Buddha Da. Anne Donovan
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says her pal, shovin her hair back so it didnae dangle intae the soup. It’s funny, aw the folk on this retreat either have their hair long and straggly or else dead short.
‘Come on,’ says the pal. ‘Everyone says they were Cleopatra. Nobody ever thinks they were ordinary.’
‘I can dream, can’t I? How about you?’ she says, noddin at me. ‘Who d’you think you were in a past life?’
‘Huvnae a scooby, missus. Tae tell the truth, ah don’t really unnerstaund this reincarnation lark.’
She and her pal start laughin. ‘Hark at you,’ says Alice. ‘If you understood it, you wouldn’t be here, would you?’
Ah couldnae figure oot if they were laughin at me or no, but ah wis saved havin tae reply by Jed, who said, in a slow, serious voice, ‘Surely, the point isn’t where we came from, but where we’re going.’
Gary pipes up. ‘Yeah, it doesn’t matter who we used to be in a past life, but who we’re going to be in the next life.’
‘I thought we were supposed to stay in the present,’ says Barbara.
Alice’s pal stopped eatin and held her soup spoon in the air as if she wis blessin us. ‘Truly being in the present encompasses both the past and the future. You have to hold them all together as one.’
‘Amen, oh great one,’ says Alice. ‘You hit enlightenment today, Shirley?’
‘Just call me Cleopatra,’ she says, turnin back tae her soup.
Ah’d an hour tae kill afore ah’d tae go and chop the veggies fur the dinner so ah went oot fur a walk. The roads roond the Centre were dead quiet and it wis beautiful there; rough fields wi sheep grazin, trees turnin autumn colours. It’s no sumpn ah dae much, go fur walks. Sometimes if we’ve a job on ootside Glesga ah drive through the countryside but ah’m aye hash-bashin alang in the van wi the guys, music blarin, no lookin at the scenery.
The conversation at dinner time had made me feel better. Alice and her pal were a laugh, and the way everybuddy wis talkin sounded as if they werenae sure whit it wis aw aboot either. Mibbe ah wisnae that daft efter aw. And there wis sumpn, no exactly excitin, couldnae find the word fur it – ah suppose mibbe you’d say stimulatin, if it didnae sound sexy – but anyway, sumpn aboot listenin tae folk talkin aboot ideas, things ye couldnae quite unnerstaund. Ah mean, the guys ah work wi wid be cartin ye aff tae the funny farm if ye tried tae have a serious conversation, and wi John it’s the footie, and Liz and me it’s Anne Marie or the hoose or that. There’s naebuddy that talks aboot anythin beyond the day tae day.
Ah never want tae see another fuckin carrot in ma life. Hate the orange bastards. Mountains of them in a basket in the corner of the kitchen – ah’ll be in a basket in the corner by the time ah’ve finished choppin them. No that ah mind choppin a few veggies, it’s no that. It’s just, why don’t they gie folk chores they’re good at? There’s this wee skinny lassie, anither wanny the pierced brigade, and she’s cartin in huge logs for the fire. Ah offered tae help but she looked at me as if ah’d pit ma haund up her skirt. She’s practically cairryin them in wan at a time cos they’re that big fur her, and ah could of done them in five seconds flat. Ah like choppin wood an ah know how tae dae it right, worked on the forestry wan summer years ago up north.
Carrots, on the other hand, are no ma forte. Jeez, ye huvtae manhandle them tae get them tae stay on the choppin board, they keep skitin aff every time ah pit this knife in them, and as fur the shape – well, ah hope they’re no expectin nouvelle cuisine. No that the knife helps. It’s as blunt as buggery, which is why next minute ah’m staundin here lookin like a scene fae Reservoir Dogs.
Barbara puts a clean tea towel roond ma haund but in a few seconds the blood’s soaked through.
‘That’s a deep cut. Press hard on to the wound – there must be a first-aid kit around.’
Vishana appears and leads me intae a wee room aff the kitchen where he produces a green box fulla plasters and dressins. Ah let him get on wi it, cannae bear tae look at things like that.
‘This is nasty. Keep the pressure on it for a few more minutes till the blood loss slows down, then I’ll clean it up and dress it. Hold tight.’
‘Ah’m ur haudin tight.’
‘How d’you do it?’
‘Choppin carrots. Hope there’s no a bit of finger in the stew the night. Bitty a shock fur aw they vegetarians.’
‘It won’t be the first time.’ He cracked a wee smile. ‘You’re not used to chopping carrots, I take it. Or do you prefer them with bits of flesh in them?’
‘Ah’m better at choppin wood actually. How come you don’t gie chores tae folk that can dae them best?’
Vishana slowly unwound the tea towel. The blood was still flowin, but no as bad.
‘Getting better.’ He started tae dab at the wound wi a bit a cotton wool. ‘This may sting a bit.’
He wisnae kiddin.
‘So Jimmy, you think people should get to pick which chores they’re going to do?’
‘Might make mair sense – ah mean, thon wee lassie that wis choppin the logs …’
‘You think she should have chopped the carrots?’
‘No necessarily choppin carrots, but she could of done sumpn else she’d be mair suited to.’
Vishana took a dressin oot a sealed pack.
‘Cleaning the toilets, perhaps?’
‘Aw, come on, ah never said that …’
‘You suggested people do the chores they’re most familiar with. Most women are more used to cleaning toilets than men are.’
‘Aye but ah’m no meanin tae be sexist; it’s just that some jobs need strength.’
‘And some need other things.’
He wrapped the dressin roond ma haund and pressed doon on it haurd.
‘Jimmy, I understand what you’re saying, but we allocate jobs on a random basis, not just to be fair but because sometimes you can learn more from doing an unfamiliar job you find difficult rather than one you can do easily.’ He smiled. ‘Reflect on it. While you’re chopping the rest of the carrots.’
But when ah got back intae the kitchen Barbara’d practically finished them.
‘Thanks,’ ah said. ‘Can ah dae sumpn?’
‘It’s OK, that’s them,’ she says, scrapin the last of them aff the choppin board intae a big bowl. ‘Take them over to Simon; he’ll put them in the stew.’
‘Right.’ They were that neat the way she’d done them, no the big dauds ah’d managed. ‘How d’you get them that neat wi thon blunt knife?’
Barbara’s wipin the choppin board and the work-surface wi a cloth. She turns roond. ‘I sharpened it. Didn’t you see this?’ She points tae a big electric knife sharpener at the other end ae the work-surface.
‘Eh, naw, never seen it.’ How could ah have missed it? Never dawned on me tae look fur it of course. See whit Vishana wis sayin is all very well, but that’s it, in’t it? A wumman thinks tae sharpen a knife that’s blunt but a man just goes on choppin wi it and ends up cuttin hissel.
That night in the prayer room, ah sat listenin tae the rain. Ah’d gied up on the meditation, couldnae concentrate again. Ah wis tired and everythin that had happened ower the weekend so far wis churnin away inside me; the new folk, the stuff ah couldnae unnerstaund, Vishana and they fuckin carrots, and ah felt weary in ma bones. Ah’d taken Vishana’s advice and sat on a chair insteid ae tryin tae dae the cross-legged bit, and ah fund ma fingers drummin on ma leg in time tae the rain’s rhythm. Ah stopped