Chapter 5 Chapter Four: The Mysterious Blue Lotus

Perhaps it was because of the alcohol that I woke up very late the next morning with a sudden pain in my forehead. Sinha is gone.A note was stuffed through the crack of the door, mixed with Chinese and English words, to the effect that I was afraid of the sadness of saying goodbye, so I left without saying hello, wish me a pleasant journey, remember to keep in touch, pay attention to safety and so on. While reading the note, I turned my right hand behind my head and twisted my neck vigorously, feeling sore and sore.The feeling of melancholy was much stronger than I expected. It’s just that I’ve spent two days with Xiao Xin, a section of the road from Delhi to Agra, but I feel as if I’ve grown up with him since I was a child. An indescribable intimacy.The sudden separation was even more difficult than when I left home and came to India.

In fact, since my mother remarried, I have no home. Or even earlier, since my father left us forever, the family will go away with him. I have written on my blog more than once: The so-called feeling of home is when you return home at night, someone turns on a light and waits for you. I long for that state, long for that light, because it means that you are needed, cared about, and expected. After my mother remarried, I lived in a boarding school. From junior high school to university, I seldom went home even on weekends and holidays.Occasionally meeting my mother's husband, I just nodded lightly, called "Uncle", and then avoided, walking as far as I could.

I don't call anyone "Daddy" except my biological father. On the eve of my father's death, I was reading fairy tales.The prince, princess, and witch fight so fiercely that people can't help but gradually get involved.The grandma who was keeping watch with her mother said repeatedly, "Dad is dying, and you still just read fairy tales? How heartless." Yes, it does sound a bit numb.But what can you do without reading?Since I was sensible, the hospital issued no less than three critical illness notices for my father every year.Tuberculosis patients are most afraid of spring and autumn, and their illness will get worse every season, every year.

However, this night I had a terrible dream. When I woke up, I heard my father calling me in a trance.Involuntarily, I quietly got up and walked out of the house, and ran out alone under the moonlight.The hospital is right next door to the house, and the small door on the left is ajar and unlocked all night. I went in familiarly and found Dad's ward.There were four patients in the room, all of whom were fast asleep.The ward was as quiet as snow. I sat by Dad's bed for a while, waiting for him to wake up and talk to me.But he didn't wake up, and I gradually felt sleepy, so I climbed into bed, opened the quilt and lay down beside my father, curled up, and fell asleep quietly.When I woke up, I realized that my father passed away while I was asleep.

He didn't leave any words after all.Not even a word of farewell. I was eight years old that year.Suddenly, I realized that death is such an intimate and specific matter, just like shaking hands, saying hello, flowers blooming and withering, the ebb and flow of the tide, it comes naturally and silently.Death is invisible from now on, no matter how much breathing and blood are connected, but after life and death are separated, your sorrows and joys, tears, success and suffering are no longer related to him. After that, I never had a restful night's sleep and refused to share a bed with anyone.Whenever I close my eyes, I worry about losing the most important people and things in my life while I am asleep.

When Xiao Xin asked me if I would mind sharing the room, I instinctively said no, knowing that he might have misunderstood, but I couldn't explain it.If I told him it was because I was afraid that I would wake up tomorrow morning and find him dead next to me, would he think I was crazy? But whether we slept together or not, I woke up in the morning without him. I was not in a hurry to arrange the next step of my itinerary. I came to the market bored and wanted to find a place to have breakfast.The market is bustling and chaotic as usual, but when I walk in it, I feel lonely and deserted.

The colors on the fruit stalls are as bright and rich as women’s sari, and most of the vendors are men, who are not at all the same as the handsome and passionate singers in TV musicals. The ignorance and poverty that cannot be hidden under the warm greeting of bluff and bluff.When I saw single foreign women, their enthusiasm was particularly high. They came up to sell in groups. I shook my head and waved my hands to pretend not to see them. They kept shouting "ONE DOLLER" unremittingly, blocking me like a moving wall. , Let me dodge left and right, but I can't avoid it. Some even stretch their scarves and necklaces all the way under my nose, which means teasing far more than selling.

I was a little annoyed, turned around and said "NO!" hoping they would get out of the way.However, this caused a burst of laughter, and the peddlers, as if they had received some encouragement or reward, imitated my accent and said "NO!" triumphantly.I don't know what to be proud of. I covered my forehead with my hands and walked over with a straight face, trying not to panic, feeling really useless.Xiao Xin only left for half a day, and I let myself be reduced to a vagrant, bumping into walls everywhere. The crown is full of Jinghua, and the Sri Lankan is alone and haggard.The hustle and bustle of the street market made me feel that I was alone, and I even lost interest in visiting Agra, the ancient Islamic capital, so I called a tricycle to the train station to buy a ticket.The tour guide was gone, and it seemed that there was no need to go to Jhansi according to the original plan, so I decided to go straight to Varanasi.

The Indian coachman is notoriously difficult to deal with, and it took a long time to haggle over the price, and finally got it right. When I arrived at the station, he didn't take me to the ticket hall, but stopped on purpose in the square. As soon as he got off the car, a group of Lifu in pullovers and red vests surrounded him to solicit business.They carry luggage for others, and the red vest is their "uniform".They are not carried by hand, but by the top of the head, and the hands are only used as auxiliary support.Some people can carry three or four large suitcases on top of their heads.But I'm empty-handed, so why should I help?After quarreling for a long time, I realized that they misunderstood that I was here to pick up the bus, and they also figured out that I was here to buy tickets, so they sold scalper tickets to me.

I remembered Xiao Xin’s words and tried not to make deals with scalpers. If it’s “about the same”, who knows what day and which bus they sold me, maybe they will send me to Java. The square of the train station and the ticketing hall are full of people, walking, sitting, lying down - just lying on the ground, not even a newspaper, some are eating, some are chatting, Some fell into a deep sleep and snored comfortably, not to mention the coming and going of tourists, even if it was thunder or rain, it would not disturb their sweet dreams.I carefully searched for the foothold among the human bodies, for fear that I would step on someone's hands and feet and cause a war.I am in a different place, and Xiao Xin is not around, so quarreling is not my specialty.

There were bumps and bumps along the way, sometimes it was unavoidable, and sometimes it was obvious that the other party bumped into them on purpose. When the men in turbans saw foreign female guests, they swayed and bumped into them, intentionally or unintentionally. Just rubbing against each other, it seems to be infinitely satisfied. I just felt bloated in my stomach, and the unnamed food I ate just now turned up again and again, and I protested earlier than I realized.At this time, a man in a long shirt and loose trousers came up and said, "Miss, are you going to Varanasi? Let's go by car. It's a very comfortable high-end car. You don't need to queue or wait for the car, just get on and go." I thought of the "India time" that Xiao Xin said, and I couldn't help but feel a little moved.Indian trains are notoriously late.Even if you can buy a ticket, you don't know when the train will start, and when you get on the train, you don't know when you will arrive. The man saw my hesitation and began to lobby more vigorously. His Indian accent was difficult to understand, but he probably understood the meaning.The car is very spacious and high-end, and I can charter it myself, but it is very expensive; if you are afraid of spending money, then a family will go to Varanasi just two hours later, and he can negotiate for me to take a seat in the car, as long as Pay very little. Naturally, there is no need to consider chartering a car, but how much is the small amount of money for a car? The man said, "Almost, only a few dozen dollars." Dozens of dollars?I know that the cheapest train tickets to Varanasi are only a few dozen rupees.This is a gap of dozens of times. "Too expensive." I shook my head. "Almost, so how much would you like?" "Is twenty dollars enough?" "Add a little more, just a hundred yuan, almost." "One hundred? Didn't you say dozens of dollars?" "almost." I broke down and almost didn't want to talk anymore.However, looking at the noisy crowd around, especially the shapeless line in front, according to this queuing method, I really don't know when I can buy a ticket.I thought about it, and said as decisively as possible: "Thirty dollars. Pay when you get in the car. If it's okay, don't talk about it." "Ninety-five dollars, well, almost." ... After a long tug-of-war, the final price was forty dollars.They will pick me up at my hotel in two hours and we will leave for Varanasi together. In order to avoid the trouble of queuing up and squeezing cars, I have to spend several times more than the fare. I am a little ashamed.But I comforted myself in my heart and said, it's not that I can't bear hardships, but it's not safe to squeeze the train after all.The extra money spent by car can be saved from board and lodging after arriving in Varanasi. It's rare that they didn't keep me waiting for long, but when I saw the car, I felt even more regretful.It was not a spacious and comfortable high-end car at all, but an old jeep with air leaks on all sides; and the family sitting in the car included an elderly couple, a middle-aged fat couple and four equally fat people. The children, together with the driver, have already filled up all the seats, and there is no room for another me anyway. I had no choice but to retreat, and said to the driver: "I'm sorry, it's too crowded, I'd better take the train." "Why is it crowded? It's very spacious." The driver said, picking up a child and stuffing it into his mother's arms, leaving a narrow space, but the woman's body seemed to be elastic, she just moved her buttocks, The child fills up that space again.At the same time, a pungent smell of curry hits my face, and I can't help but take a step back and say more firmly: "Really not. Thank you, I'll go by myself." However, the family was very enthusiastic, and they kept saying: "Let's go together, chat on the way, time will be fast." They raised their feet in unison.I don't know why, the driver has already lifted my suitcase and stuffed it into the car talking to himself.The family came down in unison again, stepping on my box. I feel a little distressed, but looking at the situation, it is probably impossible to get the box back.I had to bow my body and get in the car.The woman moved in, finally giving me a narrow space.When the driver closed the door forcefully, I was embedded in the woman's body like a large ball of cotton wool. As I said, I've always been uneasy about the closeness of human beings, let alone such intimacy, that it's like a block of cheese melted in milk.Fortunately, I was sitting by the car window, and it was cool once the car was driving. The child was very noisy, and the two old men kept murmuring, whether it was complaining or talking to themselves.Only the middle-aged couple can speak a little English, but it is not easy to understand.The woman talked a lot, but seeing that I didn't respond well, she quickly gave up communicating and turned to her husband to chatter.Every word she said was accompanied by big movements, and since she couldn't move while holding the child, she shook her body vigorously to strengthen her tone. I was a little depressed at first, but because of the limited space, no matter how much she swayed, it was just a mass of flesh rippling, which actually made me drowsy.In such a noisy and turbulent environment, I can actually fall asleep and dream, which shows how adaptable people are. In the dream, my father was still alive, sitting with me under the eaves of our hometown watching the rain.Or, it's just him reading and I reading fairy tale books.It was the book I read on the eve of my father's death. There is a small courtyard with sparse flowers and trees in front of you, and the steep and gloomy stairs behind you. The lingering rain makes people feel at ease.Those were the best times in my life. Although there were no pumpkin carts and crystal slippers in fairy tales, I still felt rich. But when I looked up from the fairy tale book, I found that my father was gone.I searched anxiously, and in the drizzle of the streets, I called out in a low voice, "Dad, Dad." The streets were narrow and long, and I turned around in them, getting more and more desperate as I walked.In the distance, there is a faint glow, like the dawn and dusk.I walked over and saw a familiar building.I recognized it as my stepfather's house. That's when I realized that my father was dead and my mother was married to another man. She was living in a room in that building at the moment, but I couldn't see her. Downstairs was silent and noisy. I stood there, looking up at the seventh window on the thirteenth floor, hoping that my mother could pass by the window. Ever since I ran away from home, I have made up my mind not to go back.But the blood relationship is endless, I miss my mother, no matter how indifferent she is to me, but I only have her, the farther away from her the more I miss her. Sometimes I will call her, ask her out for a meal, and meet her face to face.But most of the time she always said that she was busy, or that she was not feeling well and didn't want to move around, but occasionally, she would come out to have a cup of tea with me, and sometimes even slip me some money when we parted.But these are not enough, my love for her is so strong, and I miss her all the time.So, when I was rejected to meet her, I would go downstairs to her house, but I never went upstairs or knocked on the door. I just stood across the street looking at her window for a long time, unwilling to leave, and didn't want to go in.There is nothing in this world that belongs to me, I don't even know what I want, I just stare blankly for a long time, letting the night move like a tangible, slowly wrapping me. The light in the window was on, and it looked more like a movie scene from across the street, but the picture was thin.That square piece of light belongs to my mother, his remarried husband and stepdaughter, and that piece of light is blocked from me.This is the shortest distance I can get close to my mother, but that window separates us into the ends of the earth. The night became heavier and heavier, gradually turning into a lake and submerging me. I felt suffocated, and kept waving to that window, as if it was the only light that could save me.But at this moment, the lights suddenly went out.In the darkness, I heard my father's voice saying, "Nalan, be careful." The car stopped at this time, and the dream automatically woke up. I pressed my chest, and felt the pain there was severe, and I was sweating all over. I looked out of the car in a daze, and the fat woman said, "The rest stop is here." The driver had already opened the door from the outside.I got out of the car, and the family also got out of the car one after another. The children yelled and ran to the bathroom, while the fat couple was busy unloading their luggage.It was only then that I realized that besides the big family, there were actually so many large and small packages stuffed in the little car, and I didn't know where they were hidden.Those goods are what they want to bring to the rest stop for consignment. I was about to have a cup of coffee at the cafeteria, but the driver stopped me to discuss, saying that he had taken a fancy to a very beautiful carpet and that he didn't have enough money, so he asked if I could give him the car money first.He also pointed out to me the hanging carpet, which is the story of Prince Rama subduing Hanuman, the monkey god.I couldn't find change for a while, only fifty yuan denominations.The driver pulled it over and said that he would give me ten dollars back when I got back to the car.I nodded and told him I was waiting for them at the cafe. After drinking a cup of coffee, I finally regained some strength, and I can continue the following itinerary.However, when I walked out of the rest stop, our jeep was nowhere to be found.I asked the shop hawker who traded with the couple, but said that the car had just driven away. They actually forgot about me!I was taken aback, and hurriedly ran after him.At first I thought they would come back to find me soon. There are so many people, moving their bodies a little and filling all the space, no wonder they ignore my existence.But after chasing for so long and still not seeing the shadow of the jeep, I couldn't help but start to wonder if they would get rid of me on purpose. I stood down and carefully recalled the whole process, from the way they tacitly confiscated my suitcase before getting on the bus, to the driver stopping me when I got off the bus and asking to pay the car first, the more I thought about it, the more suspicious I felt. .And when I left the rest stop just now, I clearly saw that the carpet of Prince Rama and Hanuman was still hanging on the wall. The matter has come to this point, and the old saying is true: there is no village in the front, and there is no shop in the back.I made up my mind and calculated my loss again.Fortunately, there are only some changes of clothes, toiletries, hair dryer and commonly used medicines in the suitcase. The biggest loss is the laptop, but the files are also backed up.The rest of the important items, such as passports, cash, credit cards, return tickets, and cameras, are all in the carry-on backpack, so it doesn't hurt at all. The afternoon sun was shining fiercely. I was sweating profusely while standing under the big sun, but my heart was just chills. I was hesitating whether to go back to the rest station and find another way to get a ride, but I really didn’t want to go back. But if I don’t have a car, it’s useless to go back. If I have a car, I still have to go this way anyway. Why don’t I wait while I walk, and let fate see if there is a car that will give me a ride. Walking all the way along the field driveway, I really want to cry but have no tears.If I can't get a car, am I going to sleep in the wilderness tonight? I don't know how long I walked, there was a pond in front of my eyes, the lotus leaf fields were dotted with pink and white lotus flowers, and there were a few rare blue lotus flowers in the distance. I couldn't help but walked off the road, and stepped on the reeds and withered grass to the pond, wanting to see it more clearly.When I got closer, I found a single oar boat hidden under the reeds, rippling gently in the shallow water, like a seductive gesture.I hesitated for a moment, unable to resist the temptation, I took off my backpack and hid it among the reeds, got on the boat, tried to paddle into the water with a single oar, and tried my best to paddle towards the blue lotus. "Follow it backwards, the road is long and obstructive; follow it backwards, you will be in the middle of the water." This pond is not dangerous and long, but the blue lotus stands gracefully in the middle of the water, as if it will never reach it. The thin boat became more and more uncontrollable, and turned around in the water.The harder I paddled, the more unstable the boat became, and I couldn't bring the boat back to balance whether I kept to left or to starboard. Suddenly, rain fell in the sky, dense as beans, but the sun was still shining brightly.The water surface was splashed by raindrops like a storm, and thousands of horses were galloping.I gave up looking for the blue lotus, and wanted to escape back to the shore, but the harder I tried, the more the boat shook, and suddenly it tilted. Before I could figure out what happened, I fell into the water and sank quickly.While struggling up and down, I seemed to see a monk holding an umbrella passing by on the shore, looking nervously at this side. It was so far away, but I could clearly see his eyes, full of warmth and concern, vaguely as if a familiar call sounded in my ears: "Nalan." overhead. Death is like the blue lotus, ethereal and mysterious, it will suddenly appear when you least expect it.A feeling of extreme tranquility floated up from the bottom of the water, filling my whole heart.At the same time, I seem to hear whispers in my ears, those souls lurking in the nether world are calling me, asking me to join them.For a helpless orphan like me, it would be a good choice to travel thousands of miles and be buried in a lotus pond in a foreign land, right?If I die, or, I can be reunited with my father. At this dark moment, which is closest to death, my mood is extremely calm, and I feel drowsy. I also leisurely think that today is the third day of the Lunar New Year. Is it considered an auspicious day?The day was good, the location was good, and finally he died well. Tagore said: "When you were born, you were crying, and people around you were smiling; when you passed away, you were smiling, and people around you were crying." This is a reincarnation.But I, and maybe my parents celebrated my birth, but when I died, no one cried for me. I relaxed my hands and feet, and let myself sink, sink...but the water around me suddenly churned, and someone grabbed my arm and paddled upwards, but it was the monk on the shore.His swimming skills were obviously not very good. Although he pushed upwards desperately, he couldn't move forward no matter what, and he was already sinking.I broke free from his arm and dived into the water.As expected, his feet were entangled by aquatic plants, and the more he struggled, the more tightly he entangled.I sank my heart, untied those aquatic plants one by one, and resurfaced. In just a moment, the rain has turned from a sharp turn to slow down, covered with sunlight, flying down lightly like thousands of gold and silver threads, splashing layers of ripples in the pond.The fish jumped out of the water with a "splash", and the blue lotus, which was out of reach just now, is now within reach, and even the raindrops rolling like pearls on the petals can be clearly seen, if I really die at this moment , then, this is heaven, right? I swam to the bank with the monk and climbed up the river beach in muddy water.When we turned back, the rain had stopped.The setting sun is smiling, reflecting the blossoming lotus, white, pink, blue, all graceful, like a fairyland. It turned out to be a sun rain. I retrieved the backpack hidden in the reeds, took out a few banknotes, and said sincerely, "Thank you for saving me. As a monk, you wouldn't refuse a donation, right?" He didn't answer, just looked at me with those clear and gentle eyes, and shook his head slightly.I said again: "I was drowning just now. If it weren't for you, I would have died long ago. The Buddha must have sent you to save me. So this little money is my sincerity. Please help me put some sesame oil in front of the Buddha." He sighed softly, and said in an almost inaudible voice, "You are not drowning, you are committing suicide." As if a dull hammer hit my heart, even my soul was shaken out of the seven orifices. I slowly squatted down, buried my head in the crook of my arms, and couldn't help but burst into tears.I finally burst into tears. He didn't ask, didn't persuade, just recited the scriptures lightly.It was in Sanskrit, and I couldn't understand a word, but my soul seemed to be touched gently, and there was an indescribable peace and relaxation. It is said that the Buddha has no form and has thousands of incarnations, so at this time, it is the monk in front of me who has never lived before, right? There were one or two birdsongs from the distant mountains, which were particularly crisp because they had just been washed by the rain.I cried for a long time amidst the sound of chanting sutras, and felt a lot more refreshed in my heart. When I looked up, I realized that the sun had already set, and the sunset glow had dyed the sky red and radiant, as if something important had happened over there. . I was suddenly very reluctant to part with this moment, the setting sun that had already rumbled down the mountain, and the sunset glow that was still crimson but would soon fade away.If I had died just now, would I never be able to see such a beautiful sunset again? The monk sat in the sunlight, looking like a flower blooming.It was only then that I could see his appearance clearly. His skin color was between blackish and wheat yellow. Against the background of the sunset, there was a clear red gold, which was the imprint left by the wind, sand and stars on his face.The eyelashes are extremely long and slightly curved, the eyes are gentle, the nose is straight and straight, the facial features are as handsome as carvings, and the whole person exudes an indescribable noble aura, like a blue lotus flower secretly blooming on a moonlit night, opening and thanking itself.As a monk, such a handsome man is simply reckless. I blushed for no reason, and said embarrassedly, "My name is Tan Nalan. May I know your Dharma name?" He answered with a long name.I only heard that his surname was Sinha, and it took me a long time to find out that the so-called "dharma name" is just a Chinese term, and India, which is the origin of Buddhism, does not have these particularities.The monks who become monks still use the names of lay people. Although "the four elements are all empty", they may not be "the six senses are pure".After the Buddha Sakyamuni attained enlightenment, he also went back to Kapilavastu to educate his aunts and wives, and let them take five hundred maids to become monks with him, becoming the earliest bhikkhunis.Even his son Luohouluo became a monk as a little novice. "So, have you ever been home? Where is your family?" "In New Delhi." He seemed to be slightly taken aback, staring at my finger and asked, "This ring is very special." "It's a gift from a friend." I was a little surprised. Do monks also care about foreign things?But with a flash of inspiration in my mind, I suddenly understood, "You are Da Xin? You are Xiao Xin's brother!" "Da Xin?" I smiled embarrassedly: "Sorry, I named my Indian friend according to the Chinese custom. His surname is Sinha, and he runs a spice shop in New Delhi. Do you know him?" "It's my younger brother in the lay family." As expected.No wonder I think his long eyelashes and big eyes seem familiar. It turns out that he has exactly the same eyes as Xiao Xin, but he is more mature and handsome than Xiao Xin. I should be surprised that things have come to this point, but for some reason, it seems that this moment has long been expected.As early as the moment I opened Da Xin's notebook, as early as Xiao Xin gave me an anemone ring and it was designed by his brother, I already knew that I would see him.Everything is preordained.It is destined that Xiaoxin will leave halfway, I am destined to take the wrong car, and I am destined to meet this sun rain and him by the lotus pond. I briefly talked about my experience of coming to India and my acquaintance with Xiao Xin.He didn't ask anything, but I guessed he wanted to know, so he talked about Xiao Xin and Xin's mother's current situation in detail.He never said a word, but listened carefully. Then I asked, "What about you? How did you just pass by here?" "I'm going to visit Sarnath." "On foot?" "It is the duty of a monk to travel around and spread the Dharma." When talking about the teachings of Buddhism, he became talkative. "At the beginning of my Buddhist teaching, I didn't advocate the establishment of temples. The Buddha took his disciples to travel around every day, preaching and dispelling doubts. , begging for food during the day, meditating and meditating under the tree at night, living in no fixed place, without possessions. However, some king Fuja, who was influenced, took the initiative to ask for alms, and wanted to donate houses for them to live in. Practicing and preaching. The disciples were moved, but they dared not make their own claims, so they asked the Buddha. The Buddha thought for a while and said: "Okay, but it can't be private. In this way, there will be a monk's house. Not only can the monks in this temple Living here, and accepting all the bhikkhus who wandered through the world. As time goes by, as the Dharma prospers, more and more people donate, and there are more and more monk houses, and the scale is getting bigger and bigger, and it is getting richer and more magnificent. It needs someone to manage, allocate residences, arrange fasting meals, etc., so there is an abbot, who is responsible for managing the affairs of the temple and receiving monks who place orders. But as the number of secular affairs increases, only the abbot is too busy, so there is another seat... " "So there is a class." I continued, "The monks have to choose the abbot, the abbot has to choose the high seat, the high seat has to choose the seat, and the middle seat has to choose the novice monk, so there is competition, power, and gangs. There is selfish desire, there is intrigue, there is intrigue, there is prosperity for those who follow me, and death for those who oppose me..." He suddenly looked up at me, and I couldn't help but keep silent.I wondered if I had gone too far to hurt the heart of a devout Samana, and a Samana who had just saved my life.However, what I am talking about is human nature, and the life of a monk is ultimately followed by the laws of the crowd, right?And Daxin, it is precisely because of the entanglement between human nature and Buddhism that cannot be understood by itself, that he has to wander around and practice hard? But he was still not angry, just said gently: "In the history of Buddhism, there have indeed been more than one sect dispute. More than a hundred years after the Buddha's Nirvana, a bhikkhu Yasa wandered to the city of Vaishali. When the Bhikkhus of the Vaji nationality persuaded the believers at home to donate gold and silver for the purpose of building temples, Yashe thought that this was against the precepts, so he raised objections, but was reprimanded by the Bhikkhus Vaji. Yashe refused to accept it and invited the senior monks for seven years. Hundreds of people went to Vaishali assembly, and the two parties debated for eight months, and the result was that Bhikkhu Vaji's behavior was illegal. This is the famous "seven hundred assembly" in the history of Buddhism." I was a little happy, but then I felt something was wrong: "Since the senior monk has ruled that soliciting donations is against the rules, why are Buddhist buildings in various countries still painted with gold and powder? Especially when I went to Thailand the year before last and saw everything in Bangkok. Buddhist temples are extremely splendid and ostentatious, and all Buddha statues are inlaid with gold and carved with jade, which is extremely luxurious, if it is not for persuading donations, where does the temple get so much wealth?" Da Xin sighed lightly: "At that time, although the 700 monks had a conclusion, the Vaji monks refused to admit this result, so they invited another 10,000 monks to regroup. Because of their large number, it was called "" The "Popular faction". In this way, the sect was divided, and there was a confrontation between the "Theravada faction" and the "Popular faction". This time, the "Popular faction" won the debate, but the "Theravada faction" never gave up on itself Persistence. The dispute between the two factions has not stopped until now, and it is still a major topic of debate in Buddhist gatherings." "So do you agree with Theravada or the Mass?" I asked, but then I guessed the answer, "You don't want to accept donations lightly. Your heart must be for Theravada, but I can't confirm which theory." It is closer to the first sect of Buddha, so we have to go back to the road of asceticism to find the answer, right?" He is silent.I knew I was right.I also guess the content of their debate. Probably the Theravada thinks that everything is empty, how can monks be greedy for property, and thinks that it is wrong to induce donations; but the public thinks that the Buddha also accepted donations when he was alive, such as the Gion Abode and the Bamboo Forest The monastery is a donation from the royal family. Although the Buddha must have never asked for it at that time, but relied on his own charm to make the believers voluntarily donate, the result of receiving the donation is the same.Then, what is wrong with the mass sect of monks citing Buddha as an example to persuade believers to do good deeds? I don't know if the reason I guessed will be the content of the debate between the "700th meeting" and the "10,000 people meeting", but if I, an unrelated bystander, can't come up with a compromise answer, I can imagine I know the persistence and confusion of the monks who insist on the truth in Buddhism. After the narrow escape just now, neither Daxin nor I had the strength to move on.He has long been used to sleeping in the wild, and I think, anyway, the weather in India is sunny and warm, as long as he is with him, even sleeping in the wilderness is not a big deal, it is just a camping trip. He distributed his own water and dry food to me, and picked up many withered reeds and spread them on the ground to make a simple bed.Although there was a torrential rain just now, the setting sun scorched the water and quickly evaporated the water, and the ground was as clean as if the rain just now had never happened.He took out a thin blanket from his rucksack and handed it to me, saying, "Go to sleep." I asked, "What about you?" He shook his head and sat cross-legged facing the river. Once he sat down, he immediately became a statue, as if he had been sitting like this for thousands of years. The moon rises, the sky is full of stars, and the evening breeze is cool, but not too cold. The noisy India is as quiet as heaven at the moment, and there are only two of us left in the big world, borrowing a piece of straw for our pillow, and talking about the boundless meaning of Buddhism and Zen. I said, "I thought the Buddha was Sakyamuni, the only Buddha in the past and future." "It's not like this." Da Xin explained gently, "Buddha is the abbreviation of 'Buddha', that is, 'Buddha', which means 'enlightened one' or 'wise man', a word that has existed in India for a long time. Even' The ethos of becoming a monk has also existed for a long time. Sakyamuni means "the wise man of the Shakya family". Liberation, but he can't tell the truth he has realized, so he is called "independent enlightenment". My Buddha believes that someone became a Buddha in the past, and it will be the same in the future. All sentient beings have Buddha nature, and those who have Buddha nature have Buddha nature. to become a Buddha." "So, will you also become a Buddha? Is your practice aimed at becoming a Buddha?" "My practice is not for myself. Just like the Buddha's enlightenment, it is not for becoming a Buddha itself, but for the salvation of all living beings and for the law of the universe. As I wish, I consciously realize him. But over the past two thousand years, Buddhism has gradually declined in India on the one hand, and on the other hand, in the process of spreading, it has become more and more prosperous in form, and has paid more and more attention to things outside the body. This makes me feel more and more divorced from the spirit of Buddha. Farther and farther away, almost lost direction." I tried hard to chew the meaning of his words, and said not confidently: "You mean, with the development of time and material abundance, there are also differences between the Theravada School and the Popular School, Mahayana and Hinayana, Buddhist life You are getting farther and farther away from the teaching, so you hope to re-understand it, right? But time cannot be turned back. The world came into existence from nothing, and you cannot ask it to start from nothing again. Even if you can let go of everything yourself, But we can’t let monks all over the world abandon their monk’s houses and belongings, return to nature with nothing, eat and sleep in the open, and beg for food for a living...” “为什么不可以？”大辛眼中精光一闪，比星光更明亮。 我一愣，问他：“可是你想这样做吗？你希望这样？这是你的目的、你的功课、你的修行和信仰吗？” “不，不是。”他眼中的精光熄灭，重新垂额敛眉，恢复了那一平如水的淡静，轻轻说，“我没有参透，所以要继续云游，学习，思考。我想，总有一天，我会想得明白，那时候，或许我可以解答你的问题。” 我忽然悲哀起来。为什么要思考呢？思考，是否就意味着怀疑？为什么他不能像别的和尚那样，就只是接受？既然入了佛门，就相信好了，经书、木鱼、佛像、香灯，有这些不就够了吗？ 固然，这些只是形式。可是，世界本来就是物质的，皈依这些物质的形式总比思考虚无的道理要容易些。为什么不就只是接受、信任、服从、并遵循呢？那样，生活会不会变得容易些？ 沉默良久，我以为他在打坐，或是已经眠着了，他却忽然轻轻说：“在佛陀时代，比丘们以出世解脱为宗旨。修行以持戒、诵经、坐禅为主，以法自娱。” 我微愕，他竟是在回答我的问题呢，那些我没有说出口的疑问。 持戒、诵经、坐禅，以法自娱，那便是他渴望的生活，他追求的解脱之道。但是，他还有些事情未能了结，有些困惑未能彻悟，于是他苦苦思索，不懈追求，希望在云游与苦修中得到解答。 我想起沿途见到的那些苦行僧，有些明白他们的自律与痴迷了。他们和大辛一样，如此风尘跋涉，餐风露宿，就是为了远离尘世俗规，重走佛陀之路，回到最本真的状态，去体会最根本的佛法吧？ 天边一弯新月如钩，夜静得仿佛可以听见莲花盛开的声音。我想起许多和尚入起定来，可以不吃不喝一坐数年，再出关时已经物是人非。大辛会不会也这样子坐成一尊化石？ 明早醒来，当我们一同返回时，会不会就像误入桃花源的渔郎，发现外界早已年华流转，换了人间？