A Tall Story | Articles | the bombsite

Once upon a time, in a country bordering the Himalayas, there lived a young boy. What his name was is immaterial to this tale. Suffice to say that he was a good lad who studied hard but by the age of about 12 he found that he had this small, but persistent pain deep in the pit of his stomach. His mother took him to various physicians of varying talent but none of them could explain the cause of the pain. The boy was given infinite medicinal concoctions, none of which had any effect. Over the next few years the pain grew in it’s intensity until, by the age of 18, the youth could stand it no longer and he went to his parents to tell them of his plans to leave home and roam the country in search of a cure. Though sorry to see him go his parents understood his desperate need and gave him their blessing for his journey.

For the next 2 years the young man covered every inch of the country, reading medical writings or talking to physicians but to no avail, and all the time the pain deep in the pit of his stomach grew stronger. He came to a point where he thought of giving up the search and maybe ending his life in order to end the intense pain when his wanderings brought him upon a small monastery in the foothills of the vast mountain range that dominated his country. As he approached the building it’s vast wooden doors opened in front of him and he entered the large courtyard within. The great doors shut behind him with a deep, soft thud.

The scent of jasmine, honeysuckle and oranges filled the air. In the centre of the courtyard an old monk stood waiting for him. When the youth approached him the monk bowed in greeting. The youth bowed back. The monk looked at him and said,

“You don’t look well my son.”

The youth explained to the monk about the ever-growing pain deep in the pit of his stomach and how he had travelled far and wide and consulted every physician and read every writing on the subject but had been unable to find a cure. The monk looked at him for a while then said,

“Go to the kitchen and eat. One of the brothers there will show you to a cell where you can rest over-night. I will meditate on your problem and speak to you in the morning.”

The youth went off to get some much needed sustenance and rest whilst the monk retreated to the temple to begin his meditation.

The following morning the youth awoke to find the old monk standing in the doorway of his cell.

“Come with me” said the monk, “we shall eat and talk.”

The youth followed the monk to the kitchens where they were each given a freshly baked loaf of bread, a bowl of soup and a large beaker full of goats’ milk. There was also goats’ cheese, a variety of salad vegetables, nuts and fruit should they require any more to sate their appetite. They took the food out into the courtyard and sat on a shaded stone bench beneath a vine-covered pergola where they ate their fill without a word. The monk, appearing to have finished with his food, finally broke the silence.

“I have meditated on your problem and thought of a possible cure based on ancient remedies found in the old writings of the wise. Before you can partake of the cure you must first join our community as a novice so that you may learn certain ways that you will need to know.”

The youth, who was quite frankly willing to do anything to stop the ever-present pain deep in the pit of his stomach, agreed to this and the monk took him into the temple where certain initiation ceremonies needed to be performed.

Over the next few months the novice was trained in particular ways whilst having several duties assigned to him that needed to be carried out on a daily basis. The life was a little hard though he was fed, clothed and housed for his efforts and he did find comfort in the security of a regular routine, whilst his duties took his mind off his problem for short periods of time. Then one day a brother came to fetch him to the monk.

When the novice came to the cell he found the monk sitting at a small table placed in one corner. On the table lay a 10” long strip of soft leather. The novice’s arrival seemed to go unnoticed by the monk as he stared at and gently fingered the strip of leather. Then, of a sudden, he jolted his head around to look at the novice.

“The time has come my son” he said “for you to take your medicine. When you leave the monastery you must take the path toward the left and the mountains. This path will take you high above the low clouds that roll in and bring rain to the valley, to a cavern which is used by the hardy mountain goats as an over-night shelter. These goats are your friends for you must milk the females each day to give you the only sustenance you are allowed during your cure. In the mouth of the cave is a flat-topped stone which you shall use as a table. Beside the stone you will find a small, sharp knife.” The monk picked up the strip of leather. “This thong has had many prayers and incantations said over it. You must take this thong,” he passed it to the novice, “and each morning, as the sun rises in the east and the giant eagle swoops down from the west, you must sit at the stone table, take the knife and cut an inch from the thong, place it in your mouth and with the help of a beaker full of goats’ milk to wash it down, swallow the thong. Then you should spend the rest of the day meditating. In ten days, when you have swallowed the complete thong, your pain should be gone. The journey to the cave will take you about two days. You can pick up supplies from the kitchen for the journey but remember that, once you have started your cure, you can only partake of the goats’ milk that you procure for yourself. Now go!”

The novice almost ran to the kitchen where he was given food and drink for the journey along with a beaker and a large jug. He left the monastery and took the path to the mountains. The weather was fair and he made good progress but none-the-less it took him the full two days to get to the cave just as the monk had said it would.

“Well he was right about that,” thought the novice, “let us hope he is right about some other things.”

He took what was left of his provisions out of his bag and sat down to his last proper meal for the next ten days. Then, being tired from the journey, he made himself as comfortable as possible on a bed of dried grasses and went to sleep. He awoke about an hour before dawn to find the cave full of goats. He fetched his jug and set about milking the females. As dawn approached he poured a beaker of goats’ milk from the jug and went and sat cross-legged by the flat-topped stone in the mouth of the cavern. He placed the thong, the knife and the beaker on the stone and sat waiting. Then, as the sun rose in the east and the giant eagle swooped down from the west, he took the knife and cut an inch strip from the thong, placed it in his mouth and with the aid of his beaker of goats’ milk he swallowed it. Nothing in the least mystical happened and nothing seemed to have changed though he did notice later that the pain deep in the pit of his stomach seemed to have increased a bit. He spent the rest of the day sitting in the mouth of the cave meditating on the space in front of him, and as he was so high up in the mountains it was a mighty large space to meditate on. That evening he decided to milk the female goats when the herd came in for the night rather than trying to do it in morning when he had just woken up and was feeling a little sleepy-eyed.

The next morning he took his beaker of goats’ milk to the stone in the mouth of the cavern and placed the thong and knife on the stone top as well then sat still and waited. As the sun rose in the east and the giant eagle swooped down from the west he again took the knife and cut an inch strip from the thong which he promptly swallowed with the aid of the goats’ milk. Again nothing mystical happened and nothing seemed to have changed though again he felt that the pain deep in the pit of his stomach had increased somewhat.

This same routine went on for the next seven days without change barring the fact that the novice was now certain that the pain deep in the pit of his stomach was getting worse, in fact by the tenth and final morning he was in so much pain that he had to almost crawl to the stone in the mouth of the cavern. He sat in readiness. This was it. The last piece. His brief training at the monastery helped him to remain calm. As the sun rose in the east and the giant eagle once more swooped down from the west, the novice took the last piece of the thong and swallowed it with the help of the goats’ milk. And nothing happened. He sat and waited breathlessly but still nothing happened and the pain deep in the pit of his stomach brought his mind to realise that the cure hadn’t worked. The training at the monastery didn’t help him to get around the fact that he was now totally pissed off. He needed to see that monk but faced at least a two day journey down the mountainside without anything more than the goats’ milk he could carry to sustain him. Still he was feeling a little obstinate so off he went.

It took him three days to get back due to his somewhat depleted state caused by the goats’ milk only diet of the last ten days and the fact that he had run out of said goats’ milk within a day and a half of leaving the cavern. As he stood in front of the monastery the great doors silently opened just as they had when he first arrived here. He walked into the courtyard to find the old monk standing there waiting for him.

“Welcome my son” said the monk, “you don’t look well.”

The novice didn’t hold back. He railed and riled and yelled and shouted and cursed at the monk who just stood there, unmoving, placid as still, deep water and with just the faintest up-turn of the corners of his mouth. When the novice had finished, more from exhaustion than not having anything else to say, the monk looked down at him and smiled.

“My son” he said “you still have so much to learn not least of which is a famous piece of advice contained in the old writings of the wise.”

“You can get rid of the thong but the malady still remains”.