Buddha Da. Anne Donovan

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      Anne Donovan is the award-winning author of the novels Buddha Da, Gone are the Leaves and Being Emily and the short story collection Hieroglyphics and Other Stories. Buddha Da was shortlisted for the Orange Prize, the Whitbread First Novel Award and the Scottish Book of the Year Award, and was nominated for the International IMPAC Dublin Literary Award. It received a Scottish Arts Council Award and won the Le Prince Maurice Award in Mauritius in 2004. She has also written for radio and stage and has been working on the screenplay for the film of Buddha Da. She lives in Glasgow.

       Also by Anne Donovan

      Hieroglyphics and Other Stories Being Emily Gone are the Leaves

       Many thanks to family and friends, and to everyone who has given support and encouragement during the writing process

      The Canons edition first published in 2019 by Canongate Books

      First published in Great Britain in 2003

      by Canongate Books Ltd,

      14 High Street, Edinburgh, EH1 1TE

      This digital edition first published in 2009

       by Canongate Books Ltd

      canongate.co.uk

      Copyright © Anne Donovan, 2002

      The right of Anne Donovan to be identified as the

       author of this work has been asserted by them in accordance

       with the Copyright, Designs and Patent Act 1988

      The author would like to thank the Scottish Arts Council

       for a bursary which enabled her to devote time to

       writing this book

      British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available on request from the British Library

      ISBN 978 1 78689 400 7

      eISBN 978 1 84767 552 1

      For Colum, with love.

      Contents

       Anne Marie Liz Jimmy Anne Marie Liz Anne Marie Liz Jimmy Liz Anne Marie Jimmy Liz Anne Marie Liz Anne Marie Liz Anne Marie Jimmy Liz Anne Marie Liz Jimmy Liz Anne Marie Jimmy Liz Jimmy Liz Anne Marie Acknowledgements

       Anne Marie

      MA DA’S A nutter. Radio rental. He’d dae anythin for a laugh so he wid; went doon the shops wi a perra knickers on his heid, tellt the wifie next door we’d won the lottery and were flittin tae Barbados, but that wis daft stuff compared tae whit he’s went and done noo. He’s turnt intae a Buddhist.

      At first Ma thought it wis another wanny his jokes.

      ‘Ah’m just gaun doon the Buddhist Centre for a couple hours, Liz, ah’ll no be lang.’

      ‘Aw aye, is there free bevvy there?’

      ‘Naw, hen, ah’m serious. Just thought ah’d go and have a wee meditate, try it oot, know?’

      Mammy turnt roond fae the washin up, and gied him wanny they looks, wanny they ‘whit’s he up tae noo?’ looks ah’d seen a million times afore.

      ‘Jimmy, d’you think ma heid buttons up the back? Yer a heathen. The last time ye set fit in a chapel wis when yer daddy died. The time afore that was when ah’d tae drag you tae Anne Marie’s First Communion. And you’re tellin me you’re gaun tae a Buddhist Centre on a Tuesday night, quiz night doon the Hielander? Tae meditate? Gie’s a break.’

      When ma da gets embarrassed he looks like thon skinny wan in the Laurel and Hardy films and starts tae scratch his ear wi his left haund. That’s when ah began tae think he could just be tellin the truth.

      ‘OK, ah know it’s funny, ah probably should of tellt ye afore, but it’s no the first time ah’ve been there. Know that job we’ve been daein in toon, thon shop? Well, ah wis gettin a coupla rolls for ma lunch when ah met wanny they Buddhist guys. We got talkin and ah went alang wi him tae see the centre. It wis rainin, ah’d nothin better tae dae and ah thought it’d be a laugh, you know, folk in funny claes, chantin and that.’

      Ma wis staundin at the sink, soapy bubbles drippin aff her pink rubber gloves.

      ‘And?’

      ‘And it wisnae like that. They were dead nice, dead ordinary, gied me a cuppa tea, showed me the meditation room, and, ach, it wis the atmosphere, hen. Ah cannae explain it, but it wis just dead calm.’

      Ah’d never seen ma da lookin like that afore; there wis a kinda faraway look in his eye. Ah kept waitin for him tae come oot wi the punchline but he just stood there for a minute, lookin oot the windae.

      ‘Anyhow, ah know it’s daft but ah just want tae gie it a try. They have these classes, embdy can go, so …’

      ‘Oh, well, suit yersel. Just watch they don’t brainwash you.’

      Ma da turnt roond and spotted me, sittin at the table, daein ma hamework – ah think he’d forgotten ah wis there. He winked at me.

      ‘Nae chance ae that, is there, wee yin?’

      ‘They’d need tae find a brain.’

      At first bein a Buddhist didnae seem tae make that much difference tae ma da. He used tae go doon the pub on a Tuesday and noo he went tae the Buddhist Centre tae meditate. Same difference. He never talked aboot it, wis still the same auld da, gaun tae his work, cairryin on in the hoose. He stuck a photie of the Buddha up on the unit in their bedroom and noo and again he’d go in there and shut the door insteid of watchin the telly – meditatin, he said. Ah thought he’d get fed up wi it. He wisnae a great wan for hobbies ma da, but sometimes he’d decide tae take on whit he cries ‘a wee