It was time to return to his own cave retreat once more.
To be out of the powerful rays of the sun was the best thing he could ask for. However there was still a scorching flame welling up within.
“And how come youdon’t want to leave me? Why are youhere? Does this mean I was never meant to go on the Buddha’s path?” he mused, gazing at the ceiling. A beautiful jewel wasp had built her nest in a small cavity in the right-hand corner. The tiny head of one of her offspring peeked through the hole, possibly crying to its mother for food.
He laughed slightly.
Crying and mewling in some hallowed insectoid language that only the most ancient of beings could properly comprehend. He thought of all the demons he had been taught about, the ones that the Lord had tamed through the power of his sublime philosophy. Then his mind wandered onto the worlds of the gods and goddesses. Another laugh rocked through his body and he looked down at himself. Perhaps this was his reason for being here…he was not meant for this life of penance. He was a god himself, was he not?
Tall, lean and sandy in hue, his smooth young body glistened in the stray shaft of light that peered perversely into the cave. The sword-like blade of light cut into the seemingly indestructible ceiling and eyed the beautiful, nude young man keenly. He allowed his feet to spin out of focus, swirling through and invisible vortex in which only he could travel. His deep black irises, soft lips and slightly feminine chin invited Surya’s untouchable beams to touch and caress his body. He pushed his own hands down his naked form, lingering at the deep dimple of his navel and down to the slender valleys of his thighs and groin. As he rubbed down he felt a rush of heat travelling back and forth across his body like a river.
“Maybe I am beautiful now so that…I can fall in love…with someone just as beautiful so we can be together, be gods united in flesh.”
His voice wavered between the realms of dream and reality as the veil between the two worlds grew thinner.
Looking up at the beam of light he wrapped his body in the cloak of orgasm as his organ cried in pain and pleasure.
Small flakes of dust rose into the air when he knelt down, the weight of his dreams bearing down upon his back as he reached for the cave floor.
Each flake was perfect and untouchable as they glowed in the heavenly light streaking into the dark cavity. They danced as daintily as butterflies at a waterhole as they crossed into the arms of the gods above them. He spotted her again, her angelic face floating down the beam. Gazing upwards in excitement, palms clutching the floor, the monk’s eyes grew lustful and then soft as his body shivered with each tender touch of her soft palms.
He lost himself as she spoke to him.
“Little boy. My sweet little boy. You are yet young, my dear, so don’t be frightened to try once more. Let me show you…” The hook of reality fished out the state of dream as he was flung onto the hard shores of reality, gasping for breath. But the world refused to turn. It shimmered instead, flowing and shifting before his incredulous eyes. Rock turned to water as the music of the damsel’s speech filled the cell.
With a scream he shot back up, the lithe muscles of his calves tensed as he stood.
What had he been doing? Had he forgotten his reason for being there?
In a flash he sheathed the freedom that seemed so attractive to him, as her laughter died away to an airy whisper. As he adjusted the vast length of saffron cloth across his right shoulder he closed his eyes, teeth gritted firmly in his jaws as he close his legs, avoiding the salty wetness clinging to the insides of his thighs. Yet his organ was still hungry for the heavenly apsara who still danced around the cave. He had brought his little journal with him, along with his stylus and inkwell.
He wrote quickly in Sanskrit:
“I am here to attain perfection. My memories shall never come back. I shall journey the path of the great Lord Gautama Buddha and I will not sway, I will…I will not…sway…” His stylus trembled as he penned the words down. A trickle of sweat flowed down his cheek to join the crinkly, dry palm leaf pages of his book.
He too felt the sweat welling up within the grottos of his upper eyelids as the heat of the sun invaded the interior of the cell. The world outside was bathed in the most blinding light he’d ever seen. It was high noon in the Cittalapabbata hermitage and even the crows that perched in the rocks around him panted, glossy black throats vibrating soundlessly. He crouched in his tight shroud of darkness, with another shroud constricting him like a deep vermillion python. This serpent of cloth bound him and every bhikku to these dark holes while the a wondrous glow bathed the rest of the earth.
The robe, for a few minutes, threatened to roll of his legs and push him back into the lair of the temptress, but he angrily pulled it up from his shoulder. Cursing under his breath he looked at his book. “I killed my mother at birth. That’s why it happened…that’s why…they all said that I was unlucky!” He gritted his teeth as he reminded himself of it. “Then came my…my life here began.” Picking up his stylus, he chewed on its end thoughtfully, then wrote:
“My father dumped me on the hermitage. That’s why I could never experience life as it really should be. So many years, I…I…”
He was so young.
He was now a monk, was he not? Twenty-three years alive, twenty-three years a monk. There was that black abyss within his heart and mind which still seemed to be clawing out through his body to attack every truth he knew and everything that he thought was for his benefit. The darkness had a form, and she was dancing through the air within the cave.
His eyes locked away from the light outside.
Hard sighs rumbled through his chest as he began his chant.
“May I be washed of this strumpet’s memories now. May the powers of good restore me to what I was earlier. Mara, Lord of Evil, your daughter is strong, but I will sway no more towards her. May my tear and prayers float her away as wood floats down a river…I…I will sway no more…no more…”