came to study,” Sardili said struggling to control his temper, “and that’s what I will do.”
“Well I’m delighted to hear it,” Prajnatara said happily, “but please don’t be too determined my dear Sardili, as it can rather get in the way of things. Now, let me think … You can join the classes, starting from tomorrow. In the meantime I’ll get Brother Jaina to show you around and help you settle in. Don’t go away. I’ll be right back. I’m so delighted that you came to join us, truly I am.”
Sardili waited over an hour and when the little master eventually reappeared, he was accompanied by a thick-set monk with a square jaw and a heavy brow. Prajnatara introduced them to one another, and as he did Sardili thought he saw a fleeting look pass between Prajnatara and Brother Jaina. Then Brother Jaina led him away to the tiny monk’s cell that would be his home for the foreseeable future.
The room was empty except for a roll of bedding on the floor and a chest for his belongings. When Brother Jaina had gone, he arranged his few possessions in the chest and sat on the floor. A great loneliness came over him, and he vowed it would be the last time he joined a new temple in search of the answers that had eluded him for so long.
The next day began with the dawn call to meditation. At the sound of the bell, the novice monks filed into the cool hall and took their places on rows of cushions. Prajnatara was waiting at the front. When they were all seated, he lit an incense burner and rang a tiny bell to signal the start of the meditation. The sweet chime seemed to go on forever.
When meditation ended, they ate a light breakfast and studied the Sutras with one of the senior monks. With the sound of the temple gong, Brother Jaina arrived and called them outside to exercise before the searing midday heat descended. They performed the yoga asanas, which Sardili knew well and followed easily; but what happened next came as a surprise. The young monks fetched thick reed mats from the temple and laid them down on the hard earth. When this was done, Brother Jaina began to instruct them in wrestling. Sardili noticed they practiced a form that had originated in Kerala, a form now common throughout India.
Prajnatara appeared at his side. “Are you surprised, Sardili?” he asked with a smile.
“I have never seen wrestling in a temple before,” Sardili answered.
“We find it helps students to concentrate if they are fit and healthy. Brother Jaina did a little wrestling in Kerala before he joined our order. Tell me, do you wrestle yourself?”
“Once, a long time ago.”
“Splendid! Where did you learn?”
“My father taught me.”
“How fascinating! Your father was a wrestler?”
“No. My father was a general, but wrestling was his passion. He believed all the battlefield arts could be understood if one could understand wrestling.”
“Your family is from the Warrior Caste?” Prajnatara asked, warming to the subject quickly.
“Yes.”
“It must have been difficult turning your back on the family tradition to follow The Way.”
“It has been a humbling experience,” he answered truthfully.
“And do you think your father was right?”
“About what, Master?”
“About understanding many things from one.”
“I am not in a position to judge, Master. I gave up such pursuits a long time ago to follow The Way.”
“You don’t think The Way can be found in strategy?”
“I don’t know where it can be found. That is why I am here.”
“What do you know, Sardili?”
He saw the mischief in Prajnatara eyes. “I know it’s not common to see monks wrestling,” he answered stiffly.
“True, but your father sounds like a very wise man,” Prajnatara persisted.
“My father was a warrior. The Way is a way of peace …”
“Ah, beware of trying to define The Way with words, Sardili. It goes against the very essence of The Way.”
“Then please tell me, what is the essence of The Way?”
“Actions, not words, Sardili,” Prajnatara said loudly, clapping the back of his hand into his palm, then shook his head in bitter disappointment. “If only you had listened to your father instead of a lot of silly old monks! It’s too late now. You’re stuck with us. So come, let us see you wrestle. I will get Brother Jaina to select a suitable opponent for you.”
“It would be better if they wrestle among themselves,” Sardili warned.
“Oh come, Sardili,” Prajnatara laughed, “what are you afraid of?”
Sardili looked into the master’s face to see if he was serious and found he could not tell. He stripped down to his loincloth, as the other wrestlers had done, and Brother Jaina welcomed him onto the mat. “Do you wish to warm up, Sardili?” he asked.
Sardili was loose from the earlier exercises and his huge lean muscles glistened with a fine sheen of sweat.
“I am warm, thank you Brother Jaina,” he said.
Jaina called out an opponent for him, a big youth as tall as Sardili, though not quite as broad. Sardili smiled at the young man, but the youth simply watched him warily. They circled for a moment, before going into a clinch. The youth moved quickly, pushing and pulling fiercely to unweight the stranger who had appeared on their mat. Twice he attempted a throw, but Sardili was as immovable as a rock. The youth switched suddenly to a standing submission, hoping to lock one of Sardili’s arms in both of his own. It was then that Sardili tired of the boy’s childish antics. There was a blur, nothing more, as the youth was spinning in the air. It seemed to the startled onlookers that Sardili would drop the boy on his head, but Sardili turned him at the last instant and sent him crashing down safely on his back.
The youth groaned, stunned by the fall. Sardili looked to Brother Jaina, unsure of the rules of the match, but Jaina said nothing. It seemed a submission was needed to end the bout. Sardili knelt beside the boy and waited for him to recover. Slowly the youth rose to his knees and reached out to take hold again. It was a mistake. Sardili seized his wrist and pulled. His left leg snaked around the outstretched limb and trapped it between both knees. He raised his hips. “I submit!” the youth cried urgently.
Sardili released the lock and helped his opponent to his feet, massaging his elbow joint until the pain had subsided and some movement had been restored.
One by one, the other wrestlers came out to face him, each more reluctant than the last. At first, he allowed them a little dignity before defeat, a few moments to attempt a throw or submission. But after a while he tired of their dismal efforts and, without quarter, slammed them into the mat and wrapped them in excruciating locks and chokes. Each opponent submitted to a different hold, many of which had never been seen before, each yelped in pain and tapped frantically to be released. After
