The Monastery

Chapter 14: A Traveling Caravan

"Can you hear it?" Krishna asked Susant one late afternoon. They had been sitting in silence for a long time, Susant at Krishna's side, and sketching their surroundings in his notebook. He had been traveling with the caravan for a few days now and was slowly but surely getting to know each of the people he was accompanying.

              "Hear what?" Susant asked.

              Krishna smiled. "The voice that is all things."

              Susant raised an eyebrow, then put down his notebook and tried to listen to what Krishna was talking about. After a fruitless minute of what turned out to be more thinking than listening, Susant opened his eyes and looked at his friend. "I only hear the wind and the sound of the caravan traveling over the road."

              Krishna closed his eyes. "And what is the wind but a child of the earth and the oceans?" He lifted his arms out to his sides, taking a deep breath. It seemed to pick up as he breathed in, slightly stirring Susant in his seat.

              "She is happy today," said Krishna. "The wind can tell us many things. Sometimes, she is happy and playful, gentle as can be. Though, at other times, she can be a force to be reckoned with, a power that cannot be stilled by any strength of ours."

              "But what do you hear that can be the voice of all things?"

              "Ah," said Krishna, looking out at the horizon. The sun was creeping ever so slowly down toward it. "If you listen long enough," he began, "you will hear the om in the wind. You will hear it in the leaves of the trees, in the rustling of the sands beneath your feet. You will hear it in the breathing of the horses, and you will feel it in your heart. That is the voice of all things. It is the voice of all things as one, and it is beautiful."

              Susant was quiet for a moment. "I don't think I understand." 

              Krishna looked at Susant and put his hand on the boy's shoulder. "If you spend as much time as I have sitting and listening, you will learn to hear it. Until then, keep your ears open, my boy. There are many things easily missed."

              It wasn't an hour more before the caravan stopped at a little lake of water, sitting peacefully under the falling sun. The horses were led to drink and eat a little grass, and Susant spent some time drawing them as best he could. He noticed their surroundings were becoming more and more green the closer they edged to the great mountain Kailas.

              Feeling the light breeze rustle his pages, Susant looked up from his drawings. Remembering what Krishna had told him earlier, he closed his notebook and put down his pen. Taking a traditional sitting position, Susant closed his eyes and tried to listen to the wind.

              "I'm sorry to disturb you," said the voice of a woman.

Susant opened his eyes. Standing beside him was a woman that he had met a day earlier. "Hi, Ganga," said Susant, shielding his eyes from the sun. "You're not bothering me. I was just trying to listen to the wind."

              Ganga chuckled, then took a seat beside him. She held out a generous chunk of bread. "I think you've been spending too much time with Krishna. He once tried to get me to listen to the wind, but I don't think I quite hear what he has been listening to."

              Susant took a bite of the bread. It was still warm. It was enough bread for at least two days.

              "I wanted to thank you for mending my daughter's shoes yesterday," Ganga said. "We have been traveling for a long time now, and with our recent luck in merchanting, we haven't been able to afford to pay for new ones."