The Monastery

Chapter 22: An Empty Stomach

Susant noticed that the boy wore no shoes, and strange tattoos written in the same language he'd seen earlier decorated his wrists. Susant followed him as he continued talking.

              "I'm not sure how it is that we end up here, whether it is by chance or by fate," said Jampa, stopping. "But either way, the monastery calls us here. I have been living here for quite some time now, learning with the monks, studying their ways."

              "How long is quite some time?"

              "Let's just say I'm fairly accommodated," Jampa laughed. He walked into a small room that turned out to be a kitchen. Inside it were several sinks lined up next to each other. Jampa began rinsing his dish from one sink to the next while he continued talking. "Haven't thought of home in a while," he said, and Susant wasn't sure if he were talking to him or himself. There was a softness in his voice, but he couldn't tell if it was sadness.

              "Don't you want to go home?" Susant asked.

              Jampa cracked a grin and stopped washing his dish. "It might be a little early to tell you this, Susant, but you seem like a strong will. For whatever reason, whomever enters this monastery can never leave, not that I would want to, anyways."

              Susant's heart froze. "What?" He could barely mouth the words. "What do you mean, can never leave?" His thoughts flashed back to the sea of clouds he had watched from the garden.

              "I don't know if you've noticed, though it would be hard not to," said Jampa, "but we are somehow floating in the sky, as if the monastery were held up by the gods themselves." Jampa pulled his now clean dish out of the last sink and grabbed a towel. "You probably haven't tried yet, but if you go back to the iron gate you entered through, it will be locked. There is no opening it. There are some who have been here for hundreds of years and have never seen the gate open once."

              "But I opened it when I arrived," said Susant, skeptically.

              Jampa shrugged. "It is what it is. I can't explain how we're floating in the clouds, nor can I explain how the gate opens to those on the outside, but never to those on the inside." Jampa could see a hopeless look in Susant's eyes. He tried to lift his spirits. "Though, on rare occasion, a rumor will go around of someone disappearing from the monastery, if it's any consolation."

              Susant sunk to his knees, slowly taking everything in. "That means . . . I'll never see my father again . . ." Tears began falling down his cheeks. "I'll never see my home again. What have I done? W-what have I done to deserve this fate?"

              Jampa knelt next to Susant. "I know it's a lot. It will help if you meditate over this later, but for now, I can't imagine you not being absolutely starved." Jampa stood to his feet, helping Susant to his own. "This place works in a very simple way. To obtain something, there must be sacrifice."

              "Meditate?"

              Jampa sighed. "Ah, I forgot what it is like to be truly new. Never mind that for now. We'll cross that bridge later." He looked Susant in the eyes. "You look like you've walked quite a long way to find this place."

              Susant nodded his head.

              "Then let's not blame fate. You brought yourself here, the only question now, is why? Now, if you want something from this place, there must always be sacrifice. Right now, you are new, and this place is foreign. Despite the harsh truth of this place, if you want to survive, you must learn to adapt."

              Susant nodded dumbly as several monks walked into the kitchen and laid their dirty plates next to the first sink. Jampa pointed to the stack of dishes. "If you want to eat, you have to do dishes."

              Susant stood there idly as he stared at the dishes. Everything in his life was crashing down around him, and he were to do dishes? Nothing he could think of made any sense. Yet, despite nothing making sense at all, he walked forward to the dishes and began dropping them in the first sink. It was full of warm, soapy water. Oddly enough, the warm water was comforting.

              Twenty-five minutes later, Susant emerged from the kitchen. His eyes were dark, his demeanor quiet and fearful. Jampa sat just outside the entrance, reading a book. Upon seeing Susant, he quickly tucked the book away and stood.

"Now, let's get you some food."

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