Chewy Kakkar’s eyes wake him from a deep sleep on the floor of his monastery in
India. Lying down, his wholesome apricot body highly regrets waking up for the red hot sun as its arms spread for an embrace. There is work to be done, and Chewy mentally prepares himself for the haul out of bed.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he begins to slowly rise from the floor as the numbness from his knees wake with a painful, burning throb. He is all too familiar with this feeling. Chewy feels it every morning before he wakes, and it’s one of the main reasons he regrets rising from his sleep. Gently rubbing his knee, he begins to drift into its dark, curved ridges.

“I didn’t mean to do it!”

“I don’t care! What’s done is done!” hollered Chewy’s mother. Chewy had gotten in trouble-again. This time however, it was not his fault. His dog had been chasing a mouse, and Chewy was actually trying to catch the mouse to keep his mother from becoming angry with him. The dog was a gazelle. When Chewy lost his attention for just a second, his dog had jumped over the couch and knocked over his mother’s favorite vase. When he heard the shattering of the silver vase on the auburn tile, he knew his life would soon be over.

He begged with choking agony, “Mom, please no! I’ll do anything but that, please!” but his devil of a mother was not hearing it.

“Come here and kneel on this rice!” she roared with a hint of pride, “and don’t get up until I come back!”

Chewy’s knees had turned into rubber by now, and he was prepared for the kneel. However, as his mother walked out the front door, he noticed his knees hurt a little bit more. He was too afraid to get up, even though his mother had shut the door behind her. Atop the rice, hours passed, and she did not come home.

Anger and hatred for his mother consumed Chewy. He hated her for placing this punishment upon him and for always making him feel like walking on egg shells in his own home. Kneeling there atop the concrete rice, he began to hate himself for not having the courage to stand up, even though she had left the house. Chewy decided that today would be the day he would stand up.

Lifting his right knee, Chewy brushed off the hard stinging rice, which had wedged itself between his skin, not his soul. As he attempted to lift his left leg, he heard a slow creaking coming from the front door.


The throbbing seemed to have stopped. This was usually from the morning rub, but today Chewy had a feeling it was from something else. Looking around his simplistic and placid monastery, Chewy smiled to himself. With this smile on his face, he proceeds to the golden Buddhist statue, kneels down, and begins to meditate.