THE MONK AND THE LADY

                                             THE MONK AND THE LADY

Once upon the time, very long back, a monk stepped into the city of fortune, on the first day of Chaturmas. Effulgence of his youth displayed like the molten gold, a complete contrast to his tattered clothes. He though to take refuge in the walls of the city of fortune as the forest was flooded with the monsoon rains. In one corner of the temple on the outskirts of the city, he sat in the trance of the holy name indifferent to the richness the city offered.

There in the inwards lanes of luxury, stayed the most beautiful courtesan who was to have thought to have drunk from the fountain of youth and was considered as the celestial nymph from the kingdom of Zeus in the heaven. She was the royal dancer and no men in the city and beyond it’s wall had the calibre to have her attention even for a jiffy.

Every morning the lady of heavenly beauty walked with royalty to the temple at the outskirts of the city and so she did today also but for the very first time found herself staring a man. Though it was a rare phenomenon but the breaking news was that the man completely ignored his existence.

She walked in the temple and out, still unnoticed. Her anklet echoed in the compound, unheard. Her bangles cooed in the ears of onlookers but they too fell on the deaf ears. Finally she volunteered for self introduction on pretence of offering the prasadam. The monk opened his eyes, claim the prasadam and paying the obeisance at her feet said, “Thank you, mother!” and went back into his trance.

She could have died of the cardiac arrest for what she just heard. Boiling in anger she went away. The monk didn’t even have the courtesy to take a glance at her face. She can’t give up like that. She was the incarnation of goddess of beauty, she can’t be embarrassed like that and next day as she walked to the temple she was much more decorated and perfumed than before. She was confident to have the attention of the monk in the tattered clothing.

Lo and behold, she had the same fate for over and over again. For four months of chaturmas till the monk lived in the walls of the holy shrine, she walked the street with the latest summer, monsoon and autumn fashion in a dire need to make him lift his eyes up.

As the season was closing and it was the time for the monk to leave the shades of city and to finally reclaim back his position among the creepers under the star laden sky, the lady decided to aim her cupid arrow.

So this time as soon as the monk claimed his prasadam and before he could go in trance, she held his chin and forced his vision up to her face and said, “Why do you call me mother?”

“Because you have fed me,” was the simple reply from the monk.

Controlling her anger she went again, “Are you blind or was born stupid that you can’t notice me? I am no one mother. Men in this town are madden by my single glance and you wrecked cursed soul didn’t even bother to see me, as if I was invisible.”

“My apologies mother to your holy feet. Please forgive me.”

“Will you stop calling me mother..... Listen Boy, it’s not every day I do this but this maybe yours once in the lifetime opportunity. Come stay with me and enjoy me and you don’t have to worry about going into jungle ever. I will give you all the happiness in the world that is beyond any speck of your imagination. What do you think of the offer?”

The monk smiled and said, “That’s very generous of you mother. Thank you but I have to decline it.”

“Oh! You cursed creature on the planet, you have no respect for the women. I am providing you the promise of prosperity and you still choose to rot in hell. Go burn your youth in the inferno.” She was furious.

“As you say mother but since you wished me to stay with you, I will definitely come back but only when the time will be right, till then I will take your leave.” And the monk took his begging bowl and walked away in the withered belongings.

Many summers, winters, rains, autumn and spring painted the city and went away. Insult of the courtesan faded away from the memory of people and the life continued in it’s different shade. And in the year of the Lord, the monk, again stepped in the city of fortune. Though the things had changed but the time couldn’t dot it’s signature on his molten simplicity. But instead of entering the gates he walked swiftly towards the ruin at the corner. He adjured the broken door and walked straight to the plague plunged withered body of human soul in tattered sheets.

He bent and touched her feet and said, “Look mother, I have come to stay with you!”