Chit Oo Nyo - A special gift to Samaritan

A bed of fragrant flowers spread out on the floor

It had risen to the surface from the depths of the ocean. It stretched out its body and shook off the wet, sticky water droplets. Its long, smooth, green scales rose and rolled in waves from its body.

Tired, exhausted, oh... not yet.

Fatigue is a physical ailment. Just breathe in the fresh, clean air that blows along the vast ocean shore. Breathe in the salty air and you will be able to relieve fatigue and exhaustion.

What I am feeling now is not a physical fatigue, but a mental fatigue, a fatigue of the heart.

And the beauty of young, tender flesh and blood.

I looked down at the dark green, brown, and blue ocean waters again.

Deep beneath the surface of this water, they were living in great happiness and prosperity. Their happiness struck me as a heartbreak. In the midst of all their happiness, I was left alone, suffering the burning pain of loneliness.

They have their beloved husbands and wives.

For her, whose husband had died, she had to accept her widowhood with bitter bitterness. Then the palace under the ocean became a hell for her. She had to live a lonely life in the cool, fresh water under the palace.

Unable to bear the burning of loneliness anymore, he abandoned the palace under the ocean. He abandoned not only his place but also his past. The palace, the past, his loneliness, and all the other dragons of his generation were left behind.

On the shore of the ocean, on the flat, still watery plain, I found footprints. The shallow water and sand still hold the footprints in their place. The waves have not yet erased them.

The footprints are small and shallow. I know they were left by fat paws. And the footprints are wide. The big toes and toes are clearly visible. They were walking. They must have been walking slowly.

The slightest ripples in my heart.

I don't know if I smiled on the beach.

Because, with my instinctive awareness, I realized that the owner of these footprints was a man.

I followed the footsteps closely. From the sandy beach to the rocky outcrops. From there to the high ridge. From there to the pine forest. From there to the inner forest. .

It is a kind of thrill to follow in the footsteps of a man after knowing that he is the one who follows him. Where will you find him at the end of the journey? Where will the owner of the footsteps live at the end of the journey? The owner of the footsteps at the end of the journey.

Amidst the groves of kaffir lime trees, under the shade of the dark trees, in the middle of a small open field surrounded by gardens, I found a small and beautiful monastery.

The ground around the school is flat and flat. The gate is now open.

There is a footstool and a water pot in front. A shabby cloth is spread on the railing of the veranda. It is certain that the owner of the footprint must be a resident of this monastery. Now there is no owner. Oh ..... the monastery is shabby, he ..... he is a hermit.

My once happy mood turned sour.

A hermit then delights in meditation -

The sound of the waves crashing on the ocean shore was heard again. The rustling of leaves was heard from the forest.

With a firm heart, he slowly approached the monastery. He was sure that the owner was not there. He must have gone into the forest to pick fruit.

He opened the closed door and looked inside. A bamboo mat, a wooden pillow, some food, a water pot and a water spout, that's all. It was clear. There was only one person in this monastery. But was he an old hermit, a young hermit, an ugly one, a handsome one...

The pain of loneliness is overwhelming.

I no longer try to suppress my desire to know.

I decided. I was going to investigate whether he was a monk, a hermit because of his faith, or for some other reason. It was not difficult to investigate, and the natural intelligence of women was awakened.

A bed made of rough bamboo mats and wooden pillows will be transformed into a delightful place. It will be filled with fragrance, a soft touch, and a beautiful appearance. If the hermit is a man of faith and free from sensual pleasures, he will ignore the place he has created. He will avoid it.

If he is happy in the world he has created, he is not a man of faith and has not yet freed himself from sensual pleasures. Then his life as a lonely widow is also -

I will return to the ocean. I will return to the palace under the ocean. I will bring back the fragrance of the gardens of the gods from the land of the dragons. Then I will spread flowers and incense on this bed.

I must complete all these tasks before the owner of the shrine returns. Quickly return to the palace under the ocean...

In fact, he was called a hermit only because he wore the robes of a hermit. His height, complexion, and features were all unlike those of a hermit who enjoyed the forest. He was still young, yet his features were still clear. Under the rough bark robes, his flesh was a rich yellow. Under the turban, his face was radiant with the vitality of a young man.

He had none of the wild,

The young hermit removed the fruits hanging from each side of the yoke, placed them on a shelf, and then hung the yoke on the wall of the monastery. Then, washing his feet on the footstool, he climbed the bamboo ladder to enter the monastery.

In that moment, he sensed and saw his body changing shape, along with the unique scent of flowers.

The fragrance of flowers wafted in a wonderful way. There were also colorful flowers scattered around the room. Around the hard wooden headboard, golden flowers were clustered in clusters. And along the ceiling, fine powders were scattered.

He touched the powder with his fingers. It felt so fine. He knew it was incense powder.

Amidst the sweet and sour scents, he seemed to be dreaming. He felt the flowers embracing him. Then, of their own accord, he threw himself down on the flower bed. His eyes closed involuntarily. The young hermit was lost in the concentration of the fragrance and the phantasmagoria. He did not even think about how these fragrant flowers had reached his monastery.

Soon, the young hermit fell asleep happily on the flower bed.

Therefore, he no longer noticed the eyes silently watching from between the school robes.

The one who had been watching silently slowly turned his face away from hers and smiled broadly.

The third day.

The young hermit closed the monastery door and entered the forest. However, he did not go deeper into the forest, but turned back the way he had come. Then he lay down quietly in the thicket of the forest, where the monastery was visible.

The first day he slept soundly on the flower bed. The next morning he went out to look for fruit. When he returned in the evening, he found a new flower bed. It was not the same bed he had slept on the night before. Instead of the faded flower bed, he saw fresh flowers. Someone had replaced the old flowers with new ones, and his bed had been made with new flowers.

Then, on the third day, he pretended to leave the monastery and quietly turned back, watching the person who sowed the flowers. Whoever came on the second day must come on the third day as well.

The young hermit took a position behind a rock near a bush, looking at the monastery with unblinking eyes.

The owner of the monastery, although a hermit, was not a devotee of the Buddha. After learning that he was a man who enjoyed the senses of the Gandhara and the Photthava, he created a second experiment to make sure that he would be more successful. The second experiment was also successful. It was more certain that the young, handsome hermit was still fascinated by sensual pleasures.

So on the third day, for the third time, she brought flowers that were even more beautiful and fragrant than the two previous ones. Now the young hermit had gone out. She would again be captivated by the most beautiful and fragrant flowers in the land of the gods and dragons. She entered the monastery.

She knew it after the first step into the monastery. With a sudden awakening, she sensed that she was not alone in this monastery, that someone else had arrived.

She saw him as she turned around.

Their eyes are drawn to each other.

Even though they had never met, they had long, familiar glances that had been forming over the years.

"Who are you?"

"I am a dragon"

The questions and answers are more complex.

His gaze took in her entire body in one glance. She welcomed his gaze, her eyes wide open, her gaze unblinking.

"Do you have a guardian?"

"There used to be. But he's dead, I

"Widow"

The question asked of Lorin and the perfect answer came out. A faint smile appeared on her face, and a question emerged from between her moist lips.

"Where are you, sir?"

"I am Prince Brahmadatta, son of the King of Varanasi. Leave me alone. If you are a Naga, why did you leave the Naga land and come here?"

The scent of flowers on the monk's bed drifted in. The sweet, fragrant air surrounded them both.

"My lord... in the land of dragons, other dragons are happily living with their lovers and husbands. Their happiness pierces me like thorns. That is why I have left the land of dragons forever. I have set out to find a sacred embrace for myself."

Her story is complete. She tells her story. Her father, the king, who feared that she would become more powerful than him after she was entrusted with the throne, banished her from the country. She went out alone, built a monastery on the shore of the ocean, and lived in the wilderness as a hermit.

"I admit to myself that I am not a saddha-pavvajita hermit."

He concluded with those words.

Without consulting, they both sat side by side on the mattress.

They both decided to move forward with mutual support and unity.