Bhikkhuni Subha was standing at the window in her small monastery looking at the full moon smiling at her from a cloudless sky. Its golden rays were draining through the leaves making intricate patterns on the white sand. Only a few nocturnal sounds coming out from the adjoining thicket were disturbing the tranquillity of the place. So calm and quiet was the world around.
“How serene!” she thought. “Tomorrow is Poson Full Moon; The day King Devanampiyatissa met Arahath Mahinda; The day we received a unique present, Buddhism, from King Dharmashoka; The day I was ordained as Bhikkuni Subha. That was forty years ago. I was only twenty years then. Tomorrow all my family members would join me at Mihintale to commemorate my fortieth anniversary. It would be like a reunion of all the family members. How happy my parents would be if they were alive?”
Tears blurred her eyes at the remembrance of her dear parents.
“This is life. In a few years’ time the others would be shedding tears over me too in the same way. I should be happy that I have realized what life is and had taken the correct path that the Buddha had shown.”
She slowly sauntered towards the small wooden bench under the margosa tree. She looked around as she sat on it, thinking of that day – the day she found real happiness. The peace and tranquillity of the surroundings brought back the memories of her life.
Shrine room
Thamali was the middle child in a family of three, with one elder sister and one younger brother. Her parents were teachers. From early childhood, they had been brought up to be ‘good, well-behaved’ children. They were devout Buddhists. They hardly missed the monthly visit to the temple on the Full Moon Poya day. They had a special ‘pahanpala’, the one post shrine room, not far from their veranda where they offered flowers and lighted an oil lamp every evening. They used to kneel or sit down in front of it and worship the Noble Triple Gem every evening. It was Thamali, who always took the initiative in picking the flowers and lighting the oil lamp.
Thamali was not even in her teens when she visited Mihintale. That pilgrimage was the turning point in her life.
Thamali’s parents arranged a trip to visit the ruined city of Anuradhapura, and climb Mihintale during a long weekend that fell during one Poson Poya day. A friend of their father who had gone to Anuradhapura on a transfer had invited them to stay the night with them. In fact they had arranged a vehicle too for both families to travel around the ruined city. They had a happy railway journey and arrived at Anuradhapura late at night.
Their pilgrimage commenced at the Sri Maha Bodhiya. They circumambulated the “Bodhiya” murmuring the Pali stanzas. The soft breeze made the bo-leaves whisper and dance softly over their heads. The rustling leaves sheltered them from the warm rays of the sun too. While walking around how happy they were to find a few tender bo-leaves that wafted down from the Bo-tree! They could keep them safe inside their school books.
“It helps to keep in mind what is taught in class when there is a bo-leaf inside the book,” that was the belief among the children.
They worshipped all the eight great places of Buddhist worship situated in Anuradhapura. They enjoyed strolling through the ruins listening to their father who had also made the trip to teach them about the lives of our ancestors. They were to climb Mihintale the next morning. It was a novel experience for them and they were all eagerly waiting for it.
With a fresh energy, they started climbing Mihintale. As far as the eye could see, the track was covered with white clad pilgrims. Half way through, they sat on a side of the track to take a break and have a drink. Thamali sat close to her elder sister and looked around. She was feeling giddy and listless. She rested her head on her sister’s shoulder and closed her eyes.
“Tired?” she heard her sister’s voice.
Mango grove
What she heard and saw next was unimaginable. She heard the rumbling of some human feet. A rough wind was blowing through. It was dark and they were all in a mango grove. Then she saw a King with his entourage. The King was not wearing a crown, yet she knew that it was a King. She was gazing at the scene when someone suddenly shouted, “A fawn O’King! A fawn!”
Thamali wanted to turn her head to see the fawn, but she could not. Her whole body seemed to have turned to stone. Not even a finger could be moved. Then there was the sound of running feet. No sooner it subsided; it became so quiet and calm that nothing seemed to be moving around. In an instant, the whole place was illuminated with some dazzling light of pastel rainbow colours and a unique voice was heard through it.
“Tissa, Tissa.”
Without moving her head, she saw a golden ray of a light piercing through the pastel coloured air. She saw the King too looking up, may be in search of the one who was calling “Tissa!Tissa!” The King was all alone. Neither the fawn nor his entourage was there. The bow and the arrow fell down from the King’s hands. Instead, the two royal hands came together to worship the unseen person, most probably seen only by the King. He must have seen someone through the shinning golden shaft.
A moan from Thamali disturbed the others who were surrounding her.
“Putha!” addressed Thamali’s mother caressing her head lovingly.
Thamali opened her eyes and in a haze looked at the others.
“Where? Where am I?’
Somebody sprinkled some water and somebody made her sip a little water.
“I had a dream,” Thamali said softly regaining consciousness. “I saw the story of King Tissa and Arahath Mahinda.” She added smiling innocently.
“Last night we were discussing that historical incident, didn’t we?” said her father’s friend. “I saw that you were so engrossed with it that you listened intensively.
You were so taken up with those details that when we visited the place where it actually happened, the things that had been embedded in your heart and mind must have reacted so strongly that it came out as a dream.”
All agreed with him since nothing seemed wrong with Thamali anymore. She joined others in climbing the rest of the mountain while the soft breeze made the wafting white temple flowers fall on them as if to bless them on this sacred journey.
No other incident happened that showed any difference in Thamali’s behaviour.
Only Thamali felt that she had an inclination that her life should be more and more religious. She started observing ‘atasil’ every Full Moon Poya day and joined in all the religious activities arranged at the temple as well as the school.
Their lives flowed on as usual. It was only one week after her elder sister’s wedding that Thamali came out with her decision to her parents.
“Please let me become a bhikkuni,” she told her parents. “You have another son and a daughter.”
“I knew that I had to face this one day,” said her mother. She was an intelligent woman and was aware how Thamali’s mind was working.
“From the day I had that dream at Mihinthale, or maybe it was a vision, my mind was bent on becoming a Bhikkuni. I will be with my family and never wish to be away from them. I will join them in all their functions as permitted by the Bhikkuni Order. Yet, I would lead a spiritual life and shorten this long voyage called ‘sansara.’ Please give me your blessings.”
Thus the following PosonPoya day Thamali entered the Bhikkuni order at Mihintale as Bhikkuni Subha and started living in a monastery.
However, she spent every Poson Poya Day at Mihintale joining the various activities held there. But tomorrow not only she, but all her family members too would join these activities, she knew.
She looked up at the full moon still smiling at her from above.
“My parents are dead and gone. Yet, I know that from wherever they are, if they are able to watch us, they would be happy to see us leading happy lives in whatever paths we have chosen.”