old-path-white-clouds-thich-nhat-hanh

Chapter Twelve
Kanthaka
Yasodhara quickly regained her strength and soon was able to return to her work, while also spending much time with baby Rahula. One
spring day, at Queen Gotami’s insistence, Channa drove Siddhartha and Yasodhara out into the countryside for an outing. They brought
Rahula along and a young servant girl named Ratna to help care for him.
Pleasant sunlight streamed down upon tender green leaves. Birds sang on the blossoming branches of ashok and rose-apple trees.
Channa let the horses trot at a leisurely pace. Country folk, recognizing Siddhartha and Yasodhara, stood and waved in greeting. When
they approached the banks of the Banganga River, Channa pulled on the reins and brought the carriage to a sudden halt. Blocking the road
before them was a man who had collapsed. His arms and legs were pulled in towards his chest and his whole body shook. Moans escaped
from his half-open mouth. Siddhartha jumped down, followed by Channa. The man lying in the road looked less than thirty years old.
Siddhartha picked up his hand and said to Channa, “It looks as though he’s come down with a bad flu, don’t you think? Let’s massage him
and see if it helps.”
Channa shook his head. “Your highness, these aren’t the symptoms of a bad flu. I’m afraid he’s contracted something far worse—this is
a disease for which there is no known cure.”
“Are you sure?” Siddhartha gazed at the man. “Couldn’t we take him to the royal physician?”
“Your highness, even the royal physician can’t cure this disease. I’ve heard this disease is highly infectious. If we take him in our carriage,
he might infect your wife and son, and even yourself. Please, your highness, for your own safety, let go of his hand.”
But Siddhartha did not release the man’s hand—he looked at it and then at his own. Siddhartha had always enjoyed good health, but
now looking at the dying man no older than himself, all he had taken for granted suddenly vanished. From the riverbank came cries of
mourning. He looked up to see a funeral taking place. There was the funeral pyre. The sound of chanting intertwined with the grief-stricken
cries and the crackling of fire as the funeral pyre was lit.
Looking again at the man, Siddhartha saw that he had stopped breathing. His glassy eyes stared upwards. Siddhartha released his hand
and quietly closed the eyes. When Siddhartha stood up, Yasodhara was standing close behind him. How long she had been there, he did
not know.
She spoke softly, “Please, my husband, go and wash your hands in the river. Channa, you do the same. Then we will drive into the next
village and notify the authorities so they can take care of the body.”
Afterwards, no one had the heart to continue their spring outing. Siddhartha asked Channa to turn around, and on the way back no one
spoke a word.
That night, Yasodhara’s sleep was disturbed by three strange dreams. In the first, she saw a white cow on whose head was a sparkling
jewel, as bright as the North Star. The cow strolled through Kapilavatthu headed for the city gates. From the altar of Indra resounded a
divine voice, “If you can’t keep this cow, there will be no light left in all the capital.” Everyone in the city began chasing after the cow yet no
one was able to detain it. It walked out the city gates and disappeared.
In her second dream, Yasodhara watched four god-kings of the skies, atop Mount Sumeru, projecting a light onto the city of
Kapilavatthu. Suddenly the flag mounted on Indra’s altar flapped violently and fell to the ground. Flowers of every color dropped like rain
from the skies and the sound of celestial singing echoed everywhere throughout the capital. In her third dream, Yasodhara heard a loud
voice that shook the heavens. “The time has come! The time has come!” it cried. Frightened, she looked over at Siddhartha’s chair to
discover he was gone. The jasmine flowers tucked in her hair fell to the floor and turned to dust. The garments and ornaments which
Siddhartha had left on his chair transformed into a snake which slithered out the door. Yasodhara was filled with panic. All at once, she
heard the bellowing of the white cow from beyond the city gates, the flapping of the flag upon Indra’s altar, and the voices of heaven
shouting, “The time has come! The time has come!”
Yasodhara awoke. Her forehead was drenched with sweat. She turned to Siddhartha and shook him. “Siddhartha, Siddhartha, please
wake up.”
He was already awake. He stroked her hair to comfort her and asked, “What did you dream, Gopa? Tell me.”
She recounted all three dreams and then asked him, “Are these dreams an omen that you will soon leave me in order to go and seek the
Way?”