Bong

As dawn broke, rain fell heavily on the Sanctuary of Symmetry, a great temple in the heart of the rainforest. Its walls were etched with intricate geometric carvings—circles within circles, spirals within spirals, and patterns so precise they defied belief.

The rainforest itself was alive with splendour too. As the morning rain began to ease, animals emerged one by one from the dripping jungle. Orangutans swung lazily between slippery vines. Bright blue butterflies darted through the mist, while scarlet macaws painted flashes of red across the grey sky. Every creature, great and small, added its own colour, character, and call to the waking forest.

Back in the temple, Smudge—the temple master—slowly opened his eyes after his morning meditation. He looked at his watch—worn proudly on the wrong wrist (he liked it that way)—and nodded. It’s time.

He rose to his feet and began to prepare. With a broom in one hand and a feather duster in the other, he cleaned the temple from top to bottom. He dusted the tables, lined up the pencils, and set out the tools for the day’s work. With everything finally in place, Smudge stood back and nodded.

“There,” he said proudly. “I think we’re ready.”

Satisfied with his work, he walked over to a glass cabinet in the corner and carefully lifted out a huge mallet. It was large—comically large—so large, in fact, that his little legs wobbled as he made his way across the temple floor to an enormous gong.

Smudge raised the mallet and gulped. “Here goes nothing.”

He swung delicately—missed entirely—and somehow managed to bong not the gong but himself.

“Oof,” he groaned, rubbing his head as he glared back at the gong, thoroughly unimpressed.

Smudge reassured himself that he had meant to do that—and that it was, after all, an important part of the ceremony.

After a second attempt—this time successful—the mallet connected with a deep, resonant BOOOONG.

The sound rolled across the temple floor, rising through Smudge’s sandals, into his legs, and up to his chest. His heart swelled with joy—as if the sound itself carried nothing but happiness.

The walls thrummed, the windows hummed, and far beyond the Sanctuary, the rainforest itself seemed to pause and listen. The call of the gong rippled through the trees, across the rivers, and out into the farthest corners of the jungle.

“What was the gong for, you may be wondering?” Smudge grinned. “Well… the gong meant only one thing: it was time for school—Mandala School.”

Bong Your Own Gong

Before Mandala School begins, every student needs a gong to start their day—including you!

• Grab a blank page and a pencil.
• Freehand a big circle in the middle—it can be round, oval, or lopsided. Smudge would approve of all three.
• Add decorations: spirals, stars, zigzags, or even tiny animals.
• Colour it however you like—shiny gold, rainbow stripes, or even invisible ink if you’re feeling mysterious.

And if you’re feeling a bit lazy, no worries—you can use the templates instead. Smudge won’t judge you… yet.

Now the fun part: take your pencil, hold it like a mallet, and bong your gong with one good tap.

Make the deepest gong sound you can. Go on—a long, rumbling BOOOOOONG. Let it echo through your room, your home, and maybe even your rainforest, if you have one.

Congratulations—you’ve sounded the call. Class has officially begun!