"Great Prince," the servant inquired, "Having been bathed and dressed and fed, what is your wish for today?"
"I wish to drive down the road in my chariot, Amala."
"Yes, o Great One," Amala said, flicking a finger to regain a servant's attention, lest the Prince's steps take him out from underneath the constant parasol which shielded him from both the baleful hot rays of the sun and the wet drops of the rain -- sometimes both. A few more finger motions had another servant dashing off to make certain that the charioteer was ready and had kept the chariot ready and waiting just in case that was the whim of the Prince. A few more finger motions had other servants dashing down the roads, clearing out anyone whose countenance was not pleasant to look upon, lest the Prince's day be spoiled by a possibly ugly face, and informing those who were moved that the penalty for letting the Prince see them was a simple one, only death.
The Prince ignored the comings and goings of the transient servants, just as he always did. Their ephemeral nature bothered him not for that was the way of servants. Arriving at the stable, which was swept clean and perfumed at least every hour, he stepped into the waiting grand chariot, sized for six or seven men, and the driver immediately flicked the reins.
This was one of the Prince's favorite pastimes. While the flowers and trees at the palace were beautiful, they were only changed every month or two as new ones were replanted again, and driving into the countryside allowed him to see new sights. The marigolds which grew along each road, with the bougainvillea as a backdrop mixed in tea bushes and the occasional peach and fig tree, which had been planted so that whenever the Prince desired a snack one would be near at hand. As they rode along the Prince suddenly said, "Stop."
The charioteer immediately brought the horses to a stop and the Prince stepped out to admire a particular twist of a shrub which had caught his eye. From a few steps away, watching the Prince and his primary handler, Amala made note of the arrangement of plants, directing a runner to take note and return so that the particular positioning of branches could be immediately replicated in other shrubs around the palace. Suddenly the Prince gasped and pushed his way into the shrub. "What, what is the matter with his fellow," he asked, pointing at a man who had been lying within the shrub for shelter. "His face is folded like a small lotus, but why has it not opened in the sun?"
"Why, what's that Baalak," came a querulous voice from inside the shrub. These are just wrinkles. They're what happens to all of our faces when we get old."
"Bhosdike," Amal said in shock, "How was this man missed?"
"Ah," the man said, a cunning look in his eyes, "You..." his voice trailed off as a series of coughs racked his chest, "You wanted the road clear of people like me, but I don't care, go ahead and kill me, I'm old and about to die anyway. I'm too tired to go walk a few miles to be out of sight of the road."
"Y-y-your Majesty," Amal stuttered, "We must return to the palace, your father has something which requires your presence." A few finger commands and the Prince's handlers took him by the arm, turned him about and stepped up into the chariot. As soon as they had stepped in, another finger command had the driver lashing the horses into a gallop back towards the palace. It was lucky that the Prince was so good natured, he had never protested being moved like that. Perhaps that was because such events happened to rarely, the last one happening a full decade before when the Prince was but 19.
"What did he mean," the Prince said, turning and directing his question to the charioteer, "We get old? Will all your faces look that way?"
"I suppose so," the charioteer said, his mind on the road, painfully aware that if he hit a rut wrong and caused a hair on the Prince's head to be upset, the punishment would be death, and thus not really paying attention to the conversation or what he was saying, "If we don't die on this road first."
"What is," the Prince asked as they swooped into the clean and perfumed stables, and the chariot was brought to a halt, "die?"
The charioteer realized then what he said and his face dropped. Amal quickly stepped in, "Great Prince Gautama, if I might draw your attention to this bush, that arrangement which you so admired today, I believe it is also present here..." The Prince docilely followed Amal to admire the bush as the charioteer was quietly hauled off to face a punishment, the only punishment. The Prince scarcely even noticed, there were always different servants doing different servant things, much as the birds of the sky flew about while doing their own bird things.
That evening the Prince requested silence while he slept. "The sound of the tamboura is pleasant, but tonight I wish silence. I wish to not even hear the sound of a distant man breathing." As usual, his wish was their command and all servants drew far enough away that, no matter how sound carried on the still air, he would not even hear the sound of a breath. After lying there for an hour, knowing that the servants had withdrawn, the Prince did something that he had never done before. He threw a robe about himself, a cloth around his head, and snuck off.
As he stepped outside the palace, a skinny hand whipped out and caught him b the arm. "Mukta," a voice came from the darkness, "It is I, Aalam. Are you ready?"
"Yes, yes I am," the Prince said, making a swift decision to be this Mukta person that the other thought of him as.
"Very well, Mukta, let us go."
"Aalam," the Prince said thoughtfully, "What is your thought on when we die?"
"Well, we'll all get old, right? Old and wrinkly and eventually we'll die, stop living, be buried in the ground and the worms will eat us. But before that can happen, we'll live a long and happy life, especially tagging along after the Great Prince. Even the scraps from his morning breakfast table are better than most men have at their feast tables, right?"
"Then we shall all die and be buried? We shall cease functioning?"
"Of course, you sardar, after a while, thirty years, seventy years, who knows, everyone dies. You're so morbid this evening."
"Then this can happen as soon as only thirty years after birth," the Prince said.
"Well, some people die as babies, it could happen any time, but hopefully not until we've dandled babies on our own knees, as well as the baby's mother, " Aalam joyfully called out, as they finally finished passing out of the palace proper and entered the rougher streets of town. "That man, for instance, he's going to die soon."
The Prince looked at where Aalam had pointed and saw the same man lying there that he'd seen in the shrub earlier. "I shall ask him if..."
"Oh no you don't," Aalam said, grabbing his arm once more and steering him away. "He's diseased, if you get too close you might get it too, then you'll die."
"I could die if I get close to him?"
"Oh, you are a sardar tonight, of course. That's why nobody can help him. If we help him, we might get what he has and then we'd die too."
"Then disease is passed along merely by being near. Does being near always bring disease?"
"Well, it's up to the Gods, you know. If it's your time to meet Yama, then it's your time to meet Yama. I suppose it depends on whether you follow the way of the cat and Yama picks you up by the scruff and takes you or whether you follow the way of the monkey and you meet Yama by not hanging on tightly enough to your destiny and falling off.
"There may or may not be choice involved, but it is ultimately up to the Gods," the Prince mused aloud.
"Oh, I hope you aren't still acting this weird when you meet with your Aakaanksha tonight, Mukta, she will have something to say about it, and something to say to me as well!" Taking the Prince by the arm once more, Aalam urged them onward, through twisting streets and dark allies until the Prince stumbled upon something, falling onto the street. He'd never fallen on cobblestones before. Always before he had been on a soft surface, or there had been a servant ready to throw himself underneath and catch him in the fall. The sudden bloom of pain in his right knee was something that he had literally never felt before.
"Aaah!" He cried out in short sharp panting cries as Aalam tried to put his hand over the Prince's mouth. "Be quiet, Mukta, they will hear you and then the fun will be up." The Prince tried to get his breathing under control as tears leaked out of his tightly-shut eyelids. After a moment he shrugged off Aalam's hands and opened his eyes, only to see a decaying body in the gutter between two ragged houses.
"What," he quietly hissed through gritted teeth, "What is that?"
"Oh, old man Channar, why we poked him with a stick yesterday and his bloated body burst, don't you remember?"
"But how does a man turn into that?"
"Oh, you know, after you die, your body decays. You become worm food and animals feast on you just as all animals feast on each other. Suffering is the way of life and there is nothing that will overcome it. Now, on to your Aakaanksha!"
"Is there no other way," said the Prince, starting to quietly sob as his new friend led them down yet more twisting passages, even dirtier than before.
"No, there is no other way," said Aalam, just as the Prince pulled his arm away and started running before suddenly stopping short.
"Aalam," he said quietly as Aalam caught up, "I found another one, another dead body."
"Dead," the seated figure inquired, raising up his head. "Baalak, I am no more dead than you."
The Prince started in shock as the figure spoke. "But you are old," he said. "You have many of those wrinkles and I can see dirt on you and the night air is cool yet you have but a single cloth around your loins."
"Yes," the man said, "But I am content. I lived my life. I was a boy, I was a man, I was a father, I was a soldier, I was a farmer, I was a grandfather, and now I am preparing for my rebirth."
"What," the Prince said, as though a bolt of lightning had just struck his brain, "Rebirth? Can a man then reenter his mother's womb?"
The man laughed at the concept, unfolding his legs then refolding them back into a lotus position but this time with the other leg on top. "No, for we are all reborn after death into that which is most fitting. A man who does not live his life well may come back as a lowly animal, and a man who lives a good life may come back as a priest by following his dharma."
A smile burst onto the Prince's face as he realized that man's destiny was not simply to live, to die, and then to rot forever, man had a glorious eternal destiny and the way life is lived now will always affect a man in the future, even if he were to die. He looked over at Aalam and said, "I know you now. You are the shadow that I oft perceived dimly but never really saw."
Aalam put his hands together and bowed deeply. "With pride. I am Linga, Yoni, Vishnu, I am Kali. I'm Evil. I'm death and corruption. I am Aalam, the world. And now you have met Aakaanksha, your desire."
The Prince nodded. "You are right, I have seen much today. We need you, life without you, now that I know you. I have seen much today and you are needed in the world." He paused, took off the fine cloth that had wrapped around his head then laid it into the old man's begging bowl. He looked at it for a moment, then stepped out of the cloth he was wearing so that he had only one cloth about his own loins and placed it before the old man. "I am not old yet and I see by your hairs that the night is chill for you. My father wishes me to travel to another palace tomorrow as the seasons change, so you will need this."
He turned and started walking back to the palace as Aalam turned into smoke and followed, leaving an open-mouthed old man who blinked a few times then gathered up the clothing, stood up and started walking off. He was ready to die, but his daughter's family would appreciate the clothing more than he would.
"Mukta..." Aalam said, turning back into a human and dogging the Prince's heals.
"Thank you for opening my eyes this evening, but that is not my name," the Prince said. "My name is Siddhārtha."
"But, my pearl," Aalam pouted, before Siddhārtha cut him off again.
"Again, I thank you. I know you -- having opened my eyes you will only lead me down improper paths. And so I bid you good day."
Aalam stopped and as Siddhārtha walked on alone, Aalam began laughing to himself then called out to the departing prince, "I am the world! How do you think you can escape the world?"
That is the question, Siddhārtha thought to himself. How may a man escape the world? His quick steps back to his home slowed and he paused before the front gates just as a man was thrown out in front of him.
"You shall thank me for this mercy," Amala said from behind the bars, "It is only because your sister is my wife that I halted your execution. But you must never return. If the king were to discover that you still live, all of our lives would be forfeit." With that he hurried back into the palace and Siddhārtha came forward from the shadows into the bare courtyard and helped the man to his feet.
"Thank you, thank for your kindness," the man mumbled, "Although I cannot repay it. You likely heard, I am one of those who caused a shadow to pass in the life of our Prince and the Kind has therefore caused my life to be forfeit. I am Channa, and I was the charioteer for the Prince. Tell me your name and if it is within my power to do so, I shall repay your kindness from whatever land I settle in."
"I, said the Prince, "Am Siddhārtha Gautama."
Channar froze and peered into the face of the near-naked man in front of him. Channar's face paled and his throat bobbed up and down nervously, "You, you are, but how, why, like this? I had hoped for a quick death if I were caught, but with you, like this, out here, I shall die the slowest death imaginable!" His face screwed up into that of one contemplating the future of ultimate suffering as he gripped Siddhārtha's shoulder's tightly.
"No," the Prince said, making a swift decision. "Is this what has happened to every servant that at some point I never saw around me again? Have they all died by command of my father?"
"Yes," Channa answered slowly and haltlingly, "Every one, my Prince."
"Very well, then," the Prince said, having made up his mind, "Has Kanthaka, my favorite horse, rested from pulling the chariot today?"
"Yes," Channa said, not knowing where the Prince was going with this line of thought.
"Then I shall return to the palace, bring him out, and we shall make our way to another land, where my father has no power."
"My Prince, oh Great One, do not do this, I beg of you. Return to your life and I shall flee and none shall ever need to know about this."
"Nonsense, Channa, for if we are discovered and I am with you, they shall not harm a hair on your head. Now come, we must take Kanthaka."
And so began the long journey of Siddhārtha Gautama, he whom later generations would come to know as the enlightened one of enlightened ones, the Buddha of Buddhas, or simply The Buddha.
((That was a little fun, imagining what sorts of things Gautama might have seen in his daily life. It looked like peaches were being introduced in India around the same time that Gautama was becoming the Buddha. Since his regular life lacked for nothing, I thought that this "exotic" fruit might have been well known to him.))