Eggshell’s soul

Sachitra MAHENDRA

Dhammaruchi sat up. He observed the sun rise - the perfect timing for meditation. He was deep in meditation, when a painful shriek fell on his ears.

It was a sweaty creature in an eggshell, the monk could see. This eggshell lay in a hideout in a celebrated temple. This was to stir up Dhammaruchi. This creature looks for relief, he thought. He made a divine journey to where the eggshell lay.

“What happened to you my child?” The monk asked with his natural kindness.

The moment the creature in the eggshell opened its mouth, a foul smell spread across far and wide. Dhammaruchi could put up with the smell.

“I was misled, Venerable.” Tears ran down the creature’s tiny face. Dhammaruchi could have reflected what happened to the creature, but he preferred to hear it from the horse’s mouth. The spirit could recall everything - it was simply like scenes leading from one to the another.

Scene 1 - Professor Amarasekara did not like the way the monk administered the Sudharma Viharaya. It was very sophisticated, quite inappropriate especially for a head priest, who should lead a simple austere life.

He prepared a different note for his speech that day. ‘What the Buddhist monk should not do’ was the topic. “If you study Buddhism close enough,” he started on... “you will find many materialistic monks even during the Buddha’s time. There was a monk who was gathering almost every material around him. He was called Bahubhanda, because he was so fond of material. What happened to Bahubhanda? The monks reported this monk’s behaviour to the Buddha.”

Professor Amarasekara was raging within - only if he could sense it himself! He paused awhile to take a sip of water from the glass. The lecture hall, full of both monks and lay undergraduates, was overly quiet. He did not see students doze off at the back row.

“Today’s monks should learn lessons from this. Many monks do not live by the Buddha’s teachings. They use Benz. They live in air-conditioned temples. What’s the point in becoming a monk, if they have all those comforts in life? Buddhism is nothing else but a business today.”

Scene 2 - He drove all the way to his bungalow in Galle to spend the vacation. Sea breeze is something that gets him into creative moods. He used to write the creative thoughts down when he was a novice monk in his native temple in Induruwa. All he needs now is his hammock and the laptop.

Professor was now on the 62nd page of his report on the behaviour of monks in Sri Lanka. He didn’t care for how much money NGOs are willing to give. He just didn’t want monks to live a luxurious life.

The four-hour journey from Colombo and the sea breeze made him doze off. His mind wandered back to his monk-days. He had no option since he was the fifth in the family. His father had no job, and the village’s head priest brought him up out of compassion for his father.

“The boy is very smart,” his teacher used to say. Amarasekara had had enough of monk-life’s chores. He wanted to get out of this well of boredom. He learnt really hard and got into university. Luck favoured him because he mastered Buddhism and English, he knew he can make a sufficient living with that.

Amarasekara shut down the laptop and retreated to his thoughts. He was in a sound sleep at length.

Scene 3 - Ven. Galagama Gnaninda used to be Professor Amarasekara’s closest monk colleague. He is someone Amarasekara envied a lot in isolation. Gnaninda did not disrobe despite whatever bright prospects he would have had. His fame as an erudite monk made him live with all luxuries and power.

Amarasekara tried to link the monk’s good looks with secret relationships. He once demanded a trial-by-ordeal for an expenses scandal of Ven. Gnaninda, but the government favoured the monk.

Scene 4 - This needs treatment, thought Amarasekara, nursing his evening glass of scotch. It should be either Gnaninda or Amarasekara, he kept on thinking. His mind was restless trying out schemes against his erstwhile brother.

He spotted a rotten egg placed separately, when he reached the refrigerator for more ice cubes. Something flitted across his mind - “this will do,” he mused. But he had to wait for the dark to gather in. Until then other matters should be taken care of. A wool cap and a windbreaker will be enough to give him a false look.

It was about 11 pm, and the road was virtually deserted. He started off the journey. He was happy to see no one roaming at the temple. He made a leap from the parapet and headed towards the shrine room, located close to the head priest’s quarter. He was trembling with doubts, but there should not be a better time, he thought. His hands did the job swift enough for him. The rotten egg got scattered and was strewn all over the floor of the shrine room.

He was happy. It’s hard to erase the smell of a rotten egg. People will wonder if this temple is full of spirits, and leave this once and for all. Sorry Gnaninda but you deserve this, Amarasekara did not find any difficulty to find his way back out of the temple.

Scene 5 - His neighbour’s daughter was to go on a trip the following day. Mother and daughter were up till midnight to make egg sandwiches. But daughter smelt something foul, she spotted one egg discoloured.

“Mother I think this is spoiled. Just smell it.”

“I don’t want to smell it, child. Just throw it away. Here there is another one discoloured here. Throw both of them away. Urban Council people have opened the manhole lid for some repairs. So it’s all right, eggs will be dropped there.”

Daughter threw it away drawing a sulky face. She did not notice that she missed her target - because eggs did not reach the manhole.

Scene 6 - Amarasekara did not expect an egg-assault. Where the hell these came from? Eggs were extremely spoiled that was enough to blur his both eyes. There was no one to turn to, or cry help. What in the world he is up to this dead in the night, anyone would wonder fair enough.

His next step betrayed him. He felt himself sliding down a pit. It was slimy and foul smelling. He feared the death for the first time in his life. But has anyone died just because their eyes got blurred with rotten eggs and fallen to a pit? No, this cannot happen.

But the pit was slimy and slippery beyond the human grasp. Water level was up to his chest. He was shivering but had no idea how deep he was inside. He stood upright as if he is frozen. He had nothing to do. He wished he could have cried out loud no matter what happens. But no one will hear him now. No sign of municipal people getting closer either.

Perhaps I have a short nap till they come - what else he got to do other than philosophizing or daydreaming until someone comes out to his rescue? In his dream - the wildest he ever had in his life - he was a king commanding the execution of head priest Galagama Gnaninda. He laughed out loud - Gnaninda cannot stand in his way anymore.

It was a deep slumber from which Amarasekara never woke up.

Flash forward

The eggshell’s soul was happy to have someone to hear his grief, at last. But he was not sure how long he would last this way.

“You should not have done that child. Many luxurious monks lead pious lives. You cannot judge them by the way they live.” Dhammaruchi said.

“I know Venerable. I was a slave of my own feelings.”

“I see you have done lots of merits and charities in your lifetime as a monk. You have a long journey in this eggshell dungeon, but don’t worry, you will be reborn in a better place.”

Life should be likened to a walk on eggshell - a journey with no hard feelings for anyone. Dhammaruchi placed the eggshell back, for no one to discover it. He spotted a piece of newspaper lying on the flower stand with a picture of someone so familiar. Sunrays touched the newspaper to make it easier for Dhammaruchi to read one particular news item.

“Professor Gunapala Amarasekara was found dead in the manhole by Urban Council workers in the wee hours yesterday. Professor Amarasekara is believed to have taken a night stroll, hence met with this tragic accident. High officials at the Urban Council have instructed workers not to leave manhole lids open and unattended even at nighttime.”

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