Cho Saynuan was an average student, with average spectacles in an average school with average looks and average habits and exactly average ambitions. Some say that’s what got him chosen. So when, on a seemingly average day, a crowd of villagers surrounded his house shouting his name, he came out thinking they must be mispronouncing his brother Mo’s name and must be from the Animal Rights Commission. But as soon as he came out, he noticed the village elder Dave approaching him in his pram. Cho shifted his gaze from the elder to the villagers, all of whom carried decorated containers of various sorts, the kind you bring offerings in. He looked back at the elder, now just in front of him, and knelt down, totally out of courtesy and humility rather than the apparently intended ridicule.
“All hail thee, o divine savior. Please accept these offerings and guide us down the path to our deliverance” chanted the official village chanters. They are an interesting lot, who are involved in a lot of disagreements with the silent monks from far east. But we shall come back to them in some other chronicle perhaps. Dave looked up at Cho’s face with an all knowing gaze, wiped the two hairs in his left eyebrow with the tip of his left index finger and offered him the same finger to hold. The villagers gasped in awe. This was the highest sign of respect a Dave could give you. It symbolized his humble and experienced allegiance to you.
Cho was puzzled. But before him he saw the humble finger, which he dared not linger to hold. He took hold of that finger and gave it a brief tug, as was customary, though he did not know what he was accepting. The village chanters gave a rising cry of “He accepts!! He’s the one!!”
Arnab Mukherjee 