Buddha Da

by Donovan, Anne

  ‘He really works the audience, doesn’t he?’ said Kamaljit.

  From the side of the stage we could see Gurpreet close up. Haudin his headphones tae his ear wi wan haund he stroked the record wi the other, movin it back and forward, swayin in time tae the beat. Then the headphones fell round his neck while he played the dials wi baith haunds, movin them round wan way and then another, manipulatin the sound so it rose and fell, pulsed and throbbed. He’d his eyes hauf-shut as though he was feelin what he was daein, as though his fingers were sensin how it should be, long thin fingers like Nisha’s. And the crowd were gettin mair and mair carried away with it, you could feel the energy rise fae the dance flair.

  Then he stoppped the music.

  ‘Right everyone, get ready to count down with me, not just the New Year, but the new millennium … ten, nine, eight …’ He wove in the sound of a radio station counting in the bells and the chimes of Big Ben boomed across the hall. Everyone went mental, kissin each other and jumpin up and doon. Kamaljit gied me a hug and a kiss. ‘Good luck, babe!’ she whispered in ma ear. Gurpreet waited for the noise tae subside a bit then he got back tae the mic.

  ‘OK, everyone, there are some fireworks outside but that is nothing compared tae the fireworks you are gonnae experience in here in a moment … let’s hear yer best welcome for the fabulous, the amazing, the incredible, Millennium Babes …’

  And that was us. For wan split second when ah seen the crowd heavin in fronty us ah felt like heavin masel, a sick feelin lurched in ma stomach, then the first few notes of the song rang oot. Nisha said, ‘You can dance,’ and ah took a deep breath and we were away, launchin intae wer routine, beltin it oot, usin the mics the way we’d practised in front of a mirror over and over again.

  And when we’d finished they went mental, they were clappin that much you’d of thought it was really Madonna up on the stage. Gurpreet muttered ‘Go for it’ while he footered wi switches and we launched intae ‘Holiday’. We’d learned the routine aff the video, all the arm actions, and we danced oor way through that; it was easy, lighter, mair fun. Then wer finale, ‘Like a Prayer’, intense and over the tap.

  Wanst we’d got aff the stage, Kamaljit came up and flung her airms round us. ‘You were brilliant. Girls, you are stars.’

  ‘They really seemed tae like us,’ says Nisha, soundin surprised.

  ‘They loved you, they really did. I was watching the audience when I could tear myself away from your performance and they just loved it.’

  A guy came up tae us, an aulder guy wi straggly hair and a leather jaicket. ‘Girls, do you have anyone managing you?’

  ‘Managing us?’

  ‘Yeah, I manage quite a few local bands and I’m always looking out for new talent.’

  Kamaljit looked at him, and said, dead cool and dead posh, ‘The girls are already represented.’

  ‘All right. But, please, take my card anyway, in case you change your mind.’

  He turned round and heided aff through the crowd.

  ‘What did he mean?’

  ‘He’s a creep. Forget it. Let’s go and dance.’

  Kamaljit looked at his card, ripped it in pieces and drapped it on the flair.

  Liz

  SAME OLD STUFF. Pick up Mammy and take her round tae Tricia and John’s. Glass a wine. Blether wi Tricia’s sister. Help get the sausage rolls and quiche and sandwiches ready. Another glass a wine. Bit of dancin. Sometimes a karaoke if John’s pal Brian is round. Then the bells. Auld Lang Syne. Kissin everybody.

  Mibbe Jimmy was right efter all. Mibbe this wasnae the best way tae celebrate the New Year. Or mibbe it was just that since he and Anne Marie werenae here then it wasnae really like the New Year at all. Ah felt as if there was a bubble round me, ah was imprisoned in it, couldnae see through it properly; everythin was fuzzy and naebody could touch me.

  ‘Ah thought Jimmy would of been here for the bells.’ Tricia opened the oven, pulled oot a tray of wee bacon rolls wi cheese inside and set them on the counter. ‘Ah got some veggie filo parcels – will ah set some aside for him in case the carnivores eat them all?’

  ‘Naw, Trish, ah don’t think he’s comin at all. Ah think he’s spendin the night there.’

  She stopped puttin the food ontae plates and looked at me. ‘Whit is it wi him and this Buddhism stuff, Liz? Ah mean, the New Year is a tradition. Yous’ve never missed a New Year wi the faimly for as long as ah can remember.’

  Ah was stopped fae havin tae answer her by John comin intae the kitchen. ‘Is there another bottle of whisky in here, Trish?’

  Ah went intae the bathroom and stood at the sink, haudin on tae the basin. Did she no remember the wan time ah did miss the New Year? Did she no remember what happened six year ago? Mibbe she just forgot it happened at the New Year. Everyone else seems tae have forgotten. Even ma mammy. Sittin there on the settee wi her wee whisky, ciggie in her haund, bletherin tae Rose, enjoyin gettin oot and intae company. She’s forgotten. And Jimmy, wherever he is.

  No somethin you talk aboot. No sumpn you put on the calendar. Anne Marie’s birthday, Mammy’s hospital appointment, New Year’s party, miscarriage.

  Ah splashed ma face wi cauld watter. Dark circles round ma eyes.

  Tricia’s bathroom is peach. Had it done last year. Pale peach tiles, a flowery border, creamy paint. The towels are orange. Everythin matchin. It smells orangey too, the air freshener she uses. There’s a spray on tap of the toilet; mandarin, it’s called.

  Ah remember the hospital toilet; the flair, greeny grey wi glittery specks through, stinkin of pine disinfectant. Sicky smell. And the blood; bright red blood, gushin on tae the flair when ah tried tae get washed, floodin through ma knickers and the super-absorbent sanitary towels. Haudin on tae the basin lookin intae the mirror and seein ma eyes, dark-ringed, lossin it.

  When ah came oot the bathroom, they were all gathered round the windaes, watchin the snow, white powdery snowflakes birlin round the sky.

  ‘A white New Year. Makes a change fae a white Christmas, eh?’

  It was just startin tae lie, frostin the pavements and roads. A purple car nosed slowly up the road and double parked ootside the hoose. Anne Marie jumped oot, waved at us all and came tae the door.

  ‘Happy New Year … ah’m ah yer first foot?’

  ‘Naw, hen, Uncle Paul went oot efter the bells.’

  She came up and kissed me. ‘Happy New Year, Mammy.’

  ‘Happy New Year, hen. D’you have a good time?’

  ‘Aye, it was brilliant. Is ma da no here yet?’

  ‘Naw, no yet. Was that Nisha and her sister?’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘You should of asked them tae come in.’

  ‘Ah did say, but they were wantin tae get hame – said her mammy would be worried if they were too late.’

  ‘Aye, right enough, specially with this snow. Ah think ah should be gettin your granny hame soon too.’

  ‘Ah don’t know, Ma – she looks as if she’s enjoyin hersel fine.’

  Mammy was sittin on the settee wi a glass in her haund, holdin court.

  ‘Still, if this weather gets any worse. Don’t want her tae slip if it’s icy. Ah cannae drive her, ah had some wine. And ah don’t suppose there’s anybody else here sober enough either.’

  ‘Why don’t you wait tae ma daddy comes? He’ll no have been drinkin.’

  ‘Ah don’t know, hen. Ah got the impression he’d be very very late, would probably stay over there until the morra.’

  Jimmy

  THE NEW YEAR.

  The millennium.

  Everybuddy keeps askin whit ah’m daein fur the New Year.

  Ah don’t know whit tae say.

  Every other New Year fur as long as ah can remember, ah’ve done the same thing. Oot wi the brother fur a few pints early on, back tae the hoose fur sumpn tae eat, then aboot ten o’clock folk start arrivin. Maisty the faimly come roond, plenty bevvy, everybuddy havin a good laugh. Last year we had the karaoke too and that’s pure magic.
Especially Anne Marie. That lassie’s voice is unbelievable so it is, she can just belt it oot. Last year we done a duet on ‘You’ll Never Walk Alone’ Somethin else. We used tae go roond tae ma mammy’s but since ma da’s gone she’s just no up fur the New Year any mair. ‘Ah’ll just away tae ma bed, son,’ she says.

  Liz couldnae unnerstaund why ah was daein this. ‘It’ll no be the same if you’re no there.’

  Ah didnae know whit tae say. How could ah tell her that ah just don’t feel that way any mair, cannae be bothered wi the noise and the people, cannae haundle it? Anyhow ah don’t drink noo and whoever heard of seein in the New Year wioot a drink in yer haund?

  Ah tried tae talk tae the Rinpoche aboot it. Tellt him ah didnae know whit tae dae wi masel.

  ‘In that case, do not do anything. Empty your mind.’

  ‘How d’ye mean? Just stay in the hoose and watch the TV? Ah don’t think ah could face that either.’

  ‘TV is not mindless.’

  ‘You obviously huvnae seen Wheel of Fortune.’

  He laughs wanny his wee funny laughs, kinda high-pitched like a lassie’s.

  ‘The state of mindlessness you seek is a conscious mindlessness. Watching TV, drinking alcohol, these kinds of activities promote an unconscious mindlessness.’

  ‘Well, the drink certainly promotes a loaty unconscious mindlessness – we cry it bein pissed oot yer heid.’

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘Sorry, Rinpoche – whit were ye sayin?’

  ‘New Year has an important symbolism in your culture. And this New Year is especially symbolic. So you need to approach it in the right way. Meditation can help you in that process.’

  ‘So, d’you think ah should meditate for the millennium, is that it?’

  The wee guy just smiles and it’s like the sun comin oot.

  ‘What do you think, Jimmy?’

  Well it sounds dead simple, but try tellin embdy yer gonnae spend New Year by yersel – it’s like sayin you’re plannin tae spend Fair Fortnight in Barlinnie, just fur a wee change fae Spain.

  ‘Will ah come roond fur ye oan Saturday?’

  John drains the last of his pint. Ah’ve been sittin wi an empty gless fur the last twenty minutes. Ye don’t exactly rush tae get in anither orange juice.

  ‘Thought ah’d just stay in oan Saturday.’

  ‘So whit ur you gonnae dae then? Watch the Reverend I.M. Jolly?’

  ‘Ah don’t know, ah just … well ah just don’t feel like a party.’

  ‘Ye cannae stay in yersel. Fur God’s sake, Jimmy it’s the New Year.’

  ‘Ah know, but it’s different this year.’

  ‘Sure is different – it’s the millennium – come oan! Look, you and me’ll go fur a few pints, we’ll go back tae the hoose just in time fur the bells, just show yer face fur hauf an hour.’

  ‘Ah cannae dae it, John. Ah cannae.’

  Wanst the Rinpoche hud pit the idea of meditatin intae ma heid, well, ah couldnae get it oot. Ah kept thinkin how great it wid be jist tae sit by masel when everybuddy else was oot gettin pissed, daein the conga roond the hoose an kissin folk they’ve met five minutes ago. Just clear, no fuzzy and mashed up inside ma heid. Ah’d been readin this book, aboot enlightenment and how it could jist come tae ye, all of a sudden, no huvin tae meditate fur years, just like a lightnin flash, and ah thought, well, mibbe this could be it. It wis the millennium. This could be ma best shot. After aw, it wisnae gonnae hit me in the middle of the karaoke beltin oot ‘Agadoo’, wis it?

  So at ten o’clock when Liz and Anne Marie were away, ah heided aff tae the Centre and started tae make ma preparations. Ah set oot a photie of the Rinpoche beside the statue of the Buddha in the meditation room and lit a caundle in fronty them. Ah’d bought the caundle special – a yella wan – thought yella wid be a good colour tae bring in the New Year. Ah sorted the cushions intae a pile and sat doon.

  The Rinpoche hud tellt me he thought it wid be a good idea tae prepare fur the meditation.

  ‘How d’ye mean?’

  ‘If you invite a friend round to your house you clean up, don’t you? You make sure he has somewhere to sit down?’

  ‘Aye.’ Still didnae get it.

  ‘When you meditate you are inviting in the light. You have to do a bit of clearing out your mind. Tidy up a bit.’

  ‘Uh huh.’

  ‘Clear a space for him.’

  So here a wis, sittin wi ma eyes closed, and ah knew whit the Rinpoche meant. Fur ma mind wis a complete and utter midden – a right guddle a thoughts and feelins fleein aboot aw ower the shop. And ah needed tae clear up the mess or ah’d never be able tae even start a meditation. So ah sat and thought fur a while, no tryin tae breathe or count or visualise anythin, just watch whit wis gaun oan. And it wis haurd. Fur ah had tae look at whit ah wis daein and ah didnae like whit ah seen.

  Liz. Liz and me. Things between us were just no right. We seemed tae be further and further apart. And ah didnae know whit tae dae. Ah knew she didnae unnerstaund whit was gaun on wi me, ah didnae unnerstaund it masel. She’d be happy if we just went back the way we were, if ah gied up the Buddhism. But ah know ah’m no gonnae, no the now, no afore ah’ve got masel sorted. That’s the bottom line. Ah’ve got tae keep gaun, see where it’s takin me, hopin that at the end of it, somehow it’ll be better for us all.

  So ah sat there, haudin that feelin, feelin a crack startin tae brek open, workin its way up the centre a ma body fae ma belly tae ma heid. And the pressure wis buildin up in ma heid like an eletric storm aboot tae flash through the sky. Ah pit ma haunds ower ma foreheid the pain wis gettin that bad, then all of a sudden it broke, ah felt ma eyes stingin. Ah wanted tae roar, make a noise, scream, but ah couldnae – how could ah? So ah sat there tae it passed and ah wis left drained.

  Ah looked at the clock and it said ten tae twelve so ah got oot ma Walkman and switched it oan. Ah’d taped the CD Anne Marie gied me of the monks chantin – thought it’d be a good thing tae shut oot the noise of fireworks and folk singin an that. Ah lit ma caundle and sat, watchin the flame ficker in the daurk while the monks chanted Tibetan words in their singsong voices. And this incredible feelin of peace come ower me, soft like. So ah just sat.

  Next morn when ah woke up the sun wis splittin a pure blue sky. Ah couldnae believe it. It must of been the first New Year since ah wis fourteen that ah hudnae woke up wi a heid wi wee hammers gaun aff in it. Everythin in the room looked brand new. The colours on the downie cover, a pattern a yella and orange flooers, wis like sumpn in a movie it wis that sharp. Ah lay there fur a minute, just lookin at it. Just lookin. So this wis whit it wis all aboot. Just lookin. Just everythin bein clear. The light comin in the windae. En-light-enment. Seein the light. Ah’d seen the light.

  Ah got ooty ma sleepin bag and went intae the kitchen, made a cuppa tea. Slowly. Watchin the kettle bile, wee bubbles risin, steam shootin oot the spout. Watchin the broon colour seepin through the watter fae the teabag. Watchin the mulk spirallin intae the broon, makin it a lighter broon. Stirrin it wi the teaspoon. The teaspoon wi the broon stains oan it fae aw the cups a tea and aw the teabags it’s known in its life. Ah stood there in the kitchen, by masel, laughin.

  Efter ma tea, ah heided up tae the Botanics. It had snowed overnight, no right heavy snow, just powdery like icin sugar, but everythin wis covered wi this dustin a white. Perfect. In the middle of the path was a leaf, the pattern of the veins outlined in white and ah thought ah’d never seen anythin so beautiful.

  The snow made it even mair quiet. There wis hardly embdy aboot, just a few folk heidin hame fae parties, lookin rough. There wis this auld guy oot walkin his dug, wanny they daft wee dugs that looks mair like a rat than anythin. He took wan look at me smilin at him and heided the other way. Ah walked through the park, just full of it; the meditatin, the light, the snaw. Aw the bad stuff wis gone. Everythin wis gonnae be all right. Ah’d go up tae the hoose, get Anne Marie and Liz and bring them oot here intae the snow.

  Ah mind a couple of
year ago it snowed dead heavy at Christmas and ah made a big snowman wi Anne Marie oot in the back court. It was late in the efternoon when the light was fadin and the sky turnin pink and blue. Magic. There wasnae enough tae make a snowman the day. Ah put ma haund doon tae touch it and it felt that soft for a moment then freezin against ma fingers.

  Ah’d brung a bag a nuts fur the squirrels – fund them in the kitchen of the Centre when ah was makin the tea. They’re that tame they come right up tae ye. They’ll sit oan yer haund and take the nuts wi their wee claws. Beautiful, so they are, wi their wee eyes and soft feathery tails flecked wi white.

  So there am ur, daein ma St Francis a Maryhill act, convinced ah’m noo an enlightened bein. And a wee squirrel hops ower the path, runs up ma leg oantae ma airm and afore ah can say Rinpoche, the wee bastard looks me straight in the face, bites me in the finger and runs aff. The blood’s pourin ooty me, ah feel as if ah’ve been savaged by a bloody wolf, no a fuckin squirrel. Ah cannae believe it. It wis the way he just looked at me, just looked, as if tae say, ‘up yours, pal’.

  Ah staund fur a minute, stunned, till it dawns oan me ah’d better dae sumpn aboot it. Ah’ll need tae get a tetanus jag, won’t ah? At haulf past seven on New Year’s mornin? Christ. Ah’ll need tae go tae the Western.

  The Casualty Department is no ER and the wumman behind the counter is no Nurse Hathaway. No that ah blame her – it cannae be a lot ae laughs workin on New Year, and by the looks a maisty the folk waitin it’s been a rough night. And noo she’s got the joker in.

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘Can I have your name, please?’ She has a card in fronty her and she’s aboot tae stert fillin in ma details.

  ‘Eh, ah wis just wantin a bitty advice?’

  She looks up and peers at me through her specs.

  ‘Look, ah don’t know if ah really need help, it’s just …’

  ‘We’re very busy here. If you don’t need urgent treatment you should wait and see your doctor after the holiday.’