The Purple Monk

He had to reach the top of the mountain. A lot depended on him. He shuffled along as fast as his weary 76-year-old feet could carry him. His maroon robe was interfering with his speed and the friction of the coarse cloth was burning his delicate skin, causing tiny cuts; but he was impervious to it all as he struggled along the mountain path that was winding uphill in curves, appearing and disappearing behind bushes and boulders. His breath was laboured and coming out in short gasps as he neared the summit of the mountain. As a monk who had lived in these mountains for more than half his life, he was used to these steep slopes. In fact, as a part of his penance, when he had given up the material world to enter the monastery, he had been made to climb up and down these steep slopes at least three times a day, if not more.

However, he was half his current age then, and there was never any urgency to those trips. He was lost deep in thought, muttering some of the meditative chants as he walked up hurriedly. He did not notice the tiny outgrowth of rock, low down right in the path and was about to stumble over it; and that brought his meditative reverie to a halt. He stopped for a second and looked around to get a bearing of his location. He caught his breath, sat down on the jutting rock and closed his eyes. He put his palms on the top of his knees and took the padmasana pose. He focused on himself, his inner being, and slowly his breathing slowed, his thoughts gathered to his aching muscles, and the muscles relaxed, his thoughts going deeper on a cellular level, all cells of his body functioning to release the stored energy. It took him only five minutes to attain this refreshed state, but it has taken him years of practice to reach this mastery over his own body. He slowly opened his eyes, got up with renewed rigour and quickly scaled the rest of the mountain. As he reached the summit, his eyes quickly scanned his surroundings. It was a full moon night and his vision was sharp like an eagle's. He was alone there and he breathed out a sigh of relief. He was on time. Now all he needed to do was wait.

He did not have to wait long. He was waiting on the mountain top, near a kadamba tree as had been told to him, looking out to the east, when he saw a movement. Two monks dressed in the same rough, coarse maroon robes shuffled up from the other side of the mountain. They reached the tree in no time, walking effortlessly and as smoothly as if floating on some invisible device. As soon as they reached him, the younger of them greeted him with their monastery's ritualistic greeting, putting his palms together near his chest and bowing his head slightly, with his eyes cast down. He did the same. He greeted the older monk by touching his feet. Now that the hierarchy was established, the older monk gestured for him to follow. The older monk also gestured to his companion to stay and keep watch. The older monk led him into a cave on one side of the mountain. As soon as they were far inside for anyone to spot them, the older monk reached his hand out towards the wall and pulled a rope hanging from the ceiling. Soon, a torch-lit up. To a layman, this would seem like magic, but the monk had spent enough decades at the monastery to know the explanation behind these tiny comforts based on ancient techniques and science. They kept walking deeper, entering the heart of the cave, as the older monk kept burning more torches, to light up their way. 

After walking about a hundred and sixty fathoms, they entered a circular room, carefully carved inside the cave. At the centre, stood a huge pillar, a stupa. The monks reverentially fell to their feet and bowed down their heads, their palms crossed, their eyes closed as they prayed for the almighty's blessings. Once they were done paying their respects, they both got up. The older monk beckoned him to follow him as he walked to the eastern end of the room. He carefully pressed a brick in the wall, and the entire curved surface of the wall shifted. A small cove was faintly visible behind. The older monk entered and he followed. As soon as they entered, the older monk held out his hand. He carefully removed a tiny parcel he was carrying hidden between the folds of his coarse maroon robe. The parcel was covered in the same maroon coarse cloth that was used for their robes. The older monk very gently took the parcel from his hand, and held it in his palms for a full second, before touching it to both his eyelids. He then carefully opened the parcel. As soon as he did that, the small cove flooded with a brilliant purple-tinged divine glow. Both the monks were bathed in its light. As soon as the light touched their bodies, they were both transformed. He felt it first as if some energy was coursing through his body. He felt his muscles regain the energy from their youth, he felt his skin getting taut like that of his younger self. The older monk quickly covered the parcel with the coarse cloth once again, said a quick charm and placed the parcel behind a rock inside the cove. He then walked out of the cove asking the monk from the other side to follow. As soon as they were out of the cove, the wall went back in place and they stood facing the stupa once again. 

Within five minutes, they were back near the kadamba tree. The younger monk, who was standing guard, looked at them both and fell to his feet, bowing and touching his head to the ground. The older monk touched his shoulder and made him stand up. He looked in disbelief at both of them, their robes now purple and glowing with divine light. "God speed", the older monk said to him. He bowed his head, as he started his melancholy return journey, satisfied that he was successful in saving the monk's biggest secret when the enemy came looking. His entire brotherhood at the monastery had given up their lives to protect the 'Purple Diamond of Eternity', to save the future of mankind; and he was the one burdened for an eternity to carry their secret, all alone.