Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 4 - 7 2018 | Page 121

"Never heard of that place. Now listen, young man, I'm very busy here and I can't leave my post, so you'll
just have to figure out how to get there yourself. It's that direction," She jerked her head impatiently to her
right. "Sorry," she added after a split second and resumed her conversation on the phone.
"Thank you very much,” Jinpa bowed respectfully, trying to ignore the fact that the lady didn't sound sorry
at all.
Minutes later, after an embarrassing incident about not knowing how to use the Metro card, the young
monk was finally seated on the bus, next to a middle-aged woman who took one look at him and wrinkled
her nose in disdain. For the first time in his life, he felt relieved when no one attempted to make any
conversation with him.
Jinpa sighed as he looked out of the window at the bustling crowd. So far, his trip hadn't been as pleasant as
he expected, and the coldness and unfriendliness of the New Yorkers he had met troubled him.
Nevertheless, he tried not to let this upset him and reassured himself that not all the people in the outside
world were like this. As he tried to make himself comfortable, Jinpa quietly observed his fellow passengers.
Almost everyone was glued to their mobile devices and no one was talking. The bus was deathly silent
except for the tapping on phones and the occasionally rattle of the bus. It couldn't be more different than
Bhutan, where everyone knew each other and stopped to say hello to even strangers; there would always be
the sound of laughter and the sight of smiles whenever there were people. But not here in New York –
Jinpa noticed as he looked into the streets.
A couple smiled into the camera as they took a selfie, but the smile was quickly replaced by a tight-lipped
frown of the woman as she snatched the phone from the man. It didn't take a genius to figure out that she
wasn't pleased with the photo. A second later, they were taking another selfie, a forced grin plastered on
their faces. As the bus pulled away, the couple were already having an argument. It was as comical as it was
sad, thought Jinpa.
When he had finally arrived at the hotel, Jinpa quickly went up to his room and started practising his speech.
He had prepared something for the talk he was going to give later in the evening, but after the few hours he
had spent in the city, he suddenly had a lot to add. As he stared at the towering buildings that seemed to
stretch out for miles, he wondered why the city dwellers were so oblivious to the riches surrounding them,
and so engrossed with getting what they didn’t have. He wondered how many of them would actually take
the time to admire all the beauty around them. Money and fame. Do they really bring happiness?
After an hour of scribbling, Jinpa had finished putting together his speech. He stared at the words he had
written, unsure if they could convey what he wanted to say without being too boring or too other-worldly.
The talk was starting in fifteen minutes, and the monk headed out to the hotel lobby. Jinpa’s heart jumped
to his throat when he saw the long queue for his talk.
He had expected around thirty students, but lining outside the auditorium were about two hundred people,
and some of them were reporters.
Five minutes later, the young monk was clutching onto his paper for dear life, trying to steady his trembling
hands as a booming voice announced,
"Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce to you, Jinpa, a monk who has just travelled here from Bhutan, the
happiest country on earth! Jinpi will be talking about the key to finding true happiness as well as the lives of
people in Bhutan. Without further ado, let us welcome him onstage!"
There was a round of applause.
Jinpa took a deep breath and walked up the stage, leaving his piece of paper behind.
***
"I began by introducing myself, of course. I was surprised to see not just students, but also businessmen,
housewives and people from all walks of life attending my talk. A reporter asked me about our secret to