Степан Мазур – Tai (*in english) (страница 9)
Tai took the mango with a hint of reluctance and sniffed it. The mango even smelled sweet. When he tasted the ripe fruit, the sweet juice was better than honey.
He bit into the flesh, juice running down his fingers. The mentor smiled contentedly and quickly cut another fruit, handing it over. “Eat. You need to regain strength. Then wash your hands, and I’ll teach you to look within.”
“How do I do that?”
“We’ll meditate. You need to learn serenity. It’s multi-layered. Anxiety serves no purpose. What you need is silence. Peace of mind.”
Tai nodded and asked, “When will I have this peace?”
The monk sighed. “All in good time. Life and death walk hand in hand. They work together. You just need to learn to see it. Take our sexton Gatun, for example. He’s eighty-two.”
Dalai Tisein pointed to Gatun, who’d settled on a bench at the temple steps and dozed off, leaning against his broom. “He’s lived a long life filled with labor and responsibilities,” the abbot went on. “He’s experienced love, separation, loss, and joy. His mind isn’t as sharp as it used to be, but he remembers his dark days and cherishes bright memories. Gatun has found peace, forgiven everyone, and let everything go. Now he simply waits for the transition. He awaits it with a serene curiosity, filled with inner harmony.”
“Is he dying?” Tai realized.
“His joints ache with pain, and his eyesight is fading,” the old monk sighed. “He’s ready to go, eager to be free from this pain. Yet, he’s not rushing death. Gatun is ready to befriend it, to accept it as his guest. But you… you too need to accept that death walks alongside us. But there’s no need to fear it. Your sister…”
“Alyona isn’t death!” Tai declared firmly. “She’s kind. She just doesn’t want to leave without me. To go… go there.”
The old man nodded. “Tai. You need to bear in mind that neither she nor anyone else should be calling you There. As long as you’re breathing, you’re needed here. Your soul made this choice when it entered you with your first cry, or your first stir in your mother’s womb—depending on what you believe in. Which faith is closer to your heart. What do
“I don’t know.”
The old man gave another nod. “It was your own choice to come into this world to learn specific life lessons. Until you understand them, there’s no reason to leave. And until you make room for other souls, you have no right to leave. Souls are immortal. They are always journeying, but one soul gives a birth to another. This is the cycle. Not only your personal Samsara but the breathing and heartbeat of the Universe.
“Death is but a small segment of this path. As long as the wheel of Samsara turns, we live on. We get reborn to learn new lessons. But someday, we will all reach Conscious Emptiness and hear its Silence. For that is where everything began. And that is where everything will end.”
Tai nodded, unsure what to say to the old man. What could he know about the afterworld if he could only feel it but not see it? It’s like a blind man discussing mountains he’s never traversed.
“So, souls come into this world,” the boy repeated. “Do you have children? Did you give life to someone?”
“I had,” the monk said, his expression darkening.
“What happened to them?”
“The sea took them,” he replied, becoming somber.
Tai was curious for details, but the monk looked so sad the boy didn’t feel right pressing him.
“You know what? I’ll stay on this island,” Tai said firmly. “May the sea never take anyone again.”
“Let’s hope for the best, Tai,” the old man sighed. “Let’s hope.”
Two months later, in February 2005, as Phuket’s life began normalizing and most hotels were restored, Slava Demchenko would be declared missing.
The abbot of Wat Ko Sirey would check the lists and realize that without a body and international concern, there was no case. With no family interest or bodies to claim, the Demchenko would soon be forgotten. Slava wouldn’t be remembered during the internment of Russians. Marked as
Thailand would never again endure a disaster as crushing as the one in December 2004, but the Kingdom would learn its lesson and take action.
The collective grief was not in vain. The kingdom reviewed its mistakes and soon fortified its beaches by deploying twenty-two buoys. These would form a modern, advanced tsunami monitoring system. The buoys would become part of a national alert system for giant waves caused by undersea earthquakes. On the beaches, loudspeakers would be installed to warn tourists and locals about tsunamis well before the giant waves could reach the shore.
Thailand had learned from its mistakes, and corrected them.
Chapter 7 – The White Forest
On that day, Dalai Tisein woke Tai up before sunrise. Instead of the usual routine of exercise, breakfast, and prayer, the mentor led him to a motorcycle and handed him a helmet.
“What about practice?” Tai asked, already getting accustomed to the physical demands, the omnipresent fatigue, and the constant ache in his muscles—which, strangely, had become the most pleasant kind of pain.
“Today we’re going to practice at Mai Khao Beach,” the monk declared.
“Mai Khao?” Tai repeated, unfamiliar with the name.
“It means
“Where is it? Is it far?” Tai asked with a yawn.
He’d explored the area around the temple over the last week, but the prospect of venturing to a new place was thrilling—a new adventure, new emotions, and new spirit animals, which he was beginning to accept as part of everyday life.
Tai had started to classify the astral animals and other creatures he noticed around people. A few days of observation had taught him that these creatures reflected either a person’s character or their mood. Sometimes, they even served as a person’s guardian spirit, often unbeknownst to them.
The only creature Tai had ever seen around the monks was a white dragon, spotted with the abbot of another temple. Dalai Tisein was probably right about it being a family totem.
Tai yawned again, promising himself to explore this mystery later. The world was revealing its secrets to him gradually, one at a time. For instance, he’d noted that Phuket was less humid than the Russian Far East, making his sleep more restful, breathing easier, and exercise more enjoyable. Or was it just the tropical sun?
He wasn’t bothered by mosquitoes or gnats here, unlike during similar heat back home. He felt fully rested after just six hours of sleep, plus he’d grab an extra hour’s nap in a hammock by the temple at midday when the sun was at its peak and the abbot sent him to rest in the shade after lunch.
The monk had mentioned that the Kingdom did have mosquitoes but mainly in the north, which was farther from the coast, with more forests and swamps.
“The beach isn’t far. It’s on the northwest coast,” the old man finally answered. “We’ll get there in less than an hour. The northern beach was spared by the tsunami. It’s wild, with barely any… what’s the word you call it? Barely any amenities, yes. The coast is steep. That’s why the big wave hardly reached it.”
Tai frowned. “That’s good.”
Any mention of the tsunami dampened his mood. However, the monk couldn’t completely avoid this topic. As a compromise, he’d quickly shift the conversation to something more pleasant. “At Mai Khao, you’ll find mangrove trees and casuarinas,” he added. “They’re known as
“Pines?” Tai perked up. “Wow! Of course, we love them. I wanna see them. Let’s go.”
Tai was already used to palm trees with green coconuts around the temple, nearby banana trees, and ginger plants. The bright plumeria flowers the monks used to decorate Buddha statues or give to tourists with blessings lasted a long time without wilting and were nearly scentless. Plumeria garlands were worn for beauty or given as offerings to Buddha. With added candles, these flowers served as the only source of light at night.
The
With careful handling,