Whispers on Vulture's Peak
The sun was a hammer, relentlessly pounding as I clawed my way up Vulture's Peak in Rajgir. My lungs burned, and my legs screamed, but the promise of the summit – a place steeped in history and shrouded in legend – pulled me onward. Finally, I reached it. A wave of relief washed over me, quickly followed by a sense of quiet reverence. The wind, usually a bluster, seemed to hold its breath. And then, I saw him: an old man, the guardian of this sacred space, his face etched with the wisdom of the place. He greeted me with a smile that radiated warmth, a smile that seemed to say, "Welcome, you have come to the right place." We spoke, as travelers and keepers of stories do, and he, with a voice like rustling leaves, began to share the legends of Vulture's Peak. “They say,” he rasped, his eyes twinkling, “that right here, where we stand, the Buddha himself had an encounter most strange.” He gestured towards the craggy rocks, where the echoes of centuries seemed to whisper ...
