Why it never ends

Chapter 928 Giving

"Radical what?"

"Buddhism," Valeria repeated. "They are special monks."

Hesta frowned slightly: "...Is he really a monk?"

"Yes."

They both fell silent. In the distance, military police were setting up cordons at several locations where the Red Palm Sangha had stayed. Ambulances were coming from another road, taking the injured to the nearest hospital.

"I had read about them in the newspapers before coming to District 12... but before that they had been active in the mountains and suburbs," Valeria said. "I didn't expect to encounter them in Saint-Lome today..."

"It's strange that monks do this," Hesta murmured.

"I don't understand either."

"It's actually very easy to understand." said a strange voice.

Hesta and Valeria turned around at the same time. A table away from them sat an old woman. On her table was an empty coffee cup, and beside it were unopened biscuits and sugar bags. A thick hemp rope basket was placed at her feet, with bright green celery stalks leaning against the mouth of the basket, with a large piece of fresh and juicy leaves hanging down.

Hesta turned half sideways and put his left hand on the back of the chair: "What do you mean?"

"All things are impermanent, and all things that are tainted are suffering. What a monk pursues throughout his life is to free himself and all living beings from the suffering of the cycle of life and death... To do this, he must break through 'ignorance', get rid of the state of ignorance and get rid of his own stupidity.

"In the past, a Buddhist practitioner believed that if he could rely on his own enlightenment to extinguish the three evil fires of greed, anger and ignorance, he could be reborn in 'Nirvana without dwelling' and never fall into reincarnation again."

The old man looked at them and said, "But today, everything is different."

Hesta didn't quite understand: "What do you mean?"

"Think about it. You want to eliminate greed, anger and ignorance, but what if these karmas are caused by the entire social structure? What if it is the social system and public policies that have fostered greed, anger and ignorance? What if the so-called 'ignorance' has invaded the entire fabric of society - what should you do?

"Do you go back to the quiet room to continue meditation and asceticism? Or do you step out of the monastery and go to the streets to seek change?"

Valeria took a deep breath and said, "You mean, these monks are... promoting their own political ideas?"

"Yes," the old man replied, "participating in social activities is 'giving', and the time, sweat, and even life invested in this process is 'cultivation'. Because social liberation is as important as spiritual liberation. Without the former, the latter becomes a means of self-deception. The liberation it promises can only calm the mind of an individual, but can never bring freedom to the group... You just said that they are practitioners of 'radical Buddhism', but I don't think there is anything radical about it. When my friends and I talk about these monks, we use 'liberation Buddhism' to refer to their philosophy. I think this is more appropriate."

The carriage carrying the corpse of the gray-robed man passed by them, and the old woman silently made the sign of the cross on her chest. Hesta heard her sighing and whispering, as if she was praying for these dead young men.

Hesta waited in silence until the old man opened his eyes again.

"You're not from District 12, are you?" Hesta asked.

"I've only been here half a year," the old man replied.

"Are you here to see the Eternal Tree today?" The old man shook his head and raised his left hand: "I live here, and the upstairs is my home...Besides, why do we come here to see the Eternal Tree? It doesn't belong to us, and we shouldn't covet it."

The previously dispersed convoy lined up again on a street not far away, and the carriage that had been lost was also recovered by the police. The gendarmes found a huge tarpaulin and covered the tree trunks on each carriage. The armed military police stood on both sides of the convoy, ready for battle.

With a sharp whistle, the main road was quickly cleared and the crowd was driven to the sides of the road again.

The old woman turned her back to the street and reached out to press on the top of the round table several times. When she did this for the fourth time, Hesta realized that she wanted to stand up, so he immediately went over to lend a hand.

"Thank you, kind young man." The old man stood up slowly. "I have sat here too long today."

"Would you like me to help you carry the basket up?"

"If it's not too much trouble."

"No trouble." Hesta looked back at Valeria, "I'll go up there."

Valeria sat there, smiling and waving at her.

There are two floors of residential buildings above the tea restaurant, and the old man lives on the second floor. Hesta helped the old man walk up the dim wooden staircase. The dark green stairs and handrails here looked like some kind of solidified vines. The middle of each staircase was obviously sunken due to long-term trampling, and the green paint fell off, revealing the original wood color.

"Do you live alone?"

"Yes."

"Don't you have any other relatives?" Hesta asked. "Did you come to District 12 alone?"

"My daughter has returned to the Third District recently and will be back next week." The old man replied, "She doesn't like the city center, so she lives farther away..."

The old woman stopped in front of a black wooden door. She slowly took out a bunch of keys from the basket and searched through them one by one.

Hesta was watching from the side. It was not until the old man picked out a key from among many but hesitated to insert it into the keyhole that she realized that the old man did not seem to want to invite her in to sit down. But she was really curious about the old man's identity. Usually, going directly into a person's residence is the most direct and effective way to understand this person, not to mention that you can start a conversation with various objects...

"Ha..." Hesta smiled awkwardly, "I have to go."

"Go, child." The old man looked at her with a smile, "Thank you, you have a good heart."

Hesta took two steps back, turned around, and walked down several steps at a time. She stopped and paused at the corner: "Can I know your name?"

"Pacat," the old man answered. "Pacat Paudelaire."

"Okay," Hesta said with a smile, "I just arrived in District 12 not long ago, and I'm not very familiar with it. I won't stay in Saint-Lome for long, but if there is a chance, I hope to hear what you have to say about what happened here."

"There's nothing much to say," the old man opened the door and turned around. "Every bit of suffering that people living here endure comes from the exploitation and oppression of the upper class. It's no longer something that can be fought by meditation and asceticism... As long as this situation doesn't change, the shackles will always be on everyone's neck."