you will perish, the walls disintegrate on touch.

You do not touch the walls; you want to reach that door that beckons at the end of the passage. In each dream, they have shown you pictures of it. It is actually a fluid door, made of moving water. “A watery grave for you,” they said, and laughed.

But I know different. I will reach that door and plunge in, then surface as a lotus flower, many-petalled, attaining nirvana. A lotus flower of deep purple with a thick green stem, its petals moving out to embrace a sun I have not seen in so many years, ever since I was incarcerated in a room of bare walls and no movement. Now I have a passage, a destination, and a flower.


Abha Iyengar
Poet & Author
Age 57
Delhi, Delhi, India

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