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Students and Master forgave one another. There was harmony. A deep feeling of oneness, of love united them. Munishree felt once again the nobility and beauty in his Master.
Here is a genuine person, no holy humbug, a man of truth and outright honesty.
When the Agamas were printed on paper, they were able to be distributed to the monks to learn by heart. One day the Master gave his students a challenge. “I will give each of you one hundred twenty stanzas to learn by heart. You have three hours. At the end of three hours, the one who comes closest to knowing them all will receive this Agama-Manjushā.”
The Agama-Mañjushā was a special box in which to hold the Scriptures or Agamas. Though the monks were supposed to have dropped greed from their consciousness, each one wanted to be the winner.
During the three hours, they each sat in different places in the same room and concentrated on memorizing the one hundred twenty stanzas.
How could they remember so many stanzas? The amount of interest and love they had for them determined how well they could remember. It happened that Munishree came in first, reciting without mistake one hundred ten of the one hundred twenty stanzas. He was the recipient of the beautiful Agama-Mañjushā. He was so happy to be the winner. After all, it was an honor to be the one who recited the Scriptures which his teacher had taken seven years to have carved in marble.
But by evening one of Munishree's closest friends, a sincere student and diligent monk, was depressed. Though his memory was equally sharp and his intelligence equally high, he had lost faith in himself.
"Come, let us go for a walk," Munishree gestured to him.
"No," he answered, “I am not in the mood. I have nothing. I realize I am worthless."
"Why do you think in that way?”
“I could not remember even eighty stanzas and you re-membered one hundred and ten."
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