Rain at the Pagoda

It was mid-February, yet the lingering essence of early spring remained – a bit of drizzle, a touch of chill, a poignant sense of yearning. Perhaps "the sky is sad, so it rains," which drags down people's spirits too, making them want to do nothing but curl up in a warm blanket. The streets on a rainy day were also desolate and quiet; apart from those ones being busy earning a living and children going to school to learn, everyone else chose the peace of home. The pagoda on a rainy day was also cold – cold because there wasn't a soul around.

 

At 6:45 PM, it was pitch black. I looked out into the courtyard and still didn't see anyone. The evening bell, therefore, felt disheartened and didn't resonate, awakening sentient beings. I braced myself, thinking no one would come tonight, so I would go to the pagoda myself, first to light an incense stick to offer to Buddha, then to confide in Him through a chanting session.

 

Suddenly, a light pierced through the silent night. Uncle Nam and his wife had arrived at the pagoda to chant. Ms. Tuyen quickly asked, "Namo Amitabha Buddha, Venerable Sir, will there be chanting tonight? I see the main hall is completely dark and empty." I smiled, "Yes, there will be. Please go up to the main hall and turn on the lights first, then I'll follow." Just as the chanting session began, Ms. Binh, Mr. Nghiem, Ms. Chung, and Ms. Tuyet also arrived.

 

Outside, the rain was still falling, each gust of wind brought a numbing cold. Inside the pagoda, the wooden fish drum kept a gentle rhythm, and yellowed scripture pages were melodiously chanted and praised. Beneath the lotus throne where Buddha resided, the incense fragrance intertwined with the weather, and the Master and disciples sat together, lighting the lamp of wisdom to illuminate the dark veil of ignorance.

 

Let the sky rain if it wants to rain, 

But our resolve is higher than the sky.

 

 Tam Luc

Translated into English by Nguyen Thi Cam Nhung