Lip-kissed lies and soul-kissed love

It is springtime in ancient India. Snow is melting in the mountains. Flowers smile and let out perfume that is picked up by the cool air to be scattered in love loops. This town in the Gangetic plains is awash with fresh hopes. Butterflies dart around in the air full of love and procreation.

The air is blowing with a seductive message. A young, handsome monk is moving through the streets. His steps are slow and face has a faint smile. He has a begging bowl in his right hand. A cloth bag hangs from his left shoulder. The spring air is redolent with both giving and receiving. This saffron clad man but has just the goal of having one time meal.

He is passing in front of a luxurious small palace. It’s decorated for love and enjoyment. It seems like a place where one can just surrender the self to quench all thirst. He is but moving all unconcerned and detached from all worldly splendor. A pair of beautiful eyes looks at him from the ornate balcony. Her heart stops for a moment. If she is the ever restless river, he appears like the calmest sea having the immensity to swallow her thirst, her restlessness, her quest for destination, her final fulfillment. She realizes her hunger. It is plain desire. He is so handsome and so aloof from all worldly charms.

She has the world at her feet. The most beautiful woman of the state, she has the title of nagar vadhu. Her life stands for love, opulence and luxury. Wealthiest traders, strongest noblemen, most creative artists all kiss her feet to appease her and take a sip from the fountain of her beauty. Any man feels lucky if she holds her look on his face for more than a second.

The young monk with the begging bowl moves with ease. At ease with his being. All restfulness. It’s a calm, unperturbed lake. It doesn’t happen that she is still holding her look on a man’s face and the man’s eyes move on. Her charms are so spell-binding. She has been proud of this power. The feminine avatar of power. With a faint smile he just moves on. There is not the slightest change in his demeanor.

The hard shell of her ego cracks. It disturbs her. She even gets angry. She can see his back. He is now moving slowly in the street. The anger in her again turns to desire. Till now men desired her. This loveful spring morning has changed the tables. She desires this calm sea. She needs some rest. The spiteful torrents of her youth want to submerge into his silent depths. It just attracts her senses like anything. She feels helpless.

She sends her maid to call the monk. Her heart is pounding against her breast. She is gasping for breath and at loss of words. Her hold over masculinity is giving in. She feels like a helpless, fragile woman. And finds it such a moving feeling.

Her reverie is broken. The monk is standing in front of her door again.

“What do you want?” she asks, shyly, dropping her gaze around his feet.

Where is that domination of men, her servant thinks.

“Beautiful lady, I just want one time’s meal,” the monk tells her.

She laughs in a mocking way. “You should ask as per the status of the person. Even a farmer can give you that much,” she is feeling offended that he isn’t taking notice of her charms as if she is just like any other woman around.

The monk smiles. “Well young lady, this is all I need. It doesn’t change with people.”

“You can have me, my palace and my luxury if you stay with me,” she sounds desperate.

He is as cool as before, as if nothing has happened. “This world is my house. I take the minimum as charity to survive, just one time’s meal. I am looking out for the path to give more. I am searching for the path to a destination when each particle of my being will be ready to give selflessly.”

“I am also ready to give all I have including myself and my palace and wealth. Isn’t it the same?” she asks.

“But you want to give only with the ambition of getting something back for your ego. You want to receive a monk abandoning his path for your beauty. There cannot be a bigger ambition, a bigger tool to pacify the ego.”

The monk is unperturbed. She is shaking with rage over the denial.

“At least stay with me for a night!” she is helpless and appears almost pleading.

“Do you really need my help? I can see wealthiest to strongest are ready to help your needs,” he gives her a kind look.

“Please please…” she is imploring. “I really really need you. If you spend the night with me, I will forsake all men. Believe me!”

The young man gives a pitying smile. “I will come and stay when you really need me.”

She is tearful over the denial. The monk takes onto his path. She watches him till the far end of the street.

Life then moves on. Like it was before. She gets more wealth, more men falling at her feet. And the young monk moving slowly on his path of selfless realization.

It has been two decades since that spring morning in front of her palace. The same monk is walking towards the city, the same city. Years of penance has taken him miles down his path of selfless seeking. He is graying but looks wiser, calmer and even stronger. He can see the lights of the city. It’s just nearby.

He hears pitiable moans by the road. He stops and moves to the ditch by the path. A woman is crying in pain and agony. He sits by the bundle of misery. She is in terrible agony. Eaten by leprosy her open sores are oozing with stanching fluid. It’s as bad as it can be. So much of pain. He isn’t repulsed by the stench. He gets tears of sympathy. The calm surface of his being is jolted by emotions.

He lifts her in his hands and carries her to a nearby inn. They refuse to let him in with the foul-smelling patient. He decides to set up a hut outside the city to keep her. The rest of the night he spends under a tree. She lying by his side, moaning less now. Human touch is a remedy in itself.

The spring sun rises in all freshness. He has been sleeping for the last couple of hours. The woman is also asleep. He opens his eyes and looks at her face. The evil-work of the disease has failed to completely destroy the vestiges of her former self. He recognizes her. From there to here. What a chasm. What a trail of misery. More tears drip down his eyes. He meets the destination of his selfless giving. She was lying there in the dark night to test the validity of his selfless love. And he has passed.

She opens her eyes and is surprised to find somebody crying for her.

“You said you needed me and I said I will come when you will really need me. See I have come. And you are the destination of my penance. Of selfless giving. Of loving from the core of being. I was not sure of myself till I found you. Now I realize it has been worth it. All this search.”

So the monk took care of her. Helped her in easing all her miseries. Stayed with her when no other man didn’t even come near her.

She needed him now. And he was there at a stage in his monkhood when he was all there to give. Just give. Without taking or expecting anything in return.