Royce Mahawatte teaches in the department of cultural and historical studies at the London College of Fashion and Central Saint Martin’s School of Art. He has published on 19th-century fiction, with a particular interest in George Eliot and the Gothic novel, and is a contributor to the Times Literary Supplement and the Financial Times books pages.

“What happened on the mountain” is adapted from a novel-in-progress, The Awareness and the Emptiness, due to be finished in early 2010. “Sexual awakening and the mayhem of adolescence have always been fertile subjects for writers,” he told Prospect. “I suppose that this book is a twist on the ‘coming out’ novel but taken to other-worldly and literary extremes. I like to think that we can learn about life from things that can only happen in novels.”

Harischandra Gunasena stood on the top of a seven-thousand foot mountain. By his watch it was five-forty in the morning. He had climbed Sri Pada, or Adam’s Peak, in Rathnapura, in the southwestern region of Sri Lanka. And he had brought his son, Lucas. On this special spot, the Buddha stepped down from heaven and placed his left foot on the top of the mountain. He made it across to Siam, in one step, where he left the mark of his right. That he managed to make it without tripping or stumbling was a sign of his enlightenment.

To be here for the start of the Sinhala new year, to be surrounded by so many other pilgrims was a great thing. In a few moments, the sun would push its way out of the horizon and perform an alchemy on the rocks, on the air, and on the pilgrims too. Haris’s thick and angular features, his wave of silver hair, his morning jawline shadow—they would all become bright, completed somehow.

Normally, Haris liked to welcome the morning with a lotus position, a good motion and a glass of milk with an egg cracked into it. On Sri Pada he had to make do with a gulp from a bottle of warm drinking water.

“So… Lucas,” he spoke loudly to make himself heard over the noise. “This is where the Lord Buddha came to get rid of all the creatures and ghosts that lived here. He stood and raised his palm,” Haris demonstrated, his fingers and thumb in a single plane pointing heavenwards, “and all the demons went careering up into the sky! The ones that remained sought refuge in his teachings… and now the god Saman watches over the mountain on his great white tusker. A good story, huh?… Your mummy hates all this… hates it all. If she was here… there would have been no end of trouble… no end. The Wickramasinghes are too lah-di-dah for this kind of thing. Best if it’s just the men… Water?”

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