Faithful to Buddha, Faithful to You Chapter 27

Chapter 27: Water Splas.h.i.+ng Day

On the last day of the Su Mu Zhe Festival, Pusysdeva no longer has to crouch next to my bed and yell at me to get up. My dream of watching the sunrise with Rajiva has already vanished at the sound of the suona* and laughter ringing in the air.
* double-reeded horn, a Chinese wind instrument

“Ai Qing, wake up! I have never seen any girls who like to sleep in as much as you do. Today is the most exciting day of the festival.”

I make a grunting noise. My eyes remain closed as I try to savour the loss of a sweet dream. Only in dreams can Rajiva and I can walk hand-in-hand without any fear…

“If you don’t get up, I’m going to lift you up myself!”

I jerk upright immediately and run off to the washroom.

We head into the streets wearing masks. One step out of the gate and my eyes turn wide at the scene before me: the street is full of water puddles, everyone’s clothes are completely soaked through, and yet n.o.body seems to mind.

“This is…”

“Come along, and you will see how exciting this last day is!”

The sound of music reverberates from a corner of the street. Pusysdeva grabs my hand and pulls me to that area.

A pulling cart is slowly rolling forward, carrying a couple of suona players and a large barrel of water. Two young men are currently scooping out the water and splas.h.i.+ng it at people nearby, yelling: “May luck flow in and disasters flow out in the new year!”

Every house on the street has all their doors and windows wide open. A large bucket of water is placed in front of each, and there are some homeowners who are also splas.h.i.+ng water back at the cart. It is hard to see the faces of the people being drenched with water since they are all wearing masks, but I can clearly hear their bright laughter so they must find this very refres.h.i.+ng. They make me even more excited, reminding me that I am witnessing the water splas.h.i.+ng festival from 1,650 years ago!

The playboy manages to avoid a scoop of water, but I receive it in full, leaving my skirt soaked through.

“Come, Ai Qing.” Pusysdeva grabs my hand, eyes bright and eager. “Let’s splash water!”

He drags me back to the residence of the State Preceptor. A horse-pulling cart is already set up at the center of the courtyard, nicely decorated, and is currently carrying a barrel of water on top. Pusysdeva arranges for a young man to steer the cart and two people to play the suona. He then lifts me up on the cart and jumps up himself in one splendid move. A water scoop is pushed into my hand. He then turns around and tells the driver: “Let’s go!” The cart gets rolling and the suona begins to sound as we move from street to street, submerging ourselves quite literally in the water splas.h.i.+ng activity and that cheerful atmosphere.

I once visited Thailand during their new year [April 13 in Gregorian calendar], which is called Songkran, also known as the Water Splas.h.i.+ng Festival. On the streets of Bangkok, everyone was armed with a water gun as parade trucks begun their procession. When the music reached its high notes, young men and women would yell out in tune, scoop out water from the large plastic buckets placed on the trucks and splash at people nearby.