Prayer

This is pretty coarse and unrefined. didn't want to publish it at first. but then, what the hell.

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Its June and the summer afternoon in Lhasa was bright and sunny. Thousands of tourists were crowding the already crowded old city area around the famous Monastery Jokhang. The gilt roof of the magnificent temple glittered under the clear blue sky. Hundreds of small stalls lined the Barkhor bazaar bustling with commercial activities. Local and foreign tourists looking for a bargain and souvenir hawkers wanting a sale created a buzzing but comforting background noise. The old city of Lhasa was very much alive after witnessing so many bloodsheds in the last 50 years.

Lobsang was oblivious to both the crowd and the noise. He held his palms together and repeated the mantra of Avalokitesvara Bodhisattva 3 times. Then, he kneeled down and performed a full stretch bow on the ground.  Slowly, he raised, counted a bead on his ring of praying beads, took 2 small steps forward and repeated the same ritual again. He had vowed to continue performing his prayer until he had looped around the old city, which would take days. With every bow, he felt his mind was being cleansed bit by bit, which was manifested in a very calm and peaceful feeling amid the noisy, hot and crowded background. His strong vow kept him going although his body was screaming for a break. “Focus on the mind and observe the pains.” He remembered what his teacher had taught him.

Jane Xia was in her new VW sedan, frowning at the crawling traffic. The AC of the car was at full blast and the cool air brushed through her dyed blonde hair. She looked out of the window behind her pair of Gucci sunglasses and cringed at the sight of those local Tibetan performing their slow prayers.

She just wished to go back to her cosy office and get on the internet to chat with her boyfriend in UK. Lured by the better pay offered to her, she had taken up the vacant manager post in Lhasa from a big traditional medicine supplier. Her shop in Lhasa specialised in supplying Cordyceps or commonly known as “caterpillar fungus”, a very dear traditional herb only found in the Tibetan plateau. She would source and purchase them from the Tibetan peasants at the remote highlands and resell them to the smaller shops in Lhasa and other cities in China. The profit margin could be as high as a few thousands percent.

From her car, she cringed at the sight of Lobsang in his ragged and soiled blue clothes.

“What a broken place. If not for our liberation, these people are still slaves serving their landlords. “

When she was on the computer and chatting with her boyfriend afterwards, she wrote “our leaders were right to say religion is the opium of society. These uneducated people still worship their expelled Dalai Lama and don’t know how to utilise their time to develop their economy. What a broken place!”

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In a small café in Barkhor Bazaar, Giana and her friend Paulo were enjoying their ice coffees. They had had some tiring days visiting the monasteries.

“I think there is a reason why a country is undeveloped. Look at them, indulged in so many useless rituals. I m sure they don’t know what they are doing besides following what had been told to them without understanding.”

Giana pointed to the few Tibetans performing the full stretch prayer not far from the café.

“A religion without substance and love.” Giana added.

“Do you remember the thousands of scripture we saw in the monasteries, but without one single book to tell them which one is the real truth?”

Paulo nodded while sipping his ice coffee.

Giana continued, “Worst of all, they still worship human idol, their Dalai Lama.”

“These people are probably doing their prayers because they have a lot of guilt inside them. They’re probably hoping the ritual will cleanse their karma.” Paulo broke his silence. A medical doctor from Portugal, he was trained to be observant and analytical.

“And” he said while pointing to a bowing old man in ragged blue clothes, “if he keeps doing this, very soon he will hurt his knee and elbow joints. So badly that he may not be able even to walk. Under this hot sun and strong UV, I don’t know how long they can hold.” Paulo shook his head empathically.

“Well, that’s not our problem if they want to be ignorant and refuse salvation.” Said Giana.

“I am so tired of all these nonsense about reincarnated monks. They’d obviously chosen those who they wanted to choose to become the high monks. The normal people don’t involve. It’s a plot to control the people.”

“I will leave in 2 days and fly directly from Beijing to Rome. I m so excited because I may have to chance to see the Pope in real person”

“Yeah. It is good to see the holy Papal.” Paulo said.

Lobsang carried on with his prayer although it’s late at night and the streets in the old city were almost empty except for a few fellow prayers. His mind was as clear as the cloudless summer night sky. He was hungry, thirsty and tired but they seemed remotely distant from him. He smiled and continued his prayer of Avalokitesvara Mantra.

Thousands of miles away in Beijing, the capital city of PRC, thousands of local tourists were at the famous Tian-an-men square. Across the road, overlooking the square was a huge colour portrait of the late Chairman Mao.

A teacher was explaining the history of the square to her group of young students.

“That’s our great leader Chairman Mao. All of you bow and pay your respect” she pointed to the portrait and told her students.

Thousands of miles away in Vatican City, centre of Rome, thousands of believers of the faith gathered around Saint Peter’s square. They were waiting patiently and orderly for the Pope to appear from his study. Usually the pope would appear, wave and to be applauded by the waiting crowd.