Mother's mantra

Everyone who have had the fortune of a childhood with his/her mother would have many endearing moments to reminisce. The mother's endless love for her child and vice-versa is, I believe, made of the most undefinably dearest moments, which is almost divine and magical. As we grow and age, some moments vanish wihtout a trace while others remain imprinted deep down the memory lane. I have one such unforgetable incident as a child with my dearest mother.

I might have been around three or four years old back then. Being the youngest then (before my brother came forth) I think I enjoyed the priveladge of being the closest to my mother. Even as I was on my feet, though naked as any village kid, I would follow her whereever she went, 'like a tail', as Bhutanese saying goes. I bet this is the time when a child gets as sticky as anything can be to his/her mother. In other words, as anybody can imagine, a child at this age can hardly be at ease in the absence of his/her mother's sight. In fact, this must be the universal case with all mothers and child (if not at least in Bhutan). In this case of mine, it is even more endearing owing to the fact that there was no father in the house. My father existed in name but in person he was an unseen stranger who lived in far away places with his new-found loves and families. Abandoned by a husaband and a father, my and me lived in a fairly big but empty traditional house in the mountains. By then, my elder sister had already been taken to a school in another faroff district. As I can imagine, it must have been a distantly lonesome life that my mother lived through except for the occassional company of her young children. And yes, I still rememer we used to live in constant fear of something or the other.

One afternoon, my mother was working in our field. Most probably, she was harvesting buck wheat on the slopy side of the field, some hundred yards away from our house. I was playing by her side with soil, stones, twigs and whatever was available on ground. We were silently busy in our own littlest worlds - she in her work and myself in my own play. Suddenly, a loud and piercing thunder jolted our senses. In fact it was a huge successession of thunder gushing from one end to the other end of the sky. It was so loud that the whole ground underneath us appeared to shake. Awe struck, I paused, looked up and then looked at her. She looked up and briefly scanned the sky. The sky was heavely clouded. It was dark and gloomy. She resumed her work and as she did, it was followed by a simultaneous recitation of 'Vajra Guru Mantra.' Her tone was unusually bold, heavy and genuine, with a unique rythem. I could not undertsand what it meant at that time but one thing was sure. It brewed trouble, worry and fear. Curious as I was, and little terrified, I asked my mother what it was (that exploded)? Pausing in between her mantra my mother replied to me saying, 'it's a dragon roaring.' But her hands never stopped working rather her hands becme faster. Perhaps she was trying to finish bit more of the job. She began reciting her mantra again but I interrupted her again with my foolish questions, 'what is a dragon, mother?' She said, 'it's a giant creature that lives in the sky'. 'Have you seen one?' 'No, never,' she said. I went on, 'how come we cannot see it, mother?' She said, 'we cannot see it because it lives beyond the clouds, far away.' 'I see!' I nodded my head although still bewildered a bit. As the dragon roared again, the ground shuddered again. As I observed her, she was looking up to the fast approaching dark clouds. Her hands were going faster and faster. Her mantra maintained the rythem but it got louder and bolder. And then there was one big crashing thunder with a flash of lightening splitting the firmament into two. Terrified as I was, I thought the sky really cracked bad that day. That very moment, my mother dropped everything, picked me up by her arms and rushed for our home. Her mantra now hastened almost as fast as her feet. Just before we reached the shelter of home we met with the downpour. Luckly we made it though we were soaked a bit. And a thought went through my mind, 'wow', a dragon is so powerful that it can really tear apart the sky and make it leak heavy.' My imagination of a dragon went wild - imagining all the possibly fearful and deadly faces of a dragon.

Well, that was one lesson I learned which changed with my modern education. I mean, we now know that there is no dragon roaring and cutting open the bottom of the sky and pours rain as a result. At least, science has taught us that though I still wonder sometimes avout dragons. But more importantly, it is not the supposedly powerful work of dragon but the simple power of a woman with a mantra. I like to call it, 'my mother's mantra' because this has been one of the earliest lessons in my life and learned from my own mother. The way she recited the mantra was so intensely devotional that I, even as a young child felt it quite strongly in my heart. I can vividly remember that. The tone and the rythem - mysteriously unique. In fact, it got imprinted in my memory so permanently that I could never forget it, even if I want to. When I recall the incident now and analyse it with my little knowledge on dharma, I can tell that, a mantra if recited with such pure devotion, with such longing pitch and cadence, no Guru would remain unheard. Or rather any Guru would appear in an instant to help you with the problem. It sounded so powerfully demanding and fulfilling. Even as a young child.

It may be a case of blind faith to certain extent as she hardly knew the literal meaning of the mantra. Nonetheless, her faith in the mantra and her belief in Guru Rinpoche was all she needed to face and overcome the hurdles in her life. That was her ultimate refuge and strength which was unshakable, and still remains so. That is why, even today her best advise to us, her children, is that, not to forget to recite the mantra. She always says, 'Baza Guru Drang Cho Na' or 'Mani Drang Cho Na', particularly when we are on the move. As and when you walk out of your door, she will come shouting, 'do not forget to recite the mantra on the way.' I alwasys respond half heartedly, 'yaya I  will', but the moment later I find myself in my own world. So not like her but I am beginning to practice it.

Pragmatically, the mantra might not have stopped the thunder, lightening and rain but the trust, faith and devotion in it can save one from those impending troubles. In deed, as we Buddhists believe so, the mantra recitation is not only capable of saving one from just these three  (thunder, lightening and rain) but all kinds of perils, present and future. Therefore, I would like to thank my dearest mother for this invaluable lesson of life. And pray that a mother like you should be there for all sentient beings. A mother like you, as unique as you are. I know of course, every mother is great. Salute to all mother of the universe. I love you but I fear I can ever repay you for this little-big lesson, forget about others. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.