By Maung Nyein Lu

 

F ROST is falling thicker. So, I must find another den fast. The warm hibernaculum in that cave is so packed with over a hundred of coiling, slimy narrow fellows, having no room for me. This bulky, spineless body swells with a fatty rodent inside, and the surface of the ground is rather slick. No choice. I have to do sidewinding lumberingly, throwing my head forward as my huge, unwieldy body follows, then throwing my head forward again. At some places, some wide scales on my belly grip the ground while the other scales push my long, sluggish body forward. Must find another den quick. Yet my movement is slow, as slow and cumbersome as a poor, preggy woman climbing up a hill.

The big, fat rat, my fav prey, is now giving me troubles. My sniffing forked tongue kept my keen senses alert, directing me to the dilapidated shed over there, and I found its hideout, and got the timid creature right away, with the first strike of head shot.

 

More frost is coming down. My mind slides fast, but my body twists and slithers rather slowly.

 

Frost fall signals a warning to the Serpentes like us, the time for so-called hibernation. But to tell you the truth, we don’t actually hibernate, but we’re just going through brumation period, that is, we become less active, sluggish and apathetic, and our metabolism extremely slows down.

 

This slimy, heavy body slithering over the thick frost, I’ve at last found a den, an old cave with a very narrow opening. More frost falls. I mustn’t hesitate a second at the entrance. Must go inside as fast as I can.

 

Here, inside, it’s safe. No frost, no wind. But the wet floor of the cave is icy cold, like a sheet of metal. Still feeling chill to the bone. Slowly I coil myself in a dark corner.

 

I regret I’ve got a heavy meal inside my tummy. I had no time to have it digested before the cooling started. Frost fell earlier than expected. Indeed, having a heavy meal before the frost falls is no good for me. I’m now seized with fear my metabolism wouldn’t be able to digest it anymore. Besides, a sudden cold snap has caught me. I must turn myself a dead, cold stone, and wait till a little warmth comes back to my icy veins.

 

(II) My yellow skin is rough and bristly, as if prickly thorns studded all over, displaying a diamond shaped pattern. (Some fellows have banded patterns, some blotched, but others have no identifying pattern at all.) And my tail rattles, when agitated. Some narrow fellows have shades of brown, gray and black to tones of rust, olive, cream or light pink. Cool, isn’t it? Yet scary enough.

 

How we narrow fellows hate the cold weather! Ya know, Nature doesn’t favour us: our scaly skin isn’t endowed with a coat of fur or thick hair to keep ourselves warm. Of course, the human skin is not that thick like the buffalo hide (Excuse me for this simile. Sorry.). But humans are damned clever, you know. A display of superintelligence? More intelligent means more cunning? They kill the rest of our animal kingdom, for example, they kill goats, and wear goat skin, put on beautiful coats of fur, make a fire and cuddle themselves by the fireplace. How nice!

 

By now, I can imagine—ya know, we ectothermic vertebrates also have the power of imagination—those humans must have cowered back indoors, warming their shivering hands by the fireside. Now they have confined themselves tight, like in times of pandemic. Homo sapiens in hibernation! Ha … Ha … And me, here, all alone, a coiling bundle. Same plight, huh? It’s time humans seriously reflected over their wretched plight, ya know. They have doggedly followed the seductive illusions of Greed the Demon, and destroyed the beauty and harmony of Nature. That’s too bad. Ironically, it’s only when the lockdown (God forbid it!) comes to our mother earth that, once again, the sky is blue and the rivers are pure.

 

Of course, is there anyone who doesn’t love to be out on nice sunny days after a long cold? We narrow fellows also enjoy cuddling ourselves in the warmth of the yellow sun of March or April, heads popping out. Imagine of a gorgeous rattlesnake like me, sunbathing on the fine sand, wearing sunglasses, like those half-naked, tanned bodies, sprawling on a sunny beach.

 

In fact, hibernation is sorta solitary confinement, isn’t it? I remember a story of a young man narrated by my mother when I was a wee little reptile.

 

“Son,” said my serpent Mom, “humans are so terrible. Keep that in mind. Once upon a time, there was a young man who was thrown into prison for no reason. Poor guy! With no fair trial, he was sentenced to his fourteen-summers solitary confinement in a small square cell! See, it’s sorta much long, long period of hibernation.

 

That young fellow began to rack his brains about how he could survive. Anyhow, he must have some company in his lonely cell.” Sounds interesting. My little glassy eyes sparkled, my tail rattling, agitated. “Then,” said my serpent Mom, “he noticed some crawling little creatures on the floor and on the wall. Little ants moving their front and back legs of one side and the middle leg of the other side together during one step. Wonderful! He, then, made friends with these tiny creatures, and happened to talk to them, like some people talk to their puppies and pussies, ya know.”

 

Wow! A smart guy! “Well,” my serpent Mom continued, “he also had two male and female spiders with him. He thought to himself, You must have a name. And he gave them names. He called the spider couple John and Mary, who, without much ado, finally got wedded.

 

The young prisoner played the role of pastor, and said to the spider bridegroom, “John, repeat after me. I, John, take thee, Mary be my wedded wife . . . to have and to hold ... from this day forward … for better or worse … blah, blah, blah… Ha … ha… What a wonderful world! So, that was the way he had survived those miserable years of solitude till he was set free on a new year day, thanks to the amnesty law.” “I see,” I replied, nodding my little serpent head.

 

“Son,” she said, “stay away from humans. Give a loud shake of your tail, and scare them away. Strike only if you’re forced to. We Serpentes are not civilized like Homo Sapiens, but we are not hostile. We just go our own way, ya know.” Yes, what my serpent Mom said was right. I must shun those two-legged creatures. As such a creature comes my way, my forked tongue restlessly senses the approaching Walking Danger.

 

Of course, many creatures in the animal kingdom have to protect their own territory. It is humans, adopting such a predator’s diabolical attitude, who always encroach, cut down the forests and set the forests aflame. Where on earth could we find space for our little hideouts? Nevermore. D’you know the awesome example of Robin Redbreasts? Of course, the poor chicks of these little birdies are what we narrow fellows like to devour. The little mother birds, as well as the father birds, are a bit smaller than a man’s fist, but I salute them for their courage, for strictly safeguarding their own nests, their territory.

 

As another bird is about to encroach his territory, the little robin puffs up his little, mighty scarlet chest, his head arched backwards, with wings outstretched. (Ya know, just like a male peacock spreading out his tail feathers and eyespots out on display to impress a female.) So, the undaunted, little robin scares away any intruder, big or small, until the last-ditch fight comes.

 

He gets into a fight_ only as the last resort. How about the most intelligent creatures of the animal kingdom?

 

They encroach, they rob things for some lame excuses, obsessed with greed. Yes, Greed has swallowed their heart and soul, and turned them into demons in disguise. Of course, they might boast about their mottos and ethics like “Man has his own boundary line; so does the Ogre”. But ya know, humans seldom practise what they preach. No wonder, there follow the endless wars of the civilized worlds!

 

(III)

 

Frost doesn’t cease. Sort of air frost. Like a wreath of white roses, it builds up, bit by bit, around the narrow opening of the cave I’ve now tucked myself in. I feel something wrong in my tummy. That big, dead rat, like a hard ball of solid metal inside, now gives me troubles! My muscles can’t crush its bones any more. I’m breathing hard.

 

The cold is cutting my veins. My frozen metabolism has slowed down too much. My vision blurs. Do I see a white pall flying in the air? Or is it a sheet of frost before my eyes? Now I regret. The food inside my body should have been digested before this frost disaster struck. It’s too late. Is it the irony of Life?

 

I kill and eat my prey, and now my dead prey is the call of Death. I know my last breath is coming_ A musical piece? The vibrations of a chanting?

 

 My heart misses a beat. I have no external ears, but the inner ears inside my head, attached to my jaw bones, can receive the vibrations of the sounds. Where does it come from? A Buddhist monk’s solemn words, wafting through the sharp, frosty air! How blissful! How lucky to listen to the golden words at this very moment!

 

“… Buddham saranam Gacchami” A pause. Unaware, I repeat after the words, in a hissing sound: “Buddham saranam Gacchami.” The silent cave echoes my faint utterance, the very first utterance ever chanted in my life! “Dhammam saranam Gacchami” A pause.

 

Unaware, I repeat: “Dhammam saranam Gacchami.” “Sangham saranam Gacchami” Unaware, I repeat: “Sangham saranam Gacchami.” The whole cave vibrates with my chanting.

 

How I feel liberated! How peaceful! I praise the life of humans! What a blessed life would it be for a human to have a golden chance like this to listen to the Golden Words! Then a strong blast of wind blows. I can’t hear anything.

 

After a long pause, I hear the vibrating words of the Dhamma once again. I take heed to what I hear. “… To make our mind suitable for meditation, one of the things we need to do is to reflect on death.

 

Life is very short, very soon we’ll be gone, considering our age here. For some, very soon, life will be over. If we have awareness and clarity before we die, we can reflect on what we have done in life…. A heavy frost interrupts, and the voice is blurred. I listen attentively. Now I hear the Golden Words once again. “… I wanted to die mindfully. I wanted to die meditating.

 

That was the only thing that gave me some peace of mind, something I could rely on, all the other things were not around me anymore… Now I think I must seize this moment, my last moment, to heed the Golden Words. “Shallow breath in, and out…” I am now taking a shallow breath in, and out.

 

“… Thoughts coming, going. Let your thoughts come and go… Be aware of your thoughts now coming, now going, be aware of your Vedanā or sensations rising, rising, now disappearing_”

 

Yes, I’m aware of the cold now rising, rising. And I’m aware of the pain rising. Pain rising, pain rising … “Shallow breath again, in and out…” Yes, I take a shallow breath in, and out from moment to moment.

 

How long have I been doing this mindful practice? A flash of a mental picture of the world in cheerful sunshine. I’m aware of the thought coming in, and going out. I’m aware of the cold now going, going. Pain rising now, pain going … This body is our vehicle for awakening… “Be mindful.

 

Shallow breath in, and out...” Now I see dazzling rays shining through the darkness. Yes, I’m aware of dazzling rays. In my mind’s eye, the blue flame of a yellow candle is now snuffed out.

 

Like a thin wisp of white smoke, my life now leaves this spineless burden. I can see my lifeless body down there from above. My old skin of Life is shed, and I’m now drifting, floating into a new life …