..续本文上一页h me, because the baby was still small and their father was an old man.

　　When evening came, the Chinese woman showed up, dressed in white, an umbrella in her hand and a bag over her shoulder. "I”m coming with you," she said. I tried to discourage her with frightening stories, but she answered bravely, "I”m not afraid of anything at all. All I ask is that you let me go with you."

　　So I said, "If I don”t eat, what will you do

　　"

　　"I won”t eat either," she answered.

　　"And what if I don”t even drink water

　　"

　　"I won”t either," she answered. "I”m willing to die if I have to." She continued, "I”ve been miserable because of my family for many years now. But as soon as I met you I felt at peace. Brave. Happy and free. Now I can even teach the Dhamma in your place."

　　To tell the truth, her Thai wasn”t very clear at all. So I turned and started quizzing her. Her reasonings and explanations were pure Dhamma. It was amazing. When she finished, all the lay people present — who had heard plenty of Dhamma in their time — raised their hands to their foreheads in respect. But I felt heavy at heart for her sake.

　　Finally I had to tell her that women couldn”t go with monks, and for the next few days I continued to instruct and console her. Ever since setting out from Chanthaburi — 31 days altogether — I had been suffering pains in my stomach every day, but as soon as this incident occurred they vanished.

　　I continued teaching her until she was willing to follow my instructions. Finally she agreed to return home. So I told her, "Don”t worry. Whenever I can find the time, I”ll be back to see you. I”m staying right nearby, in Khlawng Kung Forest Monastery." Up to that point she had had no idea where I was from, but as soon as I told her this, she seemed both pleased and content. So when we had reached an understanding, I returned as usual to Chanthaburi. The pains in my stomach were gone.

　　* * *

　　When the rains came again, I stayed and taught the people in Chanthaburi as before. During my years in Chanthaburi I would go off at the end of the rains each year and wander through the nearby provinces, such as Rayong, Chonburi, Prajinburi, Chachoengsao, and then would return to spend the rains in Chanthaburi. In 1939, though, I decided to travel through India and Burma, and so made all the necessary arrangements to get a passport. That November I left Chanthaburi for Bangkok, where I stayed at Wat Sra Pathum. I contacted people in the various government offices and the British Embassy, and they were all helpful in every way. Luang Prakawb Nitisan acted as my sponsor, contacting the embassy, guaranteeing my financial standing and my purity vis a vis the rules of the Sangha and the laws of the land. When everything was in line with all the necessary legal procedures and I had all my necessary papers, I left for Phitsanuloke. From there I headed for Sukhothai and then on to Tak. In Tak I stayed in a temple while the lay person with me went to buy plane tickets to Mae Sod. He didn”t succeed in getting the tickets, though, because all the flights were booked full. (On this trip I was accompanied by a follower named Nai Chin who, though a little retarded, was good at making himself useful.)

　　The next morning, after our meal, we set out on foot from Tak and crossed over Phaa Waw mountain. By the time we reached Mae Sod we had spent two nights sleeping on the trail. In Mae Sod we stayed in a Burmese temple named Jawng Tua Ya — i.e., Forest Temple. There were no monks there, though, only a Shan hilltribesman who knew Burmese. We stayed with him a little over a week until I had learned a fair amount of Burmese, and then went on.

　　As soon as we had crossed the Moei River and reached the town on the other side, a man of about 30 came running to welcome us. He invited us…

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