LITMIR.BIZ

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body and he fell back, groaning.

      He considered calling for help, but his pride prevented him. He closed his eyes and waited, wondering if he would get back to the barracks before nightfall. Eventually he heard the crunch of footsteps on the shingle track. He tried to sit up and see who was coming. It was too painful. Instead, he raised his head, breathing hard with the effort. The approaching figure was nothing more than a silhouette in half-light. He laid his head back, exhausted, and waited. Finally a head appeared above him, but he could not make out the face against the darkening sky.

      The Temple in the Jungle

      Bodhidharma followed the narrow jungle path until he saw the fork in the river. The temple was near. Soon it came into view, its pale stonework gleaming in the mottled sunlight between the trees. A lone figure was working in the gardens and he recognized the slight frame at once. It was Prajnatara, tending the flowers. He called out a greeting and Prajnatara turned, shading his eyes from the sun. At the sight of his old student, the little master let out a cheer and hurried through the the trees, beaming with delight.

      “Bodhidharma! I knew you would come. Did you get my message? Of course you did, you’re here, aren’t you? Well, well, let me look at you. You look …” Prajnatara paused, looking him up and down disapprovingly, “… quite different from the last time I saw you. Heavens, yes. It’s understandable. You have been on the road a long time and traveled a great distance to be here. I heard you have been wandering all over India. But listen to me chattering on like an old fool and keeping you standing out here in this dreadful heat! Come inside, my dear Bodhidharma. Come into the shade and cool off. You must be tired, hungry, thirsty?”

      Prajnatara led him to his private chamber and rang a bell. A novice monk appeared and Prajnatara ordered refreshments for his special guest. “It’s so good to see you again,” he continued breathlessly, “I hardly recognized you after all this time. I see you no longer wear the orange robe of the order. And you certainly have a lot more hair …”

      Bodhidharma shrugged apologetically.

      “Well never mind, it’s of no real concern how a master dresses, and besides, you always were a bit of a special case. I remember the day you first appeared at our temple, how you showed us your wrestling skills. What a time that was! The young monks still talk about it today. Brother Jaina still reckons you’re the finest wrestler he’s ever come across.”

      “How is Brother Jaina?” Bodhidharma asked, taken aback by the master’s overwhelming warmth.

      “Oh, he is fine, and looking forward to seeing you, but all in good time, all in good time. First we must talk; or rather, you must wash, and eat, and then we can talk. Where is that boy?” He grumbled. Just then the novice appeared with a basin of water for their guest and Bodhidharma washed his hands and bathed his tired feet.

      “I see you still wear your sandals on your staff,” Prajnatara said, handing him a vial of warm oil to massage into his feet.

      “I’m saving them for a special occasion,” Bodhidharma said with a grin.

      “Then keep them nice and clean,” Prajnatara said.

      Bodhidharma raised an eyebrow inquisitively, but Prajnatara changed the subject quickly. “You look as strong and fit as ever. Even bigger than before if I’m not mistaken, and all muscle by the look of it. You still exercise?”

      “Every day,” Bodhidharma answered.

      “Splendid! I’m delighted to hear it. Fitness is very important, a lot more important than people realize.”

      The novice reappeared with refreshments and Prajnatara had him set the tray down before his guest.

      “Please have some first,” Bodhidharma insisted. Prajnatara was about to decline, but knowing his former student would not eat until he had taken something first, he helped himself to a small handful of rice, leaving the rest untouched.

      “When I got your message …” Bodhidharma began, but Prajnatara held up his hand to silence him. “First eat,” he ordered.

      Bodhidharma was hungry. He obeyed. The food was simple but tasty, just as he remembered it. He lifted a handful of rice and vegetables in his fingers and nodded his appreciation, his mouth too full to speak.

      “We have a new cook,” Prajnatara smiled. “I have been instructing him personally. Now I think he’s even better than the old one.”

      Bodhidharma ate quickly, sensing Prajnatara’s eagerness to talk. He also sensed it was a matter of some importance, despite Prajnatara’s attempt at small talk. As soon as he had finished, Prajnatara leaned forward and squeezed Bodhidharma’s arm affectionately. “Forgive me for coming to the point so quickly. I asked you here because I have a very important request to make of you.”

      “There is nothing to forgive, Master,” Bodhidharma said, “I should be the one apologizing, not you. I should have visited long ago. I have been remiss. And whatever request you have, consider it done.”

      “It is kind of you to be so understanding,” Prajnatara said, “but please hear me out before agreeing to anything.”

      Bodhidharma was about to protest but something in his former master’s face made him sit back in silence and let him speak.

      Prajnatara waited, seemingly unsure how to begin.

      Bodhidharma could feel the little master testing different opening lines in his head, and he wondered what sort of request could cause Prajnatara to hesitate so. All at once the answer seemed to come to Prajnatara and he spoke breathlessly, as if relating the latest temple gossip to an old friend. “Recently I have been in correspondence with The Venerable Ananda, you know who he is, of course...”

      Bodhidharma nodded slowly. “Of course, The Venerable Ananda is the Buddhist patriarch, the living embodiment of Buddha on Earth. Every Buddhist knows this.”

      “Quite so,” Prajnatara said. “He is also a wonderful man. He was my master when I was young. I studied with him for many years in Nalanda. It was Ananda who enlightened me and showed me The Way. Now he is the patriarch and Grandmaster of Nalanda, and no monk has ever been more deserving of such a title. Since taking up that position, Ananda has worked tirelessly to ensure the transmission of the lamp.”

      “The lamp?” Bodhidharma asked, determined to follow Prajnatara’s rambling speech.

      “Yes, the transmission of The Buddha’s teachings! Once the flame of enlightenment has been lit, it must never be allowed to go out. Ananda’s efforts have been rewarded. Already the teachings have spread far beyond the five kingdoms of India—west into Persia, north into Central Asia, and east into China, where they are proving to be immensely popular. Recently we learned that the emperor of China himself is an avid follower of Buddhism.”

      “That is encouraging news,” Bodhidharma said.

      “It is excellent news. Excellent news. The Venerable Ananda has made it his life’s work to ensure people around the world are not denied the perfection of The Buddha’s teachings.

      “He must be very happy,” Bodhidharma said.

      “He is, but in his most recent correspondence he also intimated that he is gravely concerned.” Prajnatara paused, his brow knotted in a frown. “He writes of visions that appear to him with great regularity and clarity. They tell him that the future of The Way lies in the East, in China. The importance of bringing the teachings to the Chinese people cannot be overstated.”

      “And this concerns him, you say?” Bodhidharma said, hoping to steer the little master toward the point of the conversation.

      “Yes, most gravely, because China is vast, Bodhidharma! It stretches from the Himalayas in the west to the eastern Ocean, from the tropical jungles in the south to the frozen steppes of the north; and the population outnumbers all the five kingdoms of India put together. The journey to China is long and perilous. Only a handful of teachers are prepared to make it, or capable of enduring the hardships along the way.”

      “I

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