Divine destruction

We sat in the courtyard of the hill-top shrine, lost in the timeless beauty of the place. The stars shone cold and clear in the velvet va...

We sat in the courtyard of the hill-top shrine, lost in the timeless beauty of the place. The stars shone cold and clear in the velvet vault of the heavens; far away on the plain beneath lay the town, shimmering like some luminescent sea-creature amidst the waters of a vast, dark ocean. The tiles were smooth and cool beneath us; a giant pipal tree towered overhead, its branches extending to cover almost the entire stone pavilion. The wintry breeze soughed about the ancient stone walls and rocked the pipal boughs to and fro; a thousand leaves whispered throatily as they scuttled across the courtyard to gather in little piles near a tiny sanctum, where a single oil lamp glowed fitfully in its recess within a pillar.

And then suddenly we realised we had company, in the shape of an ancient poojari. Thin-limbed and sparse of frame, he was clad in a white veshti and wore a sacred thread across his bare torso. He stood looking up at the stars, murmured something we couldn8217;t catch, and then sat down alittle away from us and gazed up at the nodding pipal branches.

Soon we were lost again in contemplation, at peace beneath the glittering stars, soothed by the gentle converse of scurrying leaves and sighing wind. But presently my companion stirred. 8220;Why,8221; he inquired of no-one in particular, 8220;did they plant pipals near these old temples, I wonder. Pipals have pretty strong roots, you know! Strong enough to crush stone, tear apart whole buildings8230;8221; 8212; and his voice trailed away.

Of course, I hadn8217;t the foggiest idea. But all at once an image came to mind, of a vast city of temples amidst tropical jungle, its walls and great halls and gopurams adorned with exquisite sculpture and engraving. But covering them all, triumphant and inexorable, were supple and sinewy pipal limbs that had rent the stone, cracked the mighty pillars, destroyed the very foundations of that greatest of tributes to the mighty, Angkor Vat8230;.

8220;But that is precisely the reason,8221; murmured the old man. We were startled.So quiet had he been that we had completely forgotten his presence. 8220;The pipal was planted precisely because it would in time destroy the temple. For the ancients knew that there cannot be Creation with Destruction; that Life itself is but a restless balance between the two, as illusory and transient as the border between light and shadow; indeed, that just as only in Death might we fully comprehend the miracle that we call Birth, so too only in the shadow of the temple8217;s destruction might the true devotee recognise the eternal light of Truth.

8220;And so when they laid down the temple8217;s foundations, the wise men of yore planted too the seed of its eventual destruction 8212; a pipal sapling. As long as Peace illumined their hearts, people would visit the temple and take pains to wash its walls and sweep its courts; and thus even as the pipal grew and received due veneration, its seeds were not allowed to take root and proliferate within the precincts. But when greed and violence came to rule the land, when thefires of intolerance and hatred burned people8217;s minds, none would care to wash the temple8217;s floors and walls, though hordes might flock thither with empty prayers and a surfeit of oblations! And then the pipal would wax, its seeds take root and put forth their strength, and in time the shrine would be destroyed.8221;

His murmur faded away. We sat there for a long time, unmoving, spellbound. After an eternity my friend spoke. 8220;Yes, yes,8221; he began huskily but broke off with a muffled exclamation.

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I looked up to find him halfway to his feet, peering about the courtyard. Of the old man there was not a sign.