Sisyphus

“Heaven knows that I’m miserable now.”

28th of November

Leaning outside the window, Ethan tapped the accelerator as the vehicle
inched into the vacant space. “Here!” he cried triumphantly, proud that he
had been able to shave off fifteen minutes from the estimated time of
arrival. But his companion was uncharacteristically quiet and when went
to restate his excitement, he found his grandma dozing off, her chin tucked
into her chest. He gently shook her shoulder and was rewarded with a
sudden flicker of eyelids and a burst of Cantonese before she returned to
her siesta. He gently nudged her again, this time accompanied with a small
plead but her reaction was all the same; a brief jump into the present
window before returning to her slumped position. He sighed, rolled down
the windows and exited the car. The weather outside was magnificent and
high in the sky like a crown, stood the sun. Taking a deep breath, his skin
craved the warm embrace of the light as if his body were a battery, waiting
to be recharged. Circling the car till he arrived outside the passenger seat,
he suppressed the urge to knock on the glass, he could not bring himself to
wake her up; she was at peace, unbounded to the world. He drifted to the
hood of the car, thrusted his hands in his pockets and watched as the white
clouds melted like candy floss in the blue sky.

“Remember how to pray?” asked Jia between her sharp gasps of air. “Of
course, we’ve been here dozens of time,” he responded with a whimsical
smile. She nodded as she continued up the stairs, shaky step after shaky
step, unable to expend anymore energy on conversation. From behind them
came the rising ring of giggles and soon Ethan was forced to shield his
grandma as a cluster of children raced up the stairs. At last, she was able to
conquer the verticality with her walking stick and the pair was greeted by a
vista of oriental rooftops. Two large temples stood before them, built on
opposite sides of a courtyard. Both were fashioned in the Chinese tradition
with solemn red pillars holding up yellow walls and large doors dotted
with iron. Guarding the entrance stood two lions embalmed in cement; a
forgotten testament to a now forgotten world. As the pair came closer to
the entrance of the nearest temple, they heard the chanting of the monks
drifting from the hall, their low monotone ring pooled into a single
indistinguishable force which shook the air with its hollowness. They stood
there for a short while, spellbound by the melody which revibrated off the
walls. Out of nowhere, Jia’s body quivered as if a breeze had swept down
the corridor, she stirred and gave Ethan a light squeeze that woke him from
his daze. Without a word, she pointed at the entrance with her walking
stick and the pair tiptoed closer to have a peak at the monks. But within
seconds of arriving at the door as if they could feel intrusion of an
unwanted fly, all the monks fell silent, bowed and arose as if manipulated
by a silent puppeteer. They all filed out methodically, row by row, their
hands were clasped together and their faces exuding a gentle softness that
disguised their age. Ethan and Jia waited with their heads bowed till the sea
of orange and grey cladded monks had trickled away and then stepped into
the realm of the gods.

The hall was like a bubble, an impenetrable space in which every sound
was magnified by its echo against the porcelain floors and looming walls.
Lining the walls were statues of smaller deities, frozen in powerful stances
emblazoned with a stoic grin on their faces. But the most immediate
presence sat at the front of the hall and everything else was swallowed by
its grandeur. There were four gigantic statues, terrifying in its beauty,
beautiful in its terror. Seated in the centre was Guan Yin holding a willow
branch between her fingers, beside her was Siddhartha Gautama with both
palms resting upon his thighs, their skin was of metallic gold. Flanking
them were two Chinese gods, brandishing their weapons in fearful delight,
their brows creased with fury.

Whilst her grandson was enamoured by the splendour before them, Jia’s
head was bowed with concentration, her eyes darting between each fragile
step. Reaching the front of the hall, she gestured towards the prayer mats
and was gently lowered onto the cushions. “Pray with me?” she asked and
he answered by filling the vacant space beside her. They both bowed three
times in unison, their head and outstretched arms touching the floor and
then Jia broke into conversation with the statutes before her; she asked for
their supervision as Ethan entered adulthood, for a stable source of income
and for a wise heart to face any future adversity. He kept his eyes glued to
the floor, fearing that he would witness his grandma’s vulnerability if he
had even chanced a glance. She finished her prayer and the pair bowed in
unison again, all was quiet.

They knelt in silence. For minutes, Ethan was content to drift from thought
to thought, letting his breathing settle into a slow rhythm. But the allure of
an empty hall was too tempting and soon the public began to encroach on
their quiet grotto; their hisses and snappy movements cut into the serenity
of his mind. Looking around and understanding the futility of resistance, he
stood up and whispered “Grandma, I’m going to go to…” “Where?” she
asked, their eyes locked and momentarily he felt himself sinking into the
two warm pools of ink. He knew that she knew the answer and that her
question was simply an act of formality, a trivial dance of routine. “By
yourself?” she continued and he nodded, a small wave of disappointment
rose in her chest but sensing his iron resolve, she dropped her gaze and
gave her blessings.

A small crowd had fathered outside the entrance and as Ethan ducked and
weaved through the pool of people, he could taste the tangy flicker of
curiosity floating over the hurried whispers and sudden pats on the
forearm. As he found himself beyond the crowd, he peered behind and over
the forest of greying hair to find his grandma’s silhouette, hunched before
the statues. She was kneeling quietly, alone, beyond his reach as if an
invisible barrier had forever sealed her into the realm of the divine. He
wanted to call out to her, to see her shift around and to flash a reassuring
smile in his direction but as the congestion of people filtered through the
doorway, she was lost from sight.

It was smaller, much smaller and it had traded the majesty of volume for
personal comfort. No larger than a classroom, the walls were lined with
hundreds of photographs and in the middle of the chamber sat a meditating
Buddha. It was as if the architects had built the initial temple to channel the
incomprehensible, the infinite vastness of the cosmos and this chamber
served as a personal respite from those exact questions. Approaching the
statute, it was the look on the Buddha’s face which intrigued him, serenity?
It seemed so but his half closed eyes demanded more, almost if his gaze
was a personal invocation to Ethan. He stared at the golden statute for a
little longer, “How strange he must have felt during the moment of his
enlightenment; did he pity those that still clung onto the pain of their past?
Did his heart bleed for those still tormented by their regrets?”. Ethan
stepped back and shook his head, it was such a foreign set of beliefs, one
which threatened all the successes, pains and joys he had experienced with
an immovable question; “Why?” or even worse; “So?” He scoffed and
dismissed the ideas, sweeping his lingering questions back to the recesses
of his mind; “How can I be completely resigned to the spinning of the
universe, to embrace any path with a numbed embrace of acceptance? Is it
even possible?” Still pestered by the cheeky smile of the Buddha, he
slapped his thigh and the annoyed stares of those around him quickly
pushed aside the philosophical muses.

Moving away from the statute, Ethan turned his attention to the walls as he
sifted through the many faces frozen in black and white. The photographs
returned the stare, their haunting look, a plea for acknowledgement from
beyond the grave, that they had once walked the earth as one of flesh and
blood. Continuing to circle around the room, he found himself drawn to a
spot between two vases; it reached out to him, welcoming him as an old
acquaintance. Looking up, his foggy memory began to dissolve and soon he
was greeted by a host of familiar eyes that he had befriended in the past.
Sensing that he was close, he squinted in concentration and his eyes darted
from portrait to portrait until he took a sharp intake.

He found her, amidst the checked ocean of black and white, her pale skin,
red coat and short black hair immediately distinguished her from her older
company. Like the boy, her thin nose bridge tapered off to a pair of wide
nostrils and their faces narrowed to a sharp point. He maintained eye
contact for minutes as if looking away would render his memories of her to
slip from his mind. Lowering himself onto the mat, he noticed that his fists
had been clenched into fists as if his body longed for the distraction of
action to whisk him away from his thoughts. Taking deep breaths to cool
the fires of agitation, he bowed once, twice and then a third time, all whilst
his heart thumped against the bars of his ribcage. He remembered the last
time he had been here, in this exact position with his shoulder stiff, his
chest bent and his throat rattled by the nostalgia. He took one more bow,
this time he let his forehead touch the wooden floor and he held it there as
if he had hoped to transfer all the remorse, all the pain and all the regret
that had burned his soul into the darkness of the earth. Lifting his face to
the picture, he swallowed and began to speak.

“Mum, I’ve missed you, a lot.”