The Monastery

Chapter 22: An Empty Stomach

Susant did not know how long he stood there, gazing out at the sky. Some part of him believed that, at one point, the truth would be revealed to him. That he was still on the cliffs of Kailas. That he was still in the lands of Nyima. But to no avail. He had, somehow, been taken to a place floating in the clouds.

              "I must be dreaming," Susant whispered. "Or maybe I died on the mountain . . ." He looked down at his open palms in wonder. Logically, it made the most sense, but for some reason a feeling in his gut kept him feeling otherwise.

              "What is happening?"

              It wasn't until he smelled the strong scent of food that his eyes were pulled away from the sky. Feeling an intense gurgling in his stomach, he knew that he was at the end of his rope for going without food. He didn't even want to count how long it had been since he had eaten.

              Following the smell, Susant arrived at a large hall off to the side of the main temple near the entrance of the monastery. Inside it were hundreds of monks and nuns, all eating together. Some were silent while they ate, while others were quietly chatting among themselves. He still could not understand a single word they said.

              Feeling like a fish out of water, Susant watched as the others ate. He wanted to ask them where he could eat, but some small fear held him back. He worried that, perhaps, if he spoke to them, they would continue to ignore his existence. It was something that he could not bear to have happen. So, he watched, a starving boy watching others fill their bellies with warm meals.

              On the opposite side of the dining hall, Susant saw an old man sitting in a wheelchair. He wasn't eating, only looking out over the veranda at the sky. In a sense, this old man and myself are the same, Susant thought. We are both separated from the others around us by the circumstances of our lives . . . I wonder if he, too, feels the same loneliness that I do.

              He leaned against one of the walls and slid down it. Feeling defeated in every way, Susant happened to look up and catch the eye of a boy his age. He had curious eyes and a kind face. He eyed Susant the same way he had hoped anyone would eye him, in recognition of his existence.

              Susant looked away, then back again at the boy. He was still staring at him, but this time, a coy grin curled his lips. The boy stuffed the rest of a flour chapati into his mouth before grabbing his plate and standing to his feet. A few moments later, he was standing in front of Susant.

              "Let me guess," said the boy. "You just got here, and you're trying to decide if you're invisible. Or if you're dead, or if you're dreaming."

              Susant's eyes brightened, and he quickly stood to his feet. "I'm not . . . I mean, you can see me? Can everyone see me? Where is this place? Wait. What is this place? Is this the monastery? So, I'm not dead? And this isn't a dream?"

              "Whoa, whoa, hold on there," said the boy. "I wouldn't even need the onslaught of questions to know you just got here. You're moving way too fast for this place. That's why everyone's ignoring you."

              "What do you mean?" Susant asked, wondering if he had stood up too fast.

              "First things first," said the boy, holding out his hand. "I'm Jampa. Jampa Sherab. And no, you're not dead, or dreaming. This place is very real."

              Susant took the boy's hand and bowed. "I'm Susant. Thank you so much for talking to me. I don't understand what is happening."

              "We all are when we first get here," said Jampa, turning and walking down a narrow hallway.