Refuge in the Sangha

by Jeannette Cabraal

The evening shadows lengthened casting their gloom over the Aramaya which nestled in a secluded wooded spot in the suburban atmosphere of Kelaniya. The air was filled with the scent that emanated from the rukkatthana tree which grew in a corner of the compound. A few birds twittered as they flew nest-wards. Dark clouds began to gather in the skies, as a gentle breeze stirred the otherwise still leaves. The leaves of the Bo-tree that canopied the shrine quivered in the evening breeze. Peace and tranquillity reigned supreme.

Stride

The chief monk of the aramaya walked about the compound with measured stride, hands clasped behind him, eyes cast down, in deep thought. From time to time wrinkles of puzzlement spread out on his broad forehead. He was apparently in deep contemplation over some baffling problem. He proceeded to the backyard where there was a little pool and there on a stone by the pool as usual, sat the young monk Somarathana dropping pebbles into the pool and gazing into it as though innumerable pictures manifested themselves in the pool. Here sat the object of the venerable monk’s bafflement.

For some time now this had been Somarathana’s haunt and it had caused the chief priest many a sleepless night. The young monk was a university student and this was his final year. In another three months he would be sitting for his finals and his university career would come to an end. Somarathana had come to this aramaya when he was a fresher. He had been a quiet, docile and diligent student. He was reserved and did not exchange confidences as some monks in this tiny community were wont to do.

The chief monk wisely did not intrude into the young monk’s reserve. He liked the young monk for his quiet ways and especially as he showed so much promise. He thought to himself how Somarathana had the qualities expected of a monk to propagate the ‘sasana’. Yet of late he seemed to be strangely preoccupied. Foreboding and darkening thoughts pervaded the older monk’s mind. Was the young monk restless? Had a university education changed him?

Had the liberality he enjoyed as a university student affected him adversely? True! He had faced a terrible tragedy. But surely he wasn’t still brooding over it. Or was he? The venerable monk did not wish to obtrude but bided his time, hoping the young monk would confide in him.

Troubled

Seeing the older monk approaching, the younger one rose respectfully. “Hamuduruwane, I want to speak to you. I am glad you came this way” said Somarathana. This was what the older monk was waiting for, to help in whatever way he could this apparently troubled young monk. “Yes Podi nama, I’m ready to listen to you if you will but sit down. I think this quiet spot is conductive for a quiet talk.”

“Hamuduruwane in a few days it will be Poson. As you know every year I go to see my aged mother for Poson to Anuradhapura. This gives me the opportunity to venerate the places sacred to our religion as well as to visit my mother. I hope to leave for Anuradhapura tomorrow. Your kind permission Hamuduruwane.”

“Of course! Of course! You may certainly go. Yours is indeed a very meritorious act.”

“But Hamuduruwane, this time when I go, I will not come back. A thousand and one thoughts have passed my mind in the recent past. You already know how my aged father and my only brother were brutally killed by terrorists. Ever since then I’ve been quite divided in my loyalties. There’s the sasana on one side, my revulsion of the terrorists who killed my loved ones on the other and my duty to my aged mother who’s being currently supported by my cousin. I feel like Dutugemunu who was crouched on his bed as he said, ‘with the invaders on one hand and the sea on the other’.

Desecration

Thoughts of avenging my dead father and brother and so many other innocents, of avenging the desecration to our sacred places are continuously crossing my mind. What are we doing here Hamuduruwane? Thoughts of even joining the army have crossed my mind. The country needs youth like us. With such thoughts in my mind I find it difficult to meditate and to perform my religious duties. I cannot even study. I feel I am totally unprepared for the final exam. Moreover, I feel the uselessness of pursuing my studies.

The venerable monk was deeply distressed on hearing this. So distressed that he could hardly voice what he wanted to say. The tragedy had been firmly etched in this young mind he realised. Young blood. This is what it is. What could he say but “Podi nama, hatred only begets hatred. Have you forgotten the Dhamma?” and under his breath he murmured.

“In sooth may joy at all times come
To beings within my land and home”

“Hamuduruwane tomorrow early morning I leave. I do not wish to disturb you then. So I shall do my leave-taking now” and Somarathana bowed in obeisance. And the older monk replied.

“From self’s own illustrative quest

One sees what all beings long for best
‘Tis surely happiness we seek
Then extend love to strong and weak.
May happiness at all times be
Thine truly-from all sorrows free
May friends - and those indifferent
Hating ones too - find contentment.

At the scratch of dawn the following morning Somarathana left, taking with him whatever baggage he had. Leaving with mixed feelings, he walked up to the stile and glancing back over his shoulder could discern in the shadows, the figure of the chief priest watching him depart.

Abode

On reaching Anuradhapura Somarathana went direct to his mother’s humble abode and she, on seeing her priest son rose with alacrity to pay him obeisance. Mingled tears of joy and sorrow streamed down her cheeks. Joy on seeing the only living member of her family and sorrow as the sight of him brought back to her remembrance, the image of the other two whose lives had ended so tragically.

“Son, my monk son, you are my only consolation. How consoling it is at my time of life having experienced such a bitter tragedy, to know that you are in that great order of the Sangha. Son! That merit alone would suffice in my wanderings in Sansara.”

“This order of the disciples of the Blessed One is worthy of offerings, is worthy of hospitality, is worthy of gifts, is worthy of reverential salutation; is an incomparable field of merit to the world.”

“You my son, are my refuge, my victory, at this time of life”. The young monk’s heart was stirred. He had come with an altogether different plan of action and here was his aged mother bearing her grief so bravely and finding the solace she needed in his being a priest.

“Son tomorrow is Poson. Sumith malli has made arrangements for us to go to Mihintale. We will offer merit together for our departed ones. The very merit of your priesthood is enough for them and for me. Hamuduruwane! My refuge! My solace! May you persevere to maintain the sasana in this land against hatred and violence.”

Filtering

It was a bright morning two days after Poson. The rays of the sun filtering through the branches made lacy patterns on the well-swept compound. The venerable monk sat under the shady tree wrapt in deep contemplation. The bark of a dog in the vicinity distracted him.

Lifting his eyes he saw the familiar figure of the young monk taking the turn to the aramaya.