SHREYAS AGNIHOTRI

THE PUZZLE

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Up stood the master, well-balanced and wise.

Down bowed the student, a spark in his eyes.

They sparred eighty years till their bones turned to chalk.

They took a long break and then went for a walk.

 

They went to the market in search of some fruit.

The mangoes and mulberries quenched their pursuit.

The marketplace owner looked on with a smile.

Family moves us and makes life worthwhile.

 

The owner approached the two, ever polite.

They shared the fresh fruit and the nuts and the dates.

The owner then asked if they knew to fight.

“No,” said the master. “I know to create.”

 

“I know to dance”, said the student with thrill..

“Man is but searching for flow and free will.

Just like the water, I shape what I am.

Effort is honest and luck is a sham.”

 

As for the master, his pride was stupendous.

His own belief was now in his apprentice.

“All that I know is the vision I claim,

Wisdom and freedom are one and the same.”

 

The marketplace owner was deeply impressed.

He offered some fruit to the boy for his troubles.

The master and student would give him their best.

They just kept on walking, carefree and supple.

 

The master would nod at the couples who crossed.

The child was enamored by flowers and frost.

The pink, orange sky brought a smile to his face.

The moon fell in love with the earth and her grace.

 

Gently the daffodils swayed in the breeze.

The student would smell them and exhale with peace.

The master felt mist and the musk of the moss.

Searching for meaning they never had lost.

 

They encountered a beggar who sat by the shore.

Scrounging for scraps and some litter to eat.

Glass shards were scattered and strewn on the floor.

The beggar wore rags that he tied to his feet.

 

The master sat and took the poor beggar’s hand.

He donated water and shoes so he’d stand. 

The student gave mangoes that he’d just been gifted.

The beggar’s sad feelings had suddenly shifted.

 

“21 days,” croaked the poor man with pain.

“People passed by me averting their eyes.

I will remember your generous name.

How can I thank you for all these supplies?”

 

The student and master just asked for his wisdom.

This was their long-standing charity system.

The beggar said “I am the symbol of chance.

I, just like you, had viewed life with romance.”

 

“Choices are branches on mile-high trees.

A droplet of water can shatter the seas.

One painful death, in the next life, is birth.

And one single person can alter the earth.”

 

“I made the wrong choice and now live on the streets.

That is your image of failure, defeat.

But I live with hope in what this life will bring.

And in the next life maybe I’ll be a king.”

 

A man is much more than what outsiders see.

You are not what they may claim you to be.

The beggar was no failure, the brilliant soul.

Just on a long path to reaching his goal.

 

Perspective’s a wise person’s very best friend.

The fool will be destined to see his own end.

The student and master felt glad to do good, 

So they kept on their walk and went into the woods.

 

The deep komorebi shone onto the stream.

The chirping of birds set the idyllic scene.

The waterfalls wept out of vehement joy.

The golden grass grinned on the master and boy.

They walked to a clearing with sparrows and hawks.

There sat a blind monk atop dozens of rocks.

Dressed in a robe and a deep yellow hood.

The monk cleared his mind and then suddenly stood.

 

“Say”, spoke the monk, cool and calm in the face.

“What brings you two to this corner of space?”

“I sense great wisdom inside of your hearts,

But only those seeking more come to these parts.”

 

“We have no goal, just a mind full of dreams.”

The master replied, which the monk understood. 

“You are a wise man, it plausibly seems.

Tell us, why do you reside in the woods?”

 

The monk thought a while and declared to the two:

“Life is an infinite, pure metronome.

Men may tell lies, but their soul will be true.

And even the weakest man finds his way home.”

 

“I’ve wandered with wonder in search of my mission.

For nothing can conquer a man with a vision. 

I see rather well for a man with blind eyes.

And here in the forest, my destiny lies.”

 

“The self is made up of the world that we know,

But your soul will live on, everlong, once you go.

You both are fighters, well-balanced and wise.

When you fall to the ground, what compels you to rise?”

 

“This is my puzzle for all humankind.

We will all soon be forgotten someday.

Love and compassion still conquer the mind.

What is the purpose of living this way?”

 

Deep in the ocean of soul in this notion,

The master and student were swept with emotion.

The monk showed the two that they had more to learn.

They bowed to the blind man and chose to return.

 

They walked to their dojo and pondered the puzzle.

The master cooked dinner and quietly shuffled.

He slept with no answer and fell into dreams.

He dreamt of The Puzzle and what it could mean. 

He and the student slept one thousand years.

Their minds stayed awake and concocted new visions.

Answers meandered and scampered in fear.

They woke up with wisdom but no intuition.

 

The student suggested they go on a walk.

The teacher obliged and stepped onto the block.

A new day had dawned, bright and clear all the while.

A thousand years later, the city still smiled.

 

They went to the market that they had seen prior.

The search for The Puzzle stayed in their desire.

They looked for the owner that they’d met before.

But to their surprise, someone new owned the store.

 

For it was the beggar they had seen on the street!

The man who had worn rags and walked on bare feet,

Now bore clean clothes and a fresh, florid face.

He greeted the master and student with grace.

 

The man was transformed and he grinned as he said:

“All your compassion helped me get ahead.

Slowly, I toiled till I had a career. 

I pass on your kindness to everyone here.”

 

The three shared a lunch at the dojo and trained.

A thousand years passed but their strength still remained.

The master and student left after some tea.

The two, after all, had an old friend to see.

 

They went to the forest in the late afternoon.

The rich autumn colors shone under the moon.

And stumps lay where trees used to stand proud and tall.

Now thousands of treetops do not stand at all.

 

They walked to a clearing with sparrows and hawks.

There sat the blind monk atop dozens of rocks.

Dressed in a robe and a deep yellow hood.

The monk cleared his mind and then suddenly stood.

 

“Say”, spoke the monk, cool and calm in the face.

“What brings you two to this corner of space?”

“I sense great freedom inside of your hearts,

But only those seeking more come to these parts.”

“We have returned here to answer your question,”

The master declared with a mighty expression.

The monk heard his voice and remembered the man.

He said “very well”, and the master began:

 

“As long as the sun sets on ev’ry new night,

As long as the moon graces us with her light,

As long as the stars seem to dance in their flight,

As long as the wind blows and flows left to right.

 

The cyclical, critical nature of charity.

The rigorous, vigorous search for its clarity.

Goodness is not for the spirit of greed.

Service is not done to show off a deed.

 

People change people and that is our purpose.

Love is far deeper than life at its surface.

No matter how minor, your choices return.

They blossom and flourish and help us to learn.

 

Choices are branches on mile-high trees.

A droplet of water can shatter the seas.

One painful death, in the next life, is birth.

And one single person can alter the earth.

 

This boy and I once helped a beggar to eat.

The man was in squalor and lied on the street.

He was in pain but he told us his thesis.

And we found his words and his wisdom prestigious.

 

It took just 10 minutes and some mangoes and shoes.

The man had been honest in sharing his views

A thousand years later, the man grew to be, 

A marketplace owner who passes on glee.

 

A century’s nothing to the moon and the sun.

So to think that we matter forever is strange.

But in all of our lives, when it’s all said and done,

We mean as much as the people we change.

 

This is the answer to your mighty Puzzle.”

 

Choices are branches on mile-high trees.

A droplet of water can shatter the seas.

So then what happened to all those involved,

A thousand years after the puzzle was solved?

 

The monk left the forest and never was found,

His spirit still watches from over the town.

 

The beggar-turned-owner turned into a mayor,

He’s known for his kindness and passion for nature.

 

The boy, now a master, trains students to fight.

He dreams every day and still spars every night.

 

The master now sits in the depth of the woods,

Calmly on rocks and surrounded by grass.

Wearing a robe and a deep yellow hood,

And posing the puzzle to people who pass.