The Common misinterpretations of a Pali Verse that states the body decays but the Name and the Tribe does not

This verse I have heard many politicians of yesteryear utter in tandem with political speeches, I often wonder from where it originated.

Rupam Jirati Majjanam

Nama Gottam Najirathi

 It should be stated as

Rupam Jirati Majjanam

Nama Gottam Jirathi Va

The face value seems all Buddhist in nature but its implication in modern day is really disruptive to the nature of Dhamma as stated in the Tripitaka (the Three Baskets). 

There is no problem with the first statement. 

The second statement destroys the whole of Dhamma in entirety.

In Buddhist phenomenology self (Nama or Soul) does not exist and the tribe (Gothra) is an illusion that originate from the above wrong premise.

I have to restate the same with my own invention as below. 

The meaning I am trying to derive at is that the Mind State does not vanish at death but (Patisandhi) re-link with the next Bhava using Kamma as the vehicle or the driving force.

Rupam Jirati Majjanam

Nama (means Mind here) Kittam (means Kamma) Najirathi

(The Gotham is substituted with Kittam-Kriya)

In Abhidhamma context it is realistic to use the above version of the verse (even though I am not a Pali scholar) to express the conditional existence of Bhava. 

The term Nama Rupa (stated above in first chapter) occurs frequently in Abhidhamma and Nama is used interchangeably with the Mind. 

The term for body is corporeality and not Rupa in Pali context.

Who perpetuated this myth is immaterial but the damage it has done is enormous. 

In that context writing something of my own contradicting the statement is appropriate even though it is a departure from the original tenets of this book.

This I think originated with the British rule. 

It is common for us to blame the British for every little mishap we are going through in our modern history. 

But this one is a direct antecedent. 

They are the one who started naming the streets even in Kandy with British names of inheritance and their Governors. 

All the streets in Colombo have some relevance to British authorship. 

In their tradition it is a normal and is all welcome by every British administrators big and small.

What went wrong was that we adapted this tradition without scrutiny in the post-colonial period and continue to do so even now. 

Instead of naming the street with some meaningful road traditions like main street, cross street, first lane or second lane we started adapting our own names. 

Politicians in turn for their gain started naming these streets with the names of their kith and kin. 

They invented and used the above jargon riddled Pali verse for the propagation of the political agenda. Even though the tradition is British the wrongful doing is our own ill vision, political patronage and heritage.

Butterfly Effect

I am one who vent an air
Of protest that
When a few butterflies
Flutter their wings
On my side of the world
Would ignite a chain reaction
On the other side of the world
In the far corners of the globe
In the Arctic or the Antarctic

Come what it may be
In philosophical sense
With a scientific slant
And in an investigative mind
But not to stir up
The potential political undertones
But when I ask myself the question
How clean the clean air?

And when I get the answer
That there are 1000 minute particles
Of dust in every cubic metre density
On this planet
But not in the clear looking Iceland
Or the Antarctic
Gets the credit for
Such an accolade
In this contemporary world
When somebody asks me
Are asking the right question?
Lest you get the wrong answer
Of some sort
By the Coal Power Merchants
Of the modern world
Who continue to discover
The latest technology
To clean my air and breath
Sans how to dispose
The vast amount of ashes and sediment
That get deposited
On this tiny Island Paradise

One who was brought up
With the tradition of zero tolerance
In life and matters of discordance
And purity par excellence
Having forced to go
From macro to micro to nano-tolerance
Of the 21st century macroeconomics
Driving me mad
To go to the outer space
For the safety limits of tolerance
In the Dead Space of my lung
But not the Vital Capacity
Which is fast receding
With time and age

But when I think
Of the virulent fungi
That grow endlessly
In the closed tubes
Of the artificial respiratory tracts
Of the Space Station
I wonder
I could be born again
In another Planet
Outside this Solar System
As an alien being of some sort
Bringing the alien wisdom
To this Island Paradise
 
Is it a wishful thinking of mine?