A Monk A Monk A Monk (Day 5 Late Afternoon)

Tenzin chastised himself for letting his mind wander as Sherab spun the prayer wheel. He and his brothers sat barefoot on the the floor in a space so cramped, his bare feet near touched Geleg, who sat beside him. The chimes rang, and bowing their heads the monk’s stood.

This was not to be their ship, they had secured passage with the Janissary due to arrive next month, but it was Sherab who believed they were led to this journey. They were no strangers to changes of plans, such was the life of the nomadic order dependent on the generosity of others. But this part of their path was not brought to them by Alms from the ship. They begged in the streets during the fair until they could afford the two rooms of passage for the six travelers.

“Have you seen her yet?” Tenzin asked of Sherab, but the elder monk shook his head indicating he had not. Their wayward sister, as they’d come to call her. Clad in traditional bhikkhuni garb, they saw her first exiting a local saloon arm in arm no less with a gentleman. Physical contact. Not administering him because he was sick, or assisting a man who’d over imbibed, but laughing, giving in to carnal temptations. They spoke of shooting practice and whisky drinking. Sherab knew they had to help their lost sister relocate the road to enlightenment. This was the ship they returned to, this is where the nomads were needed.

It was good they traveled with Amoli and Jinpa, two of their own bhikkhuni, Amoli about the age of the wayward sister, Jinpa with many more years of wisdom to offer.

They would fast this solstice, Sherab decided, reflect on the task at hand, until the ship was well on its way. It was as he decreed: a captive audience tended to be the most attentive.

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