seek for the things that will bring true happiness. To know all the world, I just need to learn about myself.”
I nodded.
Mr. Kadam interjected, “As you are aware, we have come to seek the wisdom of the Ocean Teacher. We have a task to perform, and we ask for your guidance.”
The monk pushed back the sleeves of his robe and stood. “Then come. Let us adjourn to a different room that offers more privacy.” He stood up carefully with the support of two monks who quickly maneuvered to walk beside him, but the Ocean Teacher, though slow, walked without assistance.
“You said you taught two of the Dalai Lamas, so that means you must be—”
“One hundred and fifteen.”
“What?” I gasped.
“I am one hundred and fifteen years old and proud of it.”
“I have never met someone who lived that long.” I quickly realized that I indeed knew three men who had lived that long and looked at Mr. Kadam who smiled and winked at me.
The Ocean Teacher didn’t notice my strange expression as he went on, “If a man wishes to do a thing and has enough passion to find a way . . . he will achieve it. I wished to live a long life.”
Mr. Kadam stared thoughtfully at the monk for a moment, and said, “I am older than I seem as well. I am humbled by you, sir.”
The Ocean Teacher turned and clasped Mr. Kadam’s hand. His eyes twinkled with mirth. “It’s being around monks and monasteries that does that. It keeps me humble too.”
The two men laughed. We followed him through winding gray corridors to a large room with a smooth stone floor and a large polished desk. He indicated we should sit as we passed a comfortable lounging area. We all sank into soft upholstered chairs as the Ocean Teacher pulled up a plain wooden chair that had been hidden behind his desk and sat to talk with us.
When I asked if he would prefer a more comfortable chair, he replied, “The more uncomfortable my chair is, the more likely I will get up and keep busy doing things that need doing.”
Mr. Kadam nodded and began, “Thank you for agreeing to meet with us.”
The monk grinned. “I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “I must admit, I’ve been curious to know if the tiger’s quest would happen in this lifetime. Now that I think of it, I was born near the city of Taktser, which, translated, means ‘roaring tiger.’ Perhaps it was my destiny all along to be the one to meet those who are to journey on this quest.”
Mr. Kadam asked excitedly, “You know of our quest?”
“Yes. From before the time of the first Dalai Lama, the story of two tigers has been handed down in secret. The strange medallion is the key. When this young man said that he saw two tigers, one black and one white, we knew you were likely the right ones. Others have seen the cats and often identify the white tiger, but no one has identified the black cat as a tiger, and certainly no one has spoken of the line down the middle being linked to the divine weaver. That’s how we knew it was you.”
I ventured, “So you can help us then?”
“Oh, most definitely, but first, I have one request of you.”
Mr. Kadam smiled magnanimously. “Of course, what may we do for you?”
“Can you tell me about the tigers? I know of the place you seek and how to advise you, but . . . the tigers were never explained, and their place in the quest was held in deepest secret. Is this something you know of?”
Kishan, Mr. Kadam, and I looked at each other for a moment. Kishan raised an eyebrow when Mr. Kadam slightly nodded.
Mr. Kadam asked, “Is this room secure?”
“Yes, of course.”
Mr. Kadam and I both turned to Kishan. He shrugged his brawny shoulders, stood up, and morphed into his tiger form. The black tiger blinked his golden eyes at the monk and growled softly then sat on the floor beside me. I leaned over to scratch his sooty ears.
The Ocean Teacher sat back in the chair with surprise. Then he rubbed his bald head and laughed with glee. “Thank you for trusting me with this amazing gift!”
Kishan changed back into a man and sat down in the chair again. “I wouldn’t exactly call it a gift.”