The monk, draped in orange clothes, walks out of his little residence on the foothill of the great Himalayas. The orange color, considered the most sacred color in the Indian mythologies and religion, is the color that these saints wear when they are on their journey to enlightenment. With one hand holding a heavy wooden stick, and with the other hand sticking out in space to guide him along his way, the Monk steps out of his residence, and begins his thousand miles journey through the Himalayas. The journey, as he was convinced would lead him to total enlightenment, an entity that was every saint’s dream. Hours of meditation has guided him through his journey of finding enlightenment, and as he believed, he was about to reach that point when he would attain total enlightenment.
Now, measuring the distance of his journey with his heavy wooden stick, and his two almost-numb-feet, he monk heaves a sigh here and then, tries his best to maintain his balance on the soft snow that has built on the hills. Slowly and steadily, he moves his way up into the hilltop, careful of not making any loose step, or else he might tumble down to the bottom of the hill with his ribcage and several bones smashed. And to make matters worse, there was no hospital or remote medical help in the vicinity. Even if some tourists off from their scheduled routine happen to see him, and report his condition to his fellow members, it would take these men days to transport him to a hospital or avail him for remote medical help.
The monk now looks down at the bottom of the ground, as if in reminiscence of his childhood. The white snow reminded him of the white blanket that he use to use to protect himself from the biting cold winter of Northern India. The northern part of India suffered from chilling cold during the winter season, cold enough to dip the mercury below 0C. Now, he turns his attention to lone standing coniferous tree. The tree shivered under the influence of the heavy gust of wind that blew from the north-south direction, and the scenario reminded the monk of the first time when he had walked into this cold wintry place with nothing more than just a thin piece of cloth that he used to hide his private parts. He started shivering at those thoughts. Back in those days, the time when he made his commitment to become a saint and to start up on the journey to find enlightenment, eternal bliss and happiness, he was asked by his Guru, his mentor in the field of spirituality, to follow the culture of saints, and to embrace sainthood. One of the rules of sainthood was to shed all modern clothes, and to wear only an orange cloth that would cover only a few parts of the body. Another rule of the sainthood was to pull out all his hair from their roots. The sainthood rules made it pretty clear that the saint should not use scissors, or any other sharp element that would reduce his pain of shedding hair. The sainthood justified this act as the action to build control over self, and to manifest the victory of mind over the body. The essential element in becoming a saint was not to travel to far off lands, but the essential element in becoming a saint was to master the body, and the claim the victory of mind, in other words the intention or the conscious over the body.
The snow that had solidified itself over the hard rocks of the hill during the cold weather of the night, started to melt as the early rays of the sun started to fall on them. The sky was a fiery orange, and the absence of clouds made it look as if it was on fire. Early migratory birds had started their journey through the Himalayas, and through the Northern parts of India to find favorable climatic conditions for themselves. The birds flew across the sky in large numbers, often forming groups in which more than a thousand birds flew at once. The mountains threw a rough zigzag shadow on the ground and were reflected back by the water that lay below. The morning sun continually rose up in the sky, at every moment showing its courage and valor.
The monk, determined to suffer, but more importantly determined to attain his objective, looked ahead at his goal. The mountain, which was a little time ago all covered with ice and snow, was now brimming with water, and water flowed down the edges of the mountain in huge quantity.
The monk looks up at the stony hilltop that lay some 100 meters away. Its irregular features reminded the monk of the several journeys that he had made barefoot on hard rocks, rocks which pierced through his bare flesh, flesh from which red watery liquid pour out, and a wound which was never given medical attention. Through the several journeys the monk had made barefoot, he had gathered a unique collection of wounds, and scars on his foot, a collection which would definitely make him stand out from the rest of the human population. His foot signature was unique, something which can be taken into consideration if he was illiterate, and wanted a sign some document.
The time passed quickly now. Most of the snow on the mountain had converted to water, and was flowing through the mountain in streams.
The monk heaved his sight, and eyed the hilltop again. But this time, he was taken aback by something strange, something that he had not noticed the last time he looked at it. Its presence was in itself a mystery, a mystery to which his controlled and directed brain gave up. He stood there staring the thing for several moments, and then, after inhaling a deep breath, and gathering up enough courage to go out there, and explore what lay ahead, he moved forward in the direction of the thing.
Little did he know that the thing he was to find there would change his entire life forever!
I am the king’s most Noble knight 
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