Sansaaraaranyaye Dadayakkaraya

(The hunter in the wilderness of Sansara)

By Simon NAWAGATHTHEGAMA

(Part 17)

[Ancient stories]

In that very instant the drummer’s daughter saw the Hamuduruwo. She stood perplexed for a moment. The next moment she rekindled the fire of lust that had arisen on account of the Hunter and had subsided into despondency. To her lust-twisted mind, every sign and signal, every beckoning and thought-spring was male-made. She pounced on the Hamuduruwo and began grappling with that meditative being.

The Hunter sprang up like a bear to protect the aged and frail Hamuduruwo who was clearly not equal to a contest with the youthful frenzy of lust that drove the drummer’s daughter. He caught her, broke her in his mighty grip and threw her down on the hardness of the rock.

Her young and supple but nevertheless dainty body drew strength from some unknown source. She threw herself at the Hunter like a wrestler who did not know the meaning of defeat. And each time she did this, the Hunter caught her by her shoulders, head, bosom, waist and thighs and threw her down. Again and again. Finally, she lay sprawled upon the rock. Still. Silent. He stood tall like a menacing gorilla, looking down at the whimpering, broken bundle of flesh at his feet. Strangely, even as she whimpered in pain, the Hunter noticed that her eyes betrayed the softness of gratitude as they gazed upon him.

He cleared his throat. He lifted his eyes. The Hamuduruwo was not looking at him. The Hamuduruwo’s eyes were on the broken and bruised body of the drummer’s daughter. The Hunter’s ears burned with a gigantic sense of shame and derision that had enveloped his mind.

He turned his gaze upon the drummer’s daughter once more, looked at the flesh-heap with bodily fluids oozing out. He cleared his throat and spat at her. He turned away instantly and walked to the far end of the rock.

Thereafter an amazing silence invaded the Mullegama rock. The Hunter didn’t go anywhere near the Hamuduruwo. He didn’t find it easy to maintain this distance, however.

At midday when the time arrived for preparing alms, he remembered the Hamuduruwo. By and by the Hamuduruwo entered his thoughts at other times as well. Finally, as though every moment was a moment of alms preparation, his entire day was filled with thoughts of the Hamuduruwo.

It was not difficult, however, for him to come to terms with all things associated with the drummer’s daughter. She did come to him once or twice. On each occasion, he sent her crashing to the ground with a well aimed kick. Thereafter she kept her distance.

One day the Hunter, almost unbeknown to himself, found himself walking towards the area where the Hamuduruwo dwelt. The Hamuduruwo was slowly making his way to the Esatu tree.

The Hamuduruwo seemed to have aged by a hundred years, so weak did his body appear. The Hamuduruwo was skeletal in appearance, emaciated to the bone out of hunger and food deprivation. The Hunter began to understand how long he had gone without food. He immediately set about gathering food in his hands. He then offered it all to the Hamuduruwo. The Hamuduruwo accepted these alms without indicating any surprise. Instead of bestowing merit as was customary, the Hamuduruwo launched into a sermon.

‘Our bodisatva, the ascetic Siddhartha Gauthama, was for a long time attended to by five disciples. One day they abandoned him, disillusioned by the apparent delay in the attainment of enlightenment. They left almost as if they were looking for a reason to abandon our bodisatva…our bodisatva…’

The Hamuduruwo fell silent, perhaps on account of a great surge in emotion or our of exhaustion by the very effort of speaking. It was indeed amazing that having gone for so long without food, the Hamuduruwo still possessed within him the strength to voice these words.

The Hunter, after looking upon the Hamuduruwo carrying to full weight of a great sorrow, made a vow to himself and left.

‘From now, from lifetime to lifetime, I will be beside the Hamuduruwo, attending on him with utmost devotion.’

And yet, for a long time thereafter, his mind did not know any peace.

He walked in the manner of a sleepwalker. He spent hours standing or sitting at one spot. He spent many uncharacteristic hours in the kitchen and in other dark caves.

He had ceased going to the other side of the rock. His feet did not turn towards the pond or to the flight of steps leading down the rock. There were occasions when he would spend the entire day in the dark bowels of a cave.

Whenever he wanted to gather food, he took the route he had once taken when ascending the rock, sans stairway or any support for a climber. He never tarried long in the jungle, but quickly returned after harvesting whatever it was he required.