Sacred smoke from Hung Temple

The gentle scent of spring spread throughout the small garden, making me feel sad about the poem he gave me years ago. “March is unique to each countryside/ Purple xoan flowers make their way to the festival/ Sacred smoke spreads over Hung Temple/ Waiting for each other, we stand in the shape of elephants…”.

The xoan tree in the North, in the South is called the sầu đâu tree. Every year in March, the flowers bloom, falling purple on the path in the corner of the garden. When we first met, it was also in March, sầu đâu bloomed wistfully like the dreamy eyes of a Southern girl who was cherishing a longing for a distant land. He invited me to attend the Hung Temple Festival and gave me that poem. The dreams of flying far away urged me to decide to visit Hung Temple. However, a little fear, keeping to the family tradition, held me back. It was not until three years later that I was satisfied with the land of my ancestors, to have a pilgrimage with many purposes. Both visiting the March festival season and introducing myself to my future husband's family.

His parents were gentle and simple people, typical of the farmers of the midlands, simple but beautiful like the scenery of palm forests and tea hills. His grandmother was over ninety, still healthy with aching black teeth and a crow's beak scarf on her head. "Being a daughter-in-law in the North is hard, my child! Try your best!". Suddenly, my heart felt strangely warm. Loving him, I did not mind the long distance and the cold winter cutting into skin and flesh.

He led me up the mountain behind the house, shaped like an elephant. When we reached the top of the mountain, he pointed to the South and said that the green, misty mountain top was Nghia Linh Mountain, with Hung Temple on top.

We looked for the hills shaped like elephants lying down, around Hung Temple. The legend of one hundred elephants lying down facing Nghia Linh mountain, which my generation learned through history lessons, appeared right before our eyes today. There are miracles that we cannot foresee. For example, we are standing on the back of the one hundredth elephant, and the legend is about a cruel sword that was slashed across the neck by Princess Bau, daughter of King Hung. The suspect refused to turn his head towards Hung Temple, but lay facing north, the wound that had been bleeding for thousands of years, still filled the two eyes of the elephant, which were two wells on the mountainside that never dried up.

On both sides of the road from Highway 2 leading to Hung Temple, fragile purple xoan flowers were falling, just like the poem he sent. People and vehicles jostled each other, bustling, the closer to the main gate the more crowded it became, sometimes I felt like I was drifting along with the flow of people from all directions. He explained to me that the four large characters on the temple gate were "Cao son canh hanh" which could be understood as walking on high mountains, on big roads. As for me, I was absorbed in nearly five hundred stone steps, from Ha Temple, up to Trung Temple, Thuong Temple and down to Gieng Temple, feeling elated when thinking about the merits of our ancestors in building the country.

Passing the Dragon Well, my steps naturally slowed down, wishing to bring home a bottle of water from the ancient well. Legend has it that Princess Ngoc Dung, daughter of the 18th Hung King, often came here to look at her reflection and wash her hair. Any woman who had her hair washed with water from the ancient well would have long, silky hair. I also wanted my hair to grow longer and blacker, so that the long strands could tie my love to him.

After the party, we parted ways at Tien Kien train station, right near Hung Temple. I asked him if there was any way to clear the name of the hundredth elephant behind our house. It was lying facing north, a sign of wanting to protect the country's fence, while the other 99 elephants were enjoying the festival with hundreds of families? He said that the folklore researchers here have been writing articles on this issue, to clear the name of the loyal elephant. That matter will wait until I become a daughter-in-law of the Ancestral Land, then it will be clarified.