Susant took in the feeling of warm water on his hands. He did not know why he had decided to do the dishes of those who could eat when he could not, but something about the warm water brought him a feeling of comfort.
"Weren't you just lecturing me about eating fast the other day?" a familiar voice asked.
Susant turned to look at his friend but said nothing. Jampa looked at him strangely. Susant then took the plate out of his hands and gave his friend one last long look, hopefully telling him with his eyes that he could not speak, that he could not eat.
Jampa nodded and clapped Susant on the shoulder. "So you have begun! I see, I wish you luck then, my friend. I don't know how many days you have decided to be silent, and perhaps . . . not eat as well? But I know in my heart that you can do it. Learn from the silence. It is more so than not that growth goes hand in hand with pain."
Jampa handed Susant an apple before he left. "If you are in fact fasting, then take this apple and eat it when you finish your task. It is healthy for the body to come back to something small and nutritious. Plus, this apple has the blessings of a monk in it."
Before Susant had finished all the dishes, Jampa had returned. He pinned a yellow ribbon on Susant's shirt, just above his heart. "Those who become silent wear a yellow ribbon, so others understand and leave them in peace. Stay strong, my friend. The pain will be worst at the beginning."
***
Susant soon realized that the day he had decided to start fasting was not a good one. He had remembered hearing Jampa speak of the new year, something called Losar, and that it would be starting in the coming days. He remembered that Jampa had said the first fifteen days of the new year were miracle days, and somewhere in between was the day of the Perfect Miracle.
Whatever that means, thought Susant, irritated with his thoughts.
All he knew was that, because of Losar, everyone was out and enjoying the bright sun of the day. Children were running around eating ice cream. People were lounging in the grass of the garden, but worst of all, everyone was eating. It was as if the world were smiling at his cruel fate.
Fighting back the urge to eat, Susant realized that the more he was silent, the more his thoughts seemed to scream at him. He fought with his subconscious, arguing that the pain was worth the reward, but every other moment his thoughts countered with the notion that he was torturing himself for no good reason.
Could I not learn to meditate from another monk? He found himself feeling grudgingly toward the girl who had forced this pain upon him. Had he not gone through enough pain in order to get to this place?
He thought of the days in the forest with Ahles, the single piece of bread he had shared between himself and the horse. He had, however, decided that that was far different than his current predicament. He had been in a state of life and death back then. He hadn't openly chosen to give up eating, it had been forced upon him.
The minutes seemed to creep by, as if time itself were sleeping. No matter how hard he tried to ignore it, the moment he had stopped eating, the memories of his pain from starvation had returned to him. Even though he knew he shouldn't have been hungry, at least not that soon, the pain felt real, and the memories haunted him.
Only half a day had passed, and Susant already felt like he wanted to scream at the top of his lungs. He found himself walking the paths of the monastery at a hastened rate. His fingers were clenched together, his heart beating rapidly. Anxiety had become the ruler of his being, and he was at the mercy of it.
He began to feel sick. His stomach was unsettled, and his head was beginning to hurt. It was as if, no matter how hard he tried, nothing in the world could comfort him. Everything was fighting him. Why had the world turned against him? He thought of the children in the orphanage. Had he not had a good heart? Why did he deserve this torture?
Susant found his way to the garden. Shielding his eyes from the many monks and nuns who sat within it, he made his way over to the side of the edge and looked out at the clouds. He had not expected it to be as hard as it was, and absentmindedly reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the apple. He felt as if it were almost cruel of Jampa to have given him food when he could not eat.
Taking a breath, he fought with himself.
No one would know if I ate this, right? I mean, the gods have mercy. Do they not? Surely, they would not condemn an innocent boy for eating a bite of an apple. They must have better things to do, more important monks to worry about, other than me and this little apple. They all speak of compassion, but why is it that their teachings come in the form of pain and torture?
He felt the wind strengthen, and the cold of it was like ice on his cheeks. In the distance, Susant saw, for the first time since he had been to the monastery, dark clouds on the horizon.
If I just eat this one apple, I think I can settle my stomach and make it the rest of the days. No one will be able to see me. And I'll make sure it's just this one . . . Something deep within the well of his soul was trying to say something, but Susant pushed it away.
Susant could feel his mouth watering as he thought of the juiciness of the apple. Wearily and without strength, Susant raised the apple to his mouth, and bit into it.
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