It begins under a bo tree, early morning, in a rainstorm. The bo tree is on the side road connecting the cricket ground with the town of Moratuwa. There I am, asleep under the bo tree, about to be woken up by rain. Two millennia ago a man, just like me, abandoned his wife, son, and responsibilities to go sit under a bo tree. Unlike me, that man wasn’t drunk after a cricket match. And so he ended up becoming the Buddha.
