​A Truth Takes Root - A Parable

There once was a great master in India. Early one morning he gathered his devotees around him for teaching as was his habit and told his students a simple story.

“The truth is like a seed that is planted within all who hear it. Each time you hear that truth the seed takes root and grows. Each time you live that truth the roots spread, the plant takes hold. As the truth becomes a part of you, the plant comes into blossom and is yours forever more.”

Then the Master waited, black eyes gazing out over his students. He said nothing. The students waited respectfully, heads bowed. Still, the Master said nothing. The students peered sideways at each other with inquiring expressions on their faces. No one knew more than another. Still, the Master waited, the students waited.

Finally, one student, Shanto, spoke up.  “Master, why do you not teach us further?”

The Master gazed upon Shanto and answered, “Where is Rambala? I do not see him here.”

The students looked around themselves, craning their necks to see if Rambala sat hidden in the group. No one saw him. Shanto leapt to his feet.“I will find him, Master.”

Shanto ran all through the ashram, his long white sleeves and shirt flapping. He searched the kitchens, the courtyards, the meditation rooms, he even looked in the Master’s room. Rambala was no where to be found. In desperation, Shanto left the ashram and ran all the way to town to Rambala’s house.

There he found Rambala, sleeping upon his bed, his head cradled upon his arms, snoring gently. “Up! Up! You sluggish laggard! The Master is looking for you!”

Rambala sat up, rubbing his eyes.“The Master? He mumbled. Oh no!” Rambala leapt off his bed, a look of horror on his young face. He pulled on his clothing from the night before, and raced out the door behind Shanto.

They both arrived, breathless, and bowed deeply before the Master. Shanto found his voice first. “I have found him, Master, asleep in his bed. He is not deserving of your teaching.”

The Master looked upon Shanto, his face expressionless. Then he looked at Rambala. He said nothing.

Rambala, his face streaked with sweat and dust from the ground where he knealt having  touched his forehead to the feet of his master. “Master, Shanto is right. I do not deserve your teaching. But I thirst for it Master, as a man thirsts for water in the desert. If I may do penance to relieve my shame, perhaps I might again be worthy.”

The Master looked up from his two devotees and once again began the teaching. He told the very same story that he had already told.

After the teaching, the Master closed his eyes and sat quietly. This was his habit. He would sit, eyes closed in meditation for the remainder of the morning. The devotees quietly got up and resumed their chores.

Shanto sidled over to Rambala as he walked across the yard toward the kitchens to begin his morning work. Looking back at his Master, Shanto made sure he could not be heard and whispered. “Why should you have received the teaching when you were late and all the rest of us have been here since sun-up? That was the same teaching that we heard earlier. The Master repeated it for your benefit. Because you were late we missed out on what else he might have taught us.”

The Master opened his eyes. A devotee humming tunelessly to himself and working at spinning close by, looked at his Master’s open eyes, startled. 

The Master leaned over to him and said quietly, “Please ask Shanto to return here.”

Shanto returned to his Master and bowed deeply.

The Master said to him. “Would God turn away any who thirsted to know him?”

“No Master. You have taught us he turns away no one.”

“Yet you would have me turn away Rambala.”

“Master, Rambala slept while the rest of us were here as we should be at sun-up.”

“Does God turn away those who come later to seek him? Or does he offer himself to any true seeker no matter whether he wakes to his spirituality earlier or later?”

Shanto grumbled, “To any, I guess.”

“Did you not receive my teaching?”

“Yes, I did Master. I can repeat it word for word. But Master, we all heard the teaching twice, because Rambala was late. What else might you have taught us if he had been here when he should have?”

The Master gazed at Shanto. “Sit down Shanto. I have a story to tell you.”

Shanto sat down, a look of eager anticipation on his face.
The Master repeated the exact same story which he had already told twice that morning.
Shanto sat, his brows knitting in anger and confusion before he quickly got control of himself.

Then the Master asked him, “Shanto, did you listen to the story I have told you.”

 “Of course Master.”
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“Then you know that each time you hear the truth it grows within you. Now, you have heard this truth three times. Do you feel its roots taking hold?”

Shanto sat quietly as a slow smile spread across his face. “Yes, Master, I feel it taking root. I did not understand.”

​He bowed deeply leaning forward over his crossed legs, touching his forehead to his Master’s feet. “Thank you Master. Thank you for your patience with my impatience!” 
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Photo by Jose Aragones on Unsplash