There was once upon a time a certain man who made his living washing clothes. Every day the washerman would visit various houses in his village, collecting the soiled clothing in baskets, and then take it all to the river. There he would wash it, beating it on stones, and then spread it in the sun to dry. Once the laundry has been washed and dried, he would bundle it up again and take it back to the village.

It was hard work, but the washerman was helped in his labour by the good fortune that he had somehow acquired a donkey to carry the baskets. He was a very poor man, without any family, and the donkey was his only possession and his only companion. Every day, when he would arrive at the river, he would unload the patient animal, and then, with a big armful of something green to chew on, would tether it by a nearby shrine for protection. Then he would offer a sincere prayer of thanks for his donkey and set to work.

One day, though, when he had finished his work and was ready to haul the baskets back to the village, he went to the shrine and could not find his donkey. Very agitated, he searched all around, but there was no sign of the animal – it was gone! When he realised that the donkey just was not there, he was so overcome with emotion that he fainted.

Shortly a passerby saw the washerman lying unconscious in front of the shrine, and said to himself, “Surely this is a holy person who is in a state of samadhi. He should be venerated.” Accordingly he brought flowers and placed them around the form of the washerman, and then sat down in an attitude of devotion.

Soon others came by, and also placed offerings, and likewise sat down to absorb the atmosphere of the washerman’s samadhi. “Without doubt when he returns to consciousness,” said one, “he will speak gems of wisdom.”

“Yes,” the others agreed, “precious glimpses of what he has experienced in his holy union.” And someone else said, “Perhaps he will even confer illumination on us as his disciples!” They earnestly hoped they would be worthy of this blessing.

Before long, there was a small crowd gathered around the inert washerman, some gazing raptly at him, others chanting, and others meditating, but all waiting eagerly for him to arise and grant them a taste of the divine.

Then, suddenly, the washerman opened his eyes, and instantly there was silence. Sitting up, he looked around uncomprehendingly at the expectant faces. Everyone leaned a little closer to him.

At last, as they had hoped, he opened his lips and spoke – and the wisdom that he offered was, “Where is my donkey?”