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This is what Atisha told Savitri.

His father belonged to the Kshatriya caste, the caste of warriors, and he was killed in one of endless wars that two neighbouring rajas were waging against each other over some rich town located in the frontier area – the boy never learned either the rajas’ names or the name of the town to whom he had lost his father. And his mom... she died in child birth shortly after his father had been killed. With both parents gone and no close relatives to take care of him he became an orphan. Akash – that was his birth name – wandered for many moons along dusty and hot roads - they took him to towns, big and small, and to villages, rich and poor - there he was asking for alms. Until one day this road brought him to a Buddhist monastery. 

There he found a refuge and it became his home; one of the elder monks became his Teacher - he was all the wisdom and compassion that little Akash could only imagine. A cloud of loving kindness was glowing around his precious Teacher - this is how he was calling the old monk who was taking care of him. But the old monk was more then just a teacher to Akash – he was his father, his mother, and his whole world.

So, with a newly found home and a new family - a new life started for Akash. He was still a little boy but during his short life he had already seen how fast and unpredictably the direction of one´s life could change when potential aspects of one´s  existence were materialised and tuenred into a reality. On this winding road Akash had already been a happy child – and a lonely child – and now a devoted child - and he thanked his stars for having not abandoned him. 

 

A day came when the Teacher shaved the boy´s head and gave him a new name. This is how Akash became Atisha and a Buddhist monk.

Who knows why the Teacher had chosen this name for Akash... maybe he thought of pandit Atisha, the learned man, or maybe because of the birthplace of this learned man. This place was called Vajrayogini and the Teacher was possibly a clairvoyant - at least that was the opinion held by other monks - and he thought that this  place might somehow be important for Akash.

Akash liked his new name – because he received it from his Teacher. Besides he thought it was not very different from his birth name - and because it started with the same sound, so it was also approved by his stars. And finally he thought that since he had a second home and a second family it was quite natural to be also given a second name. However these thoughts passed through his mind only once – when he  received his new name – and never revisited him again.

 Since then the monastery became all his life - and in the meanwhile Atisha grew up, turning into a tall and strong monk.

The monks of this small monastery followed the Diamond path – it was their vehicle to liberation and to enlightenment. The lineage of Atisha´s Teacher went back to one of Buddha´s first disciples - this was what the boy heard once from another monk. In an unbroken tradition one generation of Teachers after another was passing the eternal and unchanging truth of the secret Tantric Teaching to their initiated disciples, younger monks.

As keepers of the ancient  knowledge monks exchanged their manuscripts with other Buddhist monasteries located in different parts of Bharat, India. Most of the learned monks were old, so younger and stronger monks carried their messages from one monastery to another. This time Atisha´s Teacher asked him to memorize the Treasure transmission; Atisha would travel to Ellora - it was a Buddhist cave monastery located in a faraway part of Bharat where the sun was setting. There he would put to paper his teacher’s transmission and respectfully hand it over to the Ellora abbot.

All the young monks in the monastery could easily memorize pages after pages of Buddhist texts - word by word - but Atisha was probably the best. Regular debates between the monks were part of their training; they were often held in the monastery yard under green branches of the banyan tree. When it was Atisha´s turn to debate he cited with ease and interpreted with accuracy the sacred scriptures - he never made any mistakes and most of the times he could prove his argument in the debate. This was how the Teacher had chosen Atisha to travel to Ellora.

Atisha had never travelled before, at least not that far. He knew the trip would be lonely and dangerous and that Ellora monastery was many full moons away. But it was such an honor for him to fulfill the errand and the wish of his precious Teacher. So one early dawn he left the monastery – and that was two full moons ago.

Two nights ago the moon was full again and as Atisha woke up he watched for a while how the silvery night started to hesitantly dissolve its maddening dark magic; soon it would give way to the crystal light of the emerging morning sky. 

But he reminded himself that there was no time to waste. He wanted to get to the nearest village before the real heat of the day started and ask there for some food. He had not passed any villages for the last two days and though he was used to long periods of fasting he started to lose force. Worse still, he was running out of water.

He got up, wrapped tightly the yellow robe around his body and started walking along a narrow path that was winding through the forest. Under his bare feet it felt cool and slightly wet with the night dew. He thought with relief that the most dangerous part of the night was over and hoped that maybe a village was not too far away…there he would get  some water and food...

And may be he was right and there was a village nearby – but he never got there.

He kept walking along the path – even though it was still dark he could see it as it was marked with small white pebbles on both sides. Suddenly he shuddered as if touched by somebody’s invisible presence - immediately from the corner of his eye he noticed something... it felt like a glimpse of a shadow - to the left and behind him... then he heard how a dry branch was snapped. The night was still dark – but this shadow was even darker; and this patch of darkness was moving … not just moving – it was following him!

He quickly turned round and to his horror he saw how big this shadow was… really big…and then, when all these pieces of what he had seen unmistakably fell into their places, he realized that it was not a shadow... no... it was a bear, a brown bear. Big and heavy but also gracious and fast. Atisha realized that it was too late to run or to hide.

Suddenly a story flashed in his mind. He heard it once from a pilgrim who stayed one night at the monastery. That was a story about a bear attacking a man – and the most amazing part of the story was that the man lived to tell his story of this deadly encounter to others.

With his back to the bear again, the monk stopped turning into a frozen motion, into an unmanifested action - very much like the statue of Vajrasattva in his temple: intent, full of life but bound into an extended moment of stillness. 

Though he might have looked like this statue from the outside, inside him everything was quite the opposite. He felt how this mysterious ball of light sprang again into existence - right behind his navel – and this time it was shining brighter then dozens of full moons. That happened to him before, during his meditations - only two or three times, but after that for hours he felt inside him the presence of the warm and glowing light. 

But this time the ball of light was different. It was not  just glowing mildly - it was pulsating with such an incredible force, beating inside his body that it was painful for Atisha to bear it. The imprisoned ball of light was looking for an immediate escape and still the monk had to wait for the bear to come closer… and still a bit closer… and rise on its hind paws… and to breathe in – only then the armless man would deal a blow with his sharp pointed elbow to the fierce animal.

Everything was happening so fast – but Atisha felt the world around him had slowed down as if trying to stand still. Finally he heard the sound of the sucked in air – now was the time! – and he plunged his elbow into the place where he thought the bear’s heart was. As he did that the ball of light inside him exploded into a fierce shriek and a ferocious blow.

Atisha jumped aside as quickly as he could - but still not fast enough - he heard some shallow sound. A second later he realized that it came from his robe and from the skin on his chest: they were effortlessly slashed by the bear´s long and crooked claws. Both fell. Both were injured. The monk’s blow turned out to be lethal and the bear’s heart was torn. But the monk himself could hardly move. 

Overcoming sudden dizziness and pain he slightly raised his head from the ground, glanced at the Sun: its edge had finally appeared over the horizon. Then Atisha gathered all his remaining strength and started crawling along the red dirt path - it was still wet with fresh night dew. Now it was also dark red with the blood coming from his ripped chest. 

He saw that the night was finally gone and the light of the day had set in. Then the darkness of the night suddenly engulfed him again...

- ... and this is where the servant found me - said the monk to Savitri.

She tried not think what a bear with such claws… no, not claws…sickles... real sickles... might have done to Atisha... no, to Akash... she called him by his birth name... at the same time she could not imagine how an armless monk could have killed such a huge and ferocious animal. But the servant found the dead sloth bear not very far from the place where he had found the unconscious monk – what other proof of this incredible story was needed to everybody in the ashram? 

As to the servant – the sight of the bear killed by an armless man filled him with awe, boundless respect and admiration for the young monk. Later, every time that he entered the cell where the monk was recovering from the wounds the servant diligently bent to the monk’s feet and touched them to take blessing. He wished he himself were half that brave and hoped that this might help.

What the servant did not know again was that the power possessed by the monk  had nothing to do with courage. This power was just the projection of his disciplined and well trained mind. And that there was nothing beyond it. Only the white light of emptiness. 

Sunyata.