Week 1 Storytelling: Thousands of Candles

My teacher said that behavior is what makes one a priest or an outcast. However, the world does not think like my teacher.

I was born near a muddy river that would flood each summer.  Although the whole earth had not been drowned since the great deluge of the first ancestors, our world ended each time that the water overtook our crops.  My family belonged to the caste outside of the castes. Each generation was destined for slavery. Our small plots of food were all we had. There was no opportunity to learn any different life. 

However, my mother had a spirit that was not made for such routine; she had hope.  One morning, she came to me and said, “Upali, now that you are grown, you can go out and find a trade. We need help.” Since there were not very many trades available to the people of my caste, I learned to cut hair. I worked hard. I mastered my trade and went on to become the barber to the princes.  I was overjoyed at the ability to support my family, but each day in the chambers of the privileged, aloof nobles made me yearn for the warmth of my own simple life and family.

One day, a traveling man – a former prince – came after being recommended for a haircut. My mother, hopeful for an opportunity for me, asked the man about my skill.  His only responses were critiques about the way I bowed and breathed.  She was despondent, but I had found a sense of peace from his guidance.  He recognized my attentiveness and my open mind. He respected my discipline, and without a word, showed me how to respect myself.  After my work was finished, the man gave me a journal and walked away.  I never saw him again.

The first page of the journal had the name of a man scrawled in the margins next to a simple phrase, “thousands of candles can be lit from a single one, and its life will not be shortened. Happiness never decreases by being shared.” Without knowing to whom the name would lead me, I went out in search of the new man.

After a long journey, I found the new man. He was a tutor to the wealthy. He winced at my dirt-covered clothes and ordered me away before I had a moment to introduce myself.  After all, the name of an outcast is of no consequence to a member of the elite. Silently, I laid the journal at his feet and walked away.  He looked down and stopped me.  His student was openly confused at his tutor’s actions and yelled out in protest.  However, the wise teacher silenced him by opening both the student’s palm and mine.

He placed a few coins in each of our hands and said, “Although I have not given you much, you must find a way to use it to fill this large, dark room. Go and buy something and return it to me.”

The wealthy student dashed out with a smile in the direction of his vast swathes of land. I stood motionless at the door. I had been given nearly one third of the money that the wealthy student had been given.  It was a cruel parallel that I was determined to overcome. My thoughts were muddled as I began to navigate the unfamiliar streets of the town.  The phrase in the journal consumed my awareness. So, I did the only thing that I could do: I bought a candle.

I knew that I had very little time to return back to the wise teacher after all of my wandering, so I sprinted through the back allies, guarding the delicate flame of the candle with my hand. I had almost reached the teacher’s home when I saw a small boy and his mother huddling together against the cold alley walls.  I flashed back to the many similar nights spent with my mother in the open fields. Without thinking, I broke off a small piece of my candle and lit in with the original flame. The mother’s eyes welled up with gratitude as she mouthed, “your kindness has made all the difference.”

As I traversed the streets, I came across an old man, a young couple, and a laborer, each in need of warmth or light.  Each time, I broke off another piece of my candle and ignited it with a smile.  When I finally arrived back to the teacher’s chambers, I found him speaking to his original student who had filled the room with enough straw to reach the ceiling. I recoiled at the disappointment that the teacher would soon have for me.  I only had a small stump of a candle.  This student had truly filled the room and had the resources to refill it each day. However, the teacher admonished his original pupil “You have filled the room, but only literally.  You have only brought it more darkness and sadness.”

After the pupil’s many servants, people of my own social standing, removed all of the hay, I placed my small candle in the center of the room.  Once lit, it illuminated the walls that were previously cold and daunting.  It was small, but it had helped many. “Teacher, I have filled the room with light.”

With a smile, the teacher whispered, “yes, you have filled it with the ways of wisdom which finds the path to good.” The next day, my education began – with the second page of the journal.

Image Information: Candle in Nepal, taken by Empower Generation, an organization that strives to eliminate electricity deficiencies in Nepal following the recent earthquakes

Author's Note:

This short storytelling is based on the Indian fable The Wise Man and His Two Pupils. In the fable, a teacher gives each of his two students a small amount of money and instructs them to buy something to fill the dark hall that they are in.  The first student, who was given three times the amount of money as the second student, filled the room with hay. However, the teacher remarked that the room had only been filled with more "gloom." The second student bought a candle and filled the room with light, which pleased the teacher.  The teacher applauded the second student for his wisdom.

The presence of the candle in the fable reminded me of one of my favorite translations of a quote by the Buddha, Siddhartha Gautama: "thousands of candles can be lit from a single one, and its life will not be shortened. Happiness never decreases by being shared.” This is a proverb that I strive to live by. You never know what an impact that a simple smile can have on another individual!

In addition to the message of the proverb, I integrated parts of the story of Upali, one of the Buddha's first disciples into the new plot as a starting point. Historically, Upali was an outcast by birth and met the Buddha when he came for a haircut.  Although I do not cover it much in the re-imagined plot, the Buddha's critiques of Upali led him to achieve the stages of meditation -- a central facet of the eightfold path of Buddhism. Additionally, I also alluded to Indian legends of the great flood, in particular from central and northeastern India.

It was so much fun to re-imagine this fable! I look forward to more storytelling soon!

Bibliography:

The Source Fable (Indian Fables, by P. V. Ramaswami Raju, 1887)
Flood Legend
Story of Upali
Buddha Quote and Interpretation