StarGaze

Peace in Hardships

“That’s enough. I will try out your way to live, but only till I feel like it. If I feel fishy or like you are destroying my life, I will take appropriate action.” Thomas said and looked into the eye of the monk. 

"No need for threats, White. You are home now, and family doesn't require threats to make them help you." the monk said and smiled, acting stone-cold in front of the fire that burnt in Thomas' eyes. 

And so from that day, Thomas White, the trained killer who used to kill scores of men in a matter of minutes and whose name struck terror in the hearts of gangsters, shaved his head and begged door to door in search of redemption. 

All the glory, all legacies that warriors forge are nothing but a big lie so that youngsters look up to them and try to be as much of an animal as they were. In the end, there isn’t a single killer who is proud of the people he killed. First, they drink alcohol; then, the alcohol drinks them up. If they survive that fate somehow, they become like Thomas, roaming around and searching for redemption in religion and gods they know do not exist. 

Anyway, so here he was, living the life of constant torture. He was irritated at the start, but because his agency had forced him into retirement and he had nowhere better to go, he made the wise decision and held on. After all, the hardships he faced here were less than nothing to the ones he faced on his duty. If the mother monks were capable of jealousy, they would surely be furious at the feat of strength, willpower, and emotional stability that this man showed from the very first day. 

He did not complain, did not back off from any hard work, and sure as f**k did not tolerate any bad behavior towards the monks. After the incident a few days ago, no one dared insult the monks while he was among them. 

"You are on the path to Nirvana, Thomas. Do not let ordinary people provoke you and make you dip your finger into degradation again. Insulting us is their duty. It is the higher force testing the strength of our minds. It would be best if you did not lose the idea of who you are no matter how hard someone pushes you. You have the strength and other abilities that will make for a great ordinary man. But you are not ordinary now, and your powers are of no use. If you look closely, you are actually worse off than us—work on that, White. I know you have the strength, and the Lord wants you to find it." the old master said one day. 

In time, the incidents reduced dramatically. Thomas suddenly started being alone most of the time. He didn’t speak much to anybody and behaved politely whenever provoked. The hands that smelt of gunpowder once smelled of boiled rice, the legs which used to break the ribs of two men at once were now being used to run up and down the mountain with food. And the man who never tolerated the slightest of insults kept silent even if someone slapped him for a crime he didn’t commit. If the sudden change seems strange to you, it was! And the master knew it. 

It is just not possible that a wild horse is domesticated so easily, and every attempt the monks made to tap into Thomas’ thinking was unsuccessful because of the walls he had built up. So, in a way, he was no better here than he was in the outside world (well, except the drinking and healthy lifestyle). 

“Talk to me!” the lama said, blocking the door. 

It was a summer afternoon, warmer than the other afternoons but still cold as f**k. Thomas had just consumed his food and was about to enter his room to meditate, or at least pretend to meditate, when he saw the lama jump in front of him. 

No one is allowed to disturb the disciples once they start meditating, and so this was the only time the lama could hinder Thomas and ask what was going on. 

"Yes, lama. I was just about to go into meditation. Is there something on your mind?" Thomas asked with calm confusion. 

"Yes, child. You have settled in surprisingly well after the talk I had with you last time. We are all very grateful to the Lord for sending you between us and letting us help you." the lama said. 

“And the problem is...” Thomas asked, sensing that it was not all. 

“We are afraid that you might have formed a different definition of our way of living and have taken the wrong approach. You have attained the level of calmness that very few of your age reach.” the man said, putting his hand on Thomas’s shoulder. 

“So let me get this straight. You are not okay with the fact that I am making progress too fast? Am I supposed to lose the race I am in?” Thomas asked. His eyebrow was starting to become tense, and the lama observed his next words. He was aware of the fact that Thomas was looking for a fault in his words and would pin him down as soon as he made a mistake. 

“No, son, this is not a race; it never was. The only person that is going to win or lose is you. You are alone on the path of finding yourself. And it is not the result that worries me, it is the method you took to get it. 

There are two ways to get your mind at peace. One is through constant striving and becoming one with your surroundings. When you feel the energy around you rushing inside, all the petty things like emotions become meaningless to you. THAT is when you achieve the first step towards Nirvana. 

The other method is by merely killing the person you are inside. You shut off everything and any idea of what it is like to be you. You live without a purpose. That is worse than even before you found us. At that time, you were aware of yourself and the goal of your life. Now you are just killing yourself in your mind and confuse it with peace. There is no sadness or guilt in peace." the monk said and walked away from Thomas without waiting for an answer, leaving him to figure out his path by himself. 

“Enlightened d***s, what do you know of peace and war? There is no redemption, only the scorching in the heat of the bodies I burned.” Thomas said and spat on the floor. 

After that, he went inside, aware of the shadows that followed him inside his room. Goosebumps soon appeared, and he felt electricity down his spine as he felt the tides and tides of dead cold hands all over his body. The whispers that the ghastly figures laid on his ears terrified him. But there he was, sitting down with his eyes closed, meditating.