Peace

This is my place.

It's in the community park just outside my little ground floor flat.

I head out to the park for a quick round at odd intervals,day or night. It's a large park - probably the size of a football field, an oddly shaped ellipse, narrower on the right. It is ringed by about 50 trees and many more low bushes. Daylight dapples the walking path, that runs along the circumference, under the trees. At night, sometimes, bats with wings a dark velvety silver, whiz past ominously. At night, also, Sheru, a truly bad tempered stray dog with a beautiful coat of red hair lies in the dead center of the park, daring anyone to dislodge him. But night is not my favorite time for a walk because I can't stand near the bougainvilleas and smoke and survey and just plain drift.

There are five Pipal trees in this park and the bougainvilleas are near one of them. Pipals ar sacred trees - The Buddha found enlightenment under one in far off Bihar. The base of almost any Pipal tree will usually be littered with little sacred objects, pictures of gods or goddesses, clay idols, offerings of food, clay lamps and such. I usually light up a cigarette when I get to the Pipal which is next to this bougainvillea and check out the day's take. And take in the action in the middle of the park which has kids playing cricket or football or practising Tae Kwon Do. There always a few people sprawled out on the benches, some on a break, some goofing off - telephone repair men, house maids, a few residents playing cards or chess or reading - or just staring peacefully out at the world beforethey head back, like me, to work. I have no idea why it is this spot that pulls me and has me stop. Maybe in this world, like bus stops, there are Castaneda stops.

In a far corner, to my left, two women huddle in a collusion, backs to the park, and share a forbidden cigarette.




Far off, to my right, a group of kids swing gleefully from the benign but supple branches of another Pipal. It's peaceful where I am, despite their shouts.