Finding Nirvana

The man at the window seat wore rust robes, oddly shaped wooden slippers, and a nameless expression.
He turned in Damien’s direction and smiled.
It was an eerie sort of smile and Damien felt a rash of goose pimples mushroom under his leather jacket.
There was a nip in the air, and the odd little man’s warm smile fostered the August draft.
Damien decided on conversation to break away from his spell.
“Hi,” he introduced himself. “I am Damien.”
“Buddha,” he offered plainly, and continued showering his affectionate gaze in Damien’s direction.
The rust-robed man quirked his head at an astonishing angle.
The movement was so slow, that Damien panicked.
“Now that’s a laugh” he chuckled nervously as the kind man watched.
His lips never moved, yet Damien was sure his smile had widened
“Perform a miracle! Isn’t that what Gods do?”
Damien was determined to call his bluff.
Suddenly, from somewhere far away, yet not so removed, a child began to weep.
The mysterious man in rust, elegantly traced the sound with his sallow skinned neck.
When he turned toward Damien, his queer expression from earlier,
was replaced by another nameless one
He remained silent but for the earlier introduction.
“Go on,” Damien dared him, “Make me rich, turn into a bat and fly away. Do something … anything!”
The unseen child’s cries reached a deafening frenzy.
There was still no word from the learned one
Before Damien could say anymore,
the torchbearer of Nirvana rose, and walked away from him.
Wordlessly, and without a backward glance, he got off at the next station.
As the hoot of the Train announced its destination, Damien woke up
just in time to get off at his