THE WISDOM OF THE LAMA
After about the tenth day of strict and most sincere meditation in the
manner he had prescribed, the Lama sent for Gay-Neck and myself. So
with the pigeon between my hands, I climbed up to his cell. The Lama's
face, generally yellow, today looked brown and very powerful. A strange
poise and power shone in his almond-shaped eyes. He took Gay-Neck in
his hands, and said:
"May the north wind bring healing unto you,
May the south wind bring healing unto you,
May the winds of east and west pour healing into you.
Fear flees from you,
Hate flees from you,
And suspicion flees from you.
Courage like a rushing tide gallops through you;
Peace possesses your entire being,
And serenity and strength have become your two wings.
In your eyes shines courage;
Power and prowess dwell in your heart!
You are healed,
You are healed,
You are healed!
Peace, peace, peace."
We sat there meditating on those thoughts till the sun set, smiting the
Himalayan peaks into multicoloured flames. The valleys, the hollows and
the woods about us put on a mantle of purple glory.
Slowly Gay-Neck hopped down from the Lama's hands, walked out to the
entrance of the cell and looked at the sunset. He opened his left wing,
and waited. Then softly and ever so slowly he opened his right wing,
feather by feather, muscle by muscle, until at last it spread out like
a sail. Instead of doing anything theatrical such as instantly flying
off, he carefully shut his two wings as if they were two precious but
fragile fans. He too knew how to salute the sunset. With the dignity of
a priest he walked downstairs but hardly had he gone out of sight than
I heard--I fancied I heard--the flapping of his wings. I was about to
get up hastily and see what had really happened, but the holy man put
his hand on my shoulder and restrained me while an inscrutable smile
played on his lips.
The next morning I told Ghond what had happened. He replied tartly,
"Gay-Neck opened his wings to salute the setting sun, you say. There
is nothing surprising in that. Animals are religious though man in his
ignorance thinks they are not. I have seen monkeys, eagles, pigeons,
leopards and even mongoose adore the dawn and sunset."
"Can you show them to me?"
Ghond answered, "Yes. But not now; let us go and give Gay-Neck his
breakfast."
When we reached his cage we found its door open--and no pigeon within.
I was not surprised, for I had left the cage unlocked every night
that we had been at the Lamasery. But where had he gone? We could not
find him in the main building; so we went to the library. There in a
deserted outer cell we found some of his feathers, and nearby Ghond
detected a weasel's footsteps. That made us suspect trouble. But if the
weasel had attacked and killed him, there would be blood on the floor.
Then, whither had he fled? What had he done? Where was he now? We
wandered for an hour. Just as we had decided to give up the search we
heard him cooing, and there he was on the roof of the library, talking
to his old friends the Swifts, who were clinging to their nest under
the eaves. We could make out their answer to his cooing. Mr. Swift
said: "Cheep, cheep, cheep!" I cried to Gay-Neck in joy, and I gave him
his call to breakfast: Aya--á--ay. He curved his neck and listened.
Then as I called again he saw me, and instantly flapped his wings
loudly, then flew down and sat on my wrist, cool as a cucumber. During
the earliest dawn he must have heard the priests' footsteps going up
to their morning meditation, and gotten out of his cage, then gone
astray to the outer cell where no doubt a young and inexpert weasel had
attacked him. A veteran like Gay-Neck could easily outwit the weasel
by presenting him with a few feathers only. While the young hopeful
was looking for the pigeon inside a lot of torn feathers, his would-be
victim flew up into the sky. There he found his old friend, Swift,
flying to salute the rising sun. And after they had performed their
morning worship together, they had come down for a friendly chat on the
roof of the monastery library.
That day very terrible news reached the Lamasery. A wild buffalo had
attacked the village that the Lama had spoken of the day before. He had
come there during the previous evening and killed two people who were
going home from a meeting of the village elders that was held around
the communal threshing floor. The villagers had sent up a deputation to
the Abbot to say a prayer for the destruction of the beast and begging
him to exorcise the soul out of the brute. The holy man said that he
would use means that would kill the murderous buffalo in twenty-four
hours. "Go home in peace, O beloved ones of Infinite Compassion. Your
prayers will be answered. Do not venture out of doors after nightfall.
Stay home and meditate on peace and courage." Ghond, who was present,
asked: "How long has this fellow been pestering your village?" The
entire deputation affirmed that he had been coming every night for a
week. He had eaten up almost half of their spring crop. Again begging
for strong and effective incantation and exorcism to kill the buffalo,
they went down to their village.
After the deputation had left, the Lama said to Ghond, who was standing
by: "O, chosen one of victory, now that you are healed, go forth to
slay the murderer."
"But, my Lord!"
"Fear no more, Ghond. Your meditations have healed you. Now test in
the woods what you have acquired here by this means. In solitude men
gain power and poise which they must test in the multitude. Ere the sun
sets twice from now, you shall return victorious. As an earnest of my
perfect faith in your success, I request you to take this boy and his
pigeon with you. Surely I would not ask you to take a boy of sixteen
with you if I doubted your powers or the outcome of your mission. Go,
bring the murderer to justice."
That afternoon we set out for the jungle. I was overjoyed at the
prospect of spending at least one night in there again. What a pleasure
it was to go with Ghond and the pigeon, both whole and well once more,
in quest of a wild buffalo. Is there any boy on earth who would not
welcome such an opportunity?
So, thoroughly equipped with rope-ladders, a lassoo and knives, with
Gay-Neck on my shoulder, we set out. The British Government forbids the
use of fire-arms to the common people of India, and so we carried no
rifles.
About three in the afternoon we reached the village north-west of the
Lamasery. There, we took up the trail of the buffalo. We followed it
through dense woods and wide clearings. Here and there we crossed a
brook, or had to climb over mammoth fallen trees. It was extraordinary
how clear the buffalo's footprints were, and how heavy!
Ghond remarked: "He must have been frightened to death, for look how
heavily he has trodden here. Animals in their normal unafraid state
leave very little trace behind, but when frightened, they act as if the
terror of being killed weighed their bodies down. This fellow's hoofs
have made prodigious and clear marks wherever he went. How frightened
he must have been!"
At last we reached an impassable river. Its current, according to
Ghond, was sharp enough to break our legs had we stepped into it.
Strangely enough, the buffalo too had not dared to cross it. So we
followed his precedent, looking for more hoof-prints on the bank. In
twenty more minutes we found that they swerved off the stream bank and
disappeared into a thick jungle which looked black as a pit although it
was hardly five in the afternoon. This place could not have been more
than half an hour's run from the village, for a wild buffalo of any age.
Ghond said: "Do you hear the song of the water?" After listening for
several minutes I heard the sound of water kissing the sedges and other
grass not far off with gurgling groaning sounds. We were about twenty
feet from a lake into which the river ran. "The murderous buffalo is
hiding--probably asleep somewhere between here and the lagoon," cried
Ghond. "Let us make our home on one of the twin trees yonder. It is
getting dark and I am sure he will be here soon. We should not be found
on the floor of the jungle when he turns up. There is hardly a space of
four feet between the trees!"
His last words struck me as curious. So I examined the space between
the trees. They were tall and massive, and between them lay a piece of
earth just broad enough to afford room for both of us walking abreast
of each other.
"Now I shall lay down my fear-soaked tunic half-way between these
Twins." Then Ghond proceeded to take from under his tunic a bundle of
old clothes which he had been wearing until today. He placed them on
the ground, then climbed one of the trees. After Ghond had gone up,
he swung down a rope ladder for me. I climbed up on it with Gay-Neck
fluttering and beating his wings on my shoulders in order to keep
his balance. Both of us safely reached the branch on which Ghond was
sitting, and since the evening was coming on apace, we sat still for a
while.
The first thing I noticed as the dusk fell was bird-life. Herons,
hornbills, grouse, pheasant, song-sparrows and emerald flocks of
parrots seemed to infest the forest. The drone of the bee, the
cut-cut-cut of the woodpecker and the shrill cry of the eagle far
overhead blended with the tearing crying noises of the mountain torrent
and the staccato laughter of the already waking hyenas.
The tree on which we made our home for the night was very tall. We
went further up in order to make sure that no leopard, or serpent,
was above us. After a close inspection we chose a couple of branches
between which we hung our rope ladder in the shape of a strong hammock.
Just as we had made ourselves secure on our perch, Ghond pointed to
the sky. I looked up at once. There floated on wings of ruby a very
large eagle. Though darkness was rising like a flood from the floor of
the jungle, in the spaces above the sky burnt "like a pigeon's throat"
and through it circled again and again that solitary eagle who was no
doubt, according to Ghond, performing his worship of the setting sun.
His presence had already had a stilling effect on the birds and insects
of the forest. Though he was far above them, yet like a congregation of
mute worshippers, they kept silent while he, their King, flew backward
and forward, and vaulted before their God, the Father of Light, with
the ecstasy of a hierophant. Slowly the ruby fire ebbed from his
wings. Now they became purple sails fringed with sparks of gold. As
if his adoration was at last concluded, he rose higher and as an act
of self-immolation before his deity, flew towards the flaming peaks
burning with fire, and vanished in their splendour like a moth.
Below, a buffalo's bellowing unlocked the insect voices one by one,
tearing into shreds and tatters the stillness of the evening. An owl
hooted near by, making Gay-Neck snuggle closely to my heart under my
tunic. Suddenly the Himalayan Doël, a night bird, very much like a
nightingale, flung abroad its magic song. Like a silver flute blown by
a God, trill upon trill, cadenza upon cadenza, spilled its torrential
peace which rushed like rain down the boughs of the trees, dripping
over their rude barks to the floor of the jungle, then through their
very roots into the heart of the earth.
The enchantment of an early summer night in the Himalayas will remain
for ever indescribable. In fact it was so sweet and lonely that I felt
very sleepy. Ghond put an extra rope around me that held me secure to
the trunk of the tree. Then I put my head on his shoulder in order to
sleep comfortably. But before I did so, he told me of his plan.
"Those cast-off garments of mine are what I wore while my heart was
possessed of fear. They have a strange odour. If that brother-in-law
(idiot) of a buffalo gets their scent, he will come hither. He who is
frightened responds to the odour of fear. If he comes to investigate my
cast-off dress, we shall do what we can to him. I hope we can lassoo
and take him home tame as a heifer...." I did not hear the rest of his
words for I had fallen asleep.
I do not know how long I slept, but suddenly I was roused by a terrific
bellowing. When I opened my eyes Ghond, who was already awake, undid
the rope around me and pointed below. In the faint light of the dawn at
first I saw nothing, but I heard distinctly the groaning and grunting
of an angry beast. In the tropics the day breaks rapidly. I looked
down most intently. Now in the growing light of day I saw.... There
could be no two opinions about what I saw. Yes, there was a hillock of
shining jet rubbing its dark side against the tree on which we sat.
It was about ten feet long, I surmised, though half of its bulk was
covered by the leaves and boughs of the trees. The beast looked like
a black opal coming out of a green furnace, such was the glitter of
the newly grown foliage under the morning sun. I thought, the buffalo
that in nature looks healthy and silken, in a Zoo is a mangy creature
with matted mane and dirty skin. Can those who see bisons in captivity
ever conceive how beautiful they can be? What a pity that most young
people instead of seeing one animal in nature--which is worth a hundred
in any Zoo--must derive their knowledge of God's creatures from their
appearance in prisons. If we cannot perceive any right proportion of
man's moral nature by looking at prisoners in a jail, how do we manage
to think that we know all about an animal by gazing at him penned in a
cage?
However, to return to that murderous buffalo at the foot of our tree.
Gay-Neck was freed from under my tunic and left to roam on the tree,
which Ghond and I descended by a number of branches like the rungs of
a ladder, till we reached a branch that was about two feet above the
buffalo. He did not see us. Ghond swiftly tied around the tree trunk
one end of the long lassoo. I noticed that the buffalo was playing
underneath by putting his horns now and then through a tattered
garment, what was left of Ghond's clothes. No doubt the odour of man in
them had attracted him. Though his horns were clean, there were marks
of fresh blood on his head. Apparently he had gone to the village and
killed another person during the night. That roused Ghond. He whispered
into my ear: "We shall get him alive. You slip this lassoo over his
horns from above." In a trice Ghond had leaped off the branch near the
rear of the buffalo. That startled the beast. But he could not turn
round, for close to his right was a tree which I mentioned before, and
to his left was the tree on which I stood. He had to go back or forward
between the twins in order to get out from them, but before this
happened I had flung the lassoo over his head. The touch of the rope
acted like electricity upon him. He hastened backwards, in order to
slip off the lassoo, so fast that Ghond, had he not already gone around
the next tree, would have been trampled and cut to death by the sharp
hoofs of the beast. But now to my utter consternation, I noticed that
instead of gripping his two horns at the very root, I had succeeded in
lassooing only one of them. That instant I shrieked to Ghond in terror:
"Beware! only one of his horns is caught. The rope may slip off that
one any time. Run! Run up a tree."
But that intrepid hunter ignored my advice. Instead he stood facing
the enemy a short distance away from him. Then I saw the brute lower
his head and plunge forward. I shut my eyes in terror.
When I opened them again, I saw that the bull was tugging at the rope
that held him by the horn and kept him from butting into the tree
behind which Ghond stood. His monstrous bellowing filled the jungle
with a fearful racket. Echoes of it coursed one after another like
frightened shrieking children.
Since the bull had not yet succeeded in reaching him, Ghond drew his
razor-sharp dagger, about a foot and a half long and two inches broad.
He slowly slipped behind another tree to the right, then vanished out
of sight. The bull just ran straight at the spot where he had seen
Ghond last. Fortunately the rope was still clinging tightly to his horn.
Here Ghond changed his tactics. He ran away in the opposite direction,
zig-zagging in between different trees. This he did to go where his
odour could not reach the bull blown down to him by the wind. But
though he was bewildered, yet the bull turned and followed. He again
saw the bundle of Ghond's clothes on the ground under our tree. That
maddened him. He sniffed, and then worried it with his horns.
By now Ghond was down wind. Though I could not see him, I surmised
that he could tell by the odour where the bull was in case the trees
hid him from view. The beast bellowed again, as he put his horns
through Ghond's clothes, which raised a terrific tumult in the trees
all around. From nowhere came flocks of monkeys running from branch
to branch. Squirrels ran like rats from trees to the jungle-floor,
then back again. Swarms of birds, such as jays, herons and parrots
were flying about and shrieking in unison with crows, owls and kites.
Suddenly the bull charged again. I saw that Ghond was standing there
calmly facing him. If ever I saw a man calm as calmness itself, it
was Ghond. The bull's hind legs throbbed and swept on like swords.
Then something happened. He reared in the air; no doubt it was the
pull of the lassoo rope of which one end was tied to our tree. He rose
several feet above the ground, then fell. That instant, like a dry
twig, snapped by a child, his horn cracked and flew up in the air. The
breaking created an irresistible momentum that flung him sideways on
the ground. He almost rolled over, his legs kicking the air violently.
Instantly Ghond leaped forward like a spark from the flint. Seeing
him, the buffalo balanced himself and sat on his haunches snorting.
He almost succeeded in rising to his feet, but Ghond struck near his
shoulder with the dagger. Its deadly edge dug deep and Ghond pressed
on it with his entire weight. A bellow like a volcanic eruption shook
the jungle, and with it a fountain of liquid ruby spurted up. Unable to
bear the sight any longer, I again shut my eyes.
In a few minutes when I came down from my perch, I found that the
buffalo had died of a hæmorrhage. It lay in a deep pool of blood. And
nearby sat Ghond on the ground, wiping himself from the stain of his
encounter. I knew that he wished to be left alone. So I went to the old
tree and called to Gay-Neck. He made no response. I went all the way up
to the topmost branch of the tree. But in vain--he was not there.
When I came down, Ghond had cleansed himself. He pointed at the sky. We
beheld nature's scavengers. Kites below, and far above them vultures
flew. They had already learnt that someone had died and they must clean
up the jungle.
Ghond said: "We will find the pigeon in the monastery. He flew with
the rest of the birds doubtless. Let us depart hence soon." But before
starting homeward, I went to measure the dead buffalo to whom flies
had been swarming from every direction. He was ten feet and a half in
length; and his forelegs measured over three feet.
Our trudge back towards the monastery was made in silence which was
only broken when about noonday we had reached the stricken village and
informed its headman that their enemy was dead. He was relieved to hear
of it, though he was very sad because during the previous evening the
buffalo had killed his aged mother, who was going to the village temple
to her worship before sunset.
We were very hungry and walked fast, and soon we reached the monastery.
At once I made inquiries about my pigeon. Gay-Neck was not there! It
was terrible. But the old holy man said as we chatted in his cell, "He
is safe as are you, Ghond." After a pause of several minutes he asked:
"What is troubling your peace of mind?"
The old hunter thought out quietly what he was going to say. "Nothing,
my Lord, save this. I hate to kill anything. I wanted to catch that
bull alive and alas! I had to destroy him. When that horn of his broke,
and there was nothing between him and me, I had to put my knife through
a vital vein. I am so sorry I could not get him alive in order to sell
him to a zoo."
"O, you soul of commercialism!" I exclaimed. "I am not sorry that the
bull died. Better death than to be caged for the rest of his life in a
zoo. Real death is preferable to living death."
"If you had only slipped the lassoo over both horns!" Ghond retorted.
The holy one ejaculated: "Both of you should be concerned about
Gay-Neck, not about what is already dead."
Ghond said: "True. Let us search for him on the morrow."
But the holy one replied, "No. Return to Dentam, my son. Your family is
anxious about you. I hear their thoughts."
The next day we left for Dentam on a pair of ponies. By forced march
and changing ponies twice a day at different posts, we reached
Dentam in three days' time. As we were going up towards our house, we
encountered a very excited servant of my family. He said that Gay-Neck
had returned three days ago. But since we had not come back with him
my parents had begun to worry, and they had sent out parties searching
after us, alive or dead.
He and I almost ran up to the house. In another ten minutes my mother's
arms were around me, and Gay-Neck, with his feet on my head, was
fluttering his wings in order to balance himself.
I cannot begin to describe how overjoyed I was to hear that Gay-Neck
had flown at last. He had winged all the way from the Lamasery to
our home in Dentam. He had not faltered nor failed! "O, thou soul of
flight, thou pearl amongst pigeons," I exclaimed to myself as Ghond and
I accelerated our steps.
Thus ended our pilgrimage to Singalele. It healed both Gay-Neck and
Ghond of the disease of fear and hate that they had caught in the
battlefields. No labor would be in vain if it could heal a single soul
of these worst ills of life.
Instead of spinning out a sermon at the end of this story, let me say
this:
"Whatever we think and feel will colour what we say or do. He who
fears, even unconsciously, or has his least little dream tainted with
hate, will inevitably, sooner or later, translate these two qualities
into his action. Therefore, my brothers, live courage, breathe courage
and give courage. Think and feel love so that you will be able to pour
out of yourselves peace and serenity as naturally as a flower gives
forth fragrance.
"Peace be unto all!"
The End