Vedantic Tales: The Discipleship of
Sri Nag , The Cobra

One spring day Sri Nag, Uma, and the three youngsters lay stretched full length in the early morning sun, imbibing its sacred Prana. Suddenly Sri Nag was aware of a vibration in the earth footsteps coming from the direction of the village. Anger flamed through him.

Go inside, my dear, he commanded his wife. And obediently Uma slid over the threshold of the temple, the children following her.

Sri Nag coiled his body like a steel spring; he raised up his fore body stiff and erect as a staff, spread his mighty hood, and flicked his long black tongue to taste the air and detect what manner of fool this intruder might be. He expected to be assaulted by the smell of fear, the foul odour of panic, which he ordinarily encountered under such circumstances. Invariably, he would respond to that stench by striking at its source. To so act required no deliberation; it was a family tradition, stemming back beyond memory and held inviolate in his very blood.

But today, to his astonishment, the familiar odour was not there; not the slightest trace of fear assailed his senses; instead, he sensed an unusual fragrance. Nevertheless. Sri Nag maintained his threatening stance, alert.

The intruder a stalwart, young shaven-headed monk, wearing a gerua loin cloth and carrying a tall staff-continued to approach. He soon stood directly in front of Sri Nag, not two feet away, and for a moment gazed at him in silence. Then he spoke:

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