laughed. “Prajnatara is young and foolish, easily impressed, but at least he was right about one thing. He told me you would come, and you did! Come and sit beside me, Bodhidharma. Let us sit by the window, where I can see you properly. My eyes are not good any more.”
Bodhidharma helped Ananda lower himself onto his seat and they sat in silence for a moment. Ananda’s face filled suddenly with concern. “You have traveled a great distance to be here. You must be exhausted! Have they given you refreshments? A room? Have you had time to rest?”
“There will be plenty of time for resting,” Bodhidharma assured him.
“If you’re sure,” the old man said, still uncertain. “After all, I forget that you are still young and strong. Nevertheless, you must eat and take some juice to restore yourself.” He summoned his assistant and asked for refreshments to be brought, then sat back once again and fixed his watery eyes on Bodhidharma.
“You have only just arrived. You have not had a chance to see everything that we do here in Nalanda. Did you know we have over ten thousand monks, over five hundred teachers. Monks come from all over the world to study with us. They come in such numbers that recently, we have been forced to turn most of them away.
“I saw such an instance when we arrived,” Bodhidharma said.
“You did?” Ananda’s brow creased in concern.
“Yes, a young man was turned away at the gate.”
“Oh how tragic,” Ananda cried. “It saddens me greatly to deny the blessing of an education to anyone, but there is simply no more room here, Bodhidharma. No room at all! The dormitories are already overcrowded. Each single room is already occupied by two and sometimes three monks. This is why we are striving to open new centers of learning where people can go and study The Way. Masters from Nalanda have traveled all over India to open new temples. Prajnatara went to the South long ago, as you know. Others have gone into the Himalayas and beyond, to Persia, Samarkand, and Khotan. Some have even reached China, where there are millions of souls waiting to be freed.” He paused. His mind was drifting and he needed a moment to collect his thoughts. “However in recent years, I regret to say, the missions to China have not been so successful.”
“I heard,” Bodhidharma said evenly.
“Yes,” Ananda said, “the journey is testing in many, many ways. That is why, when Prajnatara wrote and told me about you, Bodhidharma, I knew you were the right person for this mission. I am so delighted that you have answered your calling.”
“I only hope I can fulfill your wishes.”
“Oh come! You must have faith in yourself, Bodhidharma. You are young and strong, still in your prime. No one is saying it is easy. Remember how The Buddha himself struggled before his own enlightenment and how hard he worked afterward to spread his wisdom. It took him his whole life …” His old eyes glistened with emotion and he paused to collect his thoughts. “Have you visited the sacred sites yet?”
“Yes, I made a pilgrimage before coming here.”
“That is wonderful! Let it inspire you,” he said, squeezing Bodhidharma’s shoulder, “and it also means we can start preparing for your journey right away. China is a long way, and we are going to help you in every way we can.”
He paused, nodding to himself, and leaned in as if divulging a secret to a close friend, “There is someone I would like you to meet, a monk who will be of great assistance to you. He has been with us for eight years now. He is a skilled teacher and an inspiring orator. In debates, he is more than a match for even the most senior of monks. His knowledge of the Sutras is unequalled. He would make the perfect traveling companion for you. There is only one problem. He is so happy here, I fear he will be reluctant to leave.”
“I don’t want to drag anyone away from the joy of their studies,” Bodhidharma smiled.
“Do not concern yourself with that. One could easily spend a lifetime debating the finer points of doctrine, but there comes a time to pass the basics on to the next generation, don’t you agree?”
“I do. To keep it all to ourselves would be a little selfish,” Bodhidharma answered with a grin.
“Selfish?” Ananda said, looking up in surprise. “Yes, indeed, it would be selfish,” he said nodding seriously. “In fact, it would be more than selfish. It would be a sin!” His old face creased with laughter and he tapped his own leg in delight, dabbing at the tears that ran down his cheeks.
Bodhidharma waited in silence until the old man had recovered his composure.
“Now what was I saying?” Ananda mused, still shaking his head in mirth. “Ah yes, well, I am sure this monk can be persuaded, once we put the argument to him. I will arrange for us to meet with him in due course.”
Bodhidharma waited to hear more about the mysterious monk, but Ananda’s assistant appeared with refreshments and once they were served, Ananda demanded to hear of Bodhidharma’s journey from Pallava and his pilgrimage to the holy sites. Next he insisted on knowing every detail of Prajnatara’s temple in the jungle, so that he could visit it in his mind whenever he wished. They talked on and as the shadows lengthened Bodhidharma saw the old man had grown weary.
“I think my journey has taken its toll, Venerable One,” he sighed. “I hope you will forgive me if I retire to rest.”
“Of course you must rest, dear Bodhidharma,” Ananda smiled, ringing the bell for his assistant. “We must both rest. My assistant will show you to your room. You will find everything in order.”
Bodhidharma’s room was spacious. Crisp, clean white bedding lay on the floor and a plump new cushion had been set out for his meditation. In the corner was a chest for his possessions, and two small paintings hung on the wall. In one, The Buddha was descending a staircase from Heaven. In the other, an elephant was kneeling at The Buddha’s feet. On the window was a beautifully carved statue of The Buddha seated in meditation, and beside it a tray of incense, a burner, and a small vase of flowers. Someone had taken a good deal of trouble to prepare the place for their new guest.
“I hope the room is to your satisfaction,” the assistant said.
To a wandering monk who spent countless nights under the stars, it was untold luxury. “It is perfect,” Bodhidharma answered. “Thank you.”
“Please summon me if there is anything further you need,” the assistant said with a smile, then pressed his palms together in the traditional Buddhist greeting and bowed low. “Welcome to Nalanda.”
A line of orange robes lay neatly folded by the edge of the bathing pool. A group of novices were washing in the water, their smooth limbs and shaved heads glistening in the bright sunlight. They laughed and splashed each other gently, not wishing to earn a reprimand from one of the more senior monks. Unruly behavior was frowned upon in Nalanda.
One of the boys froze abruptly, his mouth agape. The others followed his gaze to the giant form at the water’s edge, etched in black against the bright sky, a dark demon from an ancient scroll. As the stranger stepped into the water, the boys could see his hair, face, and limbs were streaked with grey dust from the road, which added to his unearthly appearance. They shrank back as he waded into the deeper water. When the water reached his chest he set about washing himself thoroughly, applying oil to his hair and beard and massaging the mass of muscle in his neck and shoulders, before dipping below the surface to rinse himself clean.
When he emerged, he snorted a fine spray from his nostrils, like a buffalo at the riverbank. Murmurings rustled through the group of novices. One of them snorted, and the rest began to giggle. Meanwhile, the dark stranger floated on his back, ignoring their antics. The boy snorted again and the others laughed helplessly. Suddenly the stranger stood, eyeing them coolly, then sank beneath the surface and disappeared.
Swimming and diving were strictly forbidden in the bathing pools. These were sacred places created