Agni Chakra

(Circles of Fire)

Chapter 28

By Kathleen JAYAWARDANE

Translated by Ranga Chandrarathne and Edited by Indeewara Thilakarathne

I was gazing at the meadow, sipping a glass of wine and enjoying the breeze across the Atlantic Ocean. A bird similar to an eagle was hovering in the distant sky. The breeze sweeping through the pine plantation murmured a sweet melody. The soothing climate began to heal my mind and the body. Though the passing season was summer, Devendra said that winter here was not so harsh. Devendra, Ratnaweera’s son-in-law works at Los Angeles Institute of Medicine of the University of California.

It was because of Devendra that I was able to fly so quickly to California. I thought that this journey was the most pleasant dream during the period amidst mysterious and heart-rending happenings. How warmly Devendra, whom I had never seen before, welcomed me? I recalled the kind voice in which Ratnaweera spoke to me when I informed him about my medical condition. Devendra, who got to know of incomplete medical report from me, told me that the situation was not so bad. Although the cancer was said to be at the early stages, he advised me immediately to fly to California. However, I felt that a greater part of anxiety had gone away during the long flight to California. Most of the problems which troubled me in Sri Lanka were falling out of mind or else they emerged as blurred so they were of no specific form.

What a consolation it was that no inmate of this house inquired about my medical condition since I stepped into this house? Was it because of this that I felt that I was out of danger? I was looking at the waterway, sipping wine and munching meat from the balcony.

“This waterway is fed by river Ovens “, Devendra said.

“The main river in South California is Ovens”

Though Devendra has been living out of Sri Lanka so long, he still speaks fluent Sinhalese.

“Uncle Siri has not seen the most beautiful lake in the USA? It is ‘Taho’. ‘Taho’ lake is surrounded by a range of mountains. It’s extremely beautiful..! Haven’t you seen it?”

“No, I haven’t “, I said tasting Turkey in sauce.

“After treatments, we will go on a trip. Father also wanted to go on a trip. If we go to Seara-point, we can watch five waterfalls. Uncle, do you know, the Ribbon falls is ten times taller than Niagara falls!”

“Really”, I asked with interest. Though I had travelled in diverse states including California in the USA, my mind was confined to seminar halls on concrete buildings during those tours. At this moment, I was enjoying everything leisurely, what a wonder was it to forget the purpose of visit even for the time being?

I felt that I had arrived at a turning point in life. The feeling that I was at the edge of the precipice was waning. I was looking at the redwood forest and yellow-poppy flowers which would have contributed to name the state of California as “Golden State”. A moment ago, Devendra said California was named “Golden State” because of gold in the Sate and the yellow sand in the Colorado Desert.

“California became populated in 1848 when gold was discovered in the state”, he said.

“Following year, hundreds of thousands of men came and twenty years later, in 1868 University of California was commenced in Backley.”

Suddenly, I was reminded of Steve Jobs and Stanford University. Stanford was one of the private universities in this large area.

“I heard that a large part of income in the past was drawn from wood industry. Now, has it changed? “

“Still the Government controls national forest reserves. Trees are re-planted in place of those destroyed in wildfires. ‘Bristol Corn Pine’, the world’s oldest tree is in the national reserve ‘Inyo’”.

A vehicle emerged from the bend on the road. “Father comes”, Devendra said. I stood up with warm heart to welcome Ratnaweera. At the airport, Devendra said Ratnaweera had gone to South West Vippasana Meditation Centre. I thought not to inquire further about the matter.

“What an illness! You are now better than ever before..!”, Ratnaweera said shaking hands.

“I bought you ‘peach’ as you said that you like them. But you have started something else”.

“I want to kill time”.

“I think Shantha has been calling Siri ever since you boarded the flight at Katunayake!”, Ratnaweera said with a smile.

“Aunty seems to love uncle a lot?” Anjalee also smiles.

My mind was once again invaded with sick thoughts. Have I got such a deadly disease? Shantha still does not know that I am a cancer patient. Except the Consultant oncologist, nobody in Sri Lanka knows about my illness. Only these three in California know about it!

I was immediately ushered into the bedroom as Devendra said that I should rest since I had to undergo an investigation the following day. I plunged into the bed without even spreading the bed-sheet. I felt perspiration all over my body. Once again, I was mortally afraid of cancer. Over and over again, I experienced the fear of death. I was amazed how quickly a stream of thoughts came up and disappeared. Is the mind which was settled in the evening, now getting confused because of the desolate room? Am I entertaining the idea that death often occurs when one is in isolation or in one’s sleep?

“Cowards die many times before their death

Heroes know death only once”.

I remember Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar. Whoever it is, I am certain that I am not a hero. But society has imposed heroism on me. I am not guilty of that. At least, the question remains whether my life is worthwhile. Should I give up life as if a hollow is exposed? Should every secret in life be withered with me? Has the moment arrived for me to make a life confession? Am I ready for it? Have I got enough time for it?

I thought whether I could distil my experiences in a novel. I was not thinking of how I should commence and end my story. The gigantic shadow cast upon such a story was certainly ‘death’.

Death…?

Could I draw death? How could I picture it…? What is death?

At once, I was reminded of the anthology of short stories entitled “Ideals” by Japanese writer Akutagawa Ryunosuke and the short story ‘Hell Screen’. The story of Hell Screen centers around the artist Yoshihide. Yoshihide is considered “the greatest painter in the land”, and is often commissioned to create works for the Lord of Horikawa, who also employs Yoshihide’s daughter in his mansion. When Yoshihide is instructed to create a screen depicting the Buddhist hell, he proceeds to inflict tortures upon his apprentices, for he cannot effectively paint anything he has not seen. He draws sketches in a strange manner…

The sinners crawling in pain in roaring fire…

Hell’s workers with bull’s and horses’ heads…

Soothsayers with spider feet like tentacles and shrapnel in their heads..

Chests of prices hung with sharp arrows pierced…

Poisonous dragons…

I thought whether I should depict the death in the same manner Yoshihide depicted hell? Suddenly, I could see the pictures of the hell. ..I could see in a second, the picture of Mona Lisa on the wall turned into a soothsayer! My body soaked with perspiration.

I tried to sleep tightly shutting my eyes. Now unfolding before me the painting by Yoshihide entitled “ Five Elements of life and death”. I stood before the “Ryugai “Temple. The environs were engulfed in night’s darkness. Someone was questioning me if I did not smell the odour of decaying bodies. I was afraid. Nobody was there to take up my hand pleading for help. My mouth made no sound. I was stunned like a stone statue. In a second, I felt someone was pressing my chest. I opened my eyes. Oh God, Shantha was protecting me like a shield. I involuntarily fell down at her feet! I put my face on the floor as a doormat before her.

Someone was loudly knocking at the door.

“Siri…why did you lock the door?”

I could only identify Ratnaweera after winking twice or three times. His large night dress made a fancy effect on him. “ I could not sleep…just closed my eyes..Sorry for troubling you?”

“What a trouble?”

Ratnaweera returned with a jug of black coffee and a book.

“Don’t try to sleep if you don’t feel really. If you aren’t sleepy read this book”.

I switched on the table lamp and opened up the book “The Art of Living” as I could not neglect Ratnaweera’s order. At the moment, I turned myself into his obedient child.

Sipping a hot coffee, I began to read the book and Shantha emerged through the pages. How valuable this woman across the sea for me at the moment? Surprisingly, my eyes were wetted with tears. I sat on the bed and cried bitterly tucking my head between knees like a child. I was not sure whether I was crying for me or for her. I lay on the bed with doubt, anxiety and fear. I could not remember how many times I had crawled in the bed. Now, my head was on where I had put my legs earlier. My legs were resting on the board for the table lamp on top end of the bed. As the bed sheet was removed a little and ugly legs were exposed but I did not care about them. From moment to moment, I was reminded of Shantha. Can my life be waned in a hospital in the state of California in the USA? What could Shantha feel if that was the case? What a pain of mind that she would experience in such a scenario? Should the life long negligence on my part occurr in the same manner or more intensely at the death?

I was reminded of Sandakiduru Jatakaya and mermaids in it. The lament of the female mermaid at the death of her husband, echoed in me.

Once again, I went to the toilet. I had had gone to the toilet ten or twelve times before. But I was not with a digestive problem or food contamination with turkey or peach. This is the nature of my disease.

I thought not by guessing that I would die during or after the surgery. I felt as if with a sixth sense that I will definitely die; could I do this surgery in Sri Lanka? Had I come here insane? But I crossed the seas to meet Ratnaweera. Like in other instances of life, the fact that I identified as the purpose, was second or third factor of importance.

I again heard slow knocking at the door. I opened the door adjusting my hair with my hands.

“Now, it is better to get ready …after having something. “

Ratnaweera’s face after a good sleep surprised me.

“Weera, I can't”, I pleaded

“Why? Why can’t you?”

“Today, I can’t get myself hsopitalised…I did not tell Shantha…she does not know that I have cancer..!.”

I did not know why I shouted. Though I thought that Ratnaweera would advise me endlessly, he gazed at me from head to foot with a kind and observant look.

“Oh, Is it so “ he said but he would not ask “why didn’t you tell Shantha?”

I, once again, plunged onto the bed. Until breakfast was ready Devendra or Ratnaweera would not come to my room. They had allowed me to enjoy complete freedom.

Thereafter, one day during the two week’s stay at Devendra's house, Ratnaweera said while giving me the “Tibetan Book of the Dead” that “whoever dies with a conscious mind would be able to attain Nirvana”. I was shocked as soon as I heard it. It was because of two counts; firstly, I thought that Ratnaweera had got a clue that I would die and I thought whether I really wanted to achieve Nirvana. However, I read the book with curiosity. I was interested in Bardo stages of death. I was particularly disturbed by the ‘Kulanava Tantra ‘on the cover of the book which says that one should make attempts to realise the truth before mind loses its sharpness and before one is engulfed with pain.

I feel that I am ready to pay any price to delay the death. Like a child who closed his eyes after seeing a ghost and wanted to see it again, I also read all the books on death.

Footnote

Sandakiduru Jatakaya- One of the Buddha’s birth stories