The Colour Orange

I wonder if it is the calm of their homes that they reflect, or if the residences mirror their inner peace. I don’t know if spaces that offer solitude feed off their soothing presence, or if their equanimity is a result of tranquil surrounds. In all probability, monks and their temples share a serenity that transcends the both of them. Either way, the fascination they have always induced has somehow never prompted explaining, till now that I try and put it down in words.

Thailand brought this fascination back with a gentle force that could only be its own. It seemed we never tired of pointing out to each other yet another monk on the street, or one shopping or one ona cellphone or one ( I did not believe this!) smoking. But tire we never did. Sometimes we just looked, sometimes we greeted them the traditional way with a reverence touched by schoolboy-ish anticipation of their response. Sometimes we shamelessly whipped out the camera at the first glimpse of orange, other times we chastened ourselves, feeling like we were rudely prying.

They are a part of Thai culture like little else can claim to be, their presence seems to define the country’s personality. A Thailand experience is moulded by their unobtrusive aura. In many ways Thailand is them, yet they are much more than Thailand. They seem to transcend their surroundings, not being shaped by what is around them but by something that is entirely its own. Which leaves me grateful to the country, but also to something more…which I haven’t much of an inkling of.