So, this dingy, smelly, dogflea infested, eatery was where the greatest Western minds gathered to argue about maya?

I have walked all the way from the forests south of Trincomalee to witness this absurdity. So mused the monk. His green refuge of silence now a distant and indistinct memory.

With little bits of text on little bits of parchment, were they going to discover the secrets of the universe? They appeared confident, or so it seemed, the old man was now declaiming on the lack of suggestions to his questions.

The monk stood. He was diminutive, about 50 and with a wisp of graying beard that swayed gently below his chin. No one even turned to look.

“There is nothing strange about invisibility, it is the natural corollary of visibility, is it not?”… the silence was sudden. The old man looked discomfited. He blustered “what do you mean, is it not magic?”. “No indeed, I can show you that disappearing is as easy as appearing, for we see what is there only if what is there can bend light. If light passes through then we are blind even though we see. Seeing but not seeing, is that not something that the same master said?”,

They were trapped in the thought for it was unsettling, profound, and when they looked up at the monk, behold he was gone.

Live to serve : Serve to live