Remaining from a thousand years ago...

(Baonghean) - There's still more than a week until the full moon of the seventh lunar month, but along every road leading to the temples in the city, people are already selling all kinds of offerings. I stopped at a small stall run by an old woman opposite the gate of Can Linh Temple. Her stall was a pushcart, displaying a full range of offerings such as incense, flowers, candles, tea, fruit, etc. Although old, she was still very agile and sharp-witted. Watching her carefully wrap the incense and flowers and arrange each offering beautifully and skillfully, anyone buying from her felt reassured.

During a lull in customers, I asked permission to sit beside her and chat. She smiled, her wrinkled skin reflecting the hardships of life. She was Tran Thi Mui, nearly 80 years old. Her hometown was Dien Hai commune, Dien Chau district. Her husband was transferred to another job, and she followed him from Dien Chau to Vinh, selling offerings at the temple from that time until now. She said that in the past, Can Linh Temple wasn't as tall and beautiful as it is now, but it was still very crowded with visitors. The temple was famous for its sacredness, so people from near and far would flock there on the 15th and 1st of the lunar month to pray for peace. Witnessing the changes over time, she looked at me and smiled: "Time flies so fast! It's been almost 20 years since I started this profession. Society has developed so much, but our people still maintain their traditional customs and the culture of visiting temples…"

Grandma Mui's small stall

For the same amount of time, her daily routine remained regular: she would wake up at 3:30 a.m., push her cart to the temple gate, return home at noon to cook for her husband, and then at 2 p.m., she would push her cart back out. Regardless of scorching sun or pouring rain, her figure with her cart had become familiar to the people living near the temple. She said that it was probably thanks to the blessings of Buddha that she was so healthy and rarely got sick; she only took a day off from selling goods when there was a memorial service in her hometown, otherwise she sat here selling every day. The prices of her goods were very "reasonable," even cheaper than many other places. I asked: "How much profit do you make selling like this?" She smiled, chewing betel nut, and said: "On good days, I earn about 10 kilograms of rice, but normally, it's just enough money for betel nut, my dear. The most important thing in selling is the heart; selling offerings to the temple requires a sincere heart." I asked the old woman where to buy offerings, and she meticulously prepared each item, instructing me on where to place each offering, which altar to offer yellow chrysanthemums, and which to offer white lotus flowers. She gave detailed instructions and carefully wrapped everything for me.

I hurried to receive the offerings and bid farewell to the old woman before heading to the temple. Her figure disappeared into the distance, yet when I looked back, I could still clearly see her bright smile with her black teeth chewing betel nut. Suddenly, I felt a strange sense of closeness and affection… My grandmother was about the same age as her, and she also sold offerings like her, but the difference was that she didn't sell at the temple gate, but at the market. When I was little, every holiday I would help her sell. My job was to collect money and give change, while she took care of preparing the offerings for the customers. My grandmother often said that if the offerings were incomplete or made any mistakes, it would be a sin, so it had to be done thoroughly and sincerely. During the Lunar New Year, the full moon of the first lunar month, or the full moon of the seventh lunar month, the number of customers was very large, and my grandmother and I worked non-stop to keep up with the demand. Seeing me drenched in sweat, my grandmother took a handkerchief and wiped my face, then praised me: "My dear, you're quite grown-up now..." My grandmother is weaker now; she only goes to the market once every few days, and even then, it's just to buy betel leaves and areca nuts. For me, those days of selling offerings with my grandmother are beautiful childhood memories. Perhaps it stems from those memories that, even though I've only spoken a few words with Mrs. Mui, I still feel a profound sense of closeness and simplicity.

The evening shadows lengthened behind the bamboo grove, and the lotus pond beside the temple was tinged with a yellowish hue. More and more people came to the temple, the fragrant incense smoke mingling with the breeze carrying the scent of July lotuses. Amidst the hustle and bustle of the city, the peaceful, tranquil corner of this ancient temple became all the more precious.

Even at Mrs. Mui's stall, buyers and sellers behave in a surprisingly gentle manner, making one feel as if life is slowing down. The space, though small, seems to possess immense power in preserving the Vietnamese way of life passed down through generations. And those who preserve this culture seem to include the elderly people selling offerings outside the temple gate…

Phuong Thao