Story

By Red Umbrell

Guided by an unwavering spirit and an unyielding thirst for truth, our protagonist embarked on a pilgrimage of the soul—a journey that would ultimately bring him to the hallowed halls of wisdom and the sacred company of the Dalai Lama, his dearest friend and mentor. Through trials and tribulations, triumphs and setbacks, he embraced the teachings of Buddhism and forged a new identity—one grounded in compassion, mindfulness, and inner peace

."Story" is more than a mere narrative; it is a testament to the resilience of the human spirit and the boundless capacity for transformation. It is a reminder that amidst the chaos of our world, there exists a path to serenity—a path illuminated by the indomitable light of the human heart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Red Umbrell
• Release date: Mar 22, 2024
• ISBN: 9798223995463

Book preview

Preface

In a world often plagued by chaos and conflict, there exists a profound journey that transcends the boundaries of warfare and leads to the inner sanctum of peace. Story unveils the remarkable odyssey of a man who traversed the treacherous terrain of battlefields only to find his true calling amidst the serene landscapes of spiritual enlightenment.

This book chronicles the extraordinary life of a professional soldier turned Buddhist monk, whose remarkable journey serves as a beacon of hope and inspiration in an era yearning for harmony. As the pages unfold, readers will embark on a transformative voyage alongside a soul who walked the razor's edge between duty and devotion, courage and compassion.

Born from the crucible of conflict, our protagonist emerged as a warrior adorned with valor and skill. Yet, beneath the armor and amidst the clamor of warfare, a silent longing whispered through his heart—a quest for meaning beyond the cacophony of battle cries. It was a longing that would lead him to unexpected places and irrevocably alter the course of his life.

Guided by an unwavering spirit and an unyielding thirst for truth, our protagonist embarked on a pilgrimage of the soul—a journey that would ultimately bring him to the hallowed halls of wisdom and the sacred company of the Dalai Lama, his dearest friend and mentor. Through trials and tribulations, triumphs and setbacks, he embraced the teachings of Buddhism and forged a new identity—one grounded in compassion, mindfulness, and inner peace.

Story is more than a mere narrative; it is a testament to the resilience of the human spirit and the boundless capacity for transformation. It is a reminder that amidst the chaos of our world, there exists a path to serenity—a path illuminated by the indomitable light of the human heart.

As you embark on this journey alongside our protagonist, may you find solace in the knowledge that within each of us lies the power to transcend our circumstances and discover the true essence of our being. May Story serve as a guiding light in your own quest for meaning, and may its message resonate deeply within your soul.

With humility and reverence, I invite you to delve into the pages of this book and embark on a voyage of self-discovery—one that may very well lead you to the shores of enlightenment.

Warm regards,

Red Umberell

"He who knows others is intelligent.

He who knows himself is wise."

- Lao Tzu

Youth

––––––––

As a child, I wished to have an Arabian princess by my side, with long hair and a diamond on her forehead. I fantasized about licking honey from her stomach and playfully riding over her curves, or walking hand in hand with her down the promenade, all while being watched by envious onlookers. In my dreams, I saw her ample breasts, eyes as black as coal. Strong legs, luxuriant hair. I caressed her warm, finely haired groin, heard moans and screams of pleasure, and saw myself proud of her.

My parents were in great distress because I used to beat up other children and quarrel with everyone around me. Once, in anger and rage, I hit a girl who almost died from it. The reason was that I wanted to feel the hair on her privates, but she didn't allow it. They wanted to expel me from school; I received a severe reprimand before being suspended. That was my first encounter with one of those bitches who wouldn't give in. Carelessly, I wandered among cars, stole from cemeteries, and committed many dangerous pranks.

In those days, we observed all fasts. Our parents were devout, especially mother. Every Sunday, we went to church. Mother would then kiss the church doors, followed by the icons. I did the same as her. I respected the priest and feared him like God.

I once gathered my courage and tremblingly asked him:

- Father, is it true that I won't go to hell because I jerk off?

After completing elementary school in our small town, my parents decided that I should continue my education in high school. They hoped that this would make me more educated and aware, and that I would become more sensible and calmer among unfamiliar people. I agreed because secretly I also wished to elevate myself above others through education and to be better than my peers.

***

When I came to Belgrade for schooling, I had a desire to pursue a law degree after high school and become a respected individual, like a judge, professor, or minister.

I was most drawn to the idea of becoming a judge because in court, before the people, they enforce the law, and people greet them, bow to them, and respect them, and they can also fuck any chick they want.

Overall, I quickly realized that social status facilitates easier access to my beloved organ. When you're someone like President Tito, all the women spread their legs for you and beg for you to enter them. He's handsome, wealthy, and powerful! What better combination could you ask for?

I lived in Vozdovac, in an apartment above Mike Beli's auto service on Vojvode Stepe Street. People would come there for car repairs, from oil changes to engine overhauls. While they waited for Mika to fix their cars, gentlemen, farmers, and workers would enjoy roasted meat and brandy at the nearby tavern. In my room, everything smelled of engine oil, burning rubber, dust, and there was always someone shouting, singing, banging, coming in, or going out.

I had firmly decided and vowed to finish high school. But it wasn't easy for me because besides studying, I also had to clean the service, carry crates for the coffee shop owner, feed the poultry, and help Mika's wife in the kitchen. All of this was agreed upon between my father and Mike Beli and included as compensation for my stay in that room. I didn't even have any free time. I doubted, rightly so, my father's intentions, suspecting that he had intentionally made such an agreement with Mika, hoping and believing that studying and hard work would straighten me out, improve me, and calm me down.

My father gave me some money for pocket expenses, and once every fifteen days, he brought bacon, apricot jam, and roasted chicken. He used to say to me, Study if you want to live well. If you don't, there's a job waiting for you with me: you'll either dig or work in the mill, and you'll be pale, dusty, and tired. Choose!

The food was prepared by Mika's wife. She was robust, young, and very beautiful. She was the only one I loved in Belgrade. I particularly remember her white and ample breasts and her big, black eyes. I hovered around her just to be near her and watched her from afar while she worked. I dreamed of her at night. I spilled a lot of sperm because of her. I wanted to get closer to her and befriend her as much as possible. I gladly listened to her when she spoke and enthusiastically did everything, she ordered me to do.

However, I experienced something very ugly that I couldn't forget for a long time.

Once, unexpectedly, I caught her in a secluded spot with Mika's assistant, who was older than me. They were kissing. She saw me and immediately came towards me. Her eyes flashed with anger and fury. I got scared and quickly ran to my room, praying to God to get me out of trouble. But there was no help. She ran after me and closed the door behind her.

Her cheeks were flushed, lips still red from kisses, hair tousled, and her breasts swayed beneath the thin blouse hastily buttoned. She smelled of love, still intoxicated by caresses. Interrupted in the ecstasy of love, and fearing that I would tell others about her sin, she approached me hissing, like a snake. I stood scared in the corner of the room, watching her, trembling at what would happen. She grabbed me by the hair and knocked me to the ground. She was stronger than me, the little boy.

She beat me for a long time, screaming, I'll gouge out those green and insolent eyes of yours! You won't gaze at what's not meant to be seen anymore! I'll poison you, you little trash! You'll die slowly, and from your stench, all of Belgrade will be disgusted!

She pressed her knees against my chest and stomach and slapped me relentlessly. I saw her pussy, since she wasn't wearing panties, and I smelled the scent of an aroused woman, and my general went crazy. The erection I had at that moment was terrible. I saw her rage and hatred, and the eyes with which she pierced me like knives.

Somehow, I managed to flip her onto her stomach, lifted her skirt, and thrust my hot general deep inside her. Her pussy was wet and yielding. She stopped hysterically and began to moan with pleasure. I fucked her wildly, sometimes in her pussy, sometimes in her ass! When I finally came, I collapsed on the floor, battered, almost unconscious, and my general kept spewing sperm for a long, long time.

This happened to me right at the end of the second year of high school. She terrified me terribly. I was sure she would poison me or kill me in some other way when she got the chance. With that conviction, I stayed in that room until the end of the school year. Then I gathered my things and books and fled to another apartment.

I told my parents that I was capable of schooling, but that I didn't like Mike White's house and that I wouldn't live in that room for one more day.

Because of all these problems, I started to struggle in school. Kids made fun of me and spread rumors that I wasn't capable of learning, but that I was born to be a garbage man. Because of all that sperm, which kept spilling out of me and sticking to me, I emitted a strange smell around myself. I personally could smell it, and it didn't bother me as much, but others choked around me.

I endured the mockery of being called stinky for a long time, silently contemplating what to do next. Eventually, I made a decision: I'm going to see the doctor, to see what's wrong with me!

I found the clinic on George Washington Street where Dr. Branko received me. Looking at my penis covered with a thick, white crust, which smelled terribly, he said, "In our Yugoslav people, there are wreaths of hot peppers hanging in front of every house. That means the people are healthy. Everyone goes to church, prays. That means they believe in God, not in the doctor.

There's no work for me here, but when a case like yours comes along, I'm simply a happy man! Nurse! A blonde in a tight white dress approached and took a bottle of some liquid and began to pour it on my penis. Bubbles of white foam quickly multiplied and tickled me.

Looking at her painted nails and her trembling, bony hand squeezing the plastic bottle, I experienced a tremendous erection and started spewing sperm almost instantly. The sperm flew straight onto her face and dripped down slowly in thick droplets. Dr. Branko watched the whole scene in disbelief and muttered, Goodness, goodness!

The proud little guy gleamed clean in the afternoon sun. Dr. Branko also told me that I must regularly wash it with warm water and soap twice a day, in the morning and evening. That's called hygiene, as he expertly explained.

The smell disappeared, and I was a happy man. I felt strong and wanted to conquer the world. But it wasn't easy at all!

During that time, I loved to read novels, especially romance novels, but also books about cowboys and Indians that I borrowed from the library. Meanwhile, my father informed me that I had received a call-up for the army.

In those days, as I feverishly pondered going to the army, I stayed up late in prayer. I knelt before the family icon, until I felt peace, security, and solace in my heart. In the morning, after getting dressed, I returned to prayer again. I prayed to be shown and guided on what to do: whether to join the army or enroll in college.

One night, as I fell asleep after a long prayer, I was awakened by a strong female voice, from very close by, saying these words: Uroš, come out and see! The voice was clear, somewhat commanding. I lay in bed for a short while, pondering who could be calling me in the middle of the night. At first, I thought maybe someone was playing a joke on me. I got up and looked under the bed, under the table, and behind the curtain. Since I found no one, confused and uncertain, I paced around the room for a while, then I went outside.

On the staircase in front of the house, I suddenly saw Villa Roksana, a mythical being from our mythology. Light from her hair rose towards the sky. The light ascended vertically towards the heavens up to the height of the clouds, then inclined and horizontally veered southward before disappearing into the distance. It looked like the aurora borealis I had seen in magazines. It had a diameter of about ten meters. I was frightened by this sight and bewildered; I couldn't believe my eyes.

That's when Roksana addressed me:

Do you see it?

I see, I replied with a strained voice.

And do you know what it means, what you're seeing?

I looked at Roksana, heard the voice, but didn't understand either.

How could I know? Where would I get such knowledge? I answered in a half-whisper.

Then Roksana told me, as her breasts swayed, and a strange bluish light radiated from her groin:

It means you will be sent into the distances, that you will cross many countries, and you will return when you are healed from your wounds, completely healthy.

What distances? What wounds? I thought.

When I raised my head again above the courtyard, the vision had disappeared.

I remained outside for a short while longer, convinced that nothing else was happening, and then I went back into the room. I was excited, breathing quickly, feeling the freshness of the night in my lungs. I sat on the bed intending to calm down. I pondered Roksana and the light for a long time, trying to find some explanation.

I looked at the icon of Saint Nicholas, the cross, and the Gospel on the table covered with a white cloth, and once again I wondered: How could I see something that isn't natural and can't be explained by reason? Does another world really exist, with angels, life after death, God?

With these thoughts, I noticed and felt that my consciousness was rapidly changing: something was opening up within me, revealing greater expanses, heights, and depths, and I was maturing... The boy Uroš was quickly disappearing, and a mature, young, and strong man was being born.

I felt the desire to tell someone about my vision, but I concluded that no one would believe me, that they would consider me a liar, maybe even a crazy person. Only a few weeks later, I went to the Kovilj Monastery, to Father Tadej whom I loved, and I told him everything in detail. He listened to me carefully, thoughtfully, pondered, skeptically shook his head, and finally said to me: I don't know exactly, Uroš, what this could be and what it means... It seems a little unbelievable. Judging by my intuition, it's not good for you. Keep the vision to yourself. And stay silent!

At that time, I was in love with Aleksandra Pavlović, the beautiful daughter of the local court president. I thought of her always, while working, in prayer. In my dreams, I saw her smiling and beautiful. I would climb to the attic, or escape into the woods, and for hours, I would kneel and masturbate, praying to God for her to give herself to me for sex. I tried to make her love me as much as I loved her. I even gave up the idea of joining the army.

My desire to leave Subotica had diminished. I just wanted to be with her, to caress her, feel her, and ejaculate inside her. It wasn't difficult for me to work in the mill, or to masturbate for hours on my knees for her. Thinking of her made me happy. It was a love deep, sweet, painful, sad, and beautiful.

One day, flour needed to be taken from our mill to her father's house. I volunteered to do it, even though it was a job for one of our workers. I was burning with desire for her and used every opportunity to see her. I was thrilled as I loaded the flour onto the truck. I sat behind the wheel and raced to her in a cloud of dust.

I found her alone in the house. She invited me to sit down and served me strawberry sweets and cold water. She was kind to me and tried to please me. I soon dared to tell her that I had loved her for a long time and that more than anything, I wanted the two of us to get married and for her to become my wife.

At first, she was surprised by my words, she blushed and lowered her eyes, not knowing how to respond to me. Later, she gathered her courage and asked me:

Are you joking with me, Uroš, or are you serious? I replied that it was the absolute truth and that I had long intended to tell her everything. She hesitated for a moment, then she also said that she loved me and would agree to marry me, but she didn't know what to say because she didn't want to be a peasant, to dig. I promptly responded that I hadn't permanently dropped out of school, that I would finish school if she wanted me to. I wasn't lying to her; I knew I could really do it, and I was convinced that I would do much more for her.

Then I hugged her and began to kiss her, but she pushed me away with the words, Nothing until the wedding!

I was overjoyed, like never before in my life, and as calm as a man whose great desire had been fulfilled. We agreed not to tell anyone, not to announce our engagement for a few more months, until we reached adulthood, when we could get married. We kissed each other on the cheek goodbye.

I eventually told my mother everything. I trusted her and thought she would approve of my choice and keep the secret. Little did I know that my family already had other plans for me. You see, they had found a connection to enroll me in a college in Titograd, where my married aunt lived, who had no children, and they wanted to give me to her as an adopted son, for me to live with her and inherit her property. My promise to Aleksandra ruined their plans. When my aunt heard what I had done, she lamented that I had gone crazy and that I would find a wife in Titograd who would give birth to nine children for me!

They tried to convince me for days and nights, and in the end, they persuaded me that she wasn't the one for me. I was devastated. I begged my mother to break off the engagement instead of me, but she refused. You proposed to her, you personally have to break off the engagement!

I had to obey them. I sat in the Yugo and left. I found Aleksandra cleaning the yard. She was delighted to see me. She immediately stopped working, ran to me. I hugged her and kissed her on the lips. Then I opened the car door, and we lay down in the back seat. I remained silent the whole time, searching for her panties in silence.

Sweat was dripping from me. I found them and ripped them off. She started to defend herself and scream. But I dared not look at her. I didn't know what to say to her. I unbuttoned my pants and forcefully thrust my hot member into her. Blood gushed from somewhere, and a small stream started to flow under me. She screamed as I poured hot sperm into her bloody womb.

Afterward, I sat as if frozen. Nevertheless, I gathered my strength and said that I had thought it over and firmly decided to break off our agreement. Tears immediately welled up in her eyes. What will I do now, Uroš? I've told everything to my mother! She turned pale and trembled. My heart tightened, and tears gathered in my throat. I begged God for the ground to open up and swallow me whole. Do what you know and can, I replied without looking at her. I threw her to the ground, got into the car, and fled.

For over a month, I hid from both Aleksandra and her father. I was ashamed. I couldn't look anyone in the eye.

I didn't see Aleksandra until two months later, it was a holiday or a Sunday. The church was full of people. I was behind the choir stand with other singers. At one point, during the Holy Liturgy, I looked out into the crowd and spotted her. She was looking at me with wide-open eyes, crying.

Even today, fifty years later, something hurts in my chest when I remember my love and the injustice I did to that wonderful creature. I loved Aleksandra, I prayed day and night for her, God answered my prayer and gave her to me like a bird in my hands, and I trampled on God's grace and the maiden's heart.

That's when I decided to go to Titograd to study. We reached a compromise where I wouldn't go to the army but would still enroll in the military academy.

They enrolled me in the military academy for scouts and commandos. The head was Colonel Brajo Bozovic.

I wanted to go somewhere at all costs. I was drawn to stories of the heroic life of the partisans, the struggle of all Yugoslav brotherly peoples for freedom. I felt that the time had come to fulfill my boyhood dreams of heroism and gaining eternal glory. To be an officer in the Yugoslav People's Army, that was the real deal.

At Bozovic's,