"Believe me, I would. But I can't risk killing any tiny insects that might be resting on your body. My nephew, I know you have broken the precepts, but surely you can't be suggesting I do the same? This is not the way of the disciple, and you should know it!"
Having made his stance clear, Jamcan Gonbo strode off through the undulating wheat fields in the direction of the village, his hands clasped behind his back. He saw his sister sitting by a spring in the shade of a cluster of cypress trees, peering towards him through her blurry eyes. She used to be Ji village's outstanding beauty in a time gone by.
The Lama sighed inwardly: "Do you really think you are capable of comprehending today's world?" he thought to himself. Even people who had two good eyes to see out couldn't make sense of what was happening in the world. Not even the ability to read, which he possessed and she didn't, could help much with that.
He greeted his sister:
"Congratulations, dear sister, you have a grandchild on the way."
"But … that can't be true, you can't be saying that! Enbo is a monk; if he is expecting a child, then surely the Buddha will punish him for breaking the precepts!"
Jamcan Gonbo looked up at the dull blue sky, and replied in a quiet voice:
"I wouldn't worry. The Buddha has been elsewhere these last few years" .
There was no real conviction behind her words to begin with, even as they came out of her mouth. But once she began to process the idea that Ler Kymcog and Enbo were already lovers, she began crying. The emotion was all too much for her, and her subconscious opted to handle the situation by short-circuiting—she swooned to the ground.
While his mother lay stretched out on the ground unknown to him, Enbo was walking up the small path through the wheat fields with the honourable intention of announcing the news to her in person. A sea of tall wheat stalks, which were just beginning to put out their first ears of the season, swallowed the path almost whole with their tall stems bending double in the wind.
Enbo's tall, sturdy frame plunged through the middle, kicking up clouds of pollen that shimmered in the sunlight as he parted waves of green wheat.
Jamcan Gonbo watched. He saw a lot—he could see the dew that clung to the lower lengths of the wheat shoots being smashed into flying mist by the feet of Enbo, who loomed large and solid, like a bald-headed beast of the wild.
The old man was so overwhelmed by the beauty of the scene that he very nearly passed out, too. After all, this kind of joy is surely of the same nature as the enlightenment he experienced during reflective meditation in the temple. He knelt down over the spring and took a mouthful of clear, sweet water, which he sprayed over his unconscious sister's face. She came to with a start, gazing for a moment at the huge canopy of cypress trees above her, though the image she saw was layered with a glaze of spring water. A moment later, she was scrunching up her face to cry again. Jamcan Gonbo helped her to her feet, and consoled her:
"It's alright, dear sister, just look up!"
She looked up, and saw her son moving towards her in long, rapid strides through the wheat fields, clouds of pollen billowing at each impact of his long legs and large hands with the young wheat sprouts. Pollen-gathering butterflies took to the air in alarm, swirling high and low in eddies of wind created by the disturbance his body caused in the air. There was something very artistic about the whole scene. In her eyes, Enbo appeared as a spirit visiting from Heaven; the lines of his face were straight and strong and light beamed from his eyes. Just as he arrived before her, she began crying again:
"Oh my son, just marry that poor woman and bring her home … you have to marry her!"
A gong sounded in the distance. The lapses between its metallic reverberations absorbed the noise of people shooing a group of chickens and monkeys away from the edge of the wheat fields—the animals had their eyes on the village's communal crops.
This was the summer of 1958. Gela, just four years old, was on his way down the road carrying a little bag that contained a small piece of barley bread. At second glance, his dawdling pace indicated that he wasn't actually going anywhere. As he passed the old cypress trees he saw that the three kindliest people in the whole village were sitting in their shade beside the spring. He had just been trying his luck over at the mill, where more often than not, whoever was in there grinding grain would give the little scamp a scrap of barley bread. His Ah-ma, Sangdan, didn't work much, so her share of grain from the production team was always small.
Though it was still the height of summer and autumn had not yet made its intentions known, mother and son had run out of food.
Jamcan Gonbo waved at Gela to come over. Gela sniffed a gloop of snot back up his nose, and then walked over to stand before the three adults.
Enbo's mother stretched out a hand and patted his little bag.
"You've done well for yourself today, child" , she congratulated him.
Gela smiled.
"Look, his smile is exactly the same as his mother's" , Enbo observed.
It was true; Gela's smile was a perfect replica of Sangdan's own ditsy and unabashed trademark facial expression.
Er Chiang—that is, Enbo's mother—stroked Gela's head with compassionate tenderness, and murmured:
"Poor child. What harm did you ever do?"
From within the depths of her robes, she unearthed a flat-cake coated in toasted sesame seeds. She broke off a small piece, and placed it in the boy's hands.
"Ah, poor child, just you hold on until I have my grandchild. I'll make sure the two of you play together, and then you'll have your own little playmate!"
Gela took a chomp on his piece of flat-cake before scampering off with a grin on his face. He ran all the way to his house, where his mother Sangdan was leaning against the doorframe, displaying her perfect, white teeth in a big, wide smile, equal parts dazzling and mindless.
