had been pacing the room restlessly as he spoke, and now he stopped and threw up his hands in defeat, “I must confess, I knew you were talented, but even I was surprised to hear this. You don’t think to inform me of your achievements?”
“I’m sorry, father,” he shrugged. “I didn’t think you’d be interested.”
“Of course I’m interested! I like to hear of your progress. No one is prouder of you than I, Sardili. You must know that.”
“These things come easily to me,” he said modestly.
“That’s understandable. You are a Sardili of the Warrior Caste. It’s in your blood.”
Sardili smiled. He had heard the same thing countless times before and waited for his father to get to the point. The general rarely engaged in idle chatter and Sardili knew he had been summoned to for a reason.
“Your studies are also going well, I hear …”
“Yes, father.”
“Good. That is important, too. Soldiering is not all about brute strength you know. Your instructor tells me your understanding of strategy is advanced, and you’re well versed in the classics, the Vedas …”
“Yes, father.”
“When you graduate at the end of the year, there’s a place waiting for you in King Simhavarman’s Royal Guards. I served in the Guards myself, as you know. It’s the best start any soldier could wish for, the finest regiment in all of India.”
“Yes, father.”
“Nevertheless, your instructor also mentioned that you have been a little, how did he put it …distracted, recently …” His father paused, giving him a chance to comment, but Sardili simply waited for him to continue.
“I have to say that I have noticed the same thing,” his father said eventually. “Would you agree?”
“Perhaps,” he shrugged.
“Is something wrong, Sardili? If there is, you can tell me. We’re both grown men now, after all. A woman, perhaps …?”
“No,” he said, reddening.
“A man, then?” his father laughed, squeezing his shoulder playfully.
“No!”
“Well what is it then? Speak up now boy,” the general ordered gently.
“You’ll think it strange,” Sardili said.
“I have seen and heard many strange things in my lifetime,” the general smiled.
Sardili shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I saw a prophet, a few weeks ago, in the park.”
“Which prophet? There is no prophet that I know of in Kanchipuram.”
“His name is Prajnatara,” Sardili said.
“Prajnatara?” his father snorted, “Prajnatara is just a crazy old Buddhist monk from Magadha. What has he been saying?”
“Very little,” Sardili sighed, “but what he did say made me think.”
His father waited for him to continue, but Sardili raised his hands, as if to say he could not explain further.
“Made you think about what?” his father persisted.
“Life, I suppose,” Sardili said at last, “what we’re all doing here …”
“Oh son,” his father laughed, “these are big questions for one so young and best left for priests to worry about, not warriors. One day you’ll lead men into battle. It doesn’t pay to dwell on such matters, trust me on this.”
Sardili did not reply. He did not want to contradict his father, but the general saw the determination in his son’s eyes and his expression hardened.
“Remember what I’ve always told you. You are a Sardili. You were born to the Warrior Caste. You have trained your whole life to follow in the family tradition. Soon you’ll graduate from the Academy with the highest honors and King Simhavarman himself will welcome you to his Royal Guards.” His expression softened, “You’ll make us all very proud, Sardili. Just keep your mind on your training a little longer and years from now, when you’re old and retired like me, you can concern yourself with such questions.”
“Yes, father.”
“Good,” his father beamed, “I’m glad we had this talk and cleared things up. Let’s put it behind us and never speak of it again.”
But they did speak of it again, and when they did, an argument raged in the Sardili residence unlike any before and hung over the household for weeks like the brooding clouds of the summer monsoon.
Sardili had tried to obey his father, but the mystery of the Lotus Sermon had been too powerful. He had gone in search of Prajnatara to demand an explanation, but Prajnatara had vanished. No one knew where to find him. Sardili had tried visiting local temples and wise men seeking the meaning of the flower sermon, but none had been able to provide the answer. Eventually his father had heard of his absences and summoned him once more to demand an explanation.
It was then that Sardili told his father of his intention to become a monk, and the general’s fury had known no bounds. His mother had pleaded with him tearfully, night after night. His uncles and cousins had visited and spoken with him for hours on end. His instructors had come and tried to reason with him, one after the other. He had listened to each visitor in turn, politely, patiently, seriously, but steadfastly refused to change his mind. And finally, when all arguments had been exhausted, a terrible silence descended over the household.
Sardili waited for many days, hoping his father might relent and give him his blessing before he left, but the general refused all contact with his son. He was a warrior who carried the scars of many battles, but his son’s betrayal had cut him deeper than any enemy blade ever could.
And so on a bright day in spring, Sardili decided he could wait no longer. He kissed his mother goodbye, hugged his brothers and sisters, and took leave of his faithful servants before walking out of the lofty hallway into the fierce heat of the day.
On the veranda he paused to admire the beautiful gardens one last time, then walked to the gate and turned for a final farewell. His family had gathered in the entrance to see him off and behind them, he noticed a shadow. It was his father. He waited by the gate in silence until his father emerged and walked swiftly toward him. For a moment he thought his father might strike him but the general stopped, two inches from his face, and spoke in a low growl, “You are a stubborn, headstrong boy, Sardili. You always were. Ever since you were a child, you wanted everything your own way. You were never satisfied, always striving, until you got what you wanted. And I admit that I was glad of it, because I knew it would make you into a great soldier. Now you’ve chosen a different path, one I know you’ll follow with the same stubbornness. I only hope you don’t waste your life chasing an impossible dream.”
“I won’t,” Sardili said with a certainty he did not feel.
He
