Sensei of Shambala. Book III. Anastasia Novykh

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СКАЧАТЬ looked at the appetizing dishes near them on the table and uttered: “No way. He’d better sit and not wiggle.”

      They laughed quietly. Eugene, finally taking a comfortable position – crossing his legs and leaning his elbow on the right arm, – set at ease and “bared his teeth” in his affected smile in response to the guys’ remarks. That rendered them shaking with laughter even more.

      Like a hospitable host, Ariman started to lavish upon the treats, stirring the guys’ appetite still more. He presented various dishes, answering in passing to the questions of amazed guys.

      “What caviar is this?” Victor inquired at the wine-red caviar near him.

      It was in a small crystal bowl. The bowl itself consisted of four sections: there was sour cream in one of them, dairy butter in another, grated cheese in the third one, and in the fourth one there was the caviar itself.

      “This is trout caviar. It’s saltish to the taste, that’s why it’s better to have it together with cultured milk foods.”

      “How about this one?” Victor motioned at a beautiful bowl of large-grained orange caviar with red gleams that was near trout caviar.

      “That is keta caviar – the most tasty and high quality of all salmon caviars,” Ariman replied. After a pause he added: “But I would most recommend you to taste that sort of caviar.” He motioned at large-grained silver caviar in a small golden jar. “This is very rare and expensive caviar. White sturgeon caviar. In order to get it they catch belugas, whose age approximate to one hundred years. Because of its value the caviar is packed up in small jars of pure 24-carat gold, such as this one. Taste it, it has a very peculiar delicate nut flavor. Gourmets of the modern times assert that this is the tastiest caviar in the world.” Ariman fell silent, glancing with a subtle smile as our entire company fastened their eyes upon the hitherto unseen jar of pure gold, and with such an expensive caviar in it too. Addressing to Sensei, Ariman boasted: “See, I even brought it too! I’ve no idea what else could surprise you. Perhaps you’d agree to taste this treat all the same?”

      Sensei smiled and answered politely: “No, thank you. Everything looks really appetizing…”

      “…And tasty,” Ariman stressed out.

      “I don’t doubt that one bit. But, unfortunately, I can’t… Fasting day… You know me.”

      Ariman gave an affected sigh.

      “Oh, well, and I tried so hard,” and he uttered with a smile either addressing to the guys or speaking to himself. “Such an iron will! He said ‘no’, it means ‘no’… And I brought this caviar all the way from Persia…”

      “What Persia?!” Sensei smiled, as if bringing him to senses.

      Ariman looked at him blank and checked himself.

      “Did I say Persia? What a sclerosis! But, of course, from Iran!” When Sensei and he stopped laughing, Ariman lamented: “Could you believe it, such a beautiful name this country had had for 2’458 years! And there you go – in 1935 they changed this lovely name, Persia, for Iran. Apologies for great reformers indeed! Cyrus the Great would’ve turned in his grave if he’d heard this news.”

      “And who was Cyrus the Great?” Kostya inquired.

      “Well, what have we come to!” Ariman smiled bitterly. “Young people don’t even know who Cyrus the Great was. Once, Cyrus the Great was a great ruler in the East. He founded the first Achaemenid Empire by defeating the Median Empire, conquering most of Southwest Asia, including the mighty Babylonia (Syria and Palestine being its parts) and much of Central Asia. That’s some charisma a man had! By the way, do you recall Balthazar’s feast from the Bible? During Belshazzar's feast (whose biblical name is Balthazar), the son of Nabonidus, the last king of Babylon, there appeared a fire writing on the wall: ‘mene mene tekel upharsin,’ which foretokened the fall of Babylon on the same night. Now, Balthazar died right in 539 BC exactly during the capture of Babylon by the Persians, that is, troops of Cyrus the Great.”

      “How do we know all that?” Victor said with a smile in excuse for everyone. “I wish we could sort out our own history at least.”

      “And this, in a way, is a part of your history,” Ariman pronounced. “Because, you know, where do the Persians as a people originate from? From the tribes of Aryans, who began to migrate from southern regions of the present Russia to those regions starting from 2’000 BC. Come to think of it, you favorite prophet, Zarathustra, who lived in the first half of the 6th century BC, was born in those lands too. So, during its time Persia offered a considerable mite in the order and reorganization of the world. Well, all right then, as Marcus Tullius Cicero used to say, history is merely a life of memory.” Then, with laughter he added: “So, let’s leave our ruins alone and turn to the beautiful present.”

      Everyone laughed again. Ariman made a pause, listening to a new Mozart’s melody coming from the yacht that harmoniously complemented this festive lunch. Then he addressed to the guys again, making a slight hand gesture, demonstrating fullness of choice.

      “Treat yourselves, don’t be shy. Enjoy your present. Take advantage of it, while still so youthful and fine. When else would you have such a chance?! There you are, flesh of sturgeon in a bйchamel sauce, stuffed quails, foie gras in cognac sauce, sugatazushi …”

      “Beg your pardon?” Eugene queried, peering at that unintelligible, beautifully served dish with some original proportional fish-shaped pieces.

      “Sugatazushi is a sushi; it’s a dish of Japanese cuisine. It consists of boiled rice stuffed into mackerel, sliced. Try it with soy sauce. It’s delicious! By the way, I recommend you to have this food exclusively with wood chop-sticks. They are made of natural material. It’s considered that it doesn’t damage food’s energy. Try to gain not only physical pleasure out of food, but, in the first place, aesthetic and spiritual one. Like the Japanese. The principal philosophy of the Japanese meal lies in communion with the beauty of nature and coexistence with it in full harmony...” After a short silence Ariman disclaimed: “Bush clover in blossom waves / Without spilling / A drop of dew.”

      He recited this uncommon poetry with such oratorical inspiration that everyone involuntarily listened spellbound to it. Taking a pleased look round our enchanted company, he spoke again.

      “Isn’t this a beautiful hokku, written by Bash ... this great Japanese poet of the 17th century? And how would you like this poem? ‘Gust of fresh wind, / A fish leapt with a splash... / Ablution in water’.”

      He made another pause, perhaps, for the audience to appreciate the meaning of what he had said. But looking at our puzzled faces that showed not the slightest clue about Japanese poetry Ariman made a faint smile. He turned his eyes to Sensei, probably, the only one understanding what it had been all about, and then continued conversing with us.

      “The Japanese are to a large extend amazing and mysterious people with remarkable traditions. Their philosophy as well as food is simultaneously light and nourishing... By the way, before eating I would advise you to make use of oshibori aroma,” Ariman suggested after a short pause.

      We gazed at the table, looking for that very oshibori, thinking it to be one of the dishes. Apparently, noticing that our eyes were running every which way in search of what he had mentioned, Ariman smiled faintly once again, pretending he hadn’t seen our confused looks, and continued his narration as if nothing had happened: “Oshibori are wet towels that lie in front of you. Again, following the Japanese traditions, washing hands before a meal is considered to be a godsent act of removing negative СКАЧАТЬ