The Man, the Monk, and the Monkey

Once upon a time, in South India, there lived a man with a restless ambition. He was not content with wealth, family, or even the respect he enjoyed in his town. He wanted something far greater—supernatural powers.

“What are supernatural powers?” he would boast to friends.

“To walk on water, to fly without wings, to walk on the ceiling when everyone else walks on the floor. To do what no one else can.”

It wasn’t about wisdom or peace. It was about circus tricks of the spirit.

The Search for Powers

So he went from guru to guru, knocking on doors, falling at feet, asking for mantras and secrets. But every teacher dismissed him.

Finally, someone whispered,

“South Indian gurus won’t give you such things. But far away, in Tibet, lives a monk—an old master who knows the secrets of every supernatural power. If you have the courage, go.”

At once, the man set out. From South India to Tibet, crossing plains, rivers, and finally the icy Himalayas. His body ached, but his ambition burned brighter than his hunger or fatigue.

A Strange Monastery

At last, he reached a Buddhist monastery nestled in snow.

But life here was unlike anything he had ever known.

In South India, hospitality meant: “A guest is God.” Step into any home, and before you could say no, a plate of steaming food would be in front of you.

Here, nobody even asked who he was.

Nobody asked him to eat.

Nobody asked him where he had come from.

Why? Because in their world, the questions “Who are you?” or “Where do you come from?” were too big, too sacred, to throw around lightly. Better silence than shallow answers.

So the man wandered. Hungry, uncertain, ignored. Days turned into weeks. Nobody spoke to him.

The Old Monk’s Test

Finally, after three weeks, the head monk summoned him.

“Why have you come?”

The man fell at his feet. “Master, I want supernatural powers. Please, teach me.”

The monk chuckled. “What will you do walking on water? After three days, a boat is better. Learn meditation instead—you will live a truly fruitful life.”

But the man shook his head stubbornly.

“Meditation? We have plenty of that in India. Didn’t Buddha himself come from India? No, Master, I want powers—nothing else.”

The monk sighed, but agreed.

“Very well. Tomorrow morning, take a dip in the river at 4 a.m., then come to me. I shall give you the secret.”

The Secret Mantras

The next morning, in the freezing Tibetan river, the man dipped his body. His skin turned blue, his teeth chattered, but his determination remained. He sat shivering before the monk.

The old master looked at him kindly and said:

“There are three sacred mantras. Repeat them thrice, and all supernatural powers will be yours. But there is only one condition—while chanting, you must not think of a monkey.”

The man’s eyes lit up. He bowed deeply, took the mantras—

Buddham Sharanam Gachhami

Dhammam Sharanam Gachhami

Sangham Sharanam Gachhami

—and rushed out, laughing.

“A monkey? What nonsense! In ten years I’ve not even seen a monkey. Why would I think of one? Foolish condition.”

The Monkey Arrives

He reached the Indian side of the Himalayas, bathed in the holy Ganga, and sat down to chant.

“Buddham Sharanam Gachhami…”

A monkey appeared in his mind.

“Dhammam Sharanam Gachhami…”

Another monkey, bigger this time.

By the third line, monkeys were everywhere—jumping, laughing, screaming, swinging.

The more he tried to push them away, the more they multiplied. Soon his entire mind was a circus of monkeys.

For days he struggled. He tried sitting, standing, twisting in yoga postures.

But no escape.

He couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep—monkeys in his head, monkeys in his dreams, monkeys even in the spaces between his breaths.

Finally, broken and exhausted, he returned to Tibet. He fell at the monk’s feet, crying:

“Master, I don’t want supernatural powers anymore. Just relieve me from these monkeys!”

The Nature of the Mind

The monk smiled gently.

“This is the nature of your mind. Whatever you say, ‘I don’t want,’ that is what will grow stronger. Whatever you try to suppress, will multiply. You cannot fight the mind head-on. You must understand it, steady it, and then it will become your friend.”

He continued:

“The human mind is the sharpest tool on this planet. But in unsteady hands, it cuts its owner. With awareness and steadiness, the same mind can be bliss, can be ecstasy, can be liberation.”

And so the man learned—the greatest power is not walking on water, nor flying in the sky. It is mastering the restless monkey within.