He sat there under a large leafy peepul tree
that was throwing broad circular shade
all round the tree.People sat all round
him ,looking at His face with adoration
and devotion. His face was radiant and
so majestic to look at. The large bright
eyes under bushy eye brows were calm
and clear. His very presence electrified
the atmosphere around filling every one
with a sense of awe and respect. He sat
cross legged on a woollen blanket. His
right hand was raised , palm turned out
wards indicating to every one that all
was well. The Ivory skin was glowing in
good health. He was preparing to give his
evening sermon.
In low tones people were talking about
Him ”here is the saint who had conquered
Mara . the devilish aspect of all that is
bad in human mindset. A saint who could
subdue a rogue elephant out to destroy
him, single handedly with out any weapon
but his sheer magnetic personality. The
sakhya Muni who proved to the world
that attachment and obsession were root
cause for all human misery. The God who
walked on earth and showed the middle
path in life.
He was about to begin his sermon when a
new group of travellers walked in to pay
their respects to him.One by one they
came close to him, and with joined palms
bowed to Him. He noticed that in some
of them , thumb was missing. He was
curious. He was wondering if a new cult
of cut thumbs had taken root among the
gullible people.
He asked one man with a missing thumb
”How is that some of you have cut your
thumb?”.
The man became pale and a sudden fear
leapt into those tired eyes as the innocent
question triggered the memory of brutal
maiming and mutilation .
He whisphered’Angulimal’, dropping his
hands to the sides and acting as though
mere mention of that dreaded word would
damn his soul to depths of hell.
‘Is that name of a person?’the saint
persisted.
‘Yes,’said the man timidly.I was a bandit
once .He caught me and punished me
for attacking a convoy of traders. He cut
off my thumb by way of punishment. He
walks around with a garland of thumbs
around his neck. He says the memory of
that garland would keep us away from
criminal way of life and on a straight
path’
The saint sucked air with a whoop’.’’Must
be a very cruel man. Why does he do
this?
‘He says it is a deterrant against crime ”
Who gave him authority to judge and
punish?
“He is a law unto himself. Do not judge
him too harshly ,Sir. He is also extremely
gentle”
The saint smiled, ”Did you say he was
gentle too. How?”
‘He could have very easily killed us that
day. After cutting our thumb , he dressed
the wound and helped us back to our
place. He said he had a role to play in life
and he would do it perfectly’
“Is that what he said? I must meet up
with him soon.”
All thoughts of sermon drained away
from the saint’s mind as a new subject
called Angulimal engaged his attention.
He wanted to know more about him.
What sort of man would inflict such a
bizarre punishment. How can the same
man be also gentle? While the victims
still remember the incident with fear ,
they were not hating him. It appeared
that they all respected him , not out of
fear but some thing different that he had
inculcated in their mind. The terrible fear
overwhelmed by extra ordinary kindness
and help. They seem to have reformed
after the punishment. So after all , he
is serving a social purpose. Though
the methods adapted appear to be too
dramatic. A mixed up soul, ready for
0
enlightenment, the saint thought. His face
broke into a big smile that lit up all space
around. The monks near him looked up at
his face in wonder.what was going on in
the mind of the master?, they wondered
.
“I must meet up with him before he
makes it a big virtue of a bad habit” the
saint decided.
He made enquiries to find his whereabouts,
his name and his habits.’would he come
, if He called him over? Or should he
send an emissary. The saint was not able
to decide. Then one morning the Saint
called one of the elderly monks to his
side and explained what he wanted him
to do.The monk should go deep into the
jungle and meet Angulimal and invite
him to visit our hermitage.The name of
Budhdha should not be mentioned during
conversation. Just bring him over, that is
all to be done. Another thing, do not give
any sermon. Make sure you come back
with your thumb still in place.
The monk listened with rapt attention, his
face throwing up a spectrum of violent
emotions, shock, bewilderment, sorrow,
0
hatred and resignation.Then he smiled
‘Yes, I will go immediately. It seems to
me that Iam going to learn a great deal
about human mind in the next few days.
Iwill keep my thumbs crossed , he said
jokingly.
The monk bowed to the saint and took
his leave. His shaven head, the ochre
colour robe, a beggar’s bowl and a long
sturdy stick all made for a dignified look.
His calm eyes, sharp features indicated
a maturity that comes after great deal
of study and penance.He knew exactly
what he was expected to accomplish
on this mission. He knew he would fail
even before he started. Even the master
would be hard pressed to deal with this
man , was the thought going through the
emissary monk.
After a punishing walk through the forest
lands he reached the water front.He
stopped to rest and leaned forward to
gather some water in his hands to wash
his tired face. THERE HE SAW JAGAN
SWIMMING VIGOROUSLY IN THE DEEP
WATERS OF THE VAST LAKE. The garland
with the thumbs was bobbing up and
down as he swam hard .The wet hair
was neatly plastered against his broad
face. The eyes were blazing like powerful
gems. The monk always thought eyes
would reveal the deepest secret. But in
those bright eyes of Jagan , the monk
could only see the depth. He was nervous
now. With great effort, he waved to the
swimmer and called out to him to come
ashore.
Jagan had seen the monk from his
position in water. He had seen several
like this one on his long travels. He never
stopped to talk to them. He had heard
people talk about them and had formed
his own opinion about their lot. Fools
trying to make people passive instead
of encouraging vigorous action , these
lot talked about passive resistance.They
talked about new philosophies of life
which did not appeal to him even though
he comprehended them. He tried to
recall what he knew about their leader,
the sakhya muni, the saint that talked
about eightfold path of life. The saint
who ridiculed rituals , the god who said
there was no god. Jagan was amused “is
the great Budhdha trying to reach me?
He asked himself.He saw his own pride
peaking , so put it down viciously.
He swam towards the shore with quick
powerful strokes.The monk marvelled at
the show of energy .
He climbed out of water dressed only in a
broad cloth wrapped around his waist. He
stod tall and erect a beautiful specimen
of manhood in all his grandeur. The
steely arms dangling easily at the sides
, massive neck and broad shoulders.
Rounded buttocks and long sinewy legs
with muscular calf muscle and broad
shapely thighs. Every girls dream man.
The man turned slowly allowing the
monk to study the face strong , un
lined forehead broad, long eye brows,
shapely nose and a firm mouth. No sign
of weakness of any sort.Jagan rubbed his
head shaking his long hair and throwing
water in all direction. Then the monk saw
the freshly washed garland of thumbs,
a strong foul smell slowly filling the air.
The monks nose protested and his face
contorted with un familiar smell ’oh, what
a stink’ he observed, Jagan heard those
unsaid words and was stung to the quick.
The retort came like a rush of a powerful
arrow leaving the bow,
“ Only foul minds smell foul things. The
stink you perceive is the odour of vile
things you wish to avoid. If your life is set
on cleaning things, you should learn to
bear up with stink. You can not run away
from that. I wear it around me to remind
me that I have a great deal of work to
do.”
The monk was a mature man. He knew
it was the controlled outburst of a hurt
man. He was sorry that he had started this
mission all wrong. He tried differently
“why are you showing it off?
“How does it matter to you?”An angry
man trying to keep his end up.
‘It matters a great deal to us. That is why
I have come here with a message from
my master. He would like to meet with
you’
“I do not see any reason for his wanting
to meet with me. He has his work and I
have mine. There is no overlap in our area
of work .so why should we meet when we
have nothing to talk about.”
‘we do wish to talk about the good things
done by you. We would like to build on
that start.’
“Ah I know now. I know what you are
all after. You are all apostles of ahimsa,
beacons of mercy and compassion. You can
not bear to see an animal being killed. You
would like to walk upto the slaughterhouse
and see if you can exchange places with
the poor animals. You think your animals
all come with four legs .Your interest in
me pertains to these wretched thumbs,
I know. Now that I know your intent, I
am least inclined to spend my time of the
day with your kind. Now please be gone”
There was anger now. The air between
them seemed to have become very hot
and un comfortable. The monk shivered.
It was like a king dismissing a menial
potente. There was so much power in
that assertion. The monk had never been
exposed to such energy. The monk was
alone with the lingering smell of decayed
thumbs in the garland. Jagan had left the
scene already.
The monk began his walk towards the
hermitage. His head was down and he
walked in deep thought. He had been
insulted before for many causes. But
today he felt as though his very soul had
been trampled upon by thousand angry
elephants.He was not sure what he was
going to tell the master.
The master heard his narration patiently
with an all knowing smile firmly on his
calm face.
‘NO, YOU DID NOT FAIL.YOU GOT HIM TO
THINK ABOUT WHAT HE HAS DONE.In
that our mission has been successful. You
thought , you were dismissed fast. You
sure were, you know why? He wanted to
be left alone to think. He could not dismiss
you fast enough.”
Now I will go myself. It would be very
interesting. The saint’s eyes were dancing
in glee at the prospect of meeting with a
personality as powerful as his own.
The monk looked up in sudden alarm. The
saint smiled and a little later was laughing
like a child.
Do not worry. I will come to no harm.
Killing is not his forte, not yet. That is
why we must hurry.