On one occasion the king invited both monks to participate in an important ceremony in Ava, the capital of the realm. After consulting the stars, the southern abbot declared that he would set out on the following day, a choice especially favored by the heavens. The other abbot snorted scornfully when he heard this news. He had heard from astrologers that the day after tomorrow would be particularly inauspicious, and for that very reason he settled on that day for his own departure.
The monks of the southern monastery selected a white boat—a color they considered to bring good fortune—and set out with their abbot for Ava. The day passed uneventfully, and toward evening they looked for a village where they could land and spend the night. The inhabitants welcomed them warmly, and soon the village elder came forward and addressed the southern abbot: “Your eminence, our village regretfully finds itself in a difficult situation. A Buddhist ceremony will take place for my son tomorrow, but the abbot of our own monastery is too ill to conduct it. May I humbly but urgently request that you delay your departure until midday tomorrow? Ava, the Golden City, is but three hours from here and you will arrive there in more than good time.” Loath to deny the man, the abbot agreed. He and his retinue then spent the night in the village.
The next morning, just as the ceremony was beginning, the northern abbot and his retinue were setting out from their own monastery. Out of flagrant disregard for superstition, the northern monk had painted his boat black, supposedly an ill-fated color. The abbot scoffed at such notions, just as he did at the reputed power of the stars. And so his boat embarked on its journey down the Irrawaddy.
There was a strong wind on the river, and the northern monastery’s black boat fairly raced across the water. Soon they were passing the landing where the southern monastery’s white boat still bobbed at its moorings. They quickly overtook the southern delegation and sped on down the river. After one more hour of breakneck sailing it finally happened: The pitch-black boat struck a rock and shattered to pieces. The entire crew—luckily none were lost—soon stood shivering and exhausted on the banks of the river, casting accusatory glances at their abbot. He had put all of them in danger by mocking the stars, and they had very nearly paid with their lives for his impudence.
While the northern abbot stood looking upriver, his heart heavy with guilt and self-recrimination, the southern monastery’s boat soon came into view. Like the black boat before it, the white boat was sailing extremely fast, too fast in fact, for it, too, soon struck a rock and capsized. Again everyone on board survived, and the southern monks were soon standing onshore beside their northern brothers. The northern abbot did not have much to say. He merely smiled knowingly, turned to his companions, and said: “And so in the end we will present ourselves to the king together—wet and muddy like canal rats.”
A brother and his sister lived alone in a village, their parents having passed away a long time before. They had no one to look after them and were so poor that they often went hungry. With each passing year they hoped that their situation would improve, but instead it only got worse. One day a famine broke out in the entire province. The rains had not come and the harvest was so small that the two feared they would starve to death.
“We only have one kyat left,” the girl said to her brother. “Go to the market and buy as much rice as you can get for it. Maybe we will get lucky, and it will last us until the next harvest. Otherwise we will starve.”
The boy set off for the market. Due to the drought, however, the price of rice had quadrupled, and he could afford only four small jars, too little even for the next month.
Sad and disappointed, he made his way back to the village. Suddenly he heard a cry for help from the edge of the path. He looked all around but saw nothing except a tree around whose trunk a small climbing vine had wound itself. He was just about to keep on walking when he heard the cries again, this time louder and more insistent. He walked around the tree and found an old woman completely entangled in the plant and on the verge of strangulation.
“Help me!” she called to him weakly. “This vine is going to kill me.”
The boy ripped and tore at the plant with all his might until the woman was finally able to slip free.
Exhausted, they both sat down by the side of the path to rest. “I am deeply indebted to you,” said the old woman. “Before you came along, so many people passed by and I called for help but no one stopped.”
“You must be hungry,” the boy said. The old woman nodded.
Out of compassion he invited her home with him.
In their hut the boy found his hungry sister waiting. She was furious when she saw their uninvited guest. “What are you thinking bringing another mouth to feed? There is not enough rice even for us.”
“Aren’t you greedy!” he scolded. “This old woman is hungry just like we are. We are going to share the little we have with her.”
Irate, the sister built a fire and set a pot of water to boil. The old woman approached her and suggested that she add only seven grains of rice.
“That will never be enough for three,” the girl objected.
The old woman just nodded and smiled kindly.
Reluctantly, the young woman did as instructed, and when the rice was cooked it filled the whole pot. For the first time in a long while the two siblings went to bed on a full stomach.
And so it continued from that day on. The seven grains produced a full pot of rice, and the two siblings and their guest survived the drought well-nourished.
When the time came to resume work in the field the old woman offered to help. Together they prepared the field, planted the rice, and harvested seven times more than any previous year.
This incident did not go unnoticed. The other villagers looked upon the two siblings with envy and suspected that they were harboring a witch.
In the middle of the night they crept into the brother and sister’s hut and stole their entire rice stores. The two were distraught when they awoke. “Now we will go hungry again,” they lamented through their tears.
“Don’t worry,” the old woman reassured them. She pulled a piece of the climbing vine out of her pocket. A few ants were crawling around on it. At her signal the ants took off. More and more ants joined their number and overnight they carried all of the stolen rice back into the hut.
This made the other villagers so angry that they armed themselves with pitchforks, shovels, and hoes in order to take the rice back by force.
The siblings hid in fear in their house but the old woman threw a piece of the vine at the horde and in no time it grew into an impenetrable hedge.
At this the farmers relented and returned to their fields.
Soon thereafter the old woman disappeared without a word. The next night she appeared to the brother and sister in a dream, and they promised to offer her seven grains of rice every day.
They kept their promise. From that day onward they always had enough to eat and never suffered from hunger again.
A long, long time ago there was a kingdom in Burma near Inle Lake by the name of Paya. It was governed by a benevolent king and his queen. They were good rulers, generous and wise, and they had a son named Payar Kom Mar who was not only handsome, but also modest, clever, and well versed in the eighteen arts, from literature to painting to combat. He excelled above all with the bow and arrow.
Soon after his eighteenth year, his parents declared that it was time for him to marry a lady of the court and start a family. The prince did not at all like this idea. He felt he was too young. Nor did he wish to limit his options to the small number of women his parents deemed suitable.
The prince had twice before postponed this particular obligation, and he could not bring himself to disappoint his parents a third time, so he asked for their permission to journey to Thaton in the Mon kingdom, where he hoped to make the acquaintance of a princess who was known far and wide for her beauty. His parents consented, and the young prince s
et off.
When he reached his destination, instead of marching into the king’s palace as the exalted prince of Paya, he disguised himself as a pauper seeking an audience with the king. After several attempts and interviews with numerous ministers, he finally succeeded. The prince bowed deeply before the Mon king and humbly requested a position working in the palace. Suspicious, the king asked several questions to test the young candidate. Because he was so well educated, the prince answered all the questions satisfactorily, whereupon the king was happy to take him into his service and assign him to some minor duties.
Thanks to his abilities and perseverance, the newcomer eventually achieved the rank of minister. The king was impressed and wanted to know more about the young man’s background. Now the prince told the king the truth and revealed to him his actual objective: He had come to win the hand of the princess in marriage. The king consented and the two were wed. The young prince and the beautiful, intelligent princess were very happy together, and it was not long before a son was born to them.
As time wore on, however, the prince wearied of his domestic responsibilities. He grew apart from his wife and longed to see his parents. His dissatisfaction increased until he could bear it no longer. He went to his wife and said: “It has been so long since I have seen my parents, and I miss them sorely. I want very much to visit them, but I would ask you to remain here with our little one. It is a long and taxing journey, and I will return soon.” With a smile the princess granted her husband’s request, asking only that he not be away too long.
And so the prince left Thaton and set off for home. His long march led him through a desolate landscape intersected by a broad watercourse. The sole inhabitant of these lands was an old hermit who had built his shelter on the banks of the river. What is more, the region was the scene of a tremendous and long-running battle. A gigantic bird incessantly sought to capture a water dragon that lived in the river. The bird would swoop down again and again, but the dragon slipped out of his clutches every time. The old hermit followed these events in silence.
When the bird eventually noticed the old man, he flew out of sight, where he transformed into human shape. In this disguise he casually asked the old man whether he knew why the dragon was always able to slip away from the bird. And indeed, the hermit had an answer: “The dragon has a magical ruby in his mouth that protects him from the bird’s attacks. The bird would have to shake the dragon by the tail in order to dislodge the ruby. But tell me, stranger, why do you ask?”
But the bird had already let loose a cry of joy and returned to his true form. He clawed at the water dragon and began to shake him severely.
The prince happened along at the very moment the gem came tumbling out of the dragon’s mouth. The helpless dragon begged the stranger for help. “Why do you mistreat another creature so?” the prince asked the hungry bird.
The bird flew into a rage and growled: “I, too, must eat to live. Now be gone!”
The prince felt pity for the dragon. In a flash he bent his bow and sent an arrow through the bird’s heart. With his dying breath the bird swore to take his revenge in a future life.
The water dragon could not thank the prince enough. He prostrated himself before his savior and swore to come to his aid if ever he needed it. The prince had only to touch the ground three times and then call for his help. The amazed prince thanked the dragon, then went on his way.
Meanwhile the bird was indeed reborn, this time as a giant spider living in one of three caves on the edge of a vast lake. As chance would have it, a number of local nats frequently swam in these same waters. They loved to frolic in the lake, but on one occasion they lost track of time until it was already getting dark, so they made camp in one of the three nearby caves. When the spider saw what was happening, she swiftly trapped the nats in this cave with her thick webbing.
The prince was passing this lake on his way home when he heard from afar the laments of the captured nats. Coming closer, he could make out the spider’s threads, as thick as his arm, sealing the entrance to the cave. He promised the terrified nats that he would hunt the spider and then free them from their prison.
The prince soon found the beast and drew his weapons. The spider quivered with rage at the sight of the prince. She recognized him immediately and could hardly wait to get her revenge. In order to intimidate her old enemy, she lifted a massive stone and split it right down the middle.
The prince did not bat an eye. “I have a special power of my own,” he said serenely. Then he shot the spider right through the heart. The nearby city Pindaya gets its name from his victory cry: “Pin ku ya,” which essentially means: “I have slain the spider!”
The young prince returned to the cave and cleared the webbing with his sword. The nats were filled with gratitude, and they offered him the hand of the youngest nat, a beautiful woman named Shin Mi Ya. Even at first sight the two had eyes only for each other, and the prince married her on the spot.
The couple continued on their way and stopped to rest in the shadow of an expansive tree. By an inconceivable stroke of ill luck, a large troll happened also to be resting in the vicinity of the tree. Worse than that, this troll was none other than the latest reincarnation of the foe the prince had already encountered and defeated, first as a giant bird and then as a spider. The troll caught the young man unprepared, wrenched the deadly bow and arrow from his grasp, and flung the weapons far away. Then he seized the prince and his bride and cast a heavy iron net over them.
It was a desperate moment for the two lovers. The prince looked sorrowfully at the weeping Shin Mi Ya. What should he do?
At that moment the prince remembered the dragon’s promise. He struck the ground three times with his palm and called loudly for his old friend, who appeared at once. The dragon brought the prince the bow and arrows he so urgently required. Then he freed the prisoners from the iron net. Now the prince was ready to face the troll.
It was a bitter struggle in which the prince only gradually gained the upper hand. Just as he was about to deal the troll his death blow, the monster transformed yet again. All at once the prince found himself face-to-face with the legendary magician Saw Gyi. He wore a flowing red robe and brandished a long staff. Before the prince could stop him, Saw Gyi made off with Shin Mi Ya, leaving the young man behind, severely wounded.
The young nat Shin Mi Ya put up a spirited but unsuccessful defense. After a while she asked Saw Gyi for some water. Her kidnapper paused to rest with her beside a rushing river. He scooped water from the stream with a silver bowl for her, but she was not satisfied. She even declined to drink from the golden bowl Saw Gyi tried next. She wanted to drink the water straight from his mouth, she said.
As the wizard bent over the river, Shin Mi Ya shoved him from behind. Saw Gyi made a hasty effort to divert the waters with magic, but Shin Mi Ya cast her cloak over him so that the magician sped downstream and was soon out of sight.
Breathless, Shin Mi Ya raced back to the scene of the battle, where, alas, she found nothing but the bloodied ground. Taking a closer look, she noticed that the bloodstains revealed a trail. She followed it, nearly out of her mind with fear for her beloved prince. At the end of the trail she found him. Dead. His cheeks were still rosy, his body still warm, but he was no longer breathing. Shin Mi Ya took her husband in her arms and wept bitterly.
Shin Mi Ya’s loud sobbing woke Tha Kyar Min, one of the gods who slept on a throne in Heaven high above her. He traveled down to Earth and saw the young woman in tears. To test her love, the god transformed into a lion and tried to frighten her away from the body. But Shin Mi Ya paid him no heed as she mourned her prince with unrivaled devotion. Tha Kyar Min took on the form of a tiger and even an elephant, but nothing he tried would separate her from the one she loved.
Satisfied, Tha Kyar Min put aside his tests and sprinkled the prince with water from Heaven. The prince returned to life at once, and the lovers fell into each other’s arms.
Tha Kyar Min returned to his own realm; his work here was done.
The couple then traveled back to the Paya kingdom. The delighted parents welcomed their son and his bride, and all the people rejoiced to see the crown prince again. What is more, a miracle occurred: From the moment of Shin Mi Ya’s arrival there was no more sickness in the kingdom. Everyone who lived there enjoyed perfect health.
For a long time this miracle was greeted with enthusiasm by the people of Paya. Not everyone was pleased, however. Physicians, doctors, and healers had lost their livelihood overnight. The situation eventually got so bad that the doctors conspired with the leading court astrologer to do away with Shin Mi Ya. The esteemed astrologer suggested to the king that since the new princess’s blood was obviously magical, the monarch should sprinkle it across his kingdom. It would strengthen his dynasty in ways previously unimaginable, and all other rulers would have no choice but to pay him fealty.
The king found this prospect irresistibly appealing. At the first opportunity he sent his son off to a remote corner of the realm to suppress a marauding band of rebels. No sooner had the prince left than the king prepared to seize his daughter-in-law.
The conspirators had, however, underestimated the magical prowess of the young spirit princess. Numerous intervening walls could not prevent the treacherous plot from reaching her ears. She hastened at once to her chambers, leapt out the window, and flew away! The people of Paya were duly amazed to see their new princess sailing over their heads at top speed as she fled to the safety of her own kind.
The prince, meanwhile, was pursuing his military mission. Yet everywhere he went he found only peace. No rebels, no disturbances, no trouble. Filled now with concern, the prince hastened back to the royal palace, where he searched in vain for his beloved wife. The king was disinclined to tell him what had happened, so the prince immediately set out to find her on his own. Along the way he came upon a hermit and questioned him concerning his wife’s whereabouts.
The Long Path to Wisdom Page 10