A Story by JENY

A personal experience ,that occurred while watching the film SIDHARTHA. You should watch the film. Its a Hindi film. Of course my imagination has a role in the desriptioon.






          Such were my thoughts when I first saw him. Dear friends, you read my thoughts that I put down here for your judgment on who broke my TV screen. I shall I write it in first person so that you will get the feel behind my thoughts.

                       I believed what everybody said that you didn’t exist. Still some voice kept murmuring deep inside me that you do exist. You are alive. And I was true. Yesterday I saw you. Your eyes large as his, your countenance reflected the same disgust for world, you walked as if in search of solace slowly and uncertainly like him, yet, courageous, ever ready to receive consequences. Once out of prison, you fell into other prison that you created for yourself, an invisible prison which you mistook as freedom.

          Long before you recognized the walls around you and distinguished the real prison from the virtual one you had that quest for freedom in you. It was this quest which presented you with the discriminative power. Do you know that? Otherwise you woulod not have entered into Budha-hood. You would have lost in between. You would have lost Sidhartha while you did never reach Budha.  

                  Budha, my god I saw you. It is you. I saw you plunging into renunciation, dispassion with my naked eyes. I saw you walking into eternal freedom. It is you….it is you nobody else. Budha….my lord shall I touch thy feet.

            I jumped out of my seat. Ran hysterically towards him, only to touch his feet. Just to see him with my naked eyes and tell him that I believed all my life that my Lord is alive. As I was about to reach him with my arms extended in beseeching gesture, I heard the sound of breaking of glasses. It was nothing but LCD monitor of my TV. There was blood all over my hands.

                Dear friends I was watching a Hindi film named SIDHATHA in the wee hours of a Saturday night. It was the story of a writer in search of himself. Never in my life have I identified with the characters and story while watching a film. I am thinking of buying a bullet proof TV cover for my TV. My doctor said I must.

Tell me who broke my TV screen? Sidhartha or Budha?


© 2010 JENY

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The poem is amazing. Have you decided who broke the TV screen yet? The more I learn. The more I feel I know less. I like the entire poem. Made me think this morning, A excellent poem.

Posted 8 Years Ago

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1 Review
Added on April 19, 2010
Last Updated on April 21, 2010
Tags: Witty, philosophical



Kerala, Thrissur, India

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A Poem by JENY