tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32837788847079293852024-03-05T17:03:50.356+05:30Sakyamuni : HeartlandNovember 2007
8th – 31st
Contact: justratna@yahoo.comRatnaketuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01888085287982272571noreply@blogger.comBlogger19125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283778884707929385.post-10191231598475947112007-07-15T07:54:00.000+05:302007-07-26T15:45:50.174+05:308th - 31st November 2007<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>Whatever your tradition of practice,</strong> welcome to Parayana! </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUyxmeTIyQomt-bbmQ1OmzQxEnaam8Uyy3QcKdwklbnKlu2mxrhtcTNYQqDIvgAXI6q1e8CalXoiC9rPEoNtpRTFVwd4bcqRAFEILL2LxUudwZXyr7th1ApxkUK-ElKNZ-folOyXNax7s/s1600-h/P0000013ds.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5056124818359784050" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUyxmeTIyQomt-bbmQ1OmzQxEnaam8Uyy3QcKdwklbnKlu2mxrhtcTNYQqDIvgAXI6q1e8CalXoiC9rPEoNtpRTFVwd4bcqRAFEILL2LxUudwZXyr7th1ApxkUK-ElKNZ-folOyXNax7s/s200/P0000013ds.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I have added a lot of background material - borrowed writings on Sakyamuni and his early disciples. There is a large section on the Buddha's women disciples by Dr. Bimala Churn Law. Also new extracts from Sangharakshita's wanderings in India. All this new material is found in the Archive under March.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>The next Sakyamuni Heartland pilgrimage </strong>runs from the 8th to the 31st of November. Then 22nd December 2007 - 16th Jan 2008.<br /><br /><strong>Our fifth </strong>Sakyamuni Heartland pilgrimage <strong>for the first time </strong>visits all the Four Places of Pilgrimage, The Eight Great Pilgrimage Places, and the Four Unalterable Places for All Buddhas. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEildFKnCErZz4V4i1iz7_r5lr39yVXKLocLY1ovJxCYwUM4nTYYPGtmKK5AB7FJAKLmRAQOvCDlFXqcllScyKVDhdu9MFA7ItH3fgo_4z7PaIMtp7PE5ZcLJTlEwvbkZdqMiF0tVEuPhts/s1600-h/wat1s.JPG"></a><br /><br /><strong>Starting from Delhi</strong> we visit Sankissa, Kosambi, Sravasti, Kapilavastu, Lumbini, Kushinagar, <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnYtElsDjTyQBZuyHB9TXbHL8pllYcGf-5_jfc-mv39fp3ZJPXnQKM62gE50gu6vX21YgTXshPeX5h2DlMQgfiQZjAVGGTBob5EBYG77MnyVaeaHKwP6sNjhkbq7Dq1hoFIJ8N_HKC-Us/s1600-h/Picture+016.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058768506954209650" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnYtElsDjTyQBZuyHB9TXbHL8pllYcGf-5_jfc-mv39fp3ZJPXnQKM62gE50gu6vX21YgTXshPeX5h2DlMQgfiQZjAVGGTBob5EBYG77MnyVaeaHKwP6sNjhkbq7Dq1hoFIJ8N_HKC-Us/s200/Picture+016.jpg" border="0" /></a>the great stupa at Kessaputta, Vaisali, Nalanda, Rajgir, the Vultures Peak and Buddha Gaya – for the full moon. We have a short retreat at Buddha Gaya; explore mountains and caves, shrines and temples. Then, on to Sarnath with a boat trip tour of vivacious Varanasi before getting the overnight train back to Delhi. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>It’s a spacious pilgrimage</strong>, with a rhythm of one day of travel followed by two nights and <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9xJxHWMPmm9ihpiYEcK7k_yPjciHTn_GPkfXFn0uRCdpXbYsfc1YDLwE-MYaRq2vvDAHIuSb4fFmwhVYbeQZGxYpcAkbSZL6Dy0rqlOozqZbndig7xWqhzL6zNlpwBZz8SPDjnl1XB6c/s1600-h/IMG_0200s.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5055749773225562690" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9xJxHWMPmm9ihpiYEcK7k_yPjciHTn_GPkfXFn0uRCdpXbYsfc1YDLwE-MYaRq2vvDAHIuSb4fFmwhVYbeQZGxYpcAkbSZL6Dy0rqlOozqZbndig7xWqhzL6zNlpwBZz8SPDjnl1XB6c/s200/IMG_0200s.JPG" border="0" /></a>one day at a holy site. So, we get into our leisurely stride, get into our practice, get into the pilgrimage and gather lots of impressions – all perfect preparation for a full moon beneath the Bodhi Tree.<br /><br /><strong>There are some interesting links</strong> - check out the books for sale online, some are links to Amazon bargains. Windhorse give a 10% discount on all books ordered online – and Bhante’s Crossing the Stream is a snip at £ 1.99.<br /><br />There are also links to two other pilgrimage sites I am starting to develop; <a href="http://parayana-main.blogspot.com/">Parayana</a> – news <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDcqc9XarparoCRq6RCrl01BACAGRB-z8ZVp4TkFPutw1EmaCQyiZD1etQNnLB8rctEW7A_-htG4N8zD_aM-wO_qi5pn-ZmW6UvmpqpB6E15rhRBwX4RT81SjFylGJykfmygIHZb4weR0/s1600-h/IMG_0181.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5055749777520530018" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDcqc9XarparoCRq6RCrl01BACAGRB-z8ZVp4TkFPutw1EmaCQyiZD1etQNnLB8rctEW7A_-htG4N8zD_aM-wO_qi5pn-ZmW6UvmpqpB6E15rhRBwX4RT81SjFylGJykfmygIHZb4weR0/s200/IMG_0181.JPG" border="0" /></a>and information about our service and team, and <a href="http://sangharakshita.blogspot.com/">Urgyen Sangharakshita</a> – for the Teachers of the Present pilgrimage. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">I lead the Sakyamuni Heartland pilgrimage twice a year, together the new Mandala of Enlightenment pilgrimage. Please contact me about Pilgrimage to India or Nepal, now or in the future. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">These sites are growing; so book-mark and return for the occasional look.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Take Care</span> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibF6JL-vrikpVtDVnbt2pgAwgrMDIFbDBTWcarLGGIMyK8E5XbEmidrUiV6mbwCq0NcHNr83lgIZ4Pvb-3AUbRLD7C8kJ_nRGRhCPbG1v6Ov_1JWpjvCvRyoWhpuJTtXTengtrS1QMvck/s1600-h/Picture+083.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5056127232131404418" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibF6JL-vrikpVtDVnbt2pgAwgrMDIFbDBTWcarLGGIMyK8E5XbEmidrUiV6mbwCq0NcHNr83lgIZ4Pvb-3AUbRLD7C8kJ_nRGRhCPbG1v6Ov_1JWpjvCvRyoWhpuJTtXTengtrS1QMvck/s200/Picture+083.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Ratna</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span>Ratnaketuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01888085287982272571noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283778884707929385.post-23545286635101747882007-04-15T07:52:00.000+05:302007-04-18T23:32:23.292+05:30The Classic Buddhist Pilgrimage<span style="font-family:arial;color:#666666;">8th - 31st November</span><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrnsXblvMGc5ldj-wFAV2CuZRDgP4bM5PeEkHFDPB1ygg_YnMOpl-tj55tq_0RIpVbLWrU42_12pUxFrgsGLZE5qHjGQF04GN3SPXzbDOm-OqcoohcAShtSYC-ONAv-jGJbKulPnWwYjc/s1600-h/Picture+358.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5053869558021568082" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrnsXblvMGc5ldj-wFAV2CuZRDgP4bM5PeEkHFDPB1ygg_YnMOpl-tj55tq_0RIpVbLWrU42_12pUxFrgsGLZE5qHjGQF04GN3SPXzbDOm-OqcoohcAShtSYC-ONAv-jGJbKulPnWwYjc/s320/Picture+358.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>Sakyamuni and the early Sangha come to life. </strong>The Suttas you have read and the stories you have <a href="http://www.suttareadings.net/">heard</a> spring into three dimensions and burst into colour. The Bodhisattva, Mayadevi, Prajapati Gotami, and King Suddhodana, Yashodhara and Rahula, Chanda and Khantaka, The Buddha, Ananda and Anathapindika, Sariputta and Moggallana, Dhammadinna, and Maha Kassapa-<strong>they leave the halls of memory and walk beside us</strong>, sit with us, smile upon us – at least in our <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Category:Disciples_of_the_Buddha">imagination</a>.<br /><br /><strong>We go back two thousand five hundred years</strong>, into the <a href="http://www.aimwell.org/Photos/India/Ganges/ganges.html">world</a> of Siddhartha, the first Buddhist dawn, and the early Sangha. In imagination, we go back in time, but in our bodies, we walk, sit and reflect where those worthy-ones actually walked, sat and taught. At last, you can fill in the colours and populate your mind with images of the landscapes the Buddha lived in, and the peoples he lived amongst. At night, we hear the sounds the Buddha heard. By day, we see faces, fields, rivers, trees, and rocky hills pretty much as the Buddha saw them. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikvssnxxvIAge1OAWYcM02F7asu-nWZDCXZkZaAQnspkr49UpH9Bzo7n2POoz19-PIVsktxw3iIlsmpUqzsu3tFFNj7A4l4W292D7tWSJ5WK6YVdAvHMUEglSnhUqjD0mtd9EfuJs_bnk/s1600-h/Picture+240.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5053869562316535394" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikvssnxxvIAge1OAWYcM02F7asu-nWZDCXZkZaAQnspkr49UpH9Bzo7n2POoz19-PIVsktxw3iIlsmpUqzsu3tFFNj7A4l4W292D7tWSJ5WK6YVdAvHMUEglSnhUqjD0mtd9EfuJs_bnk/s320/Picture+240.jpg" border="0" /></a> </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><span style="color:#999999;">It’s a leisurely yet true pilgrimage, </span><br /><span style="color:#999999;">through incredible India, </span><br /><span style="color:#999999;">to places of real significance. </span><br /></span><br /><br /></span>Ratnaketuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01888085287982272571noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283778884707929385.post-11981088489850435712007-04-15T07:50:00.000+05:302007-05-05T14:02:52.949+05:30In Brief<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhps1l_tEWJwD3X4n85fJ4I7UAgNT1anliLdkqFRuiQf6iAoW7Ti0tgeLAcqZZMJzHS22qGNPjBXr4Fm7YODZe0EuJJSsXCnEYm2dbrfIbGDyw6GoUhgItOu1n6Wx4n-AUX5MvvCgHOmT8/s1600-h/The+Walls+of+Sravasti.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5053872508664100482" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhps1l_tEWJwD3X4n85fJ4I7UAgNT1anliLdkqFRuiQf6iAoW7Ti0tgeLAcqZZMJzHS22qGNPjBXr4Fm7YODZe0EuJJSsXCnEYm2dbrfIbGDyw6GoUhgItOu1n6Wx4n-AUX5MvvCgHOmT8/s320/The+Walls+of+Sravasti.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="color:#999999;"><span style="font-family:arial;">Sravasti's Ancient Walls</span> </span><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>When:</strong> Next - 8th November – 1st December 2007. 24 Days on pilgrimage in India<br /><br />We offer this Sakyamuni Heartland pilgrimage twice a year – Usually in November and Jan/Feb.<br /><br /><strong>Cost:</strong> The commercial value of the 24 day pilgrimage is high but our Pilgrims simply agree to cover the remarkably low costs (between 225 and 400 UK Pounds depending on the size of the group), and then make a donation towards Dharma and Social projects we sponsor.<br /><br /><strong>Included:</strong> All accommodation transport food and site fees. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>Not included: </strong>Airfares and Insurance.<br /><br /><strong>Connections:</strong> Delhi is our start and end point. Everyone is met at Arrivals at the beginning of the pilgrimage, and accompanied to Departures at the conclusion.<br /><br /><strong>Travel:</strong> 10 – 20 pilgrims, plus guide and team. Travel by spacious AC Coach. Bags are carried by our Team.<br /><br /><strong>Accommodation and Food:</strong> We stay in simple, clean and atmospheric Pilgrims accommodation. Our own cooks ensure good safe food.<br /><br /><strong>More Information:</strong> When you book we send you information sheets covering; Spiritual Preparation, Visas, Insurance, What to Take, What to Expect, Health and Safety, Recommended Reading, Detailed Itinerary, Character Notes, Literary Extracts and the Practice of Pilgrimage.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><a href="http://parayana-main.blogspot.com/2007/04/ratnaketu.html"><strong>Pilgrimage Guide: </strong>Dharmachari Ratnaketu.</a></span><br /><br /><a href="http://parayana-main.blogspot.com/2007/04/ratnaketu.html"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5054295279474915090" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmcvt95_dgjlDlRlb64uZNdubiEUgtgRkBSLpHFpJIWIZqTNNc2x7HmUpO0QFU0fsItLea-FuwTwSyFGIOTB7wrP4sAJFjJcvFWjUm2gaBGekCldpHUlHktvU9s6EwvQlUXy-Q61d1-bo/s200/Picture+042a.jpg" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5YzHgfg8INYKCNOueEntGU8fwHne44X1suSiWVBqy3wbq11cMr6tfP03kjeI1cLhqkdcinn1r0u55AdnAk2K950omc4rF6efRUKwKWk30IW0wCuBYCDkvSbnNJ0jTSyRQZXHxXFr2_Es/s1600-h/Barabar.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></a><br /><span style="color:#999999;"><span style="font-family:arial;">Ratnaketu</span> </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Booking: Contact us at </span><a href="mailto:justratna@yahoo.com"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">justratna@yahoo.com</span></a><br /><br /><br /></span>Ratnaketuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01888085287982272571noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283778884707929385.post-30498885925297512852007-04-15T07:47:00.000+05:302007-05-21T09:48:39.347+05:30Getting There is Half the Journey<span style="font-family:arial;color:#999999;"><em>Say not so Ananda, say not so. It is the whole of the Journey. </em></span><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYyIrBwF6y7SzqJgFyBXZSREdAKv-SCGRcgUsEX_059_m51BDBoOwly-ShyphenhyphenGikB74G2jSGJKSP4ADOVn3MWNBPLSH-uqwl-1W_ctZN1ORP2Mfk-WsKEzks54wfXzKWigaEX7oF5NN3uE4/s1600-h/IMG_0062.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5053866817832433202" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYyIrBwF6y7SzqJgFyBXZSREdAKv-SCGRcgUsEX_059_m51BDBoOwly-ShyphenhyphenGikB74G2jSGJKSP4ADOVn3MWNBPLSH-uqwl-1W_ctZN1ORP2Mfk-WsKEzks54wfXzKWigaEX7oF5NN3uE4/s320/IMG_0062.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><div><span style="font-family:arial;color:#c0c0c0;">Tea at the Yama Cafe - Kushinagar</span> </div><div><br /><strong>At least we think so</strong> and take extra care to ensure that you go to bed relaxed and happy, and rise fresh to a new day of wonder and delight.<br /><br /><strong>We meet everyone at Arrivals.</strong> Our Coaches are good; air-conditioned so we avoid most of the dust, with more seats than we need so we can spread out and move around. The roads between the holy sites are sometimes narrow and bumpy and we occasionally average as little as 15 -20 kms per hour. However, mostly we will be cruising at 40-50 kms per hour through a vast and fascinating countryside. <strong>You see the most amazing things at practically every glance and the misty mornings and hazy sunsets can be hauntingly beautiful. </strong><br /><br />We have a good amount of time at the holy sites and hope to arrive by the late afternoon. Most pilgrimage groups arrive in the late afternoon and leave first-thing the next morning – they travel every day and do the round in 7 or 8 days. If we get into the rhythm of the pilgrimage, and use our time well, we should be able to generate and maintain a solid pilgrimage atmosphere —and have <strong>a comfortable, spacious and inspiring Pilgrimage</strong>.<br /><br />We stay in <strong>Buddhist Dharamsala’s</strong> – pilgrim’s accommodation within Monasteries, mostly in rooms of 4. At some places, we may be able to get a few double rooms.<br /><br />In addition to our team of Indian and Nepalese helpers, <strong>we take our own cooking team</strong>, which means we eat well and save time. </div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiObGXCT2dm-X2vNwk6-1Zv8JNTiIjt1XVwcu7K9LVKFYQOegMLb-vcWhOXnkkoRWKue1xHCvd_fwrLCmJ8LYzJZpdOqXzKLqmWVRrW-2OAlFCkuu0fBMTZJnlHzVksBxz3FR8-vuSgz5s/s1600-h/3+Tier+AC+Sleeper+Blues+-+Toby.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5053866817832433186" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiObGXCT2dm-X2vNwk6-1Zv8JNTiIjt1XVwcu7K9LVKFYQOegMLb-vcWhOXnkkoRWKue1xHCvd_fwrLCmJ8LYzJZpdOqXzKLqmWVRrW-2OAlFCkuu0fBMTZJnlHzVksBxz3FR8-vuSgz5s/s320/3+Tier+AC+Sleeper+Blues+-+Toby.jpg" border="0" /></a></span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#cc9933;"><span style="color:#999999;">Toby serenades aboard the Shiv Ganga Expres</span>s</span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#cc9933;"></span></div><div></div><div></div>Ratnaketuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01888085287982272571noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283778884707929385.post-73608742753863644992007-04-15T07:45:00.000+05:302007-04-18T22:42:18.444+05:30The Magic of Pilgrimage<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq3tX-OQb1uIiyd7Cc9YanDFGZylOrnYTvGHnFCjC6BZxsLA-Qp9NzaKWUwdDp03GfRfcq-JmWkAt-cet1siqw5u1FOuW0bp8P4kbbrnGZUXUS6H4cxicAvDWh1vuJc6GbY5G0Rbu5SLg/s1600-h/IMG_0186.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5053864584449439234" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq3tX-OQb1uIiyd7Cc9YanDFGZylOrnYTvGHnFCjC6BZxsLA-Qp9NzaKWUwdDp03GfRfcq-JmWkAt-cet1siqw5u1FOuW0bp8P4kbbrnGZUXUS6H4cxicAvDWh1vuJc6GbY5G0Rbu5SLg/s320/IMG_0186.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="color:#999999;"><span style="font-family:arial;">Steve - Being There</span> </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>Pilgrimage is a very powerful practice.</strong> One’s world is turned upside down. One’s imagination is stretched. Sometimes one sees, experiences, or participates in amazing things.<br /><br />"A Pilgrimage is a journey into a world of myth. Events which have seemed to be shut away behind the closed doors along time's long corridor become as alive and as fresh as if they had happened yesterday. To the pilgrim, everyday reality and imagination are no longer separate: a shape, a noise, an unexpected meeting, can be charged with significance, becoming a symbol of something 'beyond us, yet ourselves'. One dwells more intensely on how one acts within one's environment, and on the effect of that environment upon oneself. Such intense concentration, coupled with reflection on the life of the Buddha and on the lives of the great sages who followed him, brings about a deep sense of faith which flowers as inspiration. The pilgrim gives himself to the pilgrimage with body, speech, and mind, and the fruits of his devotion manifest as virtue. He comes to feel blessed; in the traditional phrase, he feels, 'richly endowed'." <strong>From Suvajra’s <a href="http://www.windhorsepublications.com/CartV2/Details.asp?ProductID=359">'The Wheel and the Diamond</a></strong><br /><br /><strong>Outwardly</strong>, we could say that pilgrimage is a journey through place to meaning. Be they caves, crags, rivers, woods, trees, lakes, springs, shrines, temples or gardens they are haloed places imbued with meaning, charged with significance, surrounded by aura upon aura.<br /><br /><strong>Inwardly</strong>, pilgrimage is a journey through meaning to awareness. It is a pilgrimage of mindful thought and reflection leading to moments –mysterious, precious, healing, liberating, inspiring, ungraspable moments.<br /><br /><strong>Secretly</strong>, it is a journey through moments of awareness towards continuity of awareness; pure mind: the eternal empty light.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2PoJU-gikGYyNiUSR8RuxDf3W9zQeaYpGXkanrSxVE18K7WKvHQzeo3LUmXJwBIiPqDQWMblmR_Bl2H153lGzWI7q9-fcwCmqWCKt0SshTe_ZAhDJ8pwB-v1qPJNmULY40W04tNRhW4I/s1600-h/IMG_0028.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5053870983950710386" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2PoJU-gikGYyNiUSR8RuxDf3W9zQeaYpGXkanrSxVE18K7WKvHQzeo3LUmXJwBIiPqDQWMblmR_Bl2H153lGzWI7q9-fcwCmqWCKt0SshTe_ZAhDJ8pwB-v1qPJNmULY40W04tNRhW4I/s320/IMG_0028.JPG" border="0" /></a></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#999999;">Anne finds herself at home. </span>Ratnaketuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01888085287982272571noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283778884707929385.post-51297620787438086912007-04-15T07:41:00.000+05:302007-05-03T17:24:59.589+05:30Approaching the Holy Sites<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFJ1pEAHNr6NAKXmD1RuYzVxF4-YGhxGDVtBc8qvNQpLvmosjLXeeohhlWu1tGur6pFl_6nvViq1S4HpUqVNPIRHHQNngj97HlPlCDFq9htMNZlSuScjjFl-4k2u7QxpBuP0FPYaCOpvE/s1600-h/IMG_0101.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5053876283940353698" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFJ1pEAHNr6NAKXmD1RuYzVxF4-YGhxGDVtBc8qvNQpLvmosjLXeeohhlWu1tGur6pFl_6nvViq1S4HpUqVNPIRHHQNngj97HlPlCDFq9htMNZlSuScjjFl-4k2u7QxpBuP0FPYaCOpvE/s320/IMG_0101.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#666666;">Remembering <a href="http://www.accesstoinsight.org/lib/authors/hecker/wheel334.html">Anathapindaka</a></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><em><strong><a href="http://spiritrock.org/display.asp?pageid=39&catid=4&scatid=8">Jack Kornfield</a> wrote about a walk he did with Aborigines in Australia.</strong> As they approached their holy site, they first walked silent, then proceeded with an ever-deeper bow until they were crawling on hands and knees and finally wriggling along the ground...<br /></em><br />The sites we visit are supremely haloed; traditionally credited with the power to heal and bless – even <strong>the blessing of Insight.</strong> As we draw near, leaving other thoughts aside we repeatedly bring to mind thoughts, images and feelings connected with the events in the life of the Buddha that occurred at that site. Usually we will wend our way in silence, straight to the most holy spot. Often we will stand and sometimes sit in silence. And in the silence really look, <strong>seeing the place for the first time with an uncluttered mind</strong>. Seeing too in imagination, perhaps as if for the first time, the events that occurred there.<br /><br />So, we approach and stand or sit in silence. And from our silence perform our puja, sing our songs, dance our jigs, make our offerings salutations circumambulations and prostrations. <strong>Then we wander around</strong> visiting other important sites, taking in the scene, imagining what it was like when the Buddha was there, or Nagarjuna, or Padmasambhava. Other times we will return to meditate, reflect, make offerings and do puja. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPD3NoJIvv8VMrj5-5D4ZlmyLbevY3bvElELyC1cKyghNGrtmFVtr8INXjxuErO3ah7QDGXARiDioINexuJlED9E2ZDJvNy2zdV0zuTRBs5aK-5bTaz6EwwJKkXxcjbdtMGLsW8P3xfWY/s1600-h/Picture+223.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5053876283940353714" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPD3NoJIvv8VMrj5-5D4ZlmyLbevY3bvElELyC1cKyghNGrtmFVtr8INXjxuErO3ah7QDGXARiDioINexuJlED9E2ZDJvNy2zdV0zuTRBs5aK-5bTaz6EwwJKkXxcjbdtMGLsW8P3xfWY/s320/Picture+223.jpg" border="0" /></a></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#666666;">Silaketu in Sariputta's Enlightenment Cave</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span>Ratnaketuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01888085287982272571noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283778884707929385.post-37989381989191338582007-04-15T07:38:00.000+05:302007-05-03T06:03:08.398+05:30Parayana - The Way Beyond<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqlveVMNEy0DIS1CgzNTTDHLFm-O2w0MgiVVW29nM0GQpqv4MOCmagnaBV7A-Rd43jvzEvn4g8JPVI0duh6MgRckYx0HB0bpVH3sCMZ3n975px90OUNA-HNoQXd8tzGVvW5AvkGO2ia9M/s1600-h/monky.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5053879840173274834" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqlveVMNEy0DIS1CgzNTTDHLFm-O2w0MgiVVW29nM0GQpqv4MOCmagnaBV7A-Rd43jvzEvn4g8JPVI0duh6MgRckYx0HB0bpVH3sCMZ3n975px90OUNA-HNoQXd8tzGVvW5AvkGO2ia9M/s320/monky.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color:#999999;"><span style="font-family:arial;">Parayana means Going Beyond</span> </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">When we started the pilgrimage service in 2001, our aim was to create resources for men and women <strong>Sramanas</strong> – renunciants practicing in simplicity. Still dedicated to Sramanas, Parayana has unexpectedly become an important part of new initiatives taking our Movement into the Buddhist Heartland – the Indian states of Bihar and Uttar Pradesh.<br /><br />Pilgrimage has become another sparkling facet of our Movement. We enable pilgrims to enter the spirit and path of pilgrimage, to gain experiences of India, of the holy places, and of the Refuges that would scarcely otherwise be imaginable. Parayana provides employment, community, and skills training for our team members, and ....</span><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRpVkymkct6PdB2RPJ9U_qtnSd-UMZoQW_iUyvqBGwaJaf8nQWfnOWEdOhKliBSvHIdtYl_Zcckoalsy27FxahA20fGMphoSCDwvVXZ2rM5MexsVsrOpiG-fBNmcvk0AASKOUxX-DMu4A/s1600-h/Picture+148.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5053880132231050978" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRpVkymkct6PdB2RPJ9U_qtnSd-UMZoQW_iUyvqBGwaJaf8nQWfnOWEdOhKliBSvHIdtYl_Zcckoalsy27FxahA20fGMphoSCDwvVXZ2rM5MexsVsrOpiG-fBNmcvk0AASKOUxX-DMu4A/s320/Picture+148.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color:#999999;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">...brings the East and West of our Movement together.</span> </span><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFmUHHiqfQ8EPzmZuFNsDJGs2csfrTFOk38leag3Huu7B_KtBN184LaaKAaqd7HNt0l76uS6h8rEf2Kjw2oLewb8qsnCWUzENAwHnPHdhMrTt5muyUIkQn9rrY43M0Jpkk_KTRje7SJ2s/s1600-h/IMG_0148.JPG"></a></span></strong>Ratnaketuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01888085287982272571noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283778884707929385.post-54504378297547621252007-04-09T11:38:00.000+05:302007-05-05T14:04:08.618+05:30Where The Money Goes<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv7Ubot39TLIgOtNnhKb3-FwtZkYQZ-8KtVjbUod2mR-tfhwg1MijEwTCjdfN2DAocnEzLh6CwXxV9gsGW0f9ZQp5tAd5ON0fAkK_yoP_6m1g-X20sR-Gd2gMpN7nwhn3Frcw-i-y96iI/s1600-h/pre+com.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5051399872100613842" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv7Ubot39TLIgOtNnhKb3-FwtZkYQZ-8KtVjbUod2mR-tfhwg1MijEwTCjdfN2DAocnEzLh6CwXxV9gsGW0f9ZQp5tAd5ON0fAkK_yoP_6m1g-X20sR-Gd2gMpN7nwhn3Frcw-i-y96iI/s400/pre+com.jpg" border="0" /></a> <div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNyQCa46L_dW5Ab1_RYWw-Uiof_FWc8NfdSd1uWwx-Q9gsPt7m1_5zEWH4Z_b_QBIj5vmTJrMXpuvyGBZbCSbBOpqE7e_U_c4tv9C9KcSrmRjb7LrWkSYuoOs93Jp3Vbv3_cqNvxB6SzE/s1600-h/pre+com.jpg"></a><span style="color:#666666;"><span style="font-family:arial;">The Parayana Team</span> </span><br /><div><br /><div><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>Yours is a true pilgrimage </strong>– something you co-create, not buy. The traditional method – which we follow – is for the participants to share the costs, and each individual to follow the dictates of the heart when they give.<br /><br /><strong>Costs</strong><br />Although the commercial value of the pilgrimage is high, the actual costs – aside from airfares, insurance and pre-travel purchases - are remarkably low. India is economical and our Team is likewise. The cost of all meals snacks and drinks, accommodation, transport, Team wages and offerings is likely to be between than 200 and 400 Pounds depending on the size of the group.<br /><br /><strong>Dana</strong><br />Our Team simply takes minimal wages that support life and provide something for their family. It’s not a business; we don’t seek to make an ordinary profit. <strong>We hope to enable you to experience the joy of giving</strong> – by keeping costs down; and by enticing you to support projects that we sponsor. </span></span></div><div></div></div></div>Ratnaketuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01888085287982272571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283778884707929385.post-27518879353281876912007-04-09T11:35:00.000+05:302007-05-03T06:11:59.464+05:30Dana<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDnrQGabWOc_3jeSXS1U0-fWJSfR7fSPngxSPqp_YedN56QRD2pSJL0U62kHijpEHNyTI4erhM3LkXyvhbOvX5oALITUGt8lHZNxNZKaB4Tk9b2pI8cz75wphVNSfmUcawuOXgFiNGOYI/s1600-h/IMG_0204.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5051327381642591922" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDnrQGabWOc_3jeSXS1U0-fWJSfR7fSPngxSPqp_YedN56QRD2pSJL0U62kHijpEHNyTI4erhM3LkXyvhbOvX5oALITUGt8lHZNxNZKaB4Tk9b2pI8cz75wphVNSfmUcawuOXgFiNGOYI/s320/IMG_0204.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family:arial;color:#999999;">The <a href="http://www.glasgowbuddhistcentre.com/">Glasgow Buddhist Centre</a> pilgrims gave this little girl a trip to the Hospital. </span><br /><br /></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">This year we have several major funding projects; the first is to find two thousand pounds for the young <strong><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dhardo_Rinpoche">Dhardo Tulku</a></strong>; for rituals that are an important part of his Monastic education.<br /><br />Then we want to find fifteen hundred pounds to help preserve the cottage on a high ridge above Kalimpong <strong>where Bhante received his first Tantric initiation; Green Tara from <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chatral_Rinpoche">Chatral Rinpoche</a>. </strong>That meeting and Rinpoche’s direct, spontaneous, simple and informal method of introducing and transmitting the Sadhana is the model of our Private Ordination especially the Initiation. Bhante gave Initiation in the same informal way as Chatral Rinpoche gave him Green Tara. Our Private Preceptors continue in the same spirit. The cottage signifies and very much anchors our connection with the ancient Vajrayana tradition of Tibet – especially the Nyingmas. It is in danger of demolition; the cottage. I have persuaded the owner to preserve it on the promise of a donation for substantial repairs.<br /><br />And this year <strong>we are committed to starting a carbon sink</strong>; a wood where you actually plant the tree that makes your <a href="http://dhammarati.blogspot.com/2007/02/more-incovenient-truth.html">pilgrimage more eco-friendly</a>.<br /><br /><strong>Our focus however is the new <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shramana">Sramana </a>Trust.</strong> Through Sramana, we aim to support men and women renunciants in various ways; chiefly through basic support and accommodation.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>Sramana is getting underway in India</strong> and is closely associated with the new beginnings of our Movement in the middle land – around the Buddhist Holy places in Bihar and UP. The ancient Buddhist Heartland is now the most backward and poorest part of India. So far, our Movement has had very few activities in Bihar, and indeed, it appears that no other Buddhist organization is actively spreading the Dharma in Bihar – outside a few monastic enclaves.<br /><br /><strong>But things are beginning to change.</strong> A team of Order members and Dhammamitras based in Buddhagaya are determined to establish the Movement in Bihar and take the Dharma to the poorest most neglected people in India – slowly slowly. We have started by assembling a team, making connections at the Holy places, sending people on retreat and seeking supporters. Shortly we begin building a base, <a href="http://www.bodhgaya.fwbo.org/">on our land</a>, in Buddha Gaya. </span></span><br /><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></span><br /><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFOkW4ktf_v1OkJ6_EVstOeXF4KmYB56X8riybPKJXnNQJ5pzqI4xjmR8Z9uTOjpDMLNUI_WXcnS3wVSX1BGjAzOksKUD14vOMTf_CmaYrVJQJBUdT0sUPNbECl8GQ_bMBASW8WH1XJ0s/s1600-h/IMG_0064.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5053878242445440706" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFOkW4ktf_v1OkJ6_EVstOeXF4KmYB56X8riybPKJXnNQJ5pzqI4xjmR8Z9uTOjpDMLNUI_WXcnS3wVSX1BGjAzOksKUD14vOMTf_CmaYrVJQJBUdT0sUPNbECl8GQ_bMBASW8WH1XJ0s/s320/IMG_0064.JPG" border="0" /></a></span></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"><span style="color:#999999;">Sakyamuni's Cremation Stupa</span><br /><span style="color:#999999;">Naryan Gopal distrubtes gifts from <a href="http://www.glasgowbuddhistcentre.com/">Glasgow</a>.</span></span><br /><br /><p></p>Ratnaketuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01888085287982272571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283778884707929385.post-12468453709308992022007-03-26T14:41:00.000+05:302007-07-26T14:50:05.229+05:30Sakyamuni’s Wanderings<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">Sakyamuni’s Wanderings<br />By Ven. S. Dhammika<br /><br />“According to the Tipitaka, almost the first thing the Buddha did after his enlightenment was to embark on a long journey in order to teach others what he had discovered. Equally significantly, his instructions to his first five disciples was that they should ‘wander forth’ to teach others what he had taught them.<br /><br />The area in which the Buddha wandered during his life corresponds roughly to the modern Indian states of Uttar Pradesh and Bihar. The furthermost east he went which can still be identified is Kajangla (now Kankjol, 18 k south of Rajmahal right on the Indo-Bangladesh border) and the furthermost west he is known to have gone is Mathura, some 180 kilometres south of Delhi. These two locations are nearly a thousand kilometres apart. The Buddha’s movements northwards were of course limited by the then impenetrable jungles of the Himalayan foothills and it is unlikely that he ever went further south than the southern edge of the Ganges watershed. Still, this would mean that his wanderings covered an area roughly equivalent to 200,000 square kilometers, a huge area by any standards.<br /><br />The evidence suggests that the Buddha only occasionally visited the outer edges of this region. For example, he only visited Mathura once and he probably visited Anga in the east (i.e. Campa, Bhaddiya and Kajangla corresponding to modern Bhagalpur District) only once also. Incidentally, I believe that Bhaddiya or Bhaddiyanagara as it is also sometimes called in the Tipitaka, can be safely identified with the village of Bhadariya some 12 kilometres south of Bhagalpur. However, most of the Buddha’s wanderings took place in the eastern part of this area, between the great cities of Savatthi, Rajagaha, Vesali and Kosambi. The Tipitaka mention carriageways in towns and paths, roads and highways through the countryside. However there is little doubt that these names referred to the frequency of traffic on these arteries, not to the quality of their paving or their width. All roads in ancient India were little more than dusty, rutted tracks in the summer and impassable rivers of mud in the rainy season. Banditry added to the risks of long distance travel.<br /><br />Travellers on the road between Savatthi and Sakheta were often robbed (Vin, IV: 87) and of course the fearsome Angulimala was a robber and murderer who operated in forested areas around Savatthi. Once the Buddha and an attendant were on tour of Kosala when they came to a fork in the road. The Buddha said they should take one fork while the attendant said they should take the other. This debate continued for some time until in a huff the attendant put the Buddha’s bowl down and walked off on the way he thought correct. He hadn’t gone far before he was attacked by bandits who "struck him with their fists and feet and tore his robe" (Ud, 90). In the more remote districts travelers might have difficulty finding food, water and shelter. The Tipitaka mentions a traveler getting down on all fours to drink from a puddle in a cows footprint because no other water was available and of two parents lost in the wilderness who saved themselves from starvation by killing and eating their child. More normally though travel was just uncomfortable, tedious and undertaken only when necessary. And yet it seems that the Buddha spent most of his time on the road in order to reach as many people as possible. Such was his determination and compassion.<br /><br />In keeping with the rules laid down by himself and in accordance with long established samana tradition, the Buddha spent three months of the rainy season in one location and the rest of the year on what were called ‘walking tours’. According to the commentarial tradition after the 20th year of his ministry he spent every rainy season in or near Savatthi, the capital of Kosala. The fact that more of his discourses are set in this city that in any other place suggests that there is some foundation in this tradition and if it is true he may have decided to limit his wanderings at that time due to age. He would have been sixty years old at the time. All the Buddha’s journeys were undertaken on foot although, as there are numerous rivers in the lands he knew, he must have often had to use boats or ferries despite there being no specific mention of him ever actually doing this.<br /><br />We read of monks once crossing a river by holding on to the tails and backs of a herd of cattle that was swimming across the same river suggesting that when there was neither bridges, boats or rafts that the Buddha might have had to improvise as these monks did. There is no mention of the Buddha traveling by carriage or cart. In only one place is he described as wearing sandals, so he probably went bare footed most of the time (Vin, IV: 186).<br /><br />The Tipitaka mentions the itinerary of many of the Buddha’s journeys giving us an idea of the distances he sometimes traveled. For example, we know that within the first twelve months after his enlightenment he went from Uruvela to Isipatthana via Gaya and Benares, spent the three months of the rainy season there and then travelled to Rajagaha via Benares, Gaya, Uruvela and Lativanna. All these places can be identified with certainly and thus we can calculate that he must have walked at least 300 kilometres. In the longest single journey recorded in the Tipitaka, he went from Rajagaha: to Vesali to Savatthi and back to Rajagaha via Kitigiri and Avali, a round trip of at least 1600 kilometers (Vin, IV, 189). It is likely that he would have started a trip like this at the end of the rains retreat and arrived back in time for the next retreat nine months later. Unfortunately, it is not possible to know how much time these or any of the other journeys might have taken. <br /><br />In the famous Mahaparinibbana Sutta we know that he went from Rajagaha to Kusinara via Nalanda, Patna and Vesali, a total distance of about 300 kilometres. According to the sutta he left Vesali at the end of the rains retreat (October) and of course he is supposed to have attained final nirvana in Kusinara on the full moon of Vesakha (May). This suggests that he took seven months to travel about 95 kilometres. Even allowing for the fact that he was old and in ill health this seems like a very long time. It should be pointed out that only later texts in the Tipitaka mention that the Buddha’s parinivana took place at Vesakha and the sutta gives the impression that while his last journey was slow it was at a steady pace. However, it seems likely that the Buddha conducted all his journeys at a leisurely pace.<br /><br />The evidence suggests that he would wake before sunrise, go for pindapata (alms) in the nearest town or village just after sunrise and having eaten, would set off while it was still cool. He would walk until the midday heat became unpleasant and then take an afternoon rest. If there was a village nearby he might stay until the next morning and if not he might continue walking until he got to the next village. How long he stayed at a particular place would have depended on many factors - whether local people came to talk with and listen with him, whether food and water was available, whether the atmosphere was congenial. We know for example that he cut short his first stay in Rajagaha when people began to complain that too many young men were leaving their families to become monks (Vin, IV: 43). Once he arrived in the village of Thuna to find that there was no water to drink because the brahmin inhabitants, hearing that he was coming, had blocked up their wells with rice husks and cow dung (Ud,78). The warm and respectful reception that Buddhist monks get today was not always available to the Buddha and his disciples. He is often described as traveling with either 500 monks (a conventional number meaning ‘a lot’) or simply with "a large group of monks". At other times he would dismiss his attendant and companions telling them that he wanted to wander by himself for a while (S.III:94).<br /><br />The Buddha was not, as is commonly supposed, primarily a forest dweller. Of the four monasteries he founded and now identified by archaeologists - Ghositarama, Jivakarama, Jetavana and Veluvana - the first is actually inside the walls of the city while the other three are within easy waking distance of their respective cities’. When staying in these places the Buddha’s accommodation would have been reasonably comfortable but when he was on the road the situation was very different and he would have to sleep in or take shelter in whatever was available. We read of him sleeping in a potter’s shed on grass spread on the floor (M.I:502). On another occasion, he arrived in Kapilavatthu and finding no proper lodgings, spent the night in Bharandu’s hermitage sleeping on a mat on the ground (A.I:277). Often he must have simply slept in one of the many mango groves that to this day are still to be seen near most north Indian villages. Finding him out in the open one winter’s night Hattaka asked the Buddha if he was happy. He replied; "Yes my lad, I live happily. Of those who live happily in the world I am one". Hattaka expressed surprise at this, pointing out that it was the dark half of the month, the time of frost, that the ground was trampled hard by the hoofs of the cattle, the carpet of leaves thin, the wind cold and that the Buddha’s robe appeared to be thin. The Buddha reaffirmed that he was nonetheless happy (A.I:136).<br /><br />The Buddha must have also enjoyed the freedom his life of wandering gave him. For him "the household life is full of hindrances, a path of dust. Free as the wind is the life of one who renounces all worldly things" (D,I:62). However, moving from place to place had very important practical reasons behind it too, in a world without the communications that we take for granted it allowed him to spread his teachings far and wide. He was also aware that some personal contact with him was important, especially for newly ordained monks and nuns, and that this may have been a factor in determining in which districts he visited and how often (S,III:90). During his wanderings he might visit a district, teach, make some disciples, even ordain a few monks or nuns and then perhaps not come again for many years. If a monk from such a district wished to see him again he could simply set off to wherever the Buddha was staying at the time.<br /><br />Sona Kutikannawas was ordained by Mahakaccana and about a year later developed the desire to meet the man whose teachings he had committed himself to. He said to his preceptor; "I have not yet met the Lord face to face, I have only heard about what he is like. If you give me permission I will travel to see the Lord, the Noble One, the Enlightened Buddha (Ud,58). For lay disciples with domestic obligations undertaking a long journey to see the Buddha would have been more difficult and so they may have had to wait, perhaps many years, before they got to see him again. The Thapataya Sutta gives us some idea of the excitement caused in an outlying district when its inhabitants heard that the Buddha might be on his way to see him and how the excitement increased as word of his gradual approach reached them (S,V:348-349). Elsewhere we read of people’s anxiousness for news about the Buddha and of what he had been teaching.<br /><br />Once a monk who had spent the rainy season with the Buddha in Savatthi arrived in Kapilavatthu. When people heard where the monk had come from he found himself deluged with questions about the Buddha (S,V:450). On another occasion a group of brahmins from Kosala and Magadha who had arrived in Vesali, heard that the Buddha just happened to be in town and decided that the opportunity to meet him was one that was too good to miss. The Buddha had apparently given his attendant instructions that he was not to be disturbed while the brahmins were adamant that they would not leave until they got to see the famous teacher.<br /><br />Seeing this impasse, the novice Siha asked the attendant to tell the Buddha that there were three people waiting to see him. The attendant said he would not do this but he wouldn’t object if Siha did. This was done, the Buddha asked Siha to put a mat outside his residence in the shade for him to sit on while he talked to the brahmins (D,I:151). But the Buddha couldn’t be everywhere at once and so monks and nuns would often take long journeys for the privilege of spending some time in his presence. For example once while he was residing in Catuma at least five hundred monks arrived to see him (M,I: 456).<br /><br />However, with him moving around a lot, it was not always possible to know where he was at any one time. In the beautiful Parayana Vagga of the Sutta Nipata we read of the sixteen disciples of the ascetic Bavari setting out for northern India in the hope of meeting the Buddha. First they heard that he was at Savatthi and "wearing matted hair and dressed in deer skin" they headed there. They went through Kosambi and Saketa and arrived in Savatthi only to find that he had left some time previously. They followed his route through Setavya, Kapilavatthu, Kusinara, Pava and Vesali finally catching up with him at the Pasanaka Shrine, (Barabar Hills north of Gaya) "and like a thirsty man going for cool water, like merchants going for profit, like a heat exhausted man going for shade, they quickly ascended the mountain" (Sn 1014).<br /><br /> </span>Ratnaketuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01888085287982272571noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283778884707929385.post-57412128421379134872007-03-25T14:50:00.000+05:302007-07-26T14:52:39.314+05:30Buddhist Women 1<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"><strong>Buddhist Women 1<br />Dr. Bimala Churn Law, Ph.D.</strong><br /><br /><br />An account of some famous women who figure prominently in the early Buddhist texts is given in the following pages. The account will show that women were not a negligible factor in the ancient Buddhist community of India.<br /><br />Abhirupananda was the daughter of a Sakya noble named Khemaka. She was called Nanda the Fair because of her great beauty and amiability. Her beloved kinsman, Carabhuta, died on the day on which she was to choose him from amongst her suitors. She had to leave the world against her will. Though she entered the order, she could not forget that she was beautiful. Fearing that, the Buddha would rebuke her, she used to avoid his presence. The Buddha knew that the time had come for her to acquire knowledge and asked Mahapajapati Gotami to bring all the bhikkhunis before him to receive instruction. Nanda sent a proxy for her. The Buddha said, "Let no one come by proxy." So, she was compelled to come to him. The Buddha by his supernatural power conjured up a beautiful woman, who became transformed into an old and fading figure. It had the desired effect, and Abhirupananda became an arhat. (Therigatha Commy., pp. 25-26.)<br /><br />Jenti or Jenta was born in a princely family of the Licchavis at Vaisali. She won arhatship after hearing the Dharma preached by the Buddha. She developed the seven Sambojjhangas. (Ibid., p.27).<br /><br />Citta was born at Rajagaha in the family of a leading burgess. One day when she was of age, she heard the master preach and believed in his doctrine. She was ordained by Mahapajapati Gotami. In her old age she climbed the vulture's peak and lived like a recluse. Her insight expanded and she won arhatship. (Ibid., p.33.)<br /><br />Sukka was born at Rajagaha in the family of a rich householder. When she attained the years of discretion she believed in the Master's teaching and became a lay disciple. One day she heard Dharmadinna preach and was so greatly moved that she renounced the world and followed Dharmadinna. She performed all the exercises for acquiring insight and very soon attained arhatship with patisambhida. Thereupon she became a great preacher and was attended by 500 bhikkhus. One day, along with the other bhikkhunis, she went to the hermitage of the bhikkhunis and taught the Buddha's doctrine in such a way that everybody listened to her with rapt attention; even a tree-spirit was so much moved that it began to praise her. At this the people were excited and came to the sister and listened attentively. (Ibid., pp.57-61.)<br /><br />Sela was born in the kingdom of Alavi, as the king's daughter. She was also known as Alavika. One day, while yet a maid, she went with the king and heard the Master preach. She became a believer and lay disciple. A few days after, she took orders and performed the exercises for insight. She subjugated the complexities of thought, word and deed and soon won arhatship. Thereafter she lived at Savatthi when the Buddha was there. She entered the Andhavana forest to meditate after finishing her midday meal. Mara once tried in vain to persuade her to choose the sensuous life (Ibid., p.61, f. Cf. Samyutta Nikaya, part 1, p.128).<br /><br />Siha was born at Vesali as the daughter of General Siha's sister. She was named after her maternal uncle. When she grew up, she heard the Master teaching the Norm to her maternal uncle and became a believer. She was permitted by her parents to enter the order. For seven years she could not acquire insight as her mind was always inclined to objects of external charm. Then she intended to die. She took a noose, hung it round the bough of a tree and fastened it round her neck. Thus she succeeded in impelling her mind to insight which grew within and she won arhatahip. She then took off the rope from her neck and went back to her hermitage. (Ibid., pp.79-80).<br /><br />Sundari Nanda was born in the royal family of the Sakyas. She was known as the beautiful Nanda. Thinking about the fact that her elder brother, her mother, her brother, her sister and her nephew had renounced the world, she too left it. Even after her renunciation, she was obsessed with the idea of her beauty and would not approach the Lord lest she should be reproached for her folly. The Lord taught her in the same way as he did in the case of Nanda the Fair. She listened to the Master's teaching and enjoyed the benefit of the fruition of the first stage of sanctification. He then instructed her saying, "Nanda, there is in this body not even the smallest essence. It is but a heap of bones covered with flesh and besmeared with blood under the shadow of decay and death." Afterwards she became an arhat. (Ibid., pp.80 f.; cf. Manora- thapurani, pp. 217-218).<br /><br />Khema was born in the royal family of Sagala. She was very beautiful and her skin was like gold. She became the consort of Bimbisara. One day she heard that the Buddha was in the habit of speaking ill of beauty, since then she did not appear before the Buddha. The king was a chief supporter of the Buddha. He asked his court-poets to compose a song on the glories of the Veluvana hermitage and to sing the song very loudly so that the queen might hear it. The royal order was carried out. Khema heard of the beauty of the hermitage and with the king's consent she came to the Veluvana Vihara, where the Buddha was staying at that time. When she was led before the Buddha, the latter conjured up a woman in the form of a celestial nymph who stood fanning him with a palm leaf. Khema observed that this woman was more beautiful than her and she was ashamed of her own vanity. Sometime after she noticed again that the woman was passing from youth to middle age and then to old age, till with broken teeth, grey hair, and wrinkled skin, she fell on earth with her palm leaf. Then thought Khema; “my beautiful body will meet with the same fate as that of the nymph.” Then the Master, who knew her thoughts, said that persons subject to lust suffer from the result of their action, while those freed from all bondage forsake the world.<br /><br />When the Master had finished speaking, Khema, according to the commentary, attained arhatship while according to the Apadana, she was established in the fruition of the first stage of sanctification and, with the king's permission, entered the order before she became an arhat. Thereafter she made a name for her insight and was ranked foremost amongst the bhikkhunis possessing great wisdom. In vain Mara tried to tempt her with sensuous ideas. (Ibid., pp. 126 f.; cf. Manorathapurani, p.205; cf. Anguttara, n. 1, p.25).<br /><br />Anopama was the daughter of a banker named Majjha living in Saketa. She was of unique beauty. She was courted by many sons of bankers, higher officers of the State, but she thought that there was no happiness in household life. She went to the Master and heard his teachings. Her intelligence matured. She strove hard for insight and was established in the third fruition. On the seventh day thereafter she attained arhatship. (Ibid., pp.138-139.)<br /><br />Rohini was born at Vesali in the house of a very prosperous Brahman. When grown up she went to the Master and heard him preach the doctrine. She obtained sotapattiphalam. She converted her parents to Buddha's faith and got permission from them to entered the order. She performed the exercises for acquiring insight and very soon attained arhatship (Ibid., pp.214 f.)<br /><br />Subha was the daughter of a certain goldsmith of Rajagaha. She was very beautiful and was therefore called Subha. When grown up she saw the Master and believed in his doctrine. The Master saw the maturity of her moral faculties and taught her the Dharma. She was afterwards established in the fruition of the first stage of sanctification. Thereafter she entered the order under Mahapajapafi Gotami. She strove hard for insight and in course of time she won arhatship. (Ibid., pp.236 f.).<br /><br />Tissa was born at Kapilavastu among the Sakyas. She renounced the world with Mahapajapati Gotami and became spiritually so developed that she attained arhatship. (Ibid., pp.11-13)<br /><br />Sumedha, daughter of King Konca of Mantavati, was averse to the pleasures of senses from her childhood. She renounced the world hearing the doctrine of the Buddha from the bhikkhunis. Very soon she acquired insight and attained arhatship (Ibid., 272 f.)<br /><br />Visakha was the daughter of Sumanadevi, wife of Dhananjayasetthi, son of Mundakasetthi. Her abode was at Bhaddiyanagara in the kingdom of Anga. When she was seven years old, the Buddha with the bhikkhu sangha went to Bhaddiyanagara. Sumanadevi was one of the advisers of the king. Visakha with 500 female companions and 500 chariots received the Buddha, who gave instructions to her according to her nature and she obtained the fruit of Stream Entry. The Buddha was invited to Visakha's house. Visakha who was endowed with five kinds of beauty was married to Punnavaddhana of Savatthi. The presents sent by the citizens of Savatthi for her, were distributed by her among the citizens with great courtesy. She made the citizens her own relatives. She refused to salute the naked heretics who were worshipped by her father-in-law. Her father-in-law was converted to Buddhism through her efforts. Once Visakha invited the bhikkhus and her father-in-law on hearing the sermon obtained the fruit of Stream Entry (D.C., I, 384 f.)<br /><br />On the death of her grandchild, who was very dear to her, Visakha went to see the Buddha with clothes and hair wet with grief. The Buddha asked her whether she would be satisfied if all the people of Savatthi became her sons and grandsons. She replied in the affirmative. The Master asked her how many people met with their death at Savatthi. Visakha said from one to ten. The Buddha told her, " Just think, would you ever be free from wet clothes and wet hair"? Visakha understood and said that she did not want so many sons and grandsons, because acquisition of more sons and grandsons would bring greater suffering (Udana, 91-92).<br /><br />Visakha, mother of Migara, was the foremost of the female supporters of the Buddha (A.N., 1, p. 26). Once on a sabbath day she went to the Buddha while the latter was in her monastery named Pubbarama. Buddha instructed Visakha thus, "There were three kinds of uposatha and the ariya uposatha is the best of the uposathas. The Master then said that in order to observe ariya uposatha one should meditate on the Buddha, Dharma and Sangha. Rules of training must be unbroken and fully observed. One should also meditate on the qualities of the gods. One should follow Arhats who follow precepts throughout their lives. By observing ariya uposatha one may obtain great happiness and may be reborn in one of the heavens commencing from the Catumaharajika to the Paranimmittavasavatti and enjoy great celestial happiness there (A.N., I, 205-215). Visakha was further instructed by the Buddha thus, "Dependence on others is suffering, independence brings happiness". (Udana, p.18).<br /><br />Visakha once blamed the bhikkhus for not allowing her grandson to be ordained during the lent, as owing to this delay her grandson's mind was changed. (Vinaya Pitaka, 1, 153.) She once went to the Buddha and invited him together with the bhikkhus to take food at her house the next morning. Heavy rains fell on the following morning and the bhikkhus, as they had no bathing costumes, bathed themselves naked. Visakha came to know this fact from her maid servant who was sent to call the bhikkhus. The Buddha together with the bhikkhus came to her house. She fed the Buddha, and the bhikkhus satisfactorily. After they had finished their meal, Visakha prayed to the Buddha for the following boons:--As long as she lived, she would give garments for the rainy season to the bhikkhus, food to the guests and food to those going abroad, diet to the sick bhikkhus, food to the sick-- nurses, medicine for the sick bhikkhus, rice gruel to the bhikkhus daily and bathing garments to the bhikkhunis (V.P., vol. 1, pp.290-292). From this fact it is evident that Visakha introduced bathing garments for the bhikkhunis. It was Visakha who offered to the Buddha a napkin which he accepted. (V.P., 1, 296).<br /><br />We are further informed that Visakha, as soon as she heard of the arrival of the quarreling Kosambian bhikkhus, approached the Buddha to take his advice as to how she should deal with them. The Buddha advised her to offer charities to the two parties of the quarreling Kosambian monks, (V.P.,1, 356). Visakha prepared a golden water-pot for the Buddha. A samanera named Sumana brought water in that pot for the Buddha from Anotatta lake. (D.C., IV, P.135) She offered a water pot and a broom to the Buddha, which he accepted and also instructed the bhikkhus to use them. Once she went to the Buddha and offered a palm-leaf fan, which he accepted (V.P., II, 129-130). Visakha was so very kind to the bhikkhus that she built a mansion for them, The bhikkhus at first hesitated to use it, but afterwards asked for Buddha's permission which was granted. (V.P., II, 169).<br /><br />Visakha once went to the hermitage of Khadiravaniyarevata, but she found it to be in the midst of thorns and not fit for human habitation. (D.C., II, 194-195). Visakha was an important personage, because among the Bhikkhus if there were any matter for reference, it was referred to her, as we find in the case of Kundadhanathera who used to walk about with a woman behind him. (D.C.,111, 54-55.) In the family of Visakha young girls used to serve the Bhikkhus by making arrangements for their food, etc. (D.C., III, 161). Visakha's son's daughter named Datta, who was entrusted with the care of the Bhikkhu sangha, died in her absence. Visakha was very much afflicted with grief. The Buddha, consoled her (D.C., III, pp.278-279).<br /><br />Visakha was one day going to the city garden wearing all sorts of rich ornaments amongst which may be mentioned mahalata, an ornament of extraordinary beauty and of immense value. (Cf. Dharmapada Commy., I, 412.) On the way she thought why should she go to the city garden like a mere girl; it was better that she should go to the Vihara and listen to the discourses of the Buddha. Moved by the thought, she went to the Lord, put off her ornament, mahalata and gave it to her maid-servant to keep it and return it when she came out of the Vihara. Thereafter she listened to the noble discourses of the Buddha. On coming out of the Vihara, she asked for her ornament. The maid-servant said that she had left it in the Vihara. Both of them returned to the Vihara and found it. Visakha offered it to the Lord, and under his directions built a Vihara with the sale proceeds of the ornament, which amounted to nine crores and a lakh. Visakha offered to her maid-servant all the merit that accrued for constructing the Vihara. The latter approved of her charity and died shortly afterwards. (Vimanavatthu Commy., pp.187-189.)<br /><br />Anula was the queen of the king of Ceylon. Surrounded by five hundred girls, she bowed to the senior monks and honoured them to her heart's content. Thera Mahinda preached Dharma to them. Preta stories, Vimana stories and Saccasamyutta were narrated to them. When they heard the most excellent portion of the doctrine, princess Anula and her five hundred attendants attained Stream Entry. She became a believer in the Buddha, Dharma and the Sangha. With her five hundred attendants she received the Pabbajja ordination from Sanghamitta Mahatheri. (Dipavamsa, p.68; cf. Mahavamsa, Geiger's Text, pp. 108, 155.)<br /><br />Gopika was a Sakya princess. She was pleased with the Buddha, Dharma and Sangha. She used to observe precepts fully, became disgusted with female life and meditated in order to become a man. (Digha N., II, 271.)<br /><br />Canda came of a Brahman family. She earned her living by begging from door to door. One day she came to the spot where Patacara had just finished her meal. The bhikkhuni saw her hungry and gave her some food to eat. She ate the food and took her seat on one side. She then listened to the discourse of the Theri and renounced the world. She practised hard to attain insight. Her knowledge matured and her determination was strong. Hence she succeeded in attaining arhatship with patisambhida (Th. Commy., pp. 120-121.)<br /><br />Gutta came of a Brahman family at Savatthi. In her youth household life became repugnant to her. She obtained her parents' consent and entered the order under Mahapajapati Gotami. Thereafter she could not for sometime control her mind from external interests. Then the Master gave her suitable instructions, and she attained arhatship together with patisambhida. (Th. Commy., pp. 157-159.)<br /><br />Vijaya came of a certain clansmen's family of Rajagaha. She was a friend of Khema. When she heard that Khema, a king's consort, had renounced the world, she went to Khema, who taught her the Norm and ordained her. Very soon she won insight and after a short time attained arhatship with analytical knowledge. (Th. Commy, pp.159-160.) Mara came, to tempt her by saying, "You are young and beautiful, I am also young and beautiful, let us enjoy ourselves with music." She replied, "I find no delight in rupa, sadda, gandha, etc. and I don't like soft-touch. I hate very much my rotten body that is easily destructible. My ignorance is dispelled." Then Mara left her. (S.N., 1, pp. 130-131).<br /><br />Cala, Upacala and Sisupacala were born in Magadha at the village of Nalaka as the children of a Brahmani named Surupasari. They were younger sisters of Sariputta. When they heard that their brother had left the world for the order, they too renounced the world and striving hard, attained arhatship. In vain, Mara tried to stir up sensual desires in them. (Th. Commy., 162-163; cf. S.N., Pt. I, PP. 132-134).<br /><br />Uppalavanna came of a banker's family at Savatthi. Her skin was of the colour of the heart (gabbha) of the blue lotus. Hence she was called Uppalavanna. Many princes and banker's sons wanted to marry her. But she renounced the world, went to the bhikkhunis and was ordained. Thereafter one day she lighted a lamp, and by continually contemplating on the flame of the lamp, she gradually obtained arhatship with adhinna and patisambhida. (Th. Commy., 182 ff.) She was assigned a chief place among those who had the gift of iddhi. (Manorathapurani, p.207 ff.; Anguttara N., I, 25).<br /><br />The Samyutta Nikaya tells us that Theri Uppalavanna went to the Andhavana forest to meditate. There she sat at the foot of the Sala tree. Mara came to her and said to her, "You are sitting at the foot of a fully blossomed Sala tree, are you not afraid of the wicked?" She replied, "I do not care for the wicked. I do not care for you." Mara left her. (Pt. 1, pp. 131-132). After defeating Mara, Uppalavanna was molested by her maternal uncle's son Ananda, who was enamoured of her beauty and who wanted to marry her. Although Uppalavanna had become a bhikkhuni, Ananda could not give up the desire of marrying her. Once Ananda concealed himself in the room of the Theri under her bedstead in her absence. When the Theri returned home and lay herself down on the bedstead, Ananda suddenly came out and committed rape on her. The Theri informed the bhikkhunis of this fact, and the bhikkhunis brought this to the notice of the Buddha, who prohibited the bhikkhunis from living in forests. (D.C., II, 48-51.) Uppalavanna Theri acquired the power of performing a miracle by coming in to the presence of the Buddha to worship him with the pomp and grandeur of an individual monarch, being surrounded by a retinue extending over 36,000 yojanas and this miracle was visible to an assembly extending over twelve yojanas. (D.C., III, P.211.)<br /><br />Sumangalamata came of a poor family of Savatthi. She was married to a basket maker. She acquired great merit. One day while reflecting on all she had suffered, she was much affected and her insight quickening, she attained arhatship with analytical knowledge. (Th. Commy., 28-30.)<br /><br />Punna or Punnika acquired great merit in her previous birth, but owing to her pride she could not root out the klesas (sins). She was born of a domestic slave at Savatthi in the household of Anathapindika, the banker. She obtained the fruit of Stream Entry after hearing the Sihanada Suttanta. Afterwards Anathapindika gave her freedom because she defeated in debate a Brahman named Udakasuddhika. Punna renounced worldly life and entered the order. She practised insight and very soon attained arhatship with patisambhida. (Th. Commy., pp. 199 f.).<br /><br />Sundari was born at Benares as the daughter of Sujata, a Brahman. On her brother's death, her father became overwhelmed with grief. With the advice of Theri Vasitthi her father renounced the world, met the Buddha at Mithila, entered the order and in course of time attained arhatship. Sundari heard of her father's renouncing the world. She sacrificed all her wealth and pleasures of all kinds. She secured her mother's consent to leave the world. She then entered the order and striving hard she attained arhatship with patisambhida (Th. Commy., 228 f.).<br /><br />Vimala was born at Vesali as the daughter of a public woman. One day when advanced in years, she was attracted by venerable Mahamoggallana who was going about for alms. She went to his house to entice him. Mahamoggallana rebuked her. She was ashamed and became a believer and lay sister. Sometime affer she entered the order and very soon attained arhatship. (Th. Commy., 76-77.)<br /><br /> </span>Ratnaketuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01888085287982272571noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283778884707929385.post-15957810140155604612007-03-24T14:52:00.000+05:302007-07-26T14:54:37.803+05:30Buddhist Women 2<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"><strong>Dr. Bimala Churn Law, Ph.D.<br /></strong><br />Mittakalika came of a Brahman's family in the town of Kammasadamma in the kingdom of the Kurus. When she grew up she one day heard the teaching of the Great Discourse on the Mahasatipatthana and entered the order of sisters. For seven years she could not elevate herself intellectually. Later on she won arhatship together with analytical knowledge. (Th. Commy., pp. 89-90).<br /><br />Sakula (Pakula) was born in a Brahman family at Savatthi. Seeing the Master accepting the gift of the Jetavana, she became a believer. One day she heard the preaching of an arhat and was greatly convinced. She entered the order, strove hard for insight and soon won arhatship. She was given the foremost place by the Master among the bhikkhunis possessing divine eyes. (Th. Commy., pp. 91 f.; cf. Manorathapurani, pp. 219-220; cf. Anguttara N., I, 25.)<br /><br />Sonadinna, a female devotee living in Nalanda used to serve the bhikkhus with the four requisites and used to observe the precept and uposatha with perfect regularity. She meditated on the four noble truths and attained sotapatti. (Vide my work, Heaven and Hell, p.53).<br /><br />Aloma, a poor woman living at Savatthi in Benares not finding anything to offer, presented some rotten cooked rice without salt to the Buddha who accepted it. (Ibid., p.63).<br /><br />Mutta came of a rich Brahman family of Savatthi. When she was twenty years old, she went to Mahapajapati the Gotami and got ordination from her. She was practising kammatthana and she was instructed by the Buddha to get herself free from all bonds. Afterwards she became an arhat. (Th. Commy., pp.8-9.)<br /><br />Punna was the daughter of a leading citizen of Savatthi, When she was about twenty years of age, she heard the great Pajapati teach the doctrine, and renounced the world. She practised insight, being encouraged by the Master. In due course she attained arhatship. (Th. Commy., pp. 9-10.)<br /><br />Dantika came of a Brahmin’s family at Kosala. When she came of age, she acquired faith in the Buddha in the Jetavana, and later entered the order under Mahapajapati Gotami at Rajagaha. While staying at Rajagaha, she climbed the Vulture's Peak after her meal, and while resting she developed insight and soon obtained arhatship with analytical knowledge. (Th. Commy., pp. 51-52.)<br /><br />Vaddhesi was the nurse of Mahapajapati Gotami. When her mistress renounced the world, she followed her. For twenty-five years she was harassed by the lusts of the senses and failed to acquire concentration of mind. One day she heard Dhammadinna preach the Norm. She then began to practice meditation. Very soon she acquired the six supernatural powers. (Th. Commy., 75-76).<br /><br />Uttama came of a householder family at Bandhumati. When she grew old, she heard the nun Patacara preach and entered the order. When Patacara gave her admonition, she was established in insight and very soon won arhatship. (Th. Commy., pp. 47-48). Thirty sisters born in different families of different places heard Patacara preach and were converted by her and entered the order. They practised insight and in course of time they won arhatship with patisambhida. (Th. Commy., pp.118-120.)<br /><br />Uttara came of a certain clansmen's family at Savatthi. When grown up she heard Patacara preach the Norm. She became a believer, entered the Order and became an arhat. (Th. Commy, pp.161-162.)<br /><br />Uttari was a theri who was 120 years old. She went to beg for alms. Once, while going for alms, she met the Buddha on the way and when going to salute him, she fell down. The Buddha delivered a sermon to her, and she having attained the first stage of sanctification died. (D.C., vol. III, p.110.)<br /><br />Khujjuttara was the maid servant of Samavati, queen of King Udena of Kosambi. Her daily duty was to buy flowers from Sumana, a garland-maker for eight kahapanas. Once the Buddha together with the bhikkhu sangha was invited to take meals in Sumana's house. Khujjuttara waited on her and heard the sermon delivered by the Buddha. She obtained the fruit of Stream Entry after hearing the sermon. In former days she used to steal four kahapanas out of the eight kahapanas given to her by her mistress for buying flowers. After having obtained the fruit of Stream Entry she brought flowers to the value of eight kahapanas. She confessed her guilt when asked why she brought such a large quantity of flowers. She told Samavati that after listening to the Buddha's sermon she had acquired knowledge and came to realise that stealing things is a sin. Samavati after listening to the dhamma repeated by Khujjuttara also obtained the fruit of Stream Entry. She was well versed in Tripitaka. (D.C., I, pp.208 f.)<br /><br />Dinna was an upaisika of the Buddha. She was the queen of King Uggasena. A king promised to the deity of a nigrodha tree that he would worship the deity with the blood of one hundred Royals of Jambudipa (India) if he got the throne after his father's death. He then gradually defeated all the kings and princes and went to worship the deity, but the deity, seeing that many kings would be killed, felt compassion for them and refused his worship on the grounds that Dinna the queen of King Uggasena, whom he had defeated, was not present. The king had her brought, and Dinna preached a sermon on the avoidance of killing in their presence. The deity approved and the king refrained from killing and released the defeated and captured kings, who all praised Dinna for this act. It was due to her that so many kings were saved. (D.C., II, p.15 f.)<br /><br />Sona came of a clansmen's family at Savatthi. In course of time, after marriage, she became the mother of ten sons and was known as Bahuputtika. The Dhammapada Commy. says that she had seven sons and seven daughters (D.C., II, pp.276--278). When her husband renounced the world, she divided all her riches equally between her sons. In a very short time her sons and daughters-in-law ceased to show respect. She then entered the Order of the bhikkhunis and began to practise insight strenuously in her old age. The master gave her suitable instructions. Sona Bhikkhuni then attained arhatship. (Th. Commy,, 95.) She occupied the foremost place among the bhikkhunis, making great exertion (Manorathapurani, 218-219; cf. A.N., I, 125).<br /><br />Bhadda Kundalakesa came of the family of a banker at Rajagaha. When grown up, she one day saw Satthuka, the Brahmin's son, being led to execution by the city guard. She fell in love with him at first sight. She resolved to die if she did not get him. Her father heard of this and got Satthuka released by heavily bribing the guards. Satthuka was brought to Bhadda, who, decked in jewels, waited upon him. He saw her jewels and coveted them. He told Bhadda to get ready an offering to be given to the cliff deity. Bhadda did so. She adorned herself with all her jewels and accompanied her husband to the precipice with an offering. On reaching the top of the precipice, Satthuka told her to put off all her ornaments, which he had planned to take. In vain Bhadda pleaded that she herself and all her ornaments belonged to him. Satthuka did not take any notice of her pleadings. He wanted all her ornaments. Bhadda then prayed for an embrace with all her jewels on.<br /><br />Satthuka granted her prayer. Bhadda embraced him in front and then, as if embracing him from the back, pushed him over the precipice. Satthuka died (cf. Dhammapada Commy., vol. II, pp.217 f.). Thereafter Bhadda did not come home, but she left the world and entered the Order of the Niganthas - Jains. She learnt the doctrine of the Niganthas and left their company. Thereafter she found no one equal to her in debate. She setup the branch of a jambu tree on a heap of sand at the gate of some village or town, with the declaration that any body able to join issue with her in debate should trample on this bough. Sariputta ordered some children who were near the bough, to trample on it. The children did so. When Bhadda saw the bough trampled, she challenged Sariputa to a debate before some Sakyan recluses, she was defeated and advised to go to Buddha for refuge. She went to the Buddha who discerned the maturity of her knowledge. Buddha spoke a verse and she attained arhatship with analytical knowledge. (Th. Commy., pp. 99f.) Bhadda was assigned a chief place among the bhikkhunis possessing ready wit. (Manorathapurani, p. 375; cf. Anguttara Nikaya, I, 25.)<br /><br />Sama came of a rich householder's family at Kosambi. She was moved by the death of her dear friend, the lay-disciple Samavati. One day she listened to Elder Ananda preaching and acquired insight. On the seventh day after this she attained arhatship with a thorough grasp of the Dhamma - in form and meaning. (Th. Commy., 44-45.)<br /><br />Another Sama who came of a clansmen's family at Kosambi, was a friend of Samavati, whose death afflicted her so much that she could not gain self-control for twenty-five years. In her old age she heard a sermon through which her insight expanded and she won arhatship with patisambhida (analytical knowledge). (Th. Commy., 45-46.)<br /><br />Ubbiri came of the family of a rich house-holder at Savatthi. She was very beautiful, and was brought to the palace by the king of Kosala. A few years later a daughter was born to her. This daughter was named Jiva. The king saw the child and was very much pleased. He then had Ubbiri anointed as queen. After a few years Jiva died. The mother used to go to the cemetery and shed tears. Questioned by the Exalted One as to why she was weeping, she said that she was sheding tears for her deceased daughter. She was questioned by the Exalted One as to which of her 84,000 daughters she was weeping for. She then spent a little thought and intelligence over the Norm thus taught by the Buddha. She was established in insight, and in due course she won arhatship by virtue of great merits. (Th. Commy.,53-54).<br /><br />Kisagotami came of poor family at Savatthi. She was married to a rich banker's son who had forty crores of wealth. (D.C., II., pp. 270-75). Bodhisatta was her maternal uncle's son. One day, while the Bodhisatta was returning home after receiving the news of Rahula's birth, he was seen by Kisagotami from her palace. Buddha's beauty pleased Kisagotami so much that she uttered a stanza, the purport of which is, "the mother who has such a child and the father who has such a son and the wife who has such a husband are surely happy" (nibbuta), but the Bodhisatta took the word nibbuta in the sense of nibbanam. The Bodhisatta presented her with a pearl necklace for making him hear such auspicious and sacred words. (D.C., vol. I, p. 85; cf. Atthasalini, p. 34.) On the death of her only child she went to the Buddha with the dead body and requested him to bring the dead to life. Buddha asked her to bring a little mustard seed from a house where no man had died. Kisagotami went from house to house, but she came back to Buddha quite unsuccessful. The Buddha delivered a sermon which led her to become a bhikkhuni. Her insight grew within a short time and she attained arhatship. (Th. Commy., 174 f.). Then the master assigned her the foremost place among the bhikkhunis who used very rough and simple robes. (A.N., 1, p.25; cf.,Manoratha; purani, p.380.)<br /><br />Once Kisagotami went to the Andhavana forest to meditate. Mara, came to her and said," You have killed your sons and now you are crying. Why are you not searching for another man? " Kisagotami replied, "I have completely destroyed my sons and my husband and I have no sorrow. I am not afraid of you, my attachment is destroyed and ignorance is dispelled. Killing the army of death I live sinless." Mara then left her. (S.N., I, pp.129-130). Once Kisagotami was coming through the sky to worship the Buddha while the god Sakka with his retinue was seated before the Buddha. She did not come to the Buddha, but worshipped him from the sky and went away. Being questioned by Sakka, the Buddha answered that she was his daughter. (D.C.,IV, 156-157.)<br /><br />Patacara came of a banker's family at Savatthi. In her youth, she formed an intimacy with a servant of her house. On the day fixed for her marriage with another youth of equal rank to her she eloped with her lover and dwelt in a hamlet. There she used to perform household duties, and her lover used to bring wood from the forest and worked in a field belonging to others. Shortly afterwards Patacara gave birth to a child, but at the time of the birth of her second child, a storm arose. Her husband went to a forest to cut grass and sticks. While he cut a stake standing on an ant-hill, a snake came from the ant-hill and bit him. He fell there and died. The next morning Patacara went to the forest with her two children and found her husband dead. She lamented and left the place. On her way to her father's house there was a river, the water of which was knee-deep. She lost her children while crossing the river. With tears of grief, she came to Savatthi and learnt that her parents and brother had perished under the debris of the fallen house. She turned mad. Since then she did not wear clothing, and was therefore known as Patacara. One day the Exalted One saw her in that plight and said, "Sister! Cover your shamelessness." She regained her consciousness, and the Lord taught her that sons, parents and kinsfolk were no shelter, and asked her to discern this truth in order to make clear quickly the way to nibbana. Then she was established in the fruit of Stream Entry. Then she attained arhatship with analytical knowledge (Th. Commy., p.108 f; Manorathapurani, pp.356-360; cf. A.N., I, 25) Thereafter she preached the Buddha's dhamma and converted many afflicted women to the Buddhist faith.<br /><br />The Therigatha Commy. says that Patacara had five hundred female disciples, who came of different families of different places. They were women who had married, borne children and lived domestic lives, but who had suffered loss. Overwhelmed with grief at the loss of children they went to Patacara, who asked them not to weep when the nature of birth and death was unknown to them. They were greatly moved by Patacara's teachings and renounced the world under her. They performed exercises for insight and soon became established in arhatship with patisambhida. (Th. Commy., pp. 122-123; cf. Dhammapada Commy., II, p.260 f.)<br /> </span>Ratnaketuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01888085287982272571noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283778884707929385.post-63089232630985018502007-03-22T14:55:00.000+05:302007-07-26T14:59:24.991+05:30Buddhist Women 3<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong>Dr. Bimala Churn Law, Ph.D.</strong><br /><br />Vasitthi came of a clansmen's family at Vaisali. Her parents gave her in marriage to a clansman's son of equal position. She had a son. When the child was able to run about, he died. Vasitthi went mad with grief. She came to Mithila and there she saw the Exalted One, self-controlled and self-contained. At the sight of the Buddha the frenzy left her and she recovered her normal mind. The master taught her the outlines of the Norm. Performing all proper duties, she acquired insight, and struggling with the help of full Knowledge, she soon attained arhatship together with a thorough grasp of the Norm in form and spirit. (Th. Commy., 124-125.)<br /><br />Dhammadinna came of a clansmen's family at Rajagaha and became the wife of a Setthi named Visakha. One day her husband heard the master teaching, and after hearing him he did not hold converse with her as he used to do before, but renounced the worldly life. Dhammadinna too became a bhikkhuni and took up her residence in a village. One of the great merits acquired in her previous births was her subjugation of the complexities of thought, word and deed. By virtue of this merit, she soon attained arhatship together with thorough mastery of the form and meaning of the Dhamma. Then she returned to Rajagaha and was questioned by her husband on the skandhas and the like. She answered so correctly that she was praised by the Buddha and was ranked as foremost among the sisters who could preach. (Th. Commy., 15; cf. Manorathpurani, pp. 360-363; Anjuttara N., I, 25.)<br /><br />Dhamma came of a respectable family at Savatthi. Given in marriage to a suitable husband, she became converted. On her husband's death, she entered the Order. In due course she won arhatship with thorough knowledge of the Norm in form and meaning. (Th. Commy., p.23).<br /><br />Mettika was the daughter of a rich Brahman of Rajagaha. She climbed a hill and lived like a recluse. She acquired insight and within a short time won arhatship (Th. Commy., p.35).<br /><br />Abhaya came of a respectable family at Ujjain. She was a friend of Abhayamata. She followed her in renouncing the world, and entered the Order. In course of time she attained arhatship at Rajagaha. (Th. Commy., 41-43.)<br /><br />Soma was born at Rajagaha as the daughter of the Brahmin of King Bimbisara. When advanced in years she became a lay disciple. Afterwards she entered the order of the bhikkhunis. She performed exercises of insight and within a short time won arhatship. Mara tried in vain to divert her from this path. From the Samyutta Nikaya we learn that Mara came to her and said, "That which is to be obtained by the Rishis, you are, with slight wisdom, trying to gain. That which is difficult to be obtained by great sages, you being a silly woman, want to have." She replied: " If my mind is steadfast, I must acquire it, my womanly nature will not prevent me from acquiring it." Mara then left her. (Th. Commy., pp. 66-67; cf. S.N., 1, p.129.)<br /><br />Bhadda Kapilani came of a Brahman family of the Kosiya clan at Sagala. She was married to a young noble Pippali at the village of Mahatittha. When her husband renounced the world, she made over her wealth to her kinsfolk. She then left the world and dwelt five years in the hermitage of the heretics. Thereafter, she was ordained by Mahapajapati Gotami. Establishing insight she soon won arhatship. By the master she was ranked first among the bhikkhunis who could remember previous births (Th. Commy., 67 f.; cf. Manorathapurani, p.375; cf. Anguttara N., I, p.25).<br /><br />-ooOoo-<br /><br />Besides the women who embraced a homeless life and became bhikkhunis and theris, there were others who were staunch believers in the Buddha's dhamma. These women used to lead a domestic life, offering charities in the shape of coin and kind to theras, bhikkhunis and bhikkhus in the expectation of a happier rebirth or for the benefit of departed relations. The incidents in the life of some of these women are recorded in the Buddhist literature, and it would not be out of place here to mention them below.<br /><br />Uttara, daughter of Nandaka, Commander-in-chief of Pingala, king of Surattha, was a believer in the Buddha. She used to offer to a saintly thera cold and perfumed drink as well as excellent cake and sweets for the benefit of her departed father. (Vide my Buddhist Conception of Spirits, p.48).<br /><br />Lakhuma lived near one of the gates of Benares. She used to offer a spoonful of rice to the bhikkhus when they entered the town by that gate. Thus she acquired the habit of offering charity. In the asanasala (rest house), she used to prepare seats for, and supply water to, the bhikkhus. She was established in Stream Entry. After death she was reborn in the Tavatimsa heaven. (Vide my Heaven and Hell, p.50.)<br /><br />A daughter of a certain upasaka of Rajagaha was very much devoted to Mahamoggallana. One day she welcomed the thera, offered him a seat, worshipped him with a garland of sumana flower and gave him sweets, etc. On her death, she was reborn in the Tavatimsa heaven. (Vimanavatthu Commy., 179-179.)<br /><br />Mallilka was the daughter of a Brahman steward of the Sakya Mahanaman. On her father's death she was taken by Mahanaman to his house. She was at first named Chandra. She made a wreath which satisfied Mahanaman so much that he changed her name to Mallika. One day Mallika went to the garden with her food, and just then the Blessed One passed them collecting alms. Mallika thought of offering her food to the Buddha, and the latter knowing her thought held out his bowl. She put her offering in it and wished at the same time that some day she might be free from slavery or poverty. One day Pasenadi carried away by his horse in the heat of the chase came to Mahanaman's garden. There he saw Mallika. Re- quested by the king, Mallika rubbed his feet with a towel. As soon as she did so the king fell asleep. When he awoke he found out who she was, went to Mahanaman and married her. She was then taken to Sravasti and in time she brought forth a son named Virudhaka (Rockhill, Life of the Buddha, pp, 75-77), and also a daughter. (S.N., I, p. 86). This story is nothing but a Tibetan version of the story of Pasenadi and Vasabhakhattiya. Cf. Svapnavasabhadatta of Bhasa.<br /><br />Again we read that Mallikadevi went to the Buddha and asked him thus, "What is the cause of a woman's getting an ugly appearance, bad habit, wretched state and poverty in this world? What is the cause of a woman who is of this nature becoming very rich and influential? What is the cause of a woman who is of good appearance and lovely becoming poor and uninfluential, and vice versa? "The Buddha answered thus: " The woman who is very hot-tempered and who gets angry for slight reason becomes poor and ugly if she does not offer any charity to the Samanas or Brahmanas, but if she offers charity to the Samanas or Brahamanas, she becomes rich and influential although she is hot-tempered." The Buddha further said "She who is not hot-tempered and does not become angry for slight reason becomes poor and influential if she does not offer any charity to the Samanas or Brahmanas." Mallika admitted that on account of her hot-temper and peevish nature she had an ugly appearance, but she, on account of her previous charities, became a queen. She further said that she would treat properly the daughters of the Ksatriyas, the Brahmanas and the other householders who were subordinate to her. She became a devotee of the Buddha, being very pleased with him. (Anguttara Nikaya, II, pp. 202-205).<br /><br />It is noteworthy that once Mallika was asked by Pasenadi whether she had anybody dearer to her than her own soul. She replied in the negative. Pasenadi was asked the same question by his wife, and he too answered it in the negative. She then went to the Buddha and related the matter to him. The Buddha said that they were right in holding that there was nothing more favourite than one's own soul. (Udana, p.47;cf. also S.N., 1, p.75.) Once Pasenadi invited Buddha to teach Dhamma to queens Mallika and Vasabhakhattiya as they were desirous of learning it. Buddha asked the king to engage Ananda for the purpose as it was not possible for him to go every day. Mallikadevi learnt it thoroughly, but Vasabhakhattiya was not so mindful of learning Dhamma. (D.C., 1, 382). It was Mallika who saved the life of many living beings who were brought for sacrifice to save Pasenadi from the evil effect of hearing four horrible sounds at midnight by inducing him to go to the Buddha instead and to take instructions from him. (D.C. vol. II, pp. 7-8). After her death, Mallikadevi had to suffer in the Avici hell because she deceived her husband by telling a lie about her misconduct. (D.C., III, 119f.).<br /><br />Mallikadevi made the following arrangements on the occasion of Pasenadi's offering a unique gift to the Buddha and the bhikkhus:<br /><br />1. She made a canopy with Sala wooden parts, under which five hundred bhikkhus could sit within and five hundred outside.<br /><br />2. Five hundred white umbrellas were raised by five hundred elephants following five hundred bhikkhus.<br /><br />3. Golden boats were placed in the middle of the pandal, and each noble daughter threw scents in the midst of the bhikkhus.<br /><br />4. Each Khattiya princess fanned the bhikkhus.<br /><br />5. Golden boats were filled with scents and perfumes. (D.C., III., pp. 184 f.)<br /><br />The daughter of queen Mallika was also named Mallika. She was the wife of General Bandhula. She was childless for a long time. Bandhula sent her to her father's house. On the way she went to the Jetavana to salute the Buddha who was informed by her that her husband was sending her home as she was childless. The Buddha asked her to go to her husband's house. Bandhula was informed of this fact and thought that the Buddha must have got the idea that she would be pregnant. The sign of pregnancy was visible in her, and she desired to drink water and bathe in the well-guarded tank of the Licchavis. Bandhula with his wife visited the tank and he made his wife bathe and drink water therefrom. (D.C., I, pp. 349-351.) Mallika, wife of Bandhula, and daughter of a Malla king of Kusinara, offered worship to the relic of the Buddha with plenty of perfumes and garlands and also an ornament named mahalata which was very valuable. In consequence of this, she, after death, was reborn in the Tavatimsa heaven where she was bedecked all in yellow. (Vimanavatthu Commy., 165.)<br /><br />Vajira was a bhikkuni who was tempted by Mara when she went to the Andhavana forest to meditate. Mara came to her and asked her, " Who has created the being? Wherefrom it has come, and. where will it go?" She said, "The aggregation of five skandhas constitutes the being." Mara then left her. (Samyutta Nikaya, I, PP. 134-135.)<br /><br />Cira bhikkhuni was given a robe by an upasika of the Buddha. This message was declared by a Yakkha in the streets of Rajagaha saying that the giver by giving a robe to Cira who was free from fetters, could acquire much merit. (Samyutta Nikaya, I, p. 213.)<br /><br />Uttara and her husband were serving a banker at Rajagaha. Once the banker went to attend a famous ceremony, and Uttttra with her husband was at home. The husband of Uttara went to cultivate in the morning. Uttara was going with cooked food to her husband in the field. On the way she met Sariputta who was just rising up from nirodha-samapatti (meditation on cessation) and offered the food to him, with the result that she became the richest lady of Rajagaha, and her husband became a banker named Mahadhanasetthi. (D.C., III, pp. 302 f.)<br /><br />Punna was the maid-servant of a banker of Savatthi. Once she was asked to husk a large quantity of paddy. While engaged in husking the paddy at night, she went outside the house to take rest. At this time Dabba, a Mallian, was in charge of making arrangements for the sleeping accommodation of the bhikkhus who were guests. Punna with some cakes went out to enquire of the cause of their movements with lights at night. The Buddha went out for alms by the way in which Punna was. She offered all the cakes to the Buddha without keeping any for herself. The Buddha accepted them. Punna was thinking whether Buddha would partake of her food. The Buddha did partake of it in her house. The effect of this offering was that Punna obtained the fruit of Stream Entry where the offering was made. (D.C., III, pp. 321 f.)<br /><br />Rohini was Anuruddha's sister. She was suffering from white leprosy. She did not go to her brother as she was suffering. Anuruddha sent for her and asked her to build a rest- house for bhikkhus to get rid of her sin. She kept the rest-house clean even when it was under construction, and she did this with great devotion for a long time. She became free from her disease. Shortly afterwards the Buddha went to Kapilavatthu and sent for Rohini. The Buddha told her that she was the queen of the king of Benares in her former birth. The king was enamoured of the beauty of a dancing girl. The queen knowing this, became jealous of her, and to punish her she put something in her cloth and bathing water which produced terrible itching all over her body. On account of this sin, she got this disease. She obtained the fruit of Stream Entry and the colour of her body became golden. (D.C., III, pp. 295 f.)<br /><br />Suppavasa, a daughter of a Koliyan was pregnant for seven years, but she did not give birth to any child. After seven years, labour pain began and she suffered terribly for seven days, but no child was born. She requested her husband to go to the Buddha and to salute him on her behalf, reporting the matter to him. Her husband went to the Buddha and informed him. The Buddha desired that Suppavasa would give birth to a son without any pain and disease. While the Buddha was expressing this desire, a son was born. Her husband was sent again to invite the Buddha to her house for seven days. The Buddha accepted the invitation. The Master took his meal there for seven days and converted both of them (Udana, pp. 15-17; Cf, D.C., IV, 192-193). Suppavasa used to give alms daily to five hundred bhikkhus. (Dhamapada Commy.,1, 339.) She became the foremost of the upasikas offering the best food to the Buddha. Buddha told her the good effect of offering food, and he further said that an offerer by offering rice offers the lease of life, beauty, happiness and strength. The offerer in return obtains celestial life, celestial beauty, happiness and strength. (Anguttara Nikaya, II, pp. 62-63).<br /><br />Another bhikkhuni of some repute was Nakulamata. When her husband was ill and was ready to die, free from anxiety, she told him not to worry, that she knew spinning and weaving and management of household affairs and children. She also told her husband that she would never remarry after his death, as both of them lived the life of a recluse for sixteen years. She informed her husband that after his death she would meet the Buddha and the bhikkhu sangha. She also promised to observe the precepts. She also told her husband that she was one of the female devotees who fully observed the precepts, controlled the mind, had strong faith in the Buddha, Dhamma and Samgha, and who became fearless and did not depend on others except the Buddha for support. (A.N., III, 295 f.)<br /><br />Bojjha was a devotee who approached the Buddha, who preached to her the reward of observing the precepts and the Sabbath. The Master said to her. "Happiness obtained by observing Sabbath is sixteen times greater than that enjoyed by the sixteen countries." (A.N., IV, pp.259-260.)<br /><br />Velukantaki Nandamata was a devotee of the Buddha. She gave offerings to Sariputta and Moggallana. Referring to this the Buddha said, "A giver must be pleased before he gives dana; his mind must be pleased while giving dana and after giving dana. The receiver of the offering must be free from passion, hatred and delusion. The consequence of such a gift is immeasurable". Nandamata gave such a gift to Sariputta and Moggallana, and she obtained immeasurable consequence of the gift. (A.N., III, 336-337. ).<br /><br />Nandamata was once repeating the Parayana Sutta of the Sutta Nipata in a sweet voice. King Vessavana was going from north to south, and he waited there till Nandamata finished her repetition and then praised her much. Nandamata told Vessavans that the merit he acquired by praising her would be beneficial to him. Vessavana gladly assented and said that her merit, which had been acquired by her gift to Sariputta and Moggallana, would thus be beneficial to him also. (A. N., IV, p.63 f.)<br /><br />Migasala was an upasika who went to Ananda and said, "According to the instruction of the Buddha, a brahmacari and an abrahamacari go to the same place after death and enjoy the same amount of happiness." Ananda went to the Buddha to have this problem solved. The Buddha said that the lay devotee was ignorant and uneducated and therefore she could not realize it properly. The Buddha further said, "Even a householder may acquire the same amount of merit as acquired by a brahmacari who does not fulfil his duties properly."<br /><br />Dinna, a bhikkhuni, was asked by her husband about sakkayaditthi, sakkayanirodha, ariyatthangikamaggo, samkhara, nirodhasamapatti, manner of rising up from nirodhasamapatti and vedana. Dhammadina gave satisfactory answers to all the questions. She said, "Five upadana khandhas constitute, sakkayaditthi. Tanha means sakkaya samudayo. Destruction of tanha means sakkaya nirodha. The noble eight-fold path is the means of attaining sakkayanirodha. Ignorant people take the five upadana khandhas jointly and separately as atta (soul); the learned and noble disciples do not take them in this sense. Those who obtain nirodha samapatti are stopped one after another. The three kinds of vedana are sukha, dukkha and adukkhamasukha (M.N., 1., 299 f.)<br /><br />There was an Upasika named Suyata who destroyed three bonds and obtained the first stage of sanctification. (S.N., V, p.356.)<br /><br />Nanda, sister of the king of Kosala, was a bhikkhuni. While going through the sky at night she instructed Kalasoka and bhikkhu sangha to purify the bhikkhu sangha by driving out bad bhikkhus and protecting good bhikkhus (Sasanavamsa, p.6).<br /><br />There was another woman named Nanda who was the wife of a householder named Nandasena who lived in a certain village near Savatthi. She had no faith in the Buddha. She was very hot-tempered and used to abuse her husband, father-in-law and mother-in-law. On her death she became a preta. One day she appeared before her husband and gave him an account of her past misdeeds. The husband made gifts for her sake to the bhikkhus, and Nanda was released from her miseries. (P.D. on the Petavathu, pp. 89-92.)<br /><br />Revati was the daughter of a householder of Benares. She had no faith in the Buddha, and was very uncharitable. For some days she was forced by her parents to do meritorious deeds in order to win Nandiya, a neighbour's son, as her husband. After marriage, Nandiya made her follow him in his meritorious deeds. Thereafter Nandiya had to go abroad. He asked his wife to continue all the meritorious deeds. Revati did so for seven days. Then she stopped all meritorious deeds and began to abuse the bhikkhus who had come to her house for alms. Nandiya, on his return, found that all his acts of charity had been discontinued. After death Revati became a hellish creature. On his death Nandiya became a devata. He saw with his divine eyes that Revati had become a hellish creature. He then went to her and asked her to approve of the meritorious acts done by him. As soon as she did so, she became a devata and resided with Nandiya in heaven. (B.C. Law, Buddhist Conception of Spirits, p.79.)<br /><br />Samavati was the queen of king Udena of Kosambi. The harem containing Samavati with 500 female attendants was burnt down while Udena was in the royal garden. The matter was referred to the Buddha, who said, " Each upasika had gone according to her kamma, some have become sotapanna sakadagami and anagami and so forth (Udana, p.79).<br /><br />There was a maid-servant named Birani engaged by Asoka Brahmana to give food daily to the sangha which was enough for eight bhikkhus. This she used to do with devotion, with the result that after her death she was born in a vimana (celestial abode) in the sky. (Mahavamsa, p.214.)<br /><br />Rupananda was Buddha's step-sister. She thought that her eldest brother renounced the world and had become a Buddha. Her younger brother Nanda was a bhikkhu and Rahulakumara had obtained ordination. Her husband too became a bhikkhu and her mother, Mahapajapati-gotami, became a bhikkhuni. She renounced the world thinking that so many of her relatives had renounced the world. She did not go before the Buddha as she was proud of her beauty, while the Buddha used to preach the impermanency and worthlessness of form. The other bhikkhunis and bhikkhus always used to praise the Buddha in her presence and tell her that all ,having different tastes, became blessed by seeing the Buddha.<br /><br />Nanda thought of going to the Buddha with other bhikkhunis but she would not show herself to the Buddha. Ananda came to know that Nanda had come with the bhikkhunis. The Buddha desired to lower her pride in her beauty by showing the bad effect of it. By his miraculous power the Buddha created a most beautiful girl who was engaged in fanning the Buddha. Nanda seeing her beauty found out that her own beauty was much inferior. The girl was seen gradually attaining youth, the state of a mother and then old age and disease and death. Nanda, seeing this, gave up her pride in her beauty and came to realize the impermanence of beauty. The Buddha, knowing the state of her mind, delivered a suitable sermon and she became an arhat after hearing it. (D.C., 111, pp. 113 f.)<br /><br />-ooOoo-<br /><br />From: The Indian Antiquary, 1928, pp.49-54 (1928.03), 65-68 (1928.04), 86-89 (1928.05)<br /><br /><br />Source: Center for Buddhist Studies, National Taiwan University,<br />http://pears2.lib.ohio-state.edu/FULLTEXT/cf_eng.htm<br /><br /><br /></span></span>Ratnaketuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01888085287982272571noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283778884707929385.post-43515969679010166482007-03-21T15:02:00.000+05:302007-07-26T15:12:18.777+05:30The Life of Sariputta<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">Prologue<br />In many temples of Sri Lanka you will find on either side of the Buddha image, the statues of two monks. Their robes are draped over one shoulder and they stand in the attitude of reverence, with joined palms. Quite often there are a few flowers at their feet, laid there by some pious devotee.<br /><br />If you ask who they are, you will be told that they are the Enlightened One's two Chief Disciples, the Arahats Sariputta and Maha Moggallana. They stand in the positions they occupied in life. Sariputta on the Buddha's right, Maha Moggallana on his left. When the great stupa at Sanchi was opened up in the middle of the last century, the relic chamber was found to contain two stone receptacles; the one to the north held the body relics of Maha Moggallana, while that on the south enclosed those of Sariputta. Thus they had lain while the centuries rolled past and the history of two thousand years and more played out the drama of impermanence in human life. The Roman Empire rose and fell, the glories of ancient Greece became a distant memory; new religions wrote their names, often with blood and fire, on the changing face of the earth, only to mingle at last with legends of Thebes and Babylon, and gradually the tides of commerce shifted the great centers of civilisation from East to West, while generations that had never heard the Teaching of the Buddha arose and passed away. But all the time that the ashes of the saints lay undisturbed, forgotten in the land that gave them birth, their memory was held dear wherever the Buddha's message spread, and the record of their lives was passed down from one generation to another, first by word of mouth, then in the written pages of the Buddhist Tripitaka, the most voluminous and detailed scripture of any religion. next to the Enlightened One himself, it is these two disciples of his who stand highest in the veneration of Buddhists in the Theravada lands. Their names are as inseparable from the annals of Buddhism as that of the Buddha himself. If it has come about that in the course of time many legends have been woven into the tradition of their lives, this is but the natural outcome of the devotion that has always been felt for them.<br /><br />And that high esteem was fully justified. Few religious teachers have been so well served by their immediate disciples as was the Buddha. This you will see as you read these pages, for they tell the story of one of the two greatest of them, Sariputta, who was second only to the Buddha in the depth and range of his understanding, and his ability to teach the Doctrine of Deliverance. In the Tripitaka there is no connected account of his life, but it can be pieced together from the various incidents, scattered throughout the canonical texts and commentaries, in which he figures. Some of them are more than incidents, for his life so closely interwoven with the life and ministry of the Buddha that he plays an essential part in it, and on a number of occasions it is the Sariputta himself who takes the leading role — as skilled preceptor and exemplar, as kind and considerate friend, as guardian of the welfare of the bhikkhus under his charge, as faithful repository of his Master's doctrine, the function which earned him the title of Dhamma-senapati, Marshal of the Dhamma, and always as himself, a man unique in his patience and steadfastness, modest and upright in thought, word and deed, a man to whom one act of kindness was a thing to be remembered with gratitude so long as life endured. Even among the Arahats, saints freed from all defilements of passion and delusion, he shone like the full moon in a starry sky.<br /><br />This then is the man, of profound intellect and sublime nature, a true disciple of the Great Teacher, whose story we have set down, to the best of our ability, in the pages that follow. If you, the reader, can gather from this imperfect record something of the qualities of man perfected, of man fully liberated and raised to the highest level of his being; of how such a man acts and speaks and comports himself towards his fellows; and if the reading of it gives you strength and faith in the assurance of what man may become, then our work has been worthwhile, and is fully rewarded.<br /><br />Part I<br />From Birth to the Attainment of Arahatship<br />The story begins at two brahmanical villages in India, called Upatissa and Kolita, which lay not far from the city Rajagaha. Before our Buddha had appeared in the world a brahman lady named Sari, living in Upatissa village,1 conceived; and also, on the same day at Kolita village, did another brahman lady whose name was Moggalli. The two families were closely connected, having been friends with one another for seven generations. From the first day of their pregnancy the families gave due care to the mothers-to-be, and after ten months both women gave birth to boys, on the same day. On the name-giving day the child of the brahman lady Sari received the name Upatissa, as he was a son of the foremost family of that village; and for the same reason Moggalli's son was named Kolita.<br /><br />When the boys grew up they were educated, and acquired mastery of all the sciences. Each of them had a following of five hundred brahman youths, and when they went to the river or park for sport and recreation, Upatissa used to go with five hundred palanquins, and Kolita with five hundred carriages.<br /><br />Now at Rajagaha there was an annual event called the Hilltop Festival. Seats were arranged for both youths and they sat together to witness the celebrations. When there was occasion for laughter, they laughed; when the spectacles were exciting, they became excited; and they paid their fees for the extra shows. In this manner they enjoyed the festival for a second day; but on the third day their understanding was awakened and they could no longer laugh or get excited, nor did they feel inclined to pay for extra shows as they had done on the first days. Each of them had the same thought: "What is there to look at here? Before these people have reached a hundred years they will all have come to death. What we ought to do is to seek for a teaching of deliverance."<br /><br />It was with such thoughts in mind that they took their seats at the festival. Then Kolita said to Upatissa: "How is this, my dear Upatissa? You are not as happy and joyous as you were on the other days. You seem now to be in a discontented mood, What is on your mind?"<br /><br />"My dear Kolita, to look at these things here is of no benefit at all. it is utterly worthless! I ought to seek a teaching of deliverance for myself. That, my Kolita, is what I was thinking, seated here. But you, Kolita, seem to be discontented, too."<br /><br />And Kolita replied: "Just as you have said, I also feel." When he knew that his friend had the same inclinations, Upatissa said: "That was a good thought of ours. But for those who seek a teaching of deliverance there is only one thing to do: to leave home and become ascetics. But under whom shall we live the ascetic life?"<br /><br />At that time, there lived at Rajagaha an ascetic of the sect of the Wanderers (paribbajaka), called Sañjaya, who had a great following of pupils. Deciding to get ordination under him, Upatissa and Kolita went there, each with his own following of five hundred Brahman youths and all of them received ordination from Sañjaya. And from the time of their ordination under him, Sañjaya's reputation and support increased abundantly.<br /><br />Within a short time the two friends had learned Sañjaya's entire doctrine and they asked him: "Master, does your doctrine go so far only, or is there something beyond?"<br /><br />Sañjaya replied: "So far only it goes. You know all."<br /><br />Hearing this, they thought to themselves: "If that is the case, it is useless to continue the Holy Life under him. We have gone forth from home to seek a teaching of deliverance. Under him we cannot find it. But India is vast; if we wander through villages, towns and cities we shall certainly find a master who can show us the teaching of deliverance." And after that, whenever they heard that there were wise ascetics or brahmans at this or that place, they went and discussed with them. But there was none who was able to answer their questions, while they were able to reply to those who questioned them.<br /><br />Having thus traveled through the whole of India they turned back, and arriving at their old place they agreed between them that he who should attain to the Deathless State first, should inform the other. It was a pact of brotherhood, born of the deep friendship between the two young men.<br /><br />Some time after they had made that agreement, the Blessed One, the Buddha, came to Rajagaha. It was when he had delivered the Fire Sermon at Gaya Peak that he remembered his promise, given before his Enlightenment to King Bimbisara, that he would come to Rajagaha again when he had attained his goal. So in stages the Blessed One journeyed from Gaya to Rajagaha, and having received from King Bimbisara the Bamboo Grove Monastery (Veluvana) he resided there.<br /><br />Among the sixty-one Arahats (Saints) whom the Master had sent forth to proclaim to the world the virtues of the Triple Gem, there was the Elder Assaji, who belonged to the group of five ascetics, the Buddha's erstwhile companions before his Enlightenment, and afterwards his first disciples. The Elder Assaji had returned to Rajagaha from his wanderings, and when one morning he was going for alms in the city he was seen by Upatissa, who was on his way to the Paribbajaka ascetic's monastery. Struck by Assaji's dignified and serene appearance, Upatissa thought: "Never before have I seen such a monk. He must be one of those who are Arahats, or on the way to Arahatship. Should I not approach him and ask, 'Under whom have you been ordained? Who is your teacher and whose teaching do you profess?'"<br /><br />But then he thought: "It is not the proper time now for putting questions to this monk, as he is going for alms through the streets. I had better follow behind him, after the manner of supplicants." And he did so.<br /><br />Then, when the Elder had gathered his almsfood, and Upatissa saw him going to another place intending to sit down and take his meal, he prepared for him his own ascetic's seat that he carried with him, and offered it to the Elder. The Elder Assaji took his meal, after which Upatissa served him with water from his own water-container, and in that way performed towards Assaji the duties of a pupil to a teacher.<br /><br />After they had exchanged the usual courteous greetings. Upatissa said: "Serene are your features, friend. Pure and bright is your complexion. Under whom, friend, have you gone forth as an ascetic? Who is your teacher and whose doctrine do you profess?"<br /><br />Assaji replied: "There is, O friend, the Great Recluse, the scion of the Sakyas, who has gone forth from the Sakya clan. Under that Blessed One I have gone forth. That Blessed One is my teacher and it is his Dhamma that I profess."<br /><br />"What does the venerable one's master teach, what does he proclaim?"<br /><br />Questioned thus, the Elder Assaji thought to himself: "These wandering ascetics are opposed to the Buddha's dispensation. I shall show him how profound this dispensation is." So he said: "I am but new to the training, friend. It is not long since I went forth from home, and I came but recently to this teaching and discipline. I cannot explain the Dhamma in detail to you."<br /><br />The wanderer replied: "I am called Upatissa, friend. Please tell me according to your ability, be it much or little. It will be my task to penetrate its meaning by way of a hundred or a thousand methods." And he added:<br /><br />"Be it little or much that you can tell,<br />the meaning only, please proclaim to me!<br />To know the meaning is my sole desire;<br />Of no avail to me are many words."<br /><br />In response, the Elder Assaji uttered this stanza:<br /><br />"Of all those things that from a cause arise,<br />Tathagata the cause thereof has told;<br />And how they cease to be, that too he tells,<br />This is the doctrine of the Great Recluse."2<br /><br />Upon hearing the first two lines, Upatissa became established in the Path of stream-entry, and to the ending of the last two lines he already listened as a stream-winner.<br /><br />When he become a stream-winner, and before he had achieved the higher attainments, he thought: "Here will the means of deliverance be found!" and he said to the Elder: "Do not enlarge upon this exposition of the Dhamma, venerable sir. This will suffice. But where does our Master live?"<br /><br />"In the Bamboo Grove Monastery, wanderer."<br /><br />"Then please go on ahead, venerable sir. I have a friend with whom I agreed that he who should reach the Deathless State first, should tell the other. I shall inform him, and together we shall follow on the road you went and shall come into the Master's presence." Upatissa then prostrated himself at the Elder's feet, saluted him and, taking the Elder's leave, went back to the park of the Wandering Ascetics.<br /><br />Kolita saw him approaching and thought: "Today my friend's appearance is quite changed. Surely, he must have found the Deathless State!"<br /><br />And when he asked him about it, Upatissa replied: "Yes, friend, the Deathless State has been found!" and he recited to him the stanza he had heard. At the end of the verse, Kolita was established in the Fruition of stream-entry and he asked: "Where, my dear, does the Master live?"<br /><br />"I learned from our teacher, the Elder Assaji, that he lives at the Bamboo Grove Monastery."<br /><br />"Then let us go, Upatissa, and see the Master," said Kolita.<br /><br />But Sariputta was one who always respected his teacher, and therefore he said to his friend: "First, my dear, we shall go to our teacher, the Wanderer Sañjaya, and tell him that we have found the Deathless. If he can grasp it, he will penetrate to the Truth. And even if he does not he may, out of confidence in us, come with us to see the Master; and hearing the Buddha's teaching, he will attain to the penetration of the Path and Fruition."<br /><br />So both of them went to Sañjaya and said: "Oh, our teacher! What are you doing? A Buddha has appeared in the world! Well proclaimed is his Teaching and in right conduct lives his community of monks. Let us go and see the Master of the Ten Powers!"<br /><br />"What are you saying, my dear?" Sañjaya exclaimed. And refusing to go with them he spoke to them of the gain and fame they would enjoy if they would share his, the teacher's, place.<br /><br />But they said: "Oh, we should not mind always remaining in the state of pupils! But you, O teacher, you must know whether to go or not!"<br /><br />Then Sañjaya thought: "If they know so much, they will not listen to what I say." And realizing that, he replied: "You may go, then, but I cannot."<br /><br />"Why not, O teacher?"<br /><br />"I am a teacher of many. If I were to revert to the state of a disciple, it would be as if a huge water tank were to change into a small pitcher. I cannot live the life of a pupil now."<br /><br />"Do not think like that, O teacher!" they urged.<br /><br />"Let it be, my dear. You may go, but I cannot."<br /><br />"Oh teacher! When a Buddha has appeared in the world, people flock to him in large crowds and pay homage to him, carrying incense and flowers. We too shall go there. And then what will happen to you?"<br /><br />To which Sañjaya replied: "What do you think, my pupils: are there more fools in this world, or more wise people?"<br /><br />"Fools there are many, O teacher, and the wise are few."<br /><br />"If that is so, my friends, then the wise ones will go to the wise recluse Gotama, and the fools will come to me, the fool. You may go now, but I shall not."<br /><br />So the two friends left, saying: "You will come to understand your mistake, O teacher!" And after they had gone there was a split among Sañjaya's pupils, and his monastery became almost empty. Seeing his place empty, Sañjaya vomited hot blood. Five hundred of his disciples had left along with Upatissa and Kolita, out of whom two hundred and fifty returned to Sañjaya. With the remaining two hundred and fifty, and their own following, the two friends arrived at the Bamboo Grove Monastery.<br /><br />There the Master, seated among the fourfold assembly3 was preaching the Dhamma, and when the Blessed One saw the two coming he addressed the monks: "These two friends, Upatissa and Kolita, who are now coming, will be two excellent disciples to me, a blessed pair."<br /><br />Having approached, the friends saluted the Blessed One reverentially and sat down at one side. When they were seated they spoke to the Blessed One, saying: "May we obtain, O Lord, the ordination of the Going Forth under the Blessed One, may we obtain the Higher Ordination!"<br /><br />And the Blessed One said: "Come, O bhikkhus! Well proclaimed is the Dhamma. Now live the Life of Purity, to make an end of suffering!" This alone served as the ordination of these venerable ones.<br /><br />Then the master continued his sermon, taking the individual temperaments4 of the listeners into consideration; and with the exception of the two chief disciples all of them attained to Arahatship. But the two chief disciples had not yet completed the task of attaining to the three higher paths of sanctity. The reason for this was the greatness of the "knowledge pertaining to the perfection of a disciple" (savakaparami-ñana), which they had still to reach.<br /><br />Upatissa received the name of Sariputta on becoming a disciple of the Buddha, while Kolita became known as Maha Moggallana.<br /><br />Now the Venerable Maha Moggallana went to live at a village in Magadha called Kallavala, on which he depended for almsfood. On the seventh day after his ordination when he was doing the recluse's work (of meditation), fatigue and torpor fell upon him. But spurred on by the Master,5 he dispelled his fatigue, and while listening to the Master expounding to him the meditation subject of the elements (dhatu-kammatthana), he completed the task of winning to the three higher paths and reached the acme of a disciple's perfections (savaka-parami).<br /><br />But the Venerable Sariputta continued to stay near the Master, at a cave called the Boar's Shelter (Sukarakhata-lena), depending on Rajagaha for his almsfood. Half a month after his ordination the Blessed One gave a discourse on the comprehension of feelings6 to the Venerable Sariputta's nephew, the wandering ascetic Dighanakha. The Venerable Sariputta was standing behind the Master, fanning him. While following with his thoughts the progress of the discourse, as though sharing the food prepared for another, the Venerable Sariputta on that occasion reached the acme of "knowledge pertaining to a disciple's perfection and attained to Arahatship together with the fourfold analytical knowledge (patisambhida-ñana)."7 And his nephew, at the end of the sermon, was established in the Fruition of stream-entry.8<br /><br />Now it may be asked: Did not the Venerable Sariputta possess great wisdom; and if so, why did he attain to the disciple's perfections later than the Venerable Maha Moggallana? The answer is, because of the greatness of the preparations necessary for it. When poor people want to go anywhere they take to the road at once; but in the case of kings, larger preparations are required, as for instance to get ready the elephants and chariots, and so on. Thus it was in this case.<br /><br />On that same day, when the evening shadows had lengthened, the Master caused his disciples to assemble and bestowed upon the two Elders the rank of Chief Disciples. At this, some monks were displeased and said among themselves: "The Master should have given the rank of Chief Disciples to those who were ordained first, that is, the Group of Five disciples. If not to them, then either to the group of two hundred and fifty bhikkhus headed by Yasa, or to the thirty of the Auspicious Group (Bhaddavaggiya), or else to the three Kassapa brothers. But passing over all these Great Elders, he has given it to those whose ordination was the very last of all."<br /><br />The Master inquired about the subject of their talk. When he was told, he said: "I do not show preference, but give to each what he has aspired to. When, for instance, Kondañña-the Knower in a previous life gave almsfood nine times during a single harvest, he did not aspire to Chief Discipleship; his aspiration was to be the very first to penetrate to the highest state, Arahatship. And so it came about. But when Sariputta and Maha Moggallana many aeons ago, at the time of the Buddha Anomadassi, were born as the brahman youth Sarada and landowner Sirivaddhaka, they made the aspiration for Chief Discipleship. This, O bhikkhus, was the aspiration for these my sons at that time. Hence I have given them just what they aspired to, and did not do it out of preference."<br /><br />This account of the beginning of the Venerable Sariputta's career is taken from the Commentary to the Anguttara Nikaya, Etad-agga section, with some passages from the parallel version in the Dhammapada Commentary. From it some of the principal traits of the Venerable Sariputta's character are already discernible. His capacity for deep and constant friendship showed itself while he was still a worldling, a youth nurtured in luxury and pleasure, and it persisted after he had abandoned the household life. On receiving his first insight into the Dhamma, and before proceeding any further, his first thought was for his friend Kolita and the vow they had sworn together. His penetrating intellect is revealed in the promptness with which he grasped the essence of the Buddha's teaching from a few simple words. And, most rare of all, he combined that intellectual power with a modesty and sweetness of nature that expressed itself in gratitude and reverence for anyone, even the misguided Sañjaya, who had taught him things of value. It was no wonder, therefore, that throughout his life he continued to show respect for the Venerable Assaji, from whom he had gained his introduction to the Buddha's Teaching. We are told in the Commentary to the Nava Sutta (Sutta-Nipata), and also in the Commentary to v. 392 of the Dhammapada, that whenever the Venerable Sariputta lived in the same monastery as the Elder Assaji, he always went to pay obeisance to him immediately after having done so to the Blessed One. This he did out of reverence, thinking: "This venerable one was my first teacher. It was through him that I came to know the Buddha's Dispensation." And when the Elder Assaji lived in another monastery, the Venerable Sariputta used to face the direction in which the Elder Assaji was living, and to pay homage to him by touching the ground at five places (with the head, hands and feet), and saluting with joined palms.<br /><br />But this led to misunderstanding, for when other monks saw it they said: "After becoming a Chief Disciple, Sariputta still worships the heavenly quarters! Even today he cannot give up his brahmanical views!" Hearing these remarks, the Blessed One said: "It is not so, bhikkhus. Sariputta does not worship the heavenly quarters. He salutes him through whom he came to know the Dhamma. It is him he salutes, worships and reveres as his teacher. Sariputta is one who gives devout respect to his teacher." It was then that the Master preached to the monks assembled there the Nava Sutta,9 which starts with the words:<br /><br />"As gods their homage pay to Indra,<br />So should a man give reverence to him<br />From whom he learned the Dhamma."<br /><br />Another example of the Venerable Sariputta's gratitude is given in the story of Radha Thera. The Commentary to verse 76 of the Dhammapada relates that there was living at Savatthi a poor brahman who stayed in the monastery. There he performed little services such as weeding, sweeping, and the like and the monks supported him with food. They did not, however, want to ordain him. One day the Blessed One, in his mental survey of the world, saw that this brahman was mature for Arahatship. he inquired about him from the assembled monks, and asked whether any one of them remembered to have received some help from the poor brahman. The Venerable Sariputta said that he remembered that once, when he was going for alms in Rajagaha, this poor brahman had given him a ladle full of almsfood that he had begged for himself. The Master asked Sariputta to ordain the man, and he was given the name Radha. The Venerable Sariputta then advised him time and again as to what things should be done, and always Radha received his admonitions gladly, without resentment. And so, living according to the Elder's advice, he attained Arahatship in a short time.<br /><br />This time the bhikkhus remarked on Sariputta's sense of gratitude and said that he who himself willingly accepts advice obtains pupils who do the same. Commenting on this, the Buddha said that not only then, but also formerly Sariputta had showed gratitude and remembered any good deed done to him. And in that connection the Master told the Alinacitta Jataka, the story of a grateful elephant.10<br /><br />Part II<br />Maturity of Insight<br />Friendships<br />If Sariputta was notable for his lasting sense of gratitude, he was no less so for his capacity for friendship. With Maha Moggallana, the friend and companion of his youth, he maintained a close intimacy, and many were the conversations they held on the Dhamma. One of these, which is of special interest as throwing light on the process of Venerable Sariputta's attainment, is recorded in the Anguttara Nikaya, Catukka-nipata, No. 167. It relates that once the Venerable Maha Moggallana went to see the Elder and said to him:<br /><br />"There are four ways of progress, brother Sariputta:<br /><br />difficult progress, with sluggish direct-knowledge;<br />difficult progress, with swift direct-knowledge;<br />easy progress, with sluggish direct-knowledge;<br />easy progress, with swift direct-knowledge.<br /><br />"By which of these four ways of progress, brother, was your mind freed from the cankers without remnants of clinging?" To which the Venerable Sariputta replied: "By that of those four ways of progress, brother, which is easy and has swift direct-knowledge."<br /><br />The explanation of this passage is that if the suppression of the defilements preparatory to absorption or insight takes place without great difficulty, progress is called "easy" (sukha-patipada); in the reverse case it is "difficult" or "painful" (dukkha-patipada). If, after the suppression of the defilements, the manifestation of the Path, the goal of insight, is quickly effected, the direct-knowledge (connected with the Path) is called "swift" (khippabhiñña); in the reverse case it is "sluggish" (dandabhiñña). In this discourse the Venerable Sariputta's statement refers to his attainment of arahantship. His attainment of the first three Paths, however, was, according to the commentary to the above text, connected with "easy progress and sluggish direct-knowledge."<br /><br />In such ways as this did the two friends exchange information about their experience and understanding of the Dhamma. They were also frequently associated in attending to affairs of the Sangha. One such occasion was when they combined in winning back certain monks who had been led astray by Devadatta. There is an interesting passage11 in this connection which shows that the Venerable Sariputta's generous praise of Devadatta's achievements before the latter brought about a schism in the Sangha was the cause of a slight embarrassment. It relates that when the Buddha asked Sariputta to proclaim in Rajagaha that Devadatta's deeds and words should no longer be regarded as connected with the Buddha, Dhamma and Sangha, the Venerable Sariputta said: "Formerly I spoke at Rajagaha in praise of Devadatta's magical powers?" "Yes, Lord," the elder replied. "So you will now speak truthfully also, Sariputta, when you make this proclamation about Devadatta." So, after receiving the formal approval of the Sangha, the Venerable Sariputta, together with many monks, went to Rajagaha and made the declaration about Devadatta.<br /><br />When Devadatta had formally split the Sangha by declaring that he would conduct Sangha-acts separately, he went to Vultures' Peak with five hundred young monks who through ignorance had become his followers. To win them back, the Buddha sent Sariputta and Maha Moggallana to the Vultures' Peak, and while Devadatta was resting, the two Chief Disciples preached to the monks, who attained to stream-entry and went back to the Master.12<br /><br />Another time when the Venerable Sariputta and the Venerable Maha Moggallana worked together to restore order in the Sangha was when a group of monks led by Assaji (not the Elder Assaji referred to earlier) and Punnabbassu, living at Kitagiri, were misbehaving. In spite of repeated admonitions, these monks would not mend their ways, so the two Chief Disciples were sent to pronounce the penalty of pabbajaniya-kamma (excommunication) on those who would not submit to the discipline.13<br /><br />Venerable Sariputta's devotion to his friend was fully reciprocated; we are told of two occasions when Sariputta was ill, and Maha Moggallana attended to him and brought him medicine.<br /><br />Yet there was nothing exclusive about the Venerable Sariputta's friendships, for according to the commentary to the Maha-Gosinga Sutta there was also a bond of mutual affection between him and the Elder Ananda. On the part of Sariputta it was because he thought: "He is attending on the Master — a duty which should have been performed by me"; and Ananda's affection was due to the fact that Sariputta had been declared by the Buddha as his foremost disciple. When Ananda gave Novice Ordination to young pupils he used to take them to Sariputta to obtain Higher ordination under him. The Venerable Sariputta did the same in regard to Ananda, and in that way they had five hundred pupils in common.<br /><br />Whenever the Venerable Ananda received choice robes or other requisites he would offer them to Sariputta, and in the same way, Sariputta passed on to Ananda any special offerings that were made to him. Once Ananda received from a certain brahman a very valuable robe, and with the Master's permission he kept it for ten days awaiting Sariputta's return. The sub-commentary says that later teachers commented on this: "There may be those who say: 'We can well understand that Ananda, who had not yet attained to Arahatship, felt such affection. But how is it in the case of Sariputta, who was a canker-free arahant?" To this we answer: 'Sariputta's affection was not one of worldly attachment, but a love for Ananda's virtues (guna-bhatti).'"<br /><br />The Buddha once asked the Venerable Ananda: "Do you, too, approve of Sariputta?" And Ananda replied: "Who, O Lord, would not approve of Sariputta, unless he were childish, corrupt, stupid or of perverted mind! Learned, O Lord, is the Venerable Sariputta; of great wisdom, O Lord, is the Venerable Sariputta; of broad, bright, quick, keen and penetrative wisdom is the Venerable Sariputta; of few wants and contented, inclined to seclusion, not fond of company, energetic, eloquent, willing to listen, an exhorter who censures what is evil."14<br /><br />In the Theragatha (v. 1034f) we find the Venerable Ananda describing his emotion at the time of Sariputta's death. "When the Noble Friend (Sariputta) had gone," he declares, "the world was plunged in darkness for me." But he adds that after the companion had left him behind, and also the Master had passed away, there was no other friend like mindfulness directed on the body. Ananda's sorrow on learning of the Venerable Sariputta's death is also described very movingly in the Cunda Sutta.15<br /><br />Sariputta was a true friend in the fullest sense of the word. He well understood how to bring out the best in others, and in doing so did not hesitate sometimes to speak straightforwardly and critically, like the ideal friend described by the Buddha, who points out his friend's faults. It was in this way that he helped the venerable Anuruddha in his final break-through to Arahatship, as recorded in the Anguttara Nikaya (Tika-Nipata No. 128):<br /><br />Once the Venerable Anuruddha went to see the Venerable Sariputta. When they had exchanged courteous greetings he sat down and said to the Venerable Sariputta: "Friend Sariputta, with the divine eye that is purified, transcending human ken, I can see the thousandfold world-system. Firm is my energy, unremitting; my mindfulness is alert and unconfused; the body is tranquil and unperturbed; my mind is concentrated and one-pointed. And yet my mind is not freed from cankers, not freed from clinging."<br /><br />"Friend Anuruddha," said the Venerable Sariputta, "that you think thus of your divine eye, this is conceit in you. That you think thus of your firm energy, your alert mindfulness, your unperturbed body and your concentrated mind, this is restlessness in you. That you think of your mind not being freed from the cankers, this is worrying16 in you. It will be good, indeed, if the Venerable Anuruddha, abandoning these three states of mind and paying no attention to them, will direct the mind to the Deathless Element."<br /><br />And the Venerable Anuruddha later on gave up these three states of mind, paid no attention to them and directed his mind to the Deathless Element. And the Venerable Anuruddha, living then alone, secluded, heedful, ardent, with determined mind, before long reached in this very life, understanding and experiencing it by himself, that highest goal of the Holy Life, for the sake of which noble sons go forth entirely from home into homelessness. And he knew: "Exhausted is rebirth, lived is the holy life, the work is done, nothing further remains after this." Thus the Venerable Anuruddha became one of the Arahats.<br /><br />Sariputta must have been stimulating company, and sought after by many. What attracted men of quite different temperament to him and his conversation can be well understood from the incident described in the Maha-Gosinga Sutta (Majjhima Nikaya No. 32). One evening the Elders Maha Moggallana, Maha Kassapa, Anuruddha, Revata and Ananda went to Sariputta to listen to the Dhamma. The Venerable Sariputta welcomed them, saying: "Delightful is this Gosinga Forest of Sala trees; there is moonlight tonight, all the Sala trees are in full bloom, and it seems that heavenly perfume drifts around. What kind of monk, do you think, Ananda, will lend more luster to this Gosinga Sala Forest?"<br /><br />The same question was put to the others as well, and each answered according to his individual nature. Finally, Sariputta gave his own answer, which was as follows:<br /><br />"There is a monk who has control over his mind, who is under the control of his mind.17 In whatever (mental) abiding or attainment he wishes to dwell in the forenoon, he can dwell in it at that time. In whatever (mental) abiding or attainment he wishes to dwell at noon, he can dwell in it at that time. In whatever (mental) abiding or attainment he wishes to dwell in the evening, he can dwell in it at that time. It is as though a king's or royal minister's cloth chest were full of many-colored garments; so that whatever pair of garments he wishes to wear in the morning, or at noon, or in the evening, he can wear it at will at those times. Similarly it is with a monk who has control over his mind, who is not under the control of his mind; in whatever (mental) abiding or attainment he wishes to dwell in the morning, or at noon, or in the evening, he can do so at will at those times. Such a monk, friend Moggallana, may lend luster to this Gosinga Sala Forest."<br /><br />They then went to the Buddha, who approved of all their answers and added his own.<br /><br />We see from this episode that Sariputta, with all his powerful intellect and his status in the Sangha, was far from being a domineering type who tried to impose his views on others. How well did he understand how to stimulate self-expression in his companions in a natural and charming way, conveying to them the pensive mood evoked by the enchanting scenery! His own sensitive nature responded to it, and drew a similar response from his friends.<br /><br />There are many such conversations recorded between Sariputta and other monks, not only the Venerables Maha Moggallana, Ananda and Anuruddha, but also Maha Kotthita, Upavana, Samiddhi, Savittha, Bhumija and many more. It seems that the Buddha himself liked to talk to Sariputta, for he often did so, and many of his discourses were addressed to his "Marshal of the Law," to use the title he gave him.<br /><br />Once, Sariputta repeated some words the Master had spoken to Ananda on another occasion. "This is the whole of the Life of Purity (brahmacariya); namely, noble friendship, noble companionship, noble association."18<br /><br />There could be no better exemplification of that teaching than the life of the Chief Disciple himself.<br /><br />The Helper<br />Among the bhikkhus Sariputta was outstanding as one who helped others. We find a reference to this in the Devadaha Sutta.19 Some visiting monks, about to return to their own places, took formal leave of the Buddha. He then advised them to see the Venerable Sariputta and take leave of him also, telling them: "Sariputta, O bhikkhus, is wise, and a helper of his fellow monks."<br /><br />The Commentary, in explanation of these words, says: "Sariputta was a helper in two ways: by giving material help (amisanuggaha) and the help of the Dhamma (dhammanuggaha)."<br /><br />The Elder, it is said, did not go on almsround in the early morning hours as the other bhikkhus did. Instead, when they had all gone he walked around the entire monastery grounds, and wherever he saw an unswept place, he swept it; wherever refuse had not been removed, he threw it away; where furniture such as beds, chairs, etc., or earthenware had not been properly arranged, he put them in order. He did that lest other, non-Buddhist ascetics, visiting the monastery, might see some disorderliness and speak in contempt of the bhikkhus.<br /><br />Then he used to go to the hall for the sick, and having spoken consoling words to the patients he would ask them about their needs. To procure their requirements he took with him young novices, and went in search of medicine either by way of the customary almsround or to some appropriate place. When the medicine was obtained he would give it to the novices, saying: "Caring for the sick has been praised by the Master! Go now, good people, and be heedful!" After sending them back to the monastery sick room he would go on the alms-round or take his meal at a supporter's house. This was his habit when staying for some time at a monastery.<br /><br />But when going on a journey on foot with the Blessed One, he did not go with the very first of the monks, shod with sandals and umbrella in hand, as one who thinks: "I am the Chief Disciple." But letting the young novices take his bowl and robes sending them with the others, he himself would first attend to those who were old, very young, or unwell, making them apply oil to any sores they might have on their bodies. Then, either later on the same day or on the next day, he would leave together with them.<br /><br />Once, when for that reason the Elder Sariputta had arrived particularly late at the place where the others were resting, he did not get proper quarters for the night, and seated himself under a tent made from robes. The Master saw this, and next day he caused the monks to assemble and told them the story of the elephant, the monkey and the partridge who, after deciding which was the eldest of them, lived together showing respect for the seniormost.20 He then laid down the rule that "lodgings should be allocated according to seniority."21<br /><br />In this way the Venerable Sariputta was a helper by giving material help.<br /><br />Sometimes he would give material help and the help of the Dhamma together, as when he visited Samitigutta, who suffered from leprosy, in the infirmary. The Theragatha Commentary tells us that he said to Samitigutta: "Friend, so long as the aggregates (khandha) continue, all feeling is just suffering. Only when the aggregates are no more is there no more suffering." Having thus given him the contemplation of feelings as subject of meditation, Sariputta went away. Samitigutta, following the Elder's instruction, developed insight and realised the six supernormal powers (chalabhiñña) as an arahant.22<br /><br />Again, when Anathapindika was lying on his deathbed, Sariputta visited him, accompanied by Ananda. Sariputta preached to the dying man on non-attachment, and Anathapindika was greatly moved by the profound discourse.23<br /><br />Another sickbed sermon given by the Elder to Anathapindika is preserved in the Sotapatti-Samyutta (Vagga 3, Sutta 6). In this discourse, Anathapindika is reminded that those things which lead to rebirth in states of woe are no longer in him, but that he possesses the four basic qualities of stream-entry (sotapattiyanga) and the eight path factors: in considering this, his pains would subside. As the result, his pains did subside.<br /><br />Once the Elder Channa was lying ill and in great pain. The Venerable Sariputta paid him a visit, in company with the Elder Maha Cunda. Seeing the sick monk's agonies, Sariputta at once offered to go in search of medicines and suitable food for him. But Channa told them he had decided to take his life, and after they had left he did so. Afterwards the Buddha explained that the Elder Channa's act was without demerit and blameless, since he had attained Arahatship while dying. This story is found in the Channovada Sutta (Majjh. 144).<br /><br />It is said that whenever Sariputta gave advice, he showed infinite patience; he would admonish and instruct up to a hundred or a thousand times, until his pupil was established in the Fruition of stream-entry. Only then did he discharge him and give his advice to others. Very great was the number of those who, after receiving his instruction and following it faithfully, attained to Arahatship. In the Sacca-vibhanga Sutta (Majjh. 141) the Buddha says: "Sariputta is like a mother who brings forth, while Moggallana is like a nurse of that which has been brought forth. Sariputta trains to the Fruit of stream-entry, and Moggallana trains to the highest goal."<br /><br />Explaining this passage, the Commentary says: "When Sariputta accepted pupils for training, whether they were ordained by him or by others, he favored them with his material and spiritual help, looked after them in sickness, gave them a subject of meditation and at last, when he knew that they had become stream-winners and had risen above the dangers of the lower worlds, he dismissed them in the confident knowledge that 'Now they can, by their own manly strength, produce the higher stages of Saintship.' Having thus become free from concern about their future, he instructed new groups of pupils. But Maha Moggallana, when training pupils in the same way, did not give up concern for them until they had attained Arahatship. This was because he felt, as was said by the Master: 'As even a little excrement is of evil smell, I do not praise even the shortest spell of existence, be it no longer than a snap of the fingers.'"<br /><br />But although the Majjhima Commentary says that Sariputta used to lead his regular pupils only up to stream-entry, in individual cases he helped monks to attain the higher stages. The Udana Commentary, for example, says that "at that time bhikkhus in higher training (sekha) often used to approach the Venerable Sariputta for a subject of meditation that could help them to attain the three higher Paths." It was after taking instruction from Sariputta that the Elder Lakuntika Bhaddiya ("The Dwarf") attained Arahatship,24 having been a stream-winner at the time. There is also the case of the Venerable Anuruddha, referred to on p. 27.<br /><br />It was in this manner that the Venerable Sariputta gave the help of the Dhamma. He was a great leader of men and an outstanding spiritual adviser. To the latter task he brought not only a keen and perceptive understanding of the human mind, but also a warm, human interest in others which must have been a great encouragement to those under his spiritual guidance. We have already seen how ready he was to give generous praise where it was due; he was also keen at all times to meet noble monks, particularly those whom the Master had commended. One such was the Elder Punna Mantaniputta; when Sariputta learned that he had come on a visit he went to meet him. Without telling him who he was, he listened to Punna's great discourse, the Stage Coach simile (Majjh. No. 24), and when it was ended gave it high praise.<br /><br />Administering to the physical as well as the spiritual needs of the monks under his charge, restraining them with kindly admonitions and encouraging them with the praise their efforts deserved, guiding them on the path showing in all he did that vital sympathetic interest which draws forth the best from a pupil, Sariputta combined the qualities of a perfect teacher with those of a perfect friend. He was ready to help in every way, in small things as in great. Filled with the virtue of the Holy Life himself, he was quick to see virtue in others, expert in developing it in those in whom it was latent, and among the first to extol it where it was in full flower. His was no cold, aloof perfection, but the richest intermingling of spiritual exaltation with the qualities that are finest and most endearing in a human being.<br /><br />Attainment<br />Two stanzas in the Theragatha (995, 996) relate, in words ascribed to the Venerable Sariputta himself, the way in which he attained Arahatship. There he tells us:<br /><br />"It was to another that the Blessed One was teaching the Dhamma; to the Dhamma-preaching I listened intently for my own good. And not in vain, for freed from all defilements, I gained release."<br /><br />In the next two verses (996-7) the Elder declares that he felt no inclination to develop the five supernormal powers (abhiñña). However, the Iddhividha-Katha of the Patisambhida Magga credits him with possessing the intensive degree of meditative concentration called "the power of intervention by concentration" (samadhi-vipphara-iddhi), which is capable of intervening in certain normal physiological processes or other natural events. This is illustrated by the anecdote in the Visuddhimagga, Ch. XII, which records that once when the Venerable Sariputta was living with the Elder Maha Moggallana at Kapotakandara, he was sitting meditating in the open with his hair freshly shaved when he was given a malicious blow on the head by a mischievous spirit. The blow was a very severe one, but at the time it was given "the Elder was absorbed in meditative attainment; consequently he suffered no harm." The source of this story is the Udana (IV.4) which continues the account as follows:<br /><br />The Venerable Maha Moggallana saw the incident and approached the Venerable Sariputta to ask how he fared. He asked him: "Brother, are you comfortable? Are you doing well? Does nothing trouble you?"<br /><br />"I am comfortable, brother Moggallana," said the Venerable Sariputta. "I am doing well, brother Moggallana. Only my head troubles me a little."<br /><br />Whereupon the Venerable Maha Moggallana said: "O wonderful is it, brother Sariputta! O marvelous is it, brother Sariputta! How great is the psychic power, and how great is the might of the Venerable Sariputta! For just now, brother Sariputta, a certain demon gave you a blow on the head. And a mighty blow it was! With such a blow one might fell an elephant seven or seven and a half cubits high, or one might split a mountain peak. But the Venerable Sariputta says only this, 'I am comfortable, brother Moggallana. I am doing well, brother Moggallana. Only my head troubles me a little.'"<br /><br />Then the Venerable Sariputta replied: "O wonderful is it, brother Moggallana! O marvelous is it, brother Moggallana! How great is the psychic power and how great is the might of the Venerable Moggallana, that he should see any demon at all! As for me, I have not seen so much as a mud-sprite!"<br /><br />The Anupada Sutta (Majjh. III) contains a description of Sariputta's attainments given by the Buddha himself. In it the Blessed One declares that the Venerable Sariputta had mastered the nine meditative attainments, that is the four fine-material and four immaterial jhanas and the cessation of perception and feeling. And in the Sariputta Samyutta25 the Venerable Elder mentions the fact himself, in speaking to Ananda, adding that in all the stages he was free of any self-reference: "I had no such thoughts as 'I am entering the jhana; I have entered it; I am rising from it.'" And on another occasion he describes to Ananda how he attained to such developed concentration of mind that with regard to the earth element he was without earth perception of them. Yet it seems that he was without perception of them. Yet it seems that he was not entirely without perception of another kind, his only perception being that "Nibbana is ceasing of coming-to-be" (bhava-nirodha).26<br /><br />This detached attitude to the jhanic attainments may have been due to the meditative "abiding in voidness" (suññata-vihara) which the Venerable Sariputta cultivated. We read in the Pindapata-parisuddhi Sutta (Majjh. 151) that the Buddha once remarked on the Venerable Sariputta's radiant features and asked him by which state of mind this radiance had been caused.27 The Venerable Sariputta replied that he frequently practiced the abiding in voidness, upon which the Buddha said that this was the abode of great men, and proceeded to describe it in detail. The Udana records that on three occasions the Master saw the Venerable Sariputta seated in meditation outside the monastery and uttered verses (udana) in praise of a firm and calm mind.<br /><br />We may perhaps imagine the Venerable Sariputta seated in meditation in a bower such as that mentioned in the Devadaha Sutta (Khandha Samyutta, No.2), where it is said "Once the Blessed One lived in the Sakya country, at Devadaha, a market town of the Sakyas... At that time the Venerable Sariputta was seated, not far from the Blessed One, under an Elagala bush." The Commentary to the text tells us: "At Devadaha there was a bower under an Elagala bush. This bush grows where there is a constant supply of flowing water. People had made a bower with four posts over which they let the bush grow, forming a roof. Under it they made a seat by placing bricks there and strewing it with sand. It was a cool place for the daytime, with a fresh breeze blowing from the water." It may well have been in some such rustic shelter as this that the Buddha saw Sariputta deep in meditation, on those occasions when he extolled his disciple's tranquillity and detachment.<br /><br />Concerning his attainment to analytical knowledge (patisambhida-ñana), the Venerable Sariputta speaks of it in the Anguttara Nikaya (Fours, No. 172), where he says:<br /><br />"It was half a month after my ordination, friends that I realized, in all their parts and details, the analytical knowledge of meaning, the analytical knowledge of the Dhamma, the analytical knowledge of language, the analytical knowledge of perspicuity. These I expound in many ways, teach them and make them known, establish and reveal them, explain and clarify them. If anyone has any doubt or uncertainty, he may ask me and I shall explain (the matter). Present is the Master who is well acquainted with our attainments."<br /><br />From all of this it is evident that the Venerable Sariputta was a master of all the stages of attainment up to and including the highest insight-knowledge. What could be more aptly said of him than this, in the Buddha's own words:<br /><br />"If one could ever say rightly of one that he has come to mastery and perfection in noble virtue, in noble concentration, in noble wisdom and noble liberation, it is of Sariputta that one could thus rightly declare.<br /><br />"If one could ever say rightly of one that he is the Blessed One's true son, born of his speech, born of the Dhamma, formed of the Dhamma, heir to the Dhamma, not heir to worldly benefit, it is Sariputta that one could thus rightly declare.<br /><br />"After me, O monks, Sariputta rightly turns the supreme Wheel of Dhamma, even as I have turned it."<br /><br />Majjh. 111, Anupada Sutta<br /><br />The Turner of the Wheel<br />The discourses of Sariputta and the books attributed to him form a comprehensive body of teaching that for scope and variety of exposition can stand beside that of the Master himself. Sariputta understood in a unique way how to organize and present the rich material of the Dhamma lucidly, in a manner that was intellectually stimulating and also an inspiration to practical effort. We find this exemplified in two classic discourses of the Majjhima Nikaya, the Samma-ditthi Sutta (No. 9) and the Greater Sutta on the Elephant Footprint Simile (No. 28).<br /><br />The Greater Discourse on the Elephant Footprint Simile28 is a masterpiece of methodical treatment. It begins with the statement that the Four Noble Truths comprise everything that is salutary, then singles out the Truth of Suffering as being identifiable with the five aggregates of personality. From these, the aggregate of corporeality is chosen for detailed investigation; it is shown to consist of the four great elements, each of which is said to be internal and external. The bodily parts and functions belonging to the internal element are stated in detail, and it is said of both the internal and external elements that they neither belong to a self, nor constitute a self. This insight leads to disgust and detachment regarding the elements.<br /><br />The discourse then goes on to show the impermanence of the mighty external elements when they are involved in great upheavals of nature, and against that background it is stressed that this tiny body, the product of craving, can never be regarded as "I" or "mine" or considered in the sense of "I am." And when a monk who has this firm and deeply rooted insight meets with abuse, blame and hostility on the part of others, he is able to analyze the situation soberly and so remain master of it. He recognizes that the painful feeling that has arisen in him is produced by ear-contact, which is in itself no more than a conditioned phenomenon; and of all the constituent parts of the situation he knows that they are impermanent. This he discerns with reference to contact, feeling, perception, formations and consciousness. At this point of the discourse we see that the other four aggregates, the mental components of personality, are introduced in an organic context, together with the already mentioned factor of contact. The discourse then continues: "Then his mind, just by taking only the elements as its object, becomes elated, gladdened, firm and intent; and even if he is beaten and injured he will think: 'This body is of such a nature that is liable to such injuries.'" Thereupon he recollects the Master's Simile of the Saw and will resolve to follow the Buddha's injunction to suffer all injuries in patience, whatever may happen to him.<br /><br />But, the sermon continues, if when thus remembering the Buddha, Dhamma and Sangha the monk's equanimity does not endure, he will be stirred by a sense of urgency and feel ashamed that, in spite of that recollection of the Triple Gem, he could not remain constant. On the other hand, if his endurance persists he will experience happiness. "Even to this extent, much has been achieved by that monk," says the sutta.<br /><br />Here all the four elements are treated identically. The concluding section starts by comparing the body and its constituent parts with a house, which is made up of its various components. After that follows an exposition of the conditioned arising of the sixfold perceptual consciousness. In mentioning the five sense-organs and sense-objects as the basic conditions for the arising of five-sense consciousness, derived corporeality is here introduced by means of a prominent part of it, thus completing the treatment of the corporeal aggregate. With the state of consciousness having thus arisen, all five aggregates are given, and in that way their conjunction can be understood, as well as their dependent origination. And in this connection Sariputta quotes the Master: "He who understands dependent origination understands the Dhamma; and he who understands the Dhamma understands dependent origination." Desire, inclination and attachment in regard to the five aggregates is the origin of suffering. Removal of that desire, inclination and attachment is the cessation of suffering. And of the monk who has understood this it is said: "Even to this extent, much has been achieved by that monk," Thus the exposition is rounded off with the Four Noble Truths. This discourse is indeed like an intricate and beautifully constructed piece of music ending on a solemn and majestic chord.<br /><br />Another model exposition of the Venerable Sariputta's is the Samma-ditthi Sutta.29 This is a masterpiece of teaching, which also provides a framework for further elaboration, such as given in the extensive commentary to it. The Commentary says: "In the Buddha Word as collected in the five great Nikayas there is no discourse other than the Discourse on Right Understanding, wherein the Four Noble Truths are stated thirty-two times, and thirty-two times the state of Arahatship." The same discourse also gives us an original exposition of dependent origination, with slight, but very instructive, variations. Each factor of dependent origination is used, as are also the additional sections, to illustrate the right understanding of the Four Noble Truths, the comprehension of which is thus greatly enhanced, broadened and deepened. This discourse has been widely used for instructional purposes throughout the centuries down to the present day.<br /><br />Another of the Venerable Sariputta's discourses is the Sama-citta Sutta30 which was listened to by the "devas of tranquil mind." It is concerned with the first three stages of sanctitude, the stream-winner, the once-returner and the nonreturner. Its purpose is to clarify the question of their residuum of rebirths, in the five-sense world or in the fine-material and non-material worlds, which depends upon their mode of practice and on the fetters of existence still remaining. It is a very short discourse, but had a singular impact on the huge assembly of devas who, according to tradition, assembled to hear it. It is said that a very large number of them attained Arahatship, and innumerable were those who reached stream-entry. This discourse of the Venerable Sariputta is, in fact, counted among the few which had unusually far-reaching results among beings of the higher worlds; and although it is a very brief text rather cryptic without the commentarial explanation, it had a high reputation in succeeding centuries. It is the sermon that was preached by the arahant Mahinda on the evening of his arrival in Ceylon, and the Mahavamsa (XIV, 34ff), Ceylon's famous chronicle, relates that on this occasion, also, numerous devas listened and achieved penetration of the Dhamma.<br /><br />The high regard in which the discourse is held, and the strong impact ascribed to it, may be attributed to the fact that it helps those on the Path to define their position as to the kind of rebirths still to be expected by them. Devas on higher levels of development are sometimes inclined to regard their heavenly status as final, and do not expect to be reborn in the five-sense world, as may sometimes be the case. The Great Elder's discourse gave them a criterion by which to judge their position. For worldlings still outside the Paths, as well, it must have offered valuable orientation for the direction of their efforts.<br /><br />The Sangiti Sutta ("The Recital") and Dasuttara Sutta ("Up to Ten"), two more of the Venerable Sariputta's sermons, are the last two texts of the Digha Nikaya, the Collection of Long Discourses. Both these texts are compilations of doctrinal terms, in which a large number of topics are classified as falling into groups of from one to ten members. The reason for bringing the compilation only up to ten may have been that there are only very few groups of doctrinal terms extending beyond ten members, and these could be supposed to be well known and easily remembered. The Sangiti Sutta was preached in the presence of the Buddha, and at its conclusion received his express approval.<br /><br />While in the Sangiti Sutta the doctrinal terms are arranged solely in numerical groups of one to ten, in the Dasuttara Sutta each of these ten groups has tenfold subdivision which serves to bring out the practical significance of these groups, for example:<br /><br />"One thing(1) is of great importance, (2) should be developed, (3) should be fully known, (4) should be abandoned, (5) implies decline, (6) implies progress, (7) is hard to penetrate, (8) should be made to arise, (9) should be directly known, (10) should be realized. What is the one thing of great importance? Heedfulness in salutary things..."<br /><br />These texts must have been compiled at a fairly late period of the Buddha's and the Venerable Sariputta's life, when there was already in existence a large body of doctrine and carefully transmitted discourses which required organizing for ready use, and also anthologies of salient features of the Dhamma became a useful aid in a comprehensive study of the Teaching. The Sangiti Sutta was delivered at the time of Nigantha Nataputta's death, on the date of which, however, scholars differ. It was, in fact, this event that occasioned the preaching of the sutta, for it speaks of the dissensions, schisms and doctrinal disagreements that arose among the Jains immediately after the death of their Master, Nigantha Nataputta, otherwise Mahavira. This was taken as a warning example by the Venerable Sariputta, who in his discourse stresses that this text "should be recited by all in concord and without dissension, so that the Holy Life should last long for the welfare and happiness of gods and men." The commentators say that the Sangiti Sutta is meant to convey the "flavor of concord" (samaggi-rasa) in the Teaching, which is strengthened by doctrinal proficiency (desana-kusalata).<br /><br />The practical purpose of the Dasuttara Sutta is indicated in the Venerable Sariputta's introductory verses:<br /><br />"The Dasuttara (Discourse) I shall proclaim — a teaching for the attainment of Nibbana and the ending of suffering, the release from all bondage."<br /><br />Dasuttaram pavakkhami dhammam nibbanappattiya dukkhas' antakiriyaya sabbaganthapamocanam.<br /><br />It seems likely that these two suttas served as a kind of index to selected teachings. They may have been useful also to those monks who did not memorize a great many texts; to them they may have been helpful in presenting numerous aspects of the Teaching in a form that was easily memorized and assimilated. Both of these discourses admirably illustrate the Venerable Sariputta's concern with the preservation of the Dhamma, and his systematic way of ensuring that it was transmitted intact in all its details. It was for that purpose that he provided "study aids" such as these and other discourses, together with works like the Niddesa.<br /><br />* * *<br />A summary of other discourses given by the Venerable Sariputta is included at the end of this book. We shall now turn to a consideration of larger canonical works attributed to him.<br /><br />The first is the Niddesa, which belongs to the Khuddaka Nikaya of the Sutta Pitaka. it is the only work of an exclusively commentarial character included in the Pali Tipitaka. Of its two parts, the Maha Niddesa is a commentary to the Atthaka-vagga of the Sutta Nipata, while the Cula Niddesa comments on the Parayana-vagga and the Khaggavisana Sutta, likewise of the Sutta Nipata.<br /><br />The Atthaka-vagga and the Parayana-vagga are the last two books of the Sutta Nipata, and doubtlessly belong to the oldest parts not only of that work but of the entire Sutta Pitaka. They were highly appreciated even in the earlier days of the Sangha, and of the Buddhist laity as well, as is testified by the fact that the Udana records a recital of the Atthaka-vagga by Sona Thera and the Anguttara Nikaya a recital of the Parayana-vagga by the female lay disciple, Nandamata. On at least five occasions the Buddha himself has given explanations of verses contained in these two parts of the Sutta Nipata. Apart from the high esteem in which they were evidently held, the fact that these two verse collections contain numerous archaic words and terse aphoristic sayings makes it understandable that in very early days a commentary on them was composed which was later included in the canonical scriptures. The traditional attribution of it to the Venerable Sariputta must be regarded as highly plausible.31 It is quite in character with the great Elder's concern with the methodical instruction of bhikkhus that the Niddesa contains not only word explanations, clarifications of the context and supporting quotations from the Buddha Word, but also material obviously meant for linguistic instruction, such as the addition of many synonyms of the word explained. On this subject, Prof. E.J. Thomas writes as follows:32<br /><br />The most characteristic feature of the Niddesa... consists of a list of synonyms of the words commented on. Such lists are not used to explain the meaning of a word in a particular context. They are repeated in the same form wherever the word occurs and were evidently intended to be learned in the same way as the modern kosha (dictionary)... Much of this is also found in the Abhidhamma books, but in the Niddesa it is used as general matter applied to passages for which it was not immediately intended... This shows a system for learning the vocabulary of the Canon, and for explaining archaic forms, but no further grammatical teaching occurs apart from the description of certain terms as particles... in the Niddesa we thus have direct evidence of a general system of instruction applied to a definite work, consisting of interpretation, doctrinal teaching and the verbal expositions of the beginnings of grammar. The Abhidhamma books and related works like the Patisambhida Magga give other traces of its existence. It appears to be this system which is expressly referred to in the Niddesa (1, 234) and other places as the four kinds of analysis (patisambhida); the analysis of meanings (attha), of conditions (dhamma), of grammatical analysis (nirutti), and clearness of insight (patibhana). The Nirutti of the Niddesa is of the kind that we should expect to exist when Pali was a living language. All the grammatical analysis that was required was a knowledge of those words in the Scriptures that had become obsolete, and the explanation of unusual grammatical forms by means of current expressions... We can see from its different forms and readings that it underwent changes and received additions, and in the case of a work used continually for instruction this would be inevitable.<br /><br />The Venerable Sariputta states that he attained to the four kinds of analytical knowledge (patisambhida) two weeks after his ordination, that is, on attaining Arahatship.33 This fact, and the extensive application of nirutti-patisambhida, "grammatical analysis," in the Niddesa, make it quite probable that he was actually the author of both the Niddesa and the Patisambhida Magga.<br /><br />The Maha Niddesa contains also the commentary on the Sariputta Sutta (also called the "Therapañha Sutta") which forms the last text of the Atthaka-vagga. The first part of this text, with verses in praise of the Master and questions put to him, is ascribed to Sariputta. The Maha Niddesa explains the opening stanza as referring to the Buddha's return from Tavatimsa heaven after he had preached the Abhidhamma there. Apart from that it contains only his questions, the essential part of the text being the Buddha's replies.<br /><br />The Patisambhida Magga has the appearance of a manual of higher Buddhist studies, and its range is as broad as that of the mind of its reputed author. At the beginning it presents treatises on 72 types of knowledge (ñana) and on the types of wrong speculative views (ditthi), both of which show the methodical and penetrative mind of the Venerable Sariputta. In the Treatise on Knowledge, as well as in other chapters of the work, there are found a large number of doctrinal terms appearing for the first time and only in the Patisambhida Magga. It also contains elaborations of terms and teachings that are mentioned only briefly in other and older parts of the Sutta Pitaka. In addition to this, it contains material on meditation of great practical value, as for example on mindfulness of breathing,34 metta-bhavana, and numerous insight-exercises. There is also, to give variety to the subject matter, a passage of hymnic character and great beauty, on the Great Compassion of the Tathagata. Mahanama Thera of Ceylon, who wrote the Saddhammappakasini, the commentary to the work, confidently ascribes it to the Venerable Sariputta, and in the introductory stanzas gives eloquent praise of the great Elder. In the Patisambhida Magga itself, Sariputta is mentioned twice, once as being one who possesses samadhi-vipphara-iddhi (in the Iddhividha-katha) and again in the Maha-pañña-katha, Solasa-pañña-niddesa, where it is said: "Those whose wisdom is equal to that of Sariputta, they partake to some extent of the Buddha-knowledge."<br /><br />We come now to one of the most important contributions made by the Venerable Sariputta to Buddhist teaching. According to tradition (e.g., in the Atthasalini), the Buddha preached the Abhidhamma in the Tavatimsa heaven to his mother, Queen Maya, who had been reborn as deva in that world. He did this for three months, and when returning daily to earth for his meals, he gave to the Venerable Sariputta the "method" (naya) of that portion of Abhidhamma he had preached. The Atthasalini says; "Thus the giving of the method was to the Chief Disciple, who was endowed with analytical knowledge, as though the Buddha stood on the edge of the shore and pointed out the ocean with his open hand. To the Elder the doctrine taught by the Blessed One in hundreds and thousands of methods became very clear." Thereafter, the Elder passed on what he had learned to his five hundred disciples.<br /><br />Further it is said: "The textual order of the Abhidhamma originated with Sariputta; the numerical series in the Great Book (Patthana) was also determined by him. In this way the Elder, without spoiling the unique doctrine, laid down the numerical series in order to make it easy to learn, remember, study and teach the Law."<br /><br />The Atthasalini, the Commentary to the Dhamma-sangani also ascribes to Sariputta the following contributions to the canonical Abhidhamma:<br /><br />(a) The 42 couplets (dyads; duka) of the Suttanta Matika, which follows the Abhidhamma Matika, both of which preface the seven Abhidhamma books. The 42 Suttanta couplets are explained in the Dhammasangani and this likewise has probably to be ascribed to the Elder.<br /><br />(b) The fourth and last part of the Dhammasangani, the Atthuddhara-kanda, the "Synopsis."<br /><br />(c) The arrangement for the recitation of the Abhidhamma (vacanamagga).<br /><br />(d) The Numerical Section (gañanacara) of the Patthana.<br /><br />In the Anupada Sutta35 the Buddha himself speaks of the Venerable Sariputta's analysis of meditative consciousness into its chief mental concomitants, which the Elder undertook from his own experience, after rising from each of the meditative attainments in succession. This analysis may well be either a precursor or an abridgment of the detailed analysis of jhana-consciousness given in the Dhammasangani.<br /><br />Concerning the Venerable Sariputta's mastery of the Dhamma, and its exposition, the Buddha had this to say:<br /><br />"The Essence of Dhamma (dhammadhatu) has been so well penetrated by Sariputta, O monks, that if I were to question him therein for one day in different words and phrases, Sariputta would reply likewise for one day in various words and phrases. And if I were to question him for one night, or a day and a night, or for two days and nights, even up to seven days and nights, Sariputta would expound the matter for the same period of time, in various words and phrases."<br /><br />Nidana Samyutta, No. 32<br /><br />And on another occasion the Master employed this simile:<br /><br />"If he is endowed with five qualities, O monks, the eldest son of a World-ruling Monarch righteously turns the Wheel of sovereignty that had been turned by his father. And that Wheel of Sovereignty cannot be overturned by any hostile human being. What are the five qualities? The eldest son of a World-ruling Monarch knows what is beneficial, knows the Law, knows the right measure, knows the right time and knows the society (with which he has to deal, parisa).<br /><br />Similarly, O monks, is Sariputta endowed with five qualities and rightly turns the supreme Wheel of Dhamma, even as I have turned it. And this Wheel cannot be overturned by ascetics, or priests, by deities or Brahma, nor by anyone else in the world. What are those five qualities? Sariputta, O monks, knows what is beneficial, knows the Teaching, knows the right measure, knows the right time and knows the assembly (he is to address)."<br /><br />Anguttara Nikaya, V. 132<br /><br />Other Theras were not behind in their appreciation. The Elder Vangisa, in his encomium in the Theragatha (vv. 1231-3) praises Sariputta who "teaches in brief and also speaks in detail," while in the same compilation other great Elders, Maha Kassapa (vv. 1082-5) and Maha Moggallana (vv. 1158; 1176-7; 1182) also give their meed of praise. And the Venerable Maha Moggallana, at the end of Sariputta's Discourse on Guiltlessness,36 uttered these words of tribute to his friend's sermon: "To (virtuous and earnest) monks who have heard the exposition of the Venerable Sariputta it will be like food and drink to their ears and mind. How well does he lift up his fellow-monks from what is unwholesome, and confirm them in what is good!"<br /><br />The relationship in which the two Chief Disciples stood to one another in the matter of teaching was explained by the Buddha when he said:<br /><br /><br />"Associate, O monks with Sariputta and Moggallana, and keep company with them! They are wise bhikkhus and helpers of their fellow-monks. Sariputta is like a mother who brings forth, and Moggallana is like a nurse to what has been brought forth. Sariputta trains (his pupils) in the Fruition of stream-entry, and Moggallana trains them for the highest goal.<br /><br />"Sariputta is able to expound the Four Noble Truths in detail, to teach them and make them intelligible, to proclaim, reveal and explain them, and make them clear."<br /><br />Majjh. 141, Sacca-vibhanga Sutta<br /><br />And in the Anguttara Nikaya (11, 131);<br /><br />"A monk of faith, O bhikkhus, should cherish this right aspiration: 'Oh, may I become such as Sariputta and Moggallana!' For Sariputta and Moggallana are the model and standard for my bhikkhu-disciples."<br /><br />That the Venerable Sariputta's great reputation as a teacher of the Dhamma long survived him, to become a tradition among later Buddhists, is shown by the concluding passages of the Milinda-pañha, written some three hundred years later. There, King Milinda compares Nagasena Thera to the Venerable Sariputta, saying: "In this Buddha's Dispensation there is none other like yourself for answering questions, except the Elder Sariputta, the Marshal of the Law."<br /><br />That grand reputation still lives today, upheld by the cherished teachings of the Great Disciple, preserved and enshrined in some of the oldest books of Buddhism alongside the words of his Master.<br /><br />The Elder's Relatives<br />As we have already seen, the Venerable Sariputta was born into a brahman family of Upatissa village (or Nalaka), near Rajagaha, his father's name being Vaganta and his mother's Sari. He had three brothers: Cunda, Upasena and Revata, and three sisters named Cala, Upacala and Sisupacala. All six took ordination and attained Arahatship.<br /><br />Cunda was known by the name Samanuddesa, meaning "the Novice" in the Sangha, even after becoming a bhikkhu; this was to distinguish him from the Elder Maha Cunda. At the time of Sariputta's death, Cunda was his attendant and it was he who informed the Buddha of his passing away, bringing with him the Chief Disciple's relics. The story is told in the Cunda Sutta, an outline of which will be given elsewhere in this book.<br /><br />Upasena, who came to be known as Vagantaputta, or "Son of Vaganta," as Sariputta is "Son of Sari," was said by the Buddha to be foremost among those of all-pleasing deportment (samantappasadika). He died of a snakebite, as is related in the Salatayana Samyutta, Vagga 7, Sutta 7.<br /><br />Revata was the youngest of the brothers, and their mother, wishing to prevent his seeking ordination, had him married when he was a very young boy. But on the wedding day he saw the grandmother of his future wife, an old woman of 120, stricken with all the signs of decrepitude. At once he became disgusted with worldly life. Escaping from the wedding procession by a ruse, he fled to a monastery and was ordained. In later years he was on his way to see the Buddha when he stopped at a forest of acacia trees (khadira-vana), and while spending the rainy season there he attained Arahatship. After that he became known as Revata Khadiravaniya — "Revata of the Acacia Forest." The Buddha distinguished him as being the foremost among forest dwellers.<br /><br />The three sisters, Cala, Upacala and Sisupacala, wishing to follow their brothers' example, became nuns after their marriage. In marriage, each of them had a son who was named after his mother Cala (or Cali) and so on. These three sons were also ordained, being received as novices by Revata Khadtravaniya. Their good conduct was praised by the Venerable Sariputta, who met them when he went to see his youngest brother who was ill. This is recorded in the Commentary to the Theragatha, v. 42.<br /><br />Cala, Upacala and Sisupacala as nuns are said to have been approached by Mara with taunting and tempting questions, to which they gave excellent replies. These are recorded in the Theragatha and Bhikkhuni Samyutta.<br /><br />In contrast to all these, Sariputta's mother was a staunch brahman and hostile to the Buddha's Teaching and his followers. In the Commentary to the Dhammapada (v. 400) it is related that once, when the Venerable Sariputta was in his own village of Nalaka with a large retinue of monks, he came to his mother's house in the course of his almsround. His mother gave him a seat and served him with food, but while she did so she uttered abusive words: "Oh, you eater of others' leavings!" she said. "When you fail to get leavings of sour rice-gruel you go from house to house among strangers, licking the leavings off the backs of ladies! And so it was for this that you gave up eighty crores of wealth and became a monk! You have ruined me! Now go on and eat!"<br /><br />Likewise, when she was serving food to the monks, she said: "So! You are the men who have made my son your page boy! Go on, eat now!"<br /><br />Thus she continued reviling them, but the Venerable Sariputta spoke not a word. He took his food, ate it and in silence returned to the monastery. The Buddha learned of the incident from the Venerable Rahula, who had been among the monks at the time. All the bhikkhus who heard of it wondered at the Elder's great forbearance, and in the midst of the assembly the Buddha praised him, uttering the stanza:<br /><br />"He that is free from anger, who performs his duties faithfully.<br />He that guards the precepts, and is free from lust;<br />He that has subdued himself, he that wears his last body —<br />He it is I call a brahman."<br /><br />It was not until right at the close of Sariputta's life that he was able to convert his mother; that story will be told later on. But the incident that has been related here leads us to a consideration of the great Elder's most pleasing characteristics, his humility, patience and forbearance.<br /><br />The Unresentful<br />It is the neighborhood of Jetavana, where the Buddha is residing. Some men are in a group, talking about the noble qualities of the Elder Sariputta. "Such great patience has our noble Elder," they are saying, "that even when people abuse him and strike him, he feels no trace of anger."<br /><br />"Who is this that never gets angry?" The question is from a brahman, a holder of false views. And when they tell him, "It is our Elder, Sariputta," he retorts: "It must be that nobody has ever provoked him."<br /><br />"That is not so brahman," they reply. "Well, then, I will provoke him to anger." "Provoke him to anger if you can!" "Leave it to me," says the brahman. "I know just what to do to him."<br /><br />The Venerable Sariputta enters the city on his round for alms. Approaching him from behind, the brahman strikes him in a tremendous blow on the back. "What was that?" says the Venerable Sariputta; and without so much as turning to look, he continues on his way.<br /><br />The fire of remorse leaps up in every part of the brahman's body. Prostrating himself at the Elder's feet he begs for pardon. "For what?" asks the Elder, mildly. "To test your patience I struck you," the penitent brahman replies. "Very well, I pardon you."<br /><br />"Reverend sir," the brahman says, "if you are willing to pardon me, hereafter please take your food only at my house." With these words he takes the Elder's almsbowl, which the Elder willingly yields, and leading him to his house serves him with food.<br /><br />But those who saw the assault are enraged. They gather at the brahman's house, armed with sticks and stones, to kill him. When the Venerable Sariputta emerges, accompanied by the brahman carrying his bowl, they cry: "Reverend sir, order this brahman to turn back!"<br /><br />"Why, lay disciples?" asks the Elder. They answer: "The man struck you. We are going to give him what he deserves!"<br /><br />"But what do you mean? Was it you, or me, he struck?"<br /><br />"It was you, reverend sir." "Well, if it was me he struck, he has begged my pardon. Go your ways." And so, dismissing the people and permitting the brahman to return, the great Elder calmly makes his way to the monastery.<br /><br />This incident, recorded in the Dhammapada Commentary, was the occasion of the Buddha's uttering the verses 389 and 390 of the Dhammapada, which are among those that give the Buddha's definition of what constitutes a brahman, that is to say, rectitude of conduct rather than birth or rank.<br /><br />Let none strike a brahman;<br />Let no brahman return a blow.<br />Shame on him that strikes a brahman!<br />More shame on the brahman who returns the blow!<br />Not small is the gain to a brahman<br />Who restrains his mind from what is dear;<br />As fast as the will to injure wanes<br />So fast indeed does suffering decline.<br /><br />Dhammapada, vv 389, 390<br /><br />The Venerable Sariputta's humility was as great as his patience. He was willing to receive correction from anyone, not only with submission but with gratitude. It is told in the Commentary to the Devaputta Samyutta, Susima Sutta, that once, through a momentary negligence, a corner of the Elder's under-robe was hanging down, and a seven-year-old novice, seeing this, pointed it out to him. The Venerable Sariputta stepped aside at once and arranged the garment in the proper equally-circular way. Then he stood before the novice with folded hands, saying: "Now it is correct, teacher!"37<br /><br />There is a reference to this incident in the Questions of Milinda, where these verses are ascribed to the Venerable Sariputta: <br /><br />"One who this very day, at the age of seven, has gone forth —<br />If he should me, I accept it with (bended) head.<br />At sight of him, I give him ardent zeal and regard.<br />With respect may I again and again set him in the teacher's place!"<br /><br />On one occasion the Buddha mildly reproved Sariputta for not having carried his teaching far enough. When the brahman Dhanañjani was on his deathbed he was visited by the Venerable Sariputta. The Elder, reflecting that brahmans are bent on the Brahma-world (or "union with Brahma") taught the dying man the way to it through the Brahma-viharas. As a result, it is said, the brahman was in fact reborn there.<br /><br />When the Venerable Sariputta returned from the visit, the Master asked him: "Why, Sariputta, while there was more to do, did you set the brahman Dhanañjani's thoughts on the inferior Brahma-world, and then rising from your seat, leave him?" The Venerable Sariputta replied: "I thought: 'These brahmans are bent on the Brahma-world. Should I not show the brahman Dhanañjani the way to the communion with Brahma?"<br /><br />"The brahman Dhanañjani has died, Sariputta," said the Buddha, "and he has been reborn in the Brahma-world."<br /><br />This story, which is found in the Dhanañjani Sutta of the Majjhima Nikaya (97), is interesting as an illustration of the undesirability of rebirth in an inferior Brahma-world for one who is capable of bringing rebirth entirely to an end. For while the Buddha himself sometimes showed only the way to Brahma, as for example in the Tevijja Sutta, it seems probable that in the case of Dhanañjani the Master saw that he was fit to receive a higher teaching, while the Venerable Sariputta, lacking the capacity of knowing others' hearts (lokiya-abhiñña), was not able to discern that fact. The result is that Dhanañjani will spend an incalculable period in the Brahma-world and will have to take human birth again before he can achieve the goal.<br /><br />The Venerable Sariputta received another gentle reproof when, having asked the Buddha why it was that the Sasana of some of the Buddhas of the past did not last very long, and the Buddha had replied that it was because those Enlightened Ones did not preach very much Dhamma, did not lay down regulations for the disciples, nor institute the recital of the Patimokkha, Sariputta said that it was now time for the Blessed One to promulgate the regulations and to recite the Patimokkha, so that the Holy Life might last for a long period. The Buddha said: "Let it be, Sariputta! the Tathagata himself will know the time for it. The Master will not lay down regulations for the disciples nor recite the Patimokkha until signs of corruption have appeared in the Sangha."38<br /><br />The disciple's concern that the Sasana should endure as long as possible is characteristic of Sariputta; equally characteristic was it of the Buddha that he did not wish to lay down regulations until such time as it was absolutely necessary to do so. He went on to explain that at that time the least-advanced member of the Sangha was a Sotapanna (perhaps a fact of which the Venerable Sariputta was not aware), and therefore it was not yet necessary to lay down the rules of the bhikkhu life.<br /><br />The Catuma Sutta39 records another occasion when the great Elder was admonished by the Master. A large number of monks, newly ordained, as the Commentary tell us, by the Venerable Sariputta and Maha Moggallana, had come with the latter to pay their respects to the Buddha for the first time. On arrival they were allotted quarters and started chatting with the resident monks of Catuma. Hearing the noise, the Buddha summoned the resident monks to question them about it, and was told that the commotion was caused by the new arrivals. The text does not say the visiting monks were present at the time, but they must have been, for the Buddha addressed them with the words: "Go away, monks I dismiss you. You should not stay with me."<br /><br />The newly ordained monks left, but some persons intervened in their behalf and they were allowed to return.<br /><br />The Buddha then said to the Venerable Sariputta: "What did you think, Sariputta, when I dismissed that group of monks?"<br /><br />The Venerable Sariputta replied: "I thought: 'The Blessed One wishes to remain unconcerned and to abide in the state of happiness here-and-now; so we too shall remain unconcerned and abide in the state of happiness here-and-now."<br /><br />"Hold, Sariputta! Do not allow such a thought ever to arise in you again!" the Buddha said. Then turning to Maha Moggallana, he put the same question.<br /><br />"When the Blessed One dismissed those monks," replied Maha Moggallana, "I thought: 'The Blessed One wishes to remain unconcerned and to abide in the state of happiness here-and-now. Then I and the Venerable Sariputta should now look after the community of monks.'"<br /><br />"Well spoken, Moggallana, well spoken!" said the Master. "It is either myself or Sariputta or Moggallana who should look after the community of monks."<br /><br />The Sutta account is lacking in certain details which would place the story in the proper light necessary for an understanding of all its implications, but it is possible that since the monks who had been dismissed were pupils of Sariputta and Maha Moggallana, the Elder wished to show his displeasure with them and to indicate by his aloofness that they had behaved badly.<br /><br />Once, when the Buddha was residing at Jetavana, the Venerable Sariputta was the victim of a false accusation. It so happened that at the end of the rains the Elder took leave of the Master and departed with his own retinue of monks on a journey. A large number of monks also took leave of Sariputta, and in dismissing them he addressed those who were known by their personal and family names, by those names. Among them there was a monk who was not known by his personal and family name, but a strong desire arose in him that the Chief Disciple should address him by those names in taking his departure.<br /><br />In the great throng of monks, however, the Venerable Sariputta did not give him this distinction, and the monk was aggrieved. "He does not greet me as he does the other monks," he thought, and conceived a grudge against Sariputta. At the same time it chanced that the hem of the Elder's robe brushed against him, and this added to his grievance. He approached the Buddha and complained; "Lord, the Venerable Sariputta, doubtless thinking to himself, 'I am the Chief Disciple,' struck me a blow that almost damaged my ear. And having done that without so much as begging my pardon, he set out on his journey."<br /><br />The Buddha summoned Sariputta into his presence. Meanwhile, the Venerable Maha Moggallana and the Venerable Ananda, knowing that a calumny was about to be exposed, summoned all the monks, convoking an assembly. "Approach, venerable sirs!" they called. "When the Venerable Sariputta is face to face with the Master, he will roar the roar of a lion!"40<br /><br />And so it came about. When the Master questioned the great Elder, instead of denying the charge he said: "O Lord, one who is not firmly established in the contemplation of the body with regard to his body, such a one may be able to hurt a fellow monk and leave without apologizing." Then followed the Venerable Sariputta's lion's roar. He compared his freedom from anger and hatred with the patience of the earth which receives all things, clean and unclean; his tranquillity of mind to a bull with severed horns, to a lowly Candala youth, to water, fire and wind, and to the removal of impurity; he compared the oppression he felt from his own body to the oppression of snakes and corpses, and the maintenance of his body to that of fatty excrescences. In nine similes he described his own virtues, and nine times the great earth responded to the words of truth. The entire assembly was moved by the majestic force of his utterance.<br /><br />As the Elder proclaimed his virtues, remorse filled the monk who had unjustly traduced him. Immediately, he fell at the feet of the Blessed One, admitting his slander and confessing his fault. Thereupon the Buddha said: "Sariputta, pardon this deluded man, lest his head should split into seven pieces." Sariputta's reply was: "Venerable sir, I freely pardon this venerable monk." And, with joined palms, he added, "May this venerable monk also pardon me if I have in any way offended him."<br /><br />In this way they were reconciled. The other monks were filled with admiration, saying: "See, brethren, the surpassing goodness of the Elder! He cherishes neither anger nor hatred against this lying, slanderous monk! Instead, he crouches before him, stretches his hands in reverence, and asks his pardon."<br /><br />The Buddha's comment was: "Bhikkhus, it is impossible for Sariputta and his like to cherish anger or hatred. Sariputta's mind is like the great earth, firm like a gate post, like a pool of still water."<br /><br />Unresentful like the earth, firm like a gate post,<br />With mind like a clear pool, such is the virtuous man<br />For whom the round of births exists no more.41<br /><br />Another incident of this nature, in the early Sangha, did not end so happily, for the calumniator refused to admit his fault. He was a monk named Kokalika, who approached the Buddha with a slander against the two Chief Disciples; "Sariputta and Moggallana have bad intentions, O Lord!" he said. "They are in the grip of evil ambition."<br /><br />The Master replied: "Do not say so, Kokalika! Do not say so! Have friendly and trustful thoughts towards Sariputta and Moggallana! They are of good behavior, and lovable!"<br /><br />But the misguided Kokalika paid no heed to the Buddha's words. He persisted with his false accusation, and soon after that his whole body became covered with boils, which continued to grow until eventually he died of his illness.<br /><br />This incident was well-known. It is recorded in the following places in the Sutta-pitaka: Brahma Samyutta No. 10; Sutta Nipata, Mahavagga No. 10; Anguttara Nikaya V. 170, and Takkariya Jataka (No. 481). A comparison of these two incidents reveals the importance of penitence. Neither the Venerable Sariputta nor Maha Moggallana bore the monk Kokalika any ill-will for his malice, and his apologies, had he offered them, would have made no difference to the attitude of the two Chief Disciples. But they would have benefited the erring monk himself, averting the consequences of his bad kamma. Evil rebounds upon those who direct it towards the innocent, and so Kokalika was judged and punished by himself, through his own deeds.<br /><br />Part III The Further Shore<br />The Last Debt Paid<br />We now come to the year of the Master's Parinibbana. The Blessed One had spent the rainy season at Beluva village,42 near Vesali, and when the Retreat was over he left that place and, going by the way he had come, returned by stages to Savatthi and arrived at the Jeta Grove Monastery.<br /><br />There the Elder Sariputta, the Marshal of the Law, paid homage to the Blessed One and went to his day quarters. When his own disciples had saluted him and left, he swept the place and spread his leather mat. Then, having rinsed his feet, he sat down cross-legged and entered into the state of the Fruition Attainment of Arahatship.<br /><br />At the time predetermined by him, he arose from the meditation, and this thought occurred to him: "Do the Enlightened Ones have their final passing away first, or the Chief Disciples?" And he saw that it is the Chief Disciples who pass away first. Thereupon he considered his own life-force, and saw that its residue would sustain him only for another week.<br /><br />He then considered: "Where shall I have my final passing away?" And he thought: "Rahula finally passed away among the deities of the Thirty-three, and the Elder Kondañña the Knower at the Chaddanta Lake.43 Where, then, will be my place?"<br /><br />While thinking this over repeatedly he remembered his mother, and the thought came to him: "Although she is the mother of seven Arahats44 she has no faith in the Buddha, the Dhamma and the Sangha. Has she the supportive conditions in her to acquire that faith or has she not?"<br /><br />Investigating the matter he discerned that she had the supportive conditions for the Path-intuition (abhisamaya) of stream-entry. Then he asked himself: "Though whose instruction can she win to the penetration of truth?"<br /><br />And he saw that not through anyone else's but only through his own instruction in the Dhamma, could it come about. And following upon that came the thought: "If I now remain indifferent, people will say: 'Sariputta has been a helper to so many others; on the day, for instance, when he preached the Discourse to the Deities of Tranquil Mind a large number of devas attained Arahatship, and still more of them penetrated to the first three Paths; and on other occasions there were many who attained to stream-entry, and there thousands of families who were reborn in heavenly worlds after the Elder had inspired them with joyous confidence in the Triple Gem. Yet despite this he cannot remove the wrong views of his own mother? Thus people may speak of me. Therefore I shall free my mother from her wrong views, and shall have my final passing away in the very chamber where I was born."<br /><br />Having made that decision, he thought: "This very day I shall ask the Master's permission and then leave for Nalaka." And, calling the elder Cunda, who was his attendant, he said: "Friend Cunda, please ask our group of five hundred bhikkhus to take their bowls and robes, for I wish to go to Nalaka." And the elder Cunda did as he was bidden.<br /><br />The bhikkhus put their lodgings in order, took their bowls and robes, and presented themselves before the Elder Sariputta. He, for his own part, had tidied up his living quarters and swept the place where he used to spend the day. Then, standing at the gate, he looked back at the place, thinking: "This is my last sight of it. There will be no more coming back."<br /><br />Then, together with the five hundred bhikkhus he went to the Blessed One, saluted him and spoke: "May, O Lord, the Blessed One permit, may the Exalted One consent: the time of my final passing away has come, I have relinquished the life-force.<br /><br />Lord of the World, O greatest Sage!<br />From life I soon shall be released.<br />Going and coming no more shall be;<br />This is the last time that I worship thee.<br /><br />Short is the life that now remains to me;<br />But seven days from now, and I shall lay<br />This body down, throwing the burden off.<br /><br />Grant it, O Master! Give permission, Lord!<br />At last for me Nibbana's time has come,<br />Relinquished have I now the will to live."<br /><br />Now, says the text, if the enlightened One were to have replied, "You may have your final passing away," hostile sectarians would say that he was speaking in praise of death; and if he had replied, "Do not have your final passing away," they would say that he extolled the continuation of the round of existence. Therefore the Blessed One did not speak in either way, but asked: "Where will your final passing away take place?"<br /><br />The Venerable Sariputta replied: "In the Magadha country, in the village called Nalaka, there in the chamber of my birth shall I finally pass away."<br /><br />Then the Blessed One said: "Do, Sariputta, what you think timely. But now your elder and younger brethren in the Sangha will no longer have the chance to see a bhikkhu like you. Give them once more a discourse on Dhamma."<br /><br />The great Elder then gave a discourse, displaying all his descending to mundane truth, rising again, and again descending, he expounded the Dhamma directly and in symbols. And when he had ended his discourse he paid homage at the feet of the Master. embracing his legs, he said: "So that I might worship these feet I have fulfilled the Perfections throughout an aeon and a hundred thousand kalpas. My heart's wish has found fulfillment. From now on there will be no more contact or meeting; severed now is that intimate connection. The City of Nibbana, the unaging, undying, peaceful, blissful, heat-assuaging and secure, which has been entered by many hundreds of thousands of Buddhas — I too shall enter it now.<br /><br />"If any deed or word of mine did not please you, O Lord, may the Blessed One forgive me! It is now time for me to go."<br /><br />Now once before, the Buddha had answered this, when he said: "There is nothing, be it in deeds or words, wherein I should have to reproach you, Sariputta. For you are learned, Sariputta, of great wisdom, of broad and bright, quick, keen and penetrative wisdom."45<br /><br />So now he made answer in the same way: "I forgive you, Sariputta," he said. "But there was not a single word or deed of yours that was displeasing to me. Do now, Sariputta, what you think timely."<br /><br />From this we see that on those few occasions when the Master seemed to reproach his Chief Disciple, it was not that he was displeased with him in any way, but rather that he was pointing out another approach to a situation, another way of viewing a problem.<br /><br />Immediately after the master had given his permission and the Venerable Sariputta had risen from paying homage at his feet, the Great Earth cried out, and with a single huge tremor shook to its watery boundaries. It was as though the Great Earth wished to say: "Though I bear these girdling mountain ranges with Mount Meru, the encircling mountain walls (cakkavala) and the Himavant, I cannot sustain on this day so vast an accumulation of virtue!" And mighty thunder split the heavens, a vast cloud appeared and heavy rain poured down.<br /><br />Then the Blessed One thought: "I shall now permit the Marshal of the Law to depart." and he rose from the seat of the Law, went to his Perfumed Cell and there stood on the Jewel Slab. Three times the Venerable Sariputta circumambulated the cell, keeping it to his right, and paid reverence at four places. And this thought was in his mind: "an aeon and a hundred thousand kalpas ago it was, when I fell down at the feet of the Buddha Anomadassi and made the aspiration to see you. This aspiration has been realized, and I have seen you. At the first meeting it was my first sight of you; now it is my last, and there will be none in the future." And with raised hands joined in salutation he departed, going backwards until the Blessed One was out of sight. And yet again the Great Earth, unable to bear it, trembled to its watery boundaries.<br /><br />The Blessed One then addressed the bhikkhus who surrounded him. "Go, bhikkhus," he said. "Accompany your elder brother." At these words, all the four assemblies of devotees at once went out of the Jeta Grove, leaving the Blessed One there alone. The citizens of Savatthi also, having heard the news, went out of the city in an unending stream carrying incense and flowers in their hands; and with their hair wet (the sign of mourning), they followed the Elder lamenting and weeping.<br /><br />The Venerable Sariputta then admonished the crowd, saying: "This is a road that none can avoid," and asked them to return. And to the monks who had accompanied him, he said: "You may turn back now! Do not neglect the Master!"<br /><br />Thus he made them go back, and with only his own group of disciples, he continued on his way. Yet still some of the people followed him, lamenting. "Formerly our Venerable went on journeys and returned. But this is a journey without return!" To them the Elder said: "Be heedful, friends! Of such nature, indeed, are all things that are formed and conditioned!" And he made them turn back.<br /><br />During his journey the Venerable Sariputta spent one night wherever he stopped, and thus for one week he favored many people with a last sight of him. Reaching Nalaka village in the evening, he stopped near a banyan tree at the village gate. It happened that at the time a nephew of the elder, Uparevata by name, had gone outside the village and there he saw the Venerable Sariputta. He approached the elder, saluted him, and remained standing.<br /><br />The Elder asked him: "Is your grand-aunt at home?" "Yes, venerable sir," he replied. "Then go and announce our coming," said the Elder. "And if she asks why I have come, tell her that I shall stay in the village for one day, and ask her to prepare my birth chamber and provide lodgings for five hundred bhikkhus."<br /><br />Uparevata went to his grand-aunt and said: "Grandaunt, my uncle has come."<br /><br />"Where is he now?" she asked.<br /><br />"At the village gate."<br /><br />"Is he alone, or has someone else come with him?"<br /><br />"He has come with five hundred bhikkhus."<br /><br />And when she asked him, "Why has he come?" he gave her the message the elder had entrusted to him. Then she thought: "Why does he ask me to provide lodgings for so many? After becoming a monk in his youth, does he want to be a layman again in his old age?" But she arranged the birth chamber for the Elder and lodgings for the bhikkhus, had torches lit and then sent for the Elder.<br /><br />The Venerable Sariputta then, accompanied by the bhikkhus, went up to the terrace of the house and entered his birth chamber. After seating himself, he asked the bhikkhus to go to their quarters. They had hardly left, when a grave illness, dysentery, fell upon the Elder, and he felt severe pains. When one pail was brought in, another was carried out. The brahman lady thought: "The news of my son is not good," and she stood leaning by the door of her own room.<br /><br />And then it happened, the text tells us, that the Four Great Divine Kings asked themselves: "Where may he now be dwelling, the Marshal of the Law?" And they perceived that he was at Nalaka, in his birth chamber, lying on the bed of his Final Passing Away. "Let us go for a last sight of him," they said.<br /><br />When they reached the birth chamber, they saluted the Elder and remained standing.<br /><br />"Who are you?" asked the Elder.<br /><br />"We are the Great Divine Kings, venerable sir."<br /><br />"Why have you come?"<br /><br />"We want to attend on you during your illness."<br /><br />"Let it be!" said the Venerable Sariputta. "There is an attendant here. You may go."<br /><br />When they had left, there came in the same manner Sakka the king of the gods, and after him, Maha Brahma, and all of them the elder dismissed in the same way.<br /><br />The brahman lady, seeing the coming and going of these deities, asked herself: "Who could they have been, who came and paid homage to my son, and then left?" And she went to the door of the elder's room and asked the Venerable Cunda for news about the Elder's condition. Cunda conveyed the inquiry to the Elder, telling him: "The Great Upasika (lay devotee) has come."<br /><br />The Venerable Sariputta asked her: "Why have you come at this unusual hour?"<br /><br />"To see you, dear," she replied. "Tell me, who were those who came first?"<br /><br />"The Four Great Divine Kings, upasika."<br /><br />"Are you, then, greater than they?" she asked.<br /><br />"They are like temple attendants," said the Elder. "Ever since our Master took rebirth they have stood guard over him with swords in hand."<br /><br />"After they had left, who was it that came then, dear?"<br /><br />"It was Sakka the king of the gods."<br /><br />"Are you then, greater than the king of gods, dear?"<br /><br />"He is like a novice who carries a bhikkhu's belongings," answered Sariputta. "When our Master returned from the heaven of the Thirty-three (Tavatimsa), Sakka took his bowl and robe and descended to earth together with him."<br /><br />"And when Sakka had gone, who was it that came after him, filling the room with his radiance?"<br /><br />"Upasika, that was your own Lord and Master, the Great Brahma."<br /><br />"Then are you greater, my son, even than my Lord, the Great Brahma?"<br /><br />"Yes, Upasika. On the day when our Master was born, it is said that four Great Brahmas received the Great Being in a golden net."<br /><br />Upon hearing this, the brahman lady thought: "If my son's power is such as this, what must be the majestic power of my son's Master and Lord?" And while she was thinking this, suddenly the fivefold rapture arose in her, suffusing her entire body.<br /><br />The Elder thought: "Rapture and joy have arisen in my mother. Now is the time to preach the Dhamma to her." And he said: "What was it you were thinking about, upasika?"<br /><br />"I was thinking," she replied, "if my son has such virtue, what must be the virtue of his Master?"<br /><br />The Venerable Sariputta answered: "At the moment of my Master's birth, at his Great Renunciation (of worldly life), on his attaining Enlightenment and at his first turning of the Dhamma Wheel — on all these occasions the ten thousand world-system quaked and shook. None is there who equals him in virtue, in concentration, in wisdom, in deliverance, and in the knowledge and vision of deliverance." And he then explained to her in detail the words of homage: "Such indeed is that Blessed One..." (Iti pi so Bhagava...). And thus he gave her an exposition of the Dhamma, basing it on the virtues of the Buddha.<br /><br />When the Dhamma talk given by her beloved son had come to an end, the brahman lady was firmly established in the Fruition of stream-entry, and she said: "Oh, my dear Upatissa, why did you act like that? Why, during all these years, did you not bestow on me this ambrosia (the knowledge of the Deathless)?"<br /><br />The Elder thought: "Now I have given my mother, the brahman lady Rupa-Sari, the nursing-fee for bringing me up. This should suffice." and he dismissed her with the words: "You may go now, upasika."<br /><br />When she was gone, he asked: "What is the time now, Cunda?"<br /><br />"Venerable sir, it is early dawn."<br /><br />And the Elder said: "Let the community of bhikkhus assemble."<br /><br />When the bhikkhus had assembled, he said to Cunda: "Lift me up to a sitting position, Cunda." And Cunda did so.<br /><br />Then the Elder spoke to the bhikkhus, saying: "For forty-four years I have lived and traveled with you, my brethren. If any deed or word of mine was unpleasant to you, forgive me, brethren."<br /><br />And they replied: "Venerable sir, not the least displeasure has ever come from you to us, who followed you inseparably like your shadow. But may you, venerable sir, grant forgiveness to us!"<br /><br />After that the Elder gathered his large robe around him, covered his face and lay down on his right side. Then, just as the Master was to do at his Maha Parinibbana, he entered into the nine successive attainments of meditation, in forward and reverse order, and beginning again with the first absorption he led his meditation up to the fourth absorption. And at the moment after he had entered it, just as the crest of the rising sun appeared over the horizon, he utterly passed away into the Nibbana-element which is without any remnant of clinging.<br /><br />And it was the full-moon day of the month Kattika, which by the solar calendar is between October and November.<br /><br />The brahman lady in her room thought: "How is my son? he does not say anything." She rose, and going into the Elder's room she massaged his legs. Then, seeing that he had passed away, she fell at his feet, loudly lamenting; "O my dear son! Before this, we did not know of your virtue. Because of that, we did not gain the good fortune to have seated in this house, and to feed, many a hundred bhikkhus! We did not gain the good fortune to have built many monasteries!" And she lamented thus up to sunrise.<br /><br />As soon as the sun was up, she sent for goldsmiths and had the treasure room opened and had the pots full of gold weighed on a large scale. Then she gave the gold to the goldsmiths with the order to prepare funeral ornaments. Columns and arches were erected, and in the center of the village the upasika had a pavilion of heart-wood built. In the middle of the pavilion a large, gabled structure was raised, surrounded by a parapet wall of golden arches and columns. Then they began the sacred ceremony, in which men and deities mingled.<br /><br />After the great assembly of people had celebrated the sacred rites for a full week, they made a pyre with many kinds of fragrant woods. They placed the body of the Venerable Sariputta on the pyre and kindled the wood with bundles of Usira roots. Throughout the night of the cremation the concourse listened to sermons on the Dhamma. After that the flames of the pyre were extinguished by the Elder Anuruddha with scented water. The Elder Cunda gathered together the relics and placed them in a filter cloth.<br /><br />Then the Elder Cunda thought: "I cannot tarry here any longer. I must tell the Fully Enlightened One of the final passing away of my elder brother, the Venerable Sariputta, the Marshal of the Law." So he took the filter cloth with the relics, and the Venerable Sariputta's almsbowl and robes, and went to Savatthi, spending only one night at each stage of the journey.<br /><br />These are the events released in the Commentary to the Cunda Sutta of the Satipatthana Samyutta, with additions from the parallel version in the Commentary to the Maha-parinibbana Sutta. The narrative is taken up in the Cunda Sutta which follows.<br /><br />Cunda Sutta 46<br />Once the Blessed One was dwelling at Savatthi, in Anathapindika's park. At that time the Venerable Sariputta was at Nalaka village in the Magadha country, and was sick, suffering, gravely ill. The Novice Cunda47 was his attendant.<br /><br />And the Venerable Sariputta passed away finally through that very illness. Then the Novice Cunda took the almsbowl and robes of the Venerable Sariputta and went to Savatthi, to the Jeta Grove, Anathapindika's park. There he betook himself to the Venerable Ananda and, having saluted him, seated himself at one side. Thus seated, he spoke to the Venerable Ananda saying: "Venerable sir, the Venerable Sariputta has had his final passing away. These are his bowl and robes."<br /><br />"On this matter, Cunda, we ought to see the Blessed One. Let us go, friend Cunda, and meet the Master. Having met him, we shall acquaint the Blessed One with that fact."<br /><br />"Yes, Venerable sir," said the Novice Cunda.<br /><br />They went to see the Blessed One, and having arrived there and saluted the Master, they seated themselves at one side. Then the Venerable Ananda addressed the Blessed One:<br /><br />"O Lord, the Novice Cunda has told me this: 'The Venerable Sariputta has had his final passing away. These are his bowl and robes.' Then, O Lord, my own body became weak as a creeper; everything around became dim and things were no longer clear to me, when I heard about the final passing away of the Venerable Sariputta."<br /><br />"How is this, Ananda? When Sariputta had his final passing away, did he take from you your portion of virtue, or your portion of concentration, or your portion of the knowledge and vision of deliverance?"<br /><br />"Not so, Lord. When the Venerable Sariputta had his final passing away he did not take my portion of virtue... concentration... wisdom... deliverance, or my portion of the knowledge and vision of deliverance. But O Lord, the Venerable Sariputta has been to me a mentor, teacher, and instructor, one who rouses, inspires and gladdens, untiring in preaching Dhamma, a helper of his fellow monks. And we remember how vitalizing, enjoyable and helpful his Dhamma instruction was."<br /><br />"Have I not taught you aforetime, Ananda, that it is the nature of all things near and dear to us that we must suffer separation from them, and be severed from them? Of that which is born, come to being, put together, and so is subject to dissolution, how should it be said that is should not depart? That, indeed, is not possible. It is, Ananda, as though from a mighty hardwood tree a large branch should break off, so has Sariputta now had his final passing away from this great and sound community of bhikkhus. Indeed, Ananda, of that which is born, come to being, put together, and so is subject to dissolution, how should it be said that it should not depart? This, indeed, is not possible.<br /><br />"Therefore, Ananda, be ye an island unto yourself, a refuge unto yourself, seeking no external refuge; with the Teaching as your island, the Teaching your refuge, seeking no other refuge."<br /><br />The Commentary takes up the narrative thus:<br /><br />The Master stretched forth his hand, and taking the filter with the relics, placed it on his palm, and said to the monks:<br /><br />"These, O monks, are the shell-colored relics of the bhikkhu who, not long ago, asked for permission to have his final passing away. He who fulfilled the Perfections for an incalculable aeon and a hundred thousand kalpas — this was that bhikkhu. He who obtained the seat next to me — this was that bhikkhu. He who, apart from me, had none to equal him in wisdom throughout the whole ten-thousandfold universe — this was that bhikkhu. Of great wisdom was this bhikkhu, of broad wisdom, bright wisdom, quick wisdom, of penetrative wisdom was this bhikkhu. Few wants had this bhikkhu; he was contented, bent on seclusion, not fond of company, full of energy, an exhorter of his fellow monks, censuring what is evil. He who went forth into homelessness, abandoning the great fortune obtained through his merits in five hundred existences — this was that bhikkhu. He who, in my Dispensation, was patient like the earth — this was that bhikkhu. Harmless like a bull whose horns had been cut — this was that bhikkhu. Of humble mind like a Candala boy — this was that bhikkhu.<br /><br />"See here, O monks, the relics of him who was of great wisdom, of broad, bright, quick, keen and penetrative wisdom; who had few wants and was contented, bent on seclusion, not fond of company, energetic — see here the relics of him who was an exhorter of his fellow monks, who censured evil!"<br /><br />Then the Buddha spoke the following verses in praise of his Great Disciple:<br /><br />"To him who in five times a hundred lives<br />Went forth to homelessness, casting away<br />Pleasures the heart holds dear, from passion free,<br />With faculties controlled — now homage pay<br />To Sariputta who has passed away!<br /><br />To him who, strong in patience like the earth,<br />Over his own mind had absolute sway,<br />Who was compassionate, kind, serenely cool,<br />And firm as earth withal — now homage pay<br />To Sariputta who has passed away!<br /><br />Who, like an outcaste boy of humble mind,<br />Enters the town and slowly wends his way<br />From door to door with begging bowls in hand,<br />Such was this Sariputta — now homage pay<br />To Sariputta who has passed away!<br /><br />One who in town or jungle, hurting none,<br />Lived like a bull whose horns are cut away,<br />Such was this Sariputta, who had won<br />Mastery of himself — now homage pay<br />To Sariputta who has passed away!"<br /><br />* * *<br />When the Blessed One had thus lauded the virtues of the Venerable Sariputta, he asked for a stupa to be built for the relics.<br /><br />After that, he indicated to the Elder Ananda his wish to go to Rajagaha. Ananda informed the monks, and the Blessed One, together with a large body of bhikkhus, journeyed to Rajagaha. At the time he arrived there, the Venerable Maha Moggallana had also had his final passing away. The Blessed One took his relics likewise, and had a stupa raised for them.<br /><br />Then he departed from Rajagaha, and going by stages towards the Ganges, he reached Ukkacela. There he went to the bank of the Ganges, and seated with his following of monks he preached the Ukkacela Sutta, on the Parinibbana of Sariputta and Maha Moggallana.<br /><br />Ukkacela Sutta48<br />Once the Blessed One was dwelling in the Vajji country, at Ukkacela on the bank of the river Ganges, not long after Sariputta and Maha Moggallana had passed away. And at that time the Blessed One was seated in the open, surrounded by company of monks.<br /><br />The Blessed One surveyed the silent gathering of monks, and then spoke to them, saying:<br /><br />"This assembly, O bhikkhus, appears indeed empty to me, now that Sariputta and Maha Moggallana have passed away. Not empty, for me, is an assembly, nor need I have concern for a place where Sariputta and Maha Moggallana dwell.<br /><br />"Those who in the past have been Holy Ones. Fully enlightened Ones, those Blessed Ones, too, had such excellent pairs of disciples as I had in Sariputta and Maha Moggallana. Those who in the future will be Holy Ones, fully Enlightened Ones, those Blessed Ones too will have such excellent pairs of disciples as I had in Sariputta and Maha Moggallana.<br /><br />"Marvelous it is, most wonderful it is, bhikkhus, concerning those disciples, that they will act in accordance with the Master's Dispensation, will act in according to his advice; that they will be dear to the four Assemblies, will be loved, respected and honored by them. Marvelous it is, most wonderful it is, bhikkhus, concerning the Perfect Ones, that when such a pair of disciples has passed away there is no grief, no lamentation on the part of the Perfect One.<br /><br />For of that which is born, come to being, put together, and so is subject to dissolution, how should it be said that it should not depart? That indeed, is not possible."<br /><br />"Therefore, bhikkhus, be ye an island unto yourselves, a refuge unto yourselves, seeking no external refuge; with the Teaching as your island, the Teaching your refuge, seeking no other refuge."<br /><br />* * *<br />And with that profound and deeply moving exhortation, which echoes again and again through the Buddha's Teaching up to the time of his own final passing away, ends the story of the youth Upatissa who became the master's Chief Disciple, the beloved "Marshal of the Law." The Venerable Sariputta died on the full moon of the month Kattika, which begins in October and ends in November of the solar calendar. The death of Maha Moggallana followed a half-month later, on the Uposatha of the New Moon. Half a year later, according to tradition, came the Parinibbana of the Buddha himself.<br /><br />Could such an auspicious combination of three great personages, so fruitful in blessings to gods and men, have been brought about purely by chance? We find the answer to that question in the Milinda-pañha49 where Nagasena says:<br /><br />"In many hundred thousands of births, too, sire, the Elder Sariputta was the Bodhisatta's father, grandfather, uncle, brother, son, nephew or friend."50<br /><br />So the weary round of becoming, which linked them together in time, came at last to its end; time which is but the succession of fleeting events became for them the Timeless, and round of birth and death gave place to the Deathless. And in their final lives they kindled a glory that has illumined the world. Long may it continue to do so.<br /><br />Part IV - Discourses of Sariputta<br />The suttas attributed to the Venerable Sariputta cover a wide range of subjects connected with the Holy Life, from simple morality up to abstruse points of doctrine and meditational practice. A list of them, together with a brief description of the subject matter of each, is given below. their arrangement in the Sutta Pitaka does not give any indication of the chronological order in which they were delivered. Some few, however, contain references to particular events which make it possible to assign to them a period in the Buddha's ministry. One such is the Anathapindika Sutta, preached just before the great lay disciple's death.<br /><br />Majjhima Nikaya<br />No. 3 Heirs of Dhamma (Dhammadayada Sutta)<br />After the Buddha had discoursed on "heirs of Dhamma" and "heirs of worldliness" and had retired into his cell, the Venerable Sariputta addresses the monks on how they should conduct themselves, and how not, when the Master goes into seclusion. They likewise should cultivate seclusion, should reject what they are told to give up, and should be modest and lovers of solitude. He concludes by speaking on the evil of the sixteen defilements of mind51 and says that the Middle Way by which they can be eradicated is the Noble Eightfold Path.<br /><br />No. 5: Guiltfree (Anangana Sutta)<br />On four types of persons: those who are guilty of an offence and know it, and those who are guilty and unaware of it; those who are guiltless and know it, and those who are guiltless and unaware of it. The first of each pair is said to be the better one of the two, and the reason is explained. This discourse shows the importance of self-examination for moral and spiritual progress.<br /><br />No. 9: Right Understanding (Samma-ditthi Sutta)<br />Summary on p. 42<br /><br />No. 28: The Greater Discourse on the Elephant Footprint Simile (Maha-hatthipadopama Sutta)<br />Summary on p. 40<br /><br />No 43: The Greater Discourse on Explanations (Maha-vedalla Sutta)<br />The Elder answers a number of questions put by the Venerable Maha Kotthita, who was foremost in analytical knowledge. Sariputta matches the excellence of the questions with the clarity and profundity of his answers. The questions and answers extend from analytical examination of terms, through the position of wisdom and right understanding to subtle aspects of meditation.<br /><br />No. 69: Discourse to Gulissani (Gulissani Sutta)<br />On the conduct and Dhamma-practice to be followed by a forest-dwelling monk. Questioned by the Venerable Maha-Moggallana, the Elder confirms that the same duties apply also to monks living in the vicinity of towns and villages.<br /><br />No. 97: Discourse to Dhanañjani (Dhanañjani Sutta)<br />The Venerable Sariputta explains to the brahman Dhanañjani that the multifarious duties of a layman are no excuse for wrong moral conduct, nor do they exempt one from painful consequences of such conduct in a future existence.<br /><br />Later, when Dhanañjani was on his deathbed he requested the Elder to visit him, and the Venerable Sariputta spoke to him, on the way to Brahma through the Brahma-viharas. The Buddha mildly reproached the elder for not having led Dhanañjani to a higher understanding. (See p. 59)<br /><br />No. 114: To Be Practiced and Not To Be Practiced (Sevitabbasevitabba Sutta)<br />The Venerable Sariputta elaborates upon brief indications given by the Buddha on what should be practiced, cultivated or used, and what should not. This is shown with regard to threefold action in deed, word and thought; in relation to mental attitudes and views, the six sense objects and the monk's requisites.<br /><br />No. 143: Discourse to Anathapindika (Anathapindikovada sutta)<br />The Venerable Sariputta is called to Anathapindika's deathbed and admonishes him to free his mind from any attachment whatsoever, beginning with the six sense organs: "Thus should you train yourself, householder: 'I shall not cling to the eye, and my consciousness will not attach itself to the eye.' Thus, householder, should you train yourself." This is repeated in full for each of the other five sense organs, the six sense objects, the sixfold consciousness, sixfold contact, sixfold feeling born of contact; the six elements, the five aggregates, the four incorporeal jhanas, and concludes with detachment from this world and all other worlds; detachment from all things seen, heard, sensed and thought; from all that is encountered, sought and pursued in mind.<br /><br />In short, detachment should be practiced as to the entire range of experience, beginning with what for a dying person will be his immediate concern; his sense faculties and their function.<br /><br />This call for detachment drawing ever wider circles and repeating the same mighty chord of thought, must have had a deeply penetrating impact and a calming, liberating, even cheering influence on the dying devotee's mind. This was what Sariputta, the skilled teacher, obviously intended. And in fact his words had that impact because our text says that Anathapindika was moved to tears by the loftiness of the discourse, one in profundity unlike any he had ever heard before. Anathapindika passed away soon after, and was reborn as a deity in Tusita Heaven.<br /><br />Digha Nikaya<br />No. 28: Faith-Inspiring Discourse (Sampasadaniya Sutta)<br />An eloquent eulogy of the Buddha by Sariputta, spoken in the Buddha's presence and proclaiming the peerless qualities (anuttariya) of his Teaching. It is an expression and at the same time a justification of Sariputta's deep confidence in the Buddha. It may be regarded as complementary to Sariputta's "Lion's Roar" which forms the first section of the discourse and is repeated in the Maha-parinibbana Sutta.52<br /><br />No. 33: Doctrinal Recitation (Sangiti Sutta) and<br />No. 34: Tenfold Series Discourse (Dasuttara Sutta)<br />See pp. 44f.<br /><br />Anguttara Nikaya<br />Roman figures denote the number of the book (nipata) and Arabic figures the number of the sutta. The division of the suttas in the Anguttara Nikaya is only numerical.<br /><br />II, 37 (Samacitta-Sutta):<br />On the stream-winner, the once-returner and the nonreturner, and on what determines the places of the rebirths they have still before them. See p. 43.<br /><br />III, 21:<br />On another classification of Noble Persons (ariya puggala): the Body-witness (kayasakkhi), the one attained to Right Understanding (ditthippatto) and the one Liberated through Faith (saddha-vimutto).<br /><br />IV, 79:<br />Sariputta asks the Buddha why the enterprises of some people fail, those of others succeed, and those of others even surpass their expectations. The Buddha replies that one of the reasons is generosity, or lack of it, shown to ascetics, priests and monks.<br /><br />IV, 156:<br />On four qualities indicative of loss or maintenance of wholesome states of mind.<br /><br />Here it is said that if one finds in oneself four qualities one can know for certain that one has lost wholesome qualities, and that this is what has been called deterioration by the Blessed One. These four are: excessive greed, excessive hate, excessive delusion, and lack of knowledge and wisdom concerning the diverse profound subjects (relating to wisdom).<br /><br />If on the other hand, one finds in oneself four other qualities, one can know for certain that one has not lost one's wholesome qualities, and that this is what has been called progress by the Blessed One. These four other qualities are: attenuated greed, attenuated hate, attenuated delusion, and the possession of knowledge and wisdom concerning the diverse profound subjects (relating to wisdom).<br /><br />IV, 167f:<br />The four types of progress on the Path. See p. 23.<br /><br />IV, 171:<br />Sariputta elaborates a brief statement made by the Buddha on the four forms of personalized existence (attabhava) and puts an additional question. The Buddha's reply to it was later elaborated by Sariputta in the Samacitta Sutta (see above).<br /><br />IV, 172:<br />Sariputta states that he attained to the fourfold analytical knowledge (patisambhida-ñana) two weeks after his ordination (i.e., at his attainment of Arahatship). He appeals to the Buddha for confirmation. See p. 38.<br /><br />IV, 173:<br />Discussion with Maha Kotthita on the limits of the explainable. The Venerable Sariputta says: "As far, brother, as the six bases of sense-impression (phassayatana) reach, so far reaches the (explainable) world of diffuseness (papañca); and as far as the world of diffuseness reaches, so far reach the six bases of sense-impression. Through the entire fading away and cessation of the six bases of sense impression, the world of diffuseness ceases and is stilled."<br /><br />IV, 175:<br />On the need of both knowledge and right conduct (vijjacarana) for the ending of suffering.<br /><br />IV, 179:<br />On the reasons for obtaining, and not obtaining, Nibbana in the present life.<br /><br />V, 1 5:<br />Five reasons why people ask questions: through stupidity and foolishness; with evil intentions and through covetousness; with a desire to know; out of contempt; with the thought: "If he answers my question correctly, it is good; if not, then I shall give the correct answer.<br /><br />V, 167:<br />On how to censure fellow-monks.<br /><br />VI, 14-15:<br />Causes of a monk's good or bad dying.<br /><br />VI, 41:<br />Sariputta explains that a monk with supernormal powers may, if he so wishes, regard a tree trunk merely as being solid, or as a liquid, fiery (calorific) or airy (vibratory), or as being either pure or impure (beautiful or ugly), because all these elements are to be found in the tree.<br /><br />VII, 66:<br />On respect and reverence, Sariputta says that these are helpful in overcoming what is unwholesome and developing what is wholesome: that is respect and reverence towards the Master, the Teaching, the Community of Monks, the training, meditation, heedfulness (appamada) and towards the spirit of kindliness and courtesy (patisanthara). Each of these factors is said to be a condition of the one following it.<br /><br />IX, 6:<br />On the two things needful to know about people, robes, almsfood, lodging, villages, towns and countries: that is, whether one should associate with them, use them, or live in them, or whether one should not.<br /><br />IX, 11:<br />A second "Lion's Roar" of Sariputta, uttered in the Master's presence on the occasion of a monk's false accusation; with nine similes proclaiming his freedom from anger, detachment from the body, and his inability to hurt others. See p. 63.<br /><br />IX, 13:<br />A discussion with the Venerable Maha Kotthita about the purpose of living the Holy Life.<br /><br />IX, 14:<br />The Venerable Sariputta questions the Venerable Samiddhi about the essentials of the Dhamma and approves of his answers.<br /><br />IX, 26:<br />This text illustrates the Venerable Sariputta's scrupulous fairness even towards antagonists. He corrects a statement attributed to Devaddata which was probably wrongly formulated by one of Devadatta's followers who reported it to Sariputta. Later, Sariputta speaks to that monk on the fully developed and steadfast mind, which is not shaken by even the most attractive sense impressions.<br /><br />IX, 34:<br />On Nibbana, which is described as happiness beyond feelings.<br /><br />X, 7:<br />Sariputta describes his meditation, during which he had only the single perception that "Nibbana is the ceasing of existence." See p. 37.<br /><br />X, 65:<br />To be reborn is misery; not to be reborn is happiness.<br /><br />X, 66:<br />To have delight in the Buddha's Teaching and Discipline is happiness; not to have delight in them is misery.<br /><br />X, 67-68:<br />Causes of progress and decline in the cultivation of what is salutary.<br /><br />X, 90:<br />On the ten powers of a canker-free arahant that entitle him to proclaim his attainment.<br /><br />Samyutta Nikaya<br />Nidana Samyutta<br />24:<br />Sariputta rejects the alternatives that suffering is produced either by oneself or by another, and explains the conditioned arising of suffering through the (sixfold sense-) contact (phassa).<br /><br />25:<br />The same is stated with regard to both happiness and suffering (sukha-dukkha).<br /><br />31:<br />On the conditioned arising of existence from nutriment.<br /><br />32:<br />Kalara Sutta. Questioned by the Buddha, Sariputta says that the knowledge inducing him to declare his attainment of arahantship was that he knew: the cause of birth being extinct, the result (i.e., future birth) becomes extinct. Hence he was able to say, in the words of the stock formula declaring Arahatship: "Extinct is birth..." (khina jati). He then replies to further questions of the Buddha about the cause and origin of birth, becoming and the other terms of dependent origination, leading up to feeling, the contemplation of which had served the Venerable Sariputta as the starting-point for his attainment of Arahatship. He says that, as he sees impermanence and suffering in all three kinds of feeling, there is in him no arising of any hedonic gratification (nandi).<br /><br />Khandha Samyutta<br />1:<br />Sariputta explains in detail the Buddha's saying: "Even if the body is ill, the mind should not be ill."<br /><br />2:<br />Monks going to distant border districts are instructed by Sariputta on how to answer questions posed to them by non-Buddhists. He tells them that the removal of desire for the five aggregates is the core of the Teaching.<br /><br />122-123:<br />On the importance of reflecting on the five aggregates. If one who possesses virtue (or, in Text 123, learning) contemplates the five aggregates as impermanent, bound up with suffering and void of self, he may be able to attain to stream-entry. If a stream-winner, once-returner or nonreturner thus contemplates, he may be able to win to the next higher stage. An arahant should also contemplate the five aggregates thus, as it will conduce to his happiness here and now, as well as to mindfulness and clear comprehension.<br /><br />126:<br />On ignorance and knowledge.<br /><br />Sariputta Samyutta<br />1-9:<br />In these nine texts Sariputta speaks of his having developed all nine meditative attainments, i.e., from the first jhana up to the cessation of perception and feeling; and states that in doing so he was always free of any self-affirmation. See p. 37.<br /><br />10:<br />Once, at Rajagaha, after the almsround the Venerable Sariputta was taking food his food near a wall. A female ascetic called Sucimukhi (Bright-face) approached him and asked whether when eating he turned to one or other of the directions, as done by some non-Buddhists ascetics. Sariputta denied it for every one of the directions, explaining them in his own way as being several means of livelihood that are wrong for ascetics, such as geomancy, astrology, going on errands, etc. He said that he did not turn to any of those wrong directions, but sought his almsfood in the right manner; and what he had thus obtained righteously, that he would eat. Sucimukhi was deeply impressed, and thereafter went from street to street and place to place loudly proclaiming: "The Sakya ascetics take their food righteously! They take their food blamelessly! Please give almsfood to the Sakya ascetics!"53<br /><br />Salayatana Samyutta<br />232:<br />Not the senses and their objects, but the desire for them is the fetter that binds to existence.<br /><br />Jambukhadaka Samyutta<br />Sariputta replies to questions put by his nephew, Jambukhadaka, who was a Paribbajaka, i.e., a non-Buddhist ascetic.<br /><br />1-2:<br />He defines Nibbana and Arahatship as the elimination of greed, hatred and delusion.<br /><br />3-16:<br />He replies to questions about those who proclaim truth: about the purpose of the Holy Life; about those who have found true solace. He explains feeling, ignorance, the taints, personality, etc. and speaks on what is difficult in the Buddha's Doctrine and Discipline.<br /><br />Indriya Samyutta<br />44:<br />Questioned by the Buddha, Sariputta says that not out of faith in him, but from his own experience, he knows that the five spiritual faculties (confidence, etc.) lead to the Deathless.<br /><br />48-50:<br />On the five spiritual faculties. <br /><br />Sotapatti Samyutta<br />55:<br />On the four conditioning factors of stream-entry (sotapattiyanga).<br /><br />Part V Sariputta in the Jatakas<br />As might be expected, the Venerable Sariputta makes frequent appearances in the Jatakas, the stories of the Buddha's previous lives. In these, the Bodhisatta and Sariputta assume various roles; in some existences we find Sariputta as the teacher and the Bodhisatta as pupil, as for example in the Susima (163), Cula Nandiya (223), Silavimamsa (305), Karandiya (356) and Maha Dhammapala (447) Jatakas. In the last-mentioned Jataka, however, the Bodhisatta, as pupil, gives his teacher, Sariputta, a valuable lesson: not to give the Five Precepts indiscriminately to those who have no desire to accept them nor the intention to observe them.<br /><br />In several births Sariputta appears as a human being and the Bodhisatta an animal. Some examples are the Cula Nandiya Jataka (223), the Romaka Jataka (277) — where Sariputta, as a wise ascetic, instructs a partridge, the Bodhisatta — the Bhojajaniya Jataka (23) and the Dummedha Jataka (122).<br /><br />In other stories the roles are reversed, as in the Jarudapana (256) and Kundakakucchi Sindhava (254) Jatakas (for the latter, see below), where Sariputta is an animal and the Bodhisatta human. Sometimes, as in the Kurungamiga Jataka (206), both are animals.<br /><br />The following are summaries of Jatakas in which the Venerable Sariputta's previous personalities appear.<br /><br />Lakkhana Jataka (11):<br />As the wise one of two brother stags, each leader of a herd, Sariputta brings his herd safely back to the hills from a dangerous track, while his foolish brother (Devadatta) loses his whole herd.<br /><br />Bhojajaniya Jataka (23):<br />The Bodhisatta is a superb warsteed, while Sariputta is a knight entrusted with the task of capturing seven hostile kings. He succeeds, thanks to the endurance and sacrificing spirit of the steed.<br /><br />Visavanta Jataka (69):<br />Sariputta is a snake which refuses to suck back its poison from a man bitten by it, preferring death. This Jataka was told when Sariputta, the Great Disciple, gave up the eating of meal cakes, which he enjoyed, and never went back on his resolution.<br /><br />Parosahassa Jataka (99):<br />Sariputta, as pupil of a hermit teacher, is able to understand short, enigmatic sayings. A comment on his penetrative mind.<br /><br />Dummedha Jataka (122):<br />Sariputta, as a king of Benares, is able to appreciate excellence when he sees it. The Bodhisatta is a superb white elephant. Devadatta, as king of Magadha, had owned that elephant but lost it through jealousy.<br /><br />Rajovada Jataka (151):<br />Sariputta and Maha Moggallana are both charioteers of powerful kings. Meeting one another on a narrow road, each expects the other to give way, and they decide the issue by proclaiming the virtues of their respective monarchs. Sariputta, whose king is the Bodhisatta, wins the contest by showing that his master's virtue is superior: he is not only good to those who are good, he is good to the bad as well.<br /><br />Alinacitta Jataka (156):<br />Sariputta, as an elephant, shows the virtue of gratitude.<br /><br />Kurungamiga Jataka (206):<br />Sariputta as a woodpecker and Maha Moggallana as a tortoise save the life of the Bodhisatta, who is an antelope, from a hunter (Devadatta). Later, the woodpecker saves the imprisoned tortoise.<br /><br />Cula Nandiya Jataka (223):<br />As a wise brahman teacher, Sariputta advises his pupil, Devadatta, not to be harsh, cruel and violent, but his exhortation is in vain.<br /><br />Kundakakucchi Sindhava Jataka (254):<br />Sariputta, as a wondrous horse owned by the Bodhisatta, a horse-dealer, benefits an impoverished old woman who had owned the horse previously.<br /><br />Jarudapana Jataka (256):<br />Sariputta, as a Naga king, helps the Bodhisatta, a merchant, to transport some treasure which the latter found.<br /><br />Vyaggha Jataka (272):<br />In a former life as a Yakkha, the monk Kokalika could not live together with Sariputta and Maha Moggallana, nor could he live without them.<br /><br />Romaka Jataka (277):<br />Sariputta, as a wise ascetic, instructs a partridge, the Bodhisatta.<br /><br />Abbhantara (281) and Supatta (292) Jatakas:<br />Incidents of Sariputta's last life. Rahula, whose mother is a bhikkhuni, requests the Venerable Sariputta to get sugared mango juice as a medicine for her flatulence, which he does. In (292), for another illness of hers, the Venerable Sariputta procures rice cooked with ghee and flavored with red fish (rohita-maccha).<br /><br />Sayha Jataka (310):<br />Ananda, as a king sends his courtier, Sayha (Sariputta) to a friend of his youth (the Bodhisatta) who had become an ascetic, asking him in vain to return and be the court brahman.<br /><br />Khantivadi Jataka (313):<br />When the Bodhisatta was a wise ascetic, the Preacher of Patience (Khantivadi), and was tortured by King Kalabu (Devadatta), Sariputta was that king's commander-in-chief of the army. Sariputta bandaged the Bodhisatta's wounds.<br /><br />Mamsa Jataka (315):<br />Sariputta was a hunter and the Bodhisatta a merchant's son. Addressing the hunter as ""friend," and winning him over with kind words, the Bodhisatta persuaded him to give up his cruel profession.<br /><br />Vannoroha Jataka (361):<br />In their last lives, when the Great Disciples Sariputta and Maha Moggallana were living in solitude, a beggar who attended on them and ate the remnants of their food, tried to set them at variance but failed. Each of them just smiled at the calumnies and told to go away. The Jataka relates that the same had happened in an earlier life when the beggar was a jackal and Sariputta and Maha Moggallana were a lion and a tiger.<br /><br />Kotisimbali Jataka (412):<br />Sariputta, as a king of the Garudas (supanna-raja) saves a tree which was the home of a tree spirit, the Bodhisatta.<br /><br />Kanha Dipayana Jataka (444):<br />Sariputta is the ascetic Ani-Mandaviya. Impaled by the king on a false accusation, he bears the torture patiently and without resentment, knowing it to be the result of past evil kamma. The Bodhisatta is his brother-ascetic, Kanha Dipayana, who in an Act of Truth confesses that all throughout he has lived the ascetic life unwillingly, except for the first week.<br /><br />Maha Paduma Jataka (472):<br />Sariputta, as a hill spirit, saves the life of the Bodhisatta, who is Prince Maha Paduma.<br /><br />Appendix<br />A Note on the Relics of Sariputta<br />and Maha Moggallana<br /><br />On Sanchi Hill in Bhopal are the remains of ten stupas which are among the oldest buildings still standing in India. By their architectural features and sculpture they have always been recognised as belonging to the high noon of Buddhist art, the characters in which their numerous inscriptions are written placing them at about the period of Asoka; that is, some time around the middle of the third century B.C. Some are in good preservation, while others have been reduced in the course of centuries to mere mounds of earth and stone.<br /><br />It was in one of these, the now famous Third Stupa, that Sir Alexander Cunningham discovered the sacred Body Relics of the Buddha's Chief Disciples, Sariputta and Maha Moggallana, in 1851. At about the same time, more relics of the two great Arahats were found in a stupa at Satadhara, about six miles distant from Sanchi.<br /><br />On sinking a shaft in the center of the stupa on Sanchi Hill, Cunningham came upon a large stone slab, upwards of five feet in length, lying in a direction from north to south. Beneath the slab were found two boxes of gray sandstone, each with a brief inscription in Brahmi characters on the lid. The box to the south was inscribed "Sariputtasa" "(Relics) of Sariputta," while that to the north bore the legend "Maha-Mogalanasa." "(Relics) of Maha Moggallana."<br /><br />The southernmost box contained a large flat casket of white steatite, rather more than six inches broad and three inches in height. The surface was hard and polished and the box, which had been turned on a lathe, was a beautiful piece of workmanship. Around this casket were some fragments of sandalwood believed to have been from the funeral pyre, while inside it, besides the Relic, various precious stones were found. This casket contained a single bone relic of the Venerable Sariputta, not quite one inch in length.<br /><br />The stone box to the north enclosed another steatite casket, similar to that of Sariputta but slightly smaller and with a softer surface. Inside it were two bone relics of the Venerable Maha Moggallana, the larger of them being something less than half an inch in length.<br /><br />Each of the two steatite caskets had a single ink letter inscribed on the inner surface of the lid: "Sa" for Sariputta on the southern and "Ma" for Maha Moggallana on that to the north. In Cunningham's words, "Sariputta and Maha Moggallana were the principal followers of the Buddha, and were usually styled his right and left hand disciples. Their ashes thus preserved after death the same positions to the right and left of Buddha which they had themselves occupied in life."54 This is explained by the fact that the Buddha customarily sat facing east.<br /><br />In the stupa at Satadhara, one of a group which Cunningham noted was called locally "Buddha Bhita" or "Buddha Monuments," he discovered two caskets of pale mottled steatite. These were inscribed, like those at Sanchi, "Sariputtasa" and "Maha Mogallanasa" respectively. This stupa showed signs of having been violated by robbers, but the bone relics had been left undistrubed. Cunningham, who is a very capable archaeologist, has left a detailed account of everything his excavations brought to light in these and other stupas, and it is thanks to him that the authenticity of the relics is established beyond all doubt.<br /><br />The relics from both stupas were removed to England and placed in the Victoria and Albert Museum, but some discrepancies between Cunningham's description of the caskets and the actual boxes in which the relics were deposited gives reason to believe that he, or someone else, transferred the relics from Sanchi to the caskets discovered at Satadhara, and what became of the Sanchi steatite caskets is not known for certain.<br /><br />The Sacred Relics were preserved in the Victoria and Albert Museum until 1939, when the Maha Bodhi Society approached the British government with a request that they be returned to India. The request was at once granted, but owing to the outbreak of the second World War in that year, the actual transfer was delayed for reasons of safety until Feb 24th, 1947. On that date they were handed over to the representatives of the Maha Bodhi Society at the Victoria and Albert Museum, and so began their journey back to the land of their origin.<br /><br />Before being restored to India, however, the relics were taken to Sri Lanka, where they were received with great honor and amid general rejoicing. For two and a half months in 1947, they were displayed for public worship at the Colombo Museum, where it has been estimated that well over two million people paid homage to them. It is said that not only Buddhists but Hindus, Christians and Muslims joined in paying reverence to them.55<br /><br />The next stage of their journey to the new Vihara that was being erected for their re-enshrinement at Sanchi, was Calcutta. There the relics were displayed for public homage at the Dharmarajika Vihara, headquarters of the Maha Bodhi Society of India. The same scenes of religious devotion were enacted there. Every day for two weeks an unbroken stream of people filed past the shrine where the relics were exposed, from morning until late evening. Most of the devotees were Hindus, but there was also a large number of Muslims among them, and the reverence shown by all was a deeply impressive sight. Many had come from distant parts to pay their respects to the remains of these great sons of India.<br /><br />Next came a request from Burma that the relics should be taken for exposition here. This was readily granted. The reception given to them in that country revived all the pomp and religious fervor of ancient times. In order that everyone in Burma should be given an opportunity of worshipping them, the relics were conducted on a riverine tour along the Irrawaddy from Mandalay to Rangoon. The steamer that conveyed them was escorted by boats decorated in traditional Burmese style, and at every town along the river the relics were taken ashore in procession for worship at the chief pagoda. At the same time religious meetings were held, drawing vast crowds of people from the adjacent villages to hear sermons and the recitation of suttas, which usually continued all through the night.<br /><br />Subsequently, at the request of the respective governments, the relics were taken for exposition to Nepal and Ladakh.<br /><br />After they were returned to India the Burmese government asked that a portion of the Sacred Relics should be given to Burma. The Maha Bodhi Society of India agreed to this, and the then Prime Minister of Burma went in person to Calcutta to receive them. They were ceremonially transferred to him on the 20th October 1950. The portion allotted to Burma was afterwards enshrined in the Kaba Aye Zedi (World Peace Pagoda), built on the site of the Sixth Great Buddhist Council, close to Rangoon. The elaborate ceremonies connected with the crowning of the pagoda and the installation of the relics lasted from the 5th to 11th of March, 1952.<br /><br />Another portion was given to Sri Lanka to be enshrined in a new stupa built by the Maha Bodhi Society of Sri Lanka to receive them. At the time of writing they are housed in the temple of the Maha Bodhi Society, Colombo, awaiting the completion of the building.<br /><br />On the 30th November, 1952, the remaining relics were duly enshrined at Sanchi on completion of the new Chetiyagiri Vihara built to receive them. There they remain, objects of the deepest veneration to pilgrims from every Buddhist country, and a lasting reminder of the lives of those in whom the Buddha's Teaching bore its finest fruit.<br /><br />Notes<br />1. According to the Cunda Sutta (Satipatthana Samyutta) and its Commentary, the name of his birthplace was Nalaka, or Nalagama, which may be an alternative name. It was probably quite close to the more famous Nalanda. Sariputta's father was a brhamin named Vaganta. (Comy. to Dhammapada, v. 75).<br /><br />2. "Ye dhamma hetuppabhava tesam hetum tathagato aha, tesañca yo nirodho evamvadi mahasamano 'ti." This gatha was later to become one of the best-known and most widely-disseminated stanzas of Buddhism, standing for all time as a reminder of Sariputta's first contact with the Dhamma and also as a worthy memorial to Assaji, his great arahant teacher. Spoken at a time when the principle of causality was not accorded the prominence it enjoys today in philosophical thought, its impact on the minds of the early Buddhists must have been revolutionary.<br /><br />3. That is, monks, nuns, and male and female lay followers.<br /><br />4. Carita-vasena. This refers to the types of character (carita) as explained in The Path of Purification (Visuddhimagga, Ch. III).<br /><br />5. This is a reference to the Discourse in the Anguttara Nikaya, Sevens, No. 58 (P.T.S. IV.85).<br /><br />6. Dighanakha Sutta, Majjhima Nikaya No. 74.<br /><br />7. The fact of his attainment to analytical knowledge, which has here been added to the commentarial text, was mentioned by the Venerable Sariputta himself in Anguttara Nikaya, Fours, No. 172.<br /><br />8. The Venerable Sariputta refers to his way of attaining Arahatship in verses 995-96 in the Theragatha.<br /><br />9. Sutta Nipata, vv. 316ff. (Also called "Dhamma Sutta.")<br /><br />10. Jataka No. 156.<br /><br />11. Culavagga, Sanghabhedaka-khandaka, Sanghabhedaka-katha.<br /><br />12. Culavagga, Sanghabhedaka-khandaka, Sanghabhedaka-katha.<br /><br />13. Culavagga, Kammakkhandaka, Pabbajaniyakamma; Parajika Pali, Sanghadisesa-kanda, Kuladusaka-sikkhapada.<br /><br />14. Devaputta-Samy., Susima Sutta.<br /><br />15. See p. 80.<br /><br />16. Conceit (mana) and restlessness (uddhacca) are two of the three fetters (samyojana) which are destroyed only at the stage of Arahatship. Worry (or scruples: kukkucca), however, is removed already at the stage of nonreturner (anagami).<br /><br />17. Is not subject to the vagaries of the mind.<br /><br />18. Magga Samyutta, No. 2.<br /><br />19. Khanda Samyutta, No. 2.<br /><br />20. Tittita Jataka (No. 37).<br /><br />21. Vinaya (Cula-Vagga, Senasana-khandhaka).<br /><br />22. Theragatha v. 81 and Commentary.<br /><br />23. Majjh. 143.<br /><br />24. Udana VII, 1.<br /><br />25. Samyutta Nikaya, vol. III: Khandha vagga.<br /><br />26. Ang., Tens, No. 7.<br /><br />27. The Buddhas, although they are able to divine such matters themselves, ask questions for the instruction and illumination of others.<br /><br />28. See Wheel No. 101.<br /><br />29. See Right Understanding, Discourse and Commentary, translated by Soma Thera (Lake House Bookshop, Colombo).<br /><br />30. Anguttara Nikaya (PTS), Vol I, 63 (Twos, No. IV, 5).<br /><br />31. The Commentary to the Theragatha, by Bhadantacariya Dhammapala, quotes from the Niddesa and attributes it to Sariputta (Dhammasenapati).<br /><br />32. See "Buddhist Education in Pali and Sanskrit Schools," by E.J. Thomas in Buddhistic Studies, ed. by B.C. Law (Calcutta, 1931), pp. 223ff.<br /><br />33. A. II, 160; see p. 15.<br /><br />34. Translated in Mindfulness of Breathing by Ñanamoli Thera, Kandy, Buddhist Publication Society, 1964).<br /><br />35. Majjh. No. 111.<br /><br />36. Majjh. No. 5.<br /><br />37. A slightly different version of this is found in the Commentary to the Theragatha where it deals with Sariputta's verses.<br /><br />38. Parajika Pali, Introductory chapter.<br /><br />39. Majjh. No. 67.<br /><br />40. A "lion's roar" (siha-nada) is a weighty and emphatic utterance, made with assurance.<br /><br />41. Dhammapada, v. 95.<br /><br />42. See Maha-parinibbana Sutta, Ch. II (Last Days of the Buddha, Wheel No. 67/69, p. 26). It was during his stay at Beluva that the Master fell gravely ill.<br /><br />43. In the Himalayas.<br /><br />44. Sariputta himslef and his younger brothers and sisters.<br /><br />45. Vangisa Samy., No. 7.<br /><br />46. Satipatthana Samyutta, No. 23.<br /><br />47. Cunda Samanuddesa. Comy: "He was the Venerable Sariputta's younger brother. Before he received Higher Ordination the bhikkhus use to call him 'Novice Cunda,' and even when he was an elder he was still so addressed." (See. p. 54.)<br /><br />48. Satipatthana Samyutta, No. 24.<br /><br />49. This is according to the Commentary to the Ukkacela Sutta.<br /><br />50. Milinda's Questions by I.B. Horner, Vol. I, p. 295. See also the chapter "Sariputta in the Jatakas" (Part V of this book).<br /><br />51. See "The Simile of the Cloth" (M. 7) in Wheel No. 61/62, p. 12.<br /><br />52. See Wheel No. 67/69, pp. 9f.<br /><br />53. Sariputta's method of teaching in this discourse invites comparison with the Buddha's in the Sigalovada Sutta (Digha Nikaya, 31).<br /><br />54. Bhilsa Topes, p. 300.<br /><br />55. The Cynosure of Sanchi, p. 28.<br /><br />Source: Compiled and translated from the Pali texts by Nyanaponika Thera. Copyright © 1987 Buddhist Publication Society. Reproduced and reformatted from Access to Insight edition © 1994 For free distribution. This work may be republished, reformatted, reprinted, and redistributed in any medium. It is the author's wish, however, that any such republication and redistribution be made available to the public on a free and unrestricted basis and that translations and other derivative works be clearly marked as such.<br /><br /><br /> </span>Ratnaketuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01888085287982272571noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283778884707929385.post-17284324447003820332007-03-19T15:13:00.000+05:302007-07-26T15:15:23.908+05:30MAUDGALYAYANA<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"><strong>By Lin Sen-shou<br /></strong> <br /><br />Maudgalyayana was considered to have attained the highest supernatural powers. He belonged to the Brahman caste, and he came from Kolita village near Rajagrha in the kingdom of Magadha. He was originally a pupil of Sanjaya, the leader of another religion. It was there that he met Sariputra [whose story will be described later in this series]. The two slowly became dissatisfied with Sanjaya's teaching, and they made an agreement that if either of them found a better religious teacher, he would tell the other. Sariputra became Buddha's disciple first and then told his friend to join with him. After he began to follow Buddha, Maudgalyayana attained the arhathood in just seven days.<br /><br />One day when Maudgalyayana was in the city, he ran into a pratyeka-buddha. This person's graceful behaviour really impressed him, so he invited him to his house as a guest of honour. However, the pratyeka-buddha was not an eloquent speaker, so he demonstrated his understanding by displaying his extraordinary powers, appearing and disappearing here and there. Maudgalyayana was impressed and vowed to have such supernatural powers in his future life.<br /><br />One time Maudgalyayana was returning from begging for food. As he approached a forest, a young woman was waiting for him. She was an attractive woman that any man would dream about. She walked out of the forest and called out to Maudgalyayana. "Venerable One, what's your hurry? Do we have time for a chat?" Maudgalyayana stopped walking and looked at her . He not only saw her face clearly, but he also saw her evil intentions: she had been paid by a rival religious group to seduce and corrupt him. "You poor woman," He said to her seriously. "Your body is so filthy that you were paid to seduce me!" The woman was shocked to hear that. Her mouth opened and she pointed a finger at him. "How, how could you say that?" she stuttered. "Don't try to fool me," Maudgalyayana said sternly . "I knew it as soon as I saw you. You have fallen into an abyss of depravity, like an elephant sinking into a sand trap without any hope of getting free." The woman lowered her hand and her head, and she was silent for a short while. Then she raised her head and spoke to Maudgalyayana sadly. "Venerable One, now you know the whole thing, so I won't try to hide it from you anymore. I have heard that you are the disciple with the greatest supernatural powers, but I didn't believe that you could resist my beauty. Now I know the truth. I regret my past misconduct and I want to change my ways, but I have no idea how to go about it. I feel my future is very dark." As she talked, her tears flowed continually.<br /><br />Maudgalyayana comforted her. "You don't need to feel so sad, and you don't need to think that you have no hope. As long as you repent, you can be saved, no matter how serious your crimes were. When your clothes are dirty, you have to wash them to make them clean. When your body is dirty, you have to bathe to clean it. So in the same way, when your mind is filthy, you can use Buddha's teachings to make your mind pure. My teacher, Buddha, can help anyone take a new path in life, as long as that person sincerely desires to do so ." The woman's eyes were filled with delight and she smiled happily. "Really? Buddha is willing to help me?" "Yes, he is the most compassionate person in the world. He is certainly willing to help you. What is your name?" "Venerable One, my name is Utpalavarna, and I am from Taksasila. When I was 16, my husband was married into my family. After a while, my father passed away. Later I discovered to my dismay that my mother was having an affair with my husband because she was lonely! We already had a daughter! I left the house with hatred in my mind. "I was remarried later.<br /><br />One time my new husband went travelling on business, and when he returned, he brought a young concubine with him. When I found out about it, I cried and demanded to see who the girl was. I wanted to know why she had stolen my husband away from me. I was heartbroken when I saw that the girl was my own daughter! "I couldn't understand why such terrible things happened to me. First my mother robbed my husband from me, and then my own daughter stole my other husband. So I left. I hated this world and I cursed it. I hated everyone. I became a whore because I wanted to use my body to get back at everyone. And that is how I spend my sinful days. "Venerable One, I am willing to do anything if I am paid, and now you know why I am here. I am so glad that you have power over me. I apologize for what I have done."<br /><br />When Utpalavarna finished telling her story, Maudgalyayana saw that she also had a sincere, honest, beautiful heart, so he comforted her. "You have had a terrible life, but if you are willing to follow Buddha's teachings wholeheartedly, your future will be totally different. Why don't you come with me to see Buddha?" Utpalavarna was delighted that she could go to Buddha, because she realized that her future would be different. And indeed, she became a disciple of the Buddha and later became a nun.<br /><br />Buddha went up to the Trayastrimsas heaven to preach to his deceased mother and the heavenly beings. After some time, the disciples missed Buddha very much, so they went to visit Maudgalyayana in the Jetavana Garden . They paid their respects to him, sat down and asked, "Venerable One, do you know where Buddha is ?" "Yes, I know where he is," Maudgalyayana replied . "He is now in Trayastrimsas , preaching to his mother and the celestials." The disciples were happy to hear this, so they got up and went back to their monastery. Three months passed, and they went to Maudgalyayana again. "Venerable One, you know that we have not seen Buddha for a long time and we miss him very much. We hope you will go to Trayastrimsas for us and bring our best regards to Buddha. Please tell him that we miss him very much and that we would like to see him. We do not have the power to go up to visit him, whereas the heavenly beings have the power to travel down to earth to see him. So we hope Buddha will return to earth as soon as possible." Maudgalyayana agreed.<br /><br />After they all left, he went into meditation and immediately ascended to Trayastrimsas. When he arrived there, he saw Buddha preaching with all the heavenly beings around him. The scene was not different from ones on earth. Maudgalyayana prostrated himself before Buddha. "All the celestials here once heard sermons by the buddhas, so they were able to reach this heaven after they died. Isn't that true?" "Yes, you are right," Buddha said to him. "All of them came here that way." When the sermon was over, the celestials prostrated themselves before Buddha and left. Maudgalyayana again spoke to Buddha. "Buddha, the monks asked me to bring their best regards to you. They miss you very much and would like to see you. However, they do not have the power to come up to see you in person, so they hope that you will return to earth as soon as possible." Buddha smiled. "Maudgalyayana, just tell them that in seven days I will return to the udumbara tree outside the city of Sankasya." After Buddha finished talking, Maudgalyayana prostrated himself before him and returned to earth. He then told all the disciples what had happened. Seven days later, Buddha returned to earth.<br /><br /><br />It is said that Maudgalyayana's mother was a very bad woman. She scolded any monk or beggar who came to their house for food. She was greedy and mean, so after she died, she was punished in hell. One time, Maudgalyayana thought of his mother and became quite worried, so he entered meditation and started searching for his mother. He finally found her in the realm of hungry ghosts . Her neck and limbs were very small. Her belly was large and, like other hungry ghosts, she did not have any food or water. Maudgalyayana wanted to help his mother, so he used his powers to create a bowl of food and a cup of water and offered them to her. However, when the food and water just barely touched her lips, a ball of fire shot out from her mouth. It burned the food and evaporated the water . Maudgalyayana did not know what to do, so he returned from the realm of hungry ghosts and went to ask Buddha for help. Buddha told him to offer food to many monks and ask all of them to pray for his mother to save her from hell. Maudgalyayana did this, and days later his mother appeared before him, dressed in white. She joyfully told him that she had been elevated to the realm of the heavens, and then she disappeared.<br /><br />Maudgalyayana was meditating next to the Ganges River one evening, and he saw a number of ghosts coming to the river to drink the water. These ghosts saw him and prostrated themselves before him. They asked him why this fate had befallen them. "I am hungry all the time," one said. "I want to drink from the river, but whenever I try, the water boils and burns inside my body. Can you tell me why I am like this?" "You used to be a fortune-teller," Maudgalyayana replied, "but you lied, cheated and insulted other people. Now you are receiving the results of your actions." "My body is constantly torn and chewed by large dogs," a second ghost said. "Whenever the wind comes, my flesh grows back again. Can you tell me why?" "You used to kill animals to sacrifice to your gods, so you are experiencing the results now." A third ghost came to him. "My stomach is like a large urn, but my throat and my limbs are as thin as needles. I cannot eat or drink. Can you tell me why?" "When you were a government official, you enjoyed bullying the citizens and you were very cruel to them. You taxed them to death and robbed them of their wealth, so you are this way now." "My head is huge and there are tongues growing all over my body," a fourth ghost wailed. "These tongues are constantly bleeding. Can you tell me why?" "You deceived people. You constantly said things that hurt others. You insulted people all the time and you stirred up bad feelings, so you are this way now."<br /><br />One day, Maudgalyayana was travelling past the foot of Mount Rsigiri in Magadha. A group of naked religious cultists saw him, and they threw rocks and killed him. When King Ajatasatru heard about this, he was so angry that he ordered all those naked cult members to be seized and killed. When the news reached Buddha and the monks, they were quite upset. Some of the monks asked Buddha, "Since Maudgalyayana had supernatural powers, why didn't he defend himself against these religious people?" Buddha sighed. "Supernatural powers cannot be used to fight against karma. He could only delay the result of his karma, but he could not change it. Maudgalyayana was a fisherman in one of his past lives. Many fish died in his hands , and now he had to pay the price. The body is impermanent, and to an enlightened person, death is actually emancipation. He was able to exchange his life to attain truth and enlightenment, so we should be happy for him."<br /></span>Ratnaketuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01888085287982272571noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283778884707929385.post-16503781685972598802007-03-18T15:16:00.000+05:302007-07-26T15:20:22.401+05:30Sangharakshita's India<div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">The Rainbow Road<br />1949<br /><br />Near Lucknow<br /><br />Wandering along the banks of the Ganges, we came to a broad stretch of silver sand which, scattered as it was with burnt-out funeral pyres, we at once recognized as a cremation ground. Here we decided to stay. The landscape could hardly have been more simple or more austere. Above us there was nothing but the dazzling blueness of the sky, from the midst of which the sun shone down with blinding brilliance; around us, nothing but the whiteness of the bare sands, through which the river, shrunken but still gigantic, rolled down its jade-green waters to the sea. Apart from ourselves, the only living things to be seen were the small, stunted trees that grew a few dozen yards from the bank. Not one of them stood more than ten feet from the ground. With their crooked, even contorted, branches, and light green feathery foliage, most of it at the top, they looked like rudimentary umbrellas with bent handles, broken ribs, and tattered silk. Here and there four or five of the umbrellas stood closer than the rest, their scanty foliage running together into a single canopy-like strip of green. Beneath one of these canopies Satyapriya and I took shelter from the heat.<br /><br />As soon as we had sat down, we became aware that for all the apparent barrenness of the place we were, in fact, surrounded by a whole world of life and activity. Striped tree-rats raced up and down the trunks of the trees, or peered round them at us with bulging eyes and palpitating breasts. Cicadas shrilled invisible from the thin grass. Bees, deeply humming, flew heavily in and out of the pink or white blossoms of shrub after flowering shrub. But above all there were the peacocks. There seemed to be hundreds of them living among the trees. Every few moments, either from near at hand or far away, a harsh bell-like call, not unlike a greatly amplified miaow, would ring loud and clear through the hot afternoon air, to be almost immediately answered by another. Lodged in the forks and lower branches of the trees were scores of huge, untidy nests, none of them more than five or six feet from the ground. On most of the nests, looking much too splendid for so humble a task, sat the cock birds, the magnificent, many-eyed trains of their tails hanging over the nest-edge and practically brushing the sandy soil below. Occasionally, we would see a sudden vivid flash of gold, blue, and green as one of the stately creatures, tail feathers streaming out behind like an enormous bunch of ribbons, would launch himself in clumsy horizontal flight among the trees. None of them took the slightest notice of us.<br /><br />When it was dark, and the heat of the day had abated, we returned to the cremation ground, scrambling down the bank to the stretch of soft silver sand that was now part of the foreshore but which, once the rainy season began, would soon be part of the river bed. After we had plunged about for a few minutes, ankle-deep in the warm white drifts, we settled down among the shadowy shapes of the burnt-out funeral pyres for our evening meditation. When we opened our eyes some hours later we found ourselves in another world. An electric white full moon was in the sky, and the whole landscape lay steeped in an unearthly silver radiance so bright that we could hardly bear to look at it. Away on our right the river ran glittering beneath the luminous blue of the sky, while all around us the low mounds of ashes and charred wood cast shadows black as ink on to the white sand.<br /><br /><br />Sarnath<br /><br />It was now the hottest time of year in one of the hottest parts of India, and since we had no money - having stopped handling it ever since our stay at Anandashram - we not only had to go everywhere on foot but also to spend the whole day without refreshment of any kind. Not that we really minded this. The real reason for our decision lay much deeper. Despite our having acted on Buddha Maharaj's suggestion in good faith, we had been feeling the pull of Sarnath more strongly each day, and in my case at least, contact with Hinduism had served only to intensify my longing for Buddhism. Early in the morning, therefore, while it was still only moderately hot, we said goodbye to our inscrutable swami friend, and together set out on the ten- or twelve-mile walk to Sarnath.<br /><br />Ever since I had started reading about Buddhism the name of Sarnath had been familiar to me, and for the last few months in particular it had been as it were ringing in my ears. It was the place where, only two months after his attainment of Perfect Enlightenment, the Buddha had sought out the five ascetics who had been his companions in self-mortification in the days when he was still searching for the Truth and where, in the peaceful seclusion of the Deer Park, he had communicated to them the essentials of the newly-discovered Dharma. After strong initial resistance they had accepted him as their teacher, had realized the truth of his teaching for themselves, and had become the nucleus of the spiritual community which, in the course of the next few months, rapidly sprang up around him. The road along which we were now walking was the very one, perhaps, which the Buddha himself had trodden, 2,500 years ago, on the last stage of his journey from Bodh Gaya. There were the same blue sky overhead, the same straggling suburbs, the same mud-walled huts, the same bands of naked children playing in the dust, the same creaking bullock carts, the same level fields on either side of the road, and the same sun blazing more and more fiercely down on it all.<br /><br />After we had walked for a couple of hours and more the road, which hitherto had meandered uncertainly, started to run very straight, as though it now knew exactly where it was going. Trees appeared at intervals on either hand. Before long Satyapriya and I found ourselves walking in the welcome shade of a broad avenue of fine mango trees, their glossy green foliage contrasting sharply with the dusty brown of the surrounding fields. Presently, on our right, we saw through more mango trees the dilapidated shell of a small railway station, whose outbuildings were little more than heaps of rubble. On the opposite side of the road, to our left, rose an enormous pile of bricks surmounted, most incongruously, by an octagonal kiosk of Mogul design. This, I knew, was all that remained of the Chaukambhi Stupa, said to mark the spot where, on his arrival at Sarnath, the Buddha actually met the five ascetics. We were nearing our destination. Suddenly we saw above the tree-tops, about a mile away, the pinkish-grey pinnacle of the Mulagandhakuti Vihara, the new Sinhalese temple constructed about twenty years earlier. We were there! After a few hundred yards the road turned sharply to the right and as though in a dream we saw before us the park-like prospect of Sarnath.<br /><br />The next few days were among the pleasantest and the most painful of my entire existence. Since it was the height of the hot season, when pilgrims were few, we had the whole place practically to ourselves, and after the congestion and clamour of Benares, the spaciousness and peace of Sarnath, with its green lawns, flowering trees, and cool, well-kept shrines, was delectable indeed. Though we saw practically everything of interest, the main object of our attention was, of course, the polished granite column set up by the Emperor Ashoka to mark the exact spot where the Buddha taught the five ascetics. This column, or what was left of it, stood in a roofed-in enclosure of its own in the midst of several acres of ruined temples, monasteries, and votive stupas, all of which had been uncovered in the course of excavations, and were now carefully preserved. The famous lion capital by which it had originally been surmounted was kept in the museum. Yet beautiful as Sarnath was, I knew it had not always been so. Muslim invasion and orthodox Hindu revival had between them levelled it to the ground, and for hundreds of years the very name of the place was virtually unknown. At the end of the last century it was being used as a breeding ground for pigs. In the course of the last few decades, however, a great change had taken place, and with the establishment of temples and monasteries, and the provision of facilities for pilgrims, Sarnath had been restored to a modest semblance of its former glory. From my contact with the Maha Bodhi Society in Calcutta I knew that all this was due to the initiative of Anagarika Dharmapala, who had started there a branch of the Society and built the Mulagandhakuti Vihara. Dharmapala himself had died nearly twenty years before, but his work was being continued by Sinhalese monks, some of whom had been his personal disciples. It was from these monks that we were hoping to receive ordination.<br /><br />Rarely in the history of Buddhism can two candidates for admission to the Sangha have been more quickly or more cruelly disappointed. Though we were allowed, rather grudgingly, to stay in the vast, empty Rest House, from the very first the attitude of the five or six resident monks towards us was clearly one of incomprehension, suspicion, and hostility. Our going barefoot might have been overlooked, and even our interest in meditation excused, but to be altogether without money was, we were made to feel, the unforgivable offence. Indeed, when we confessed that we had been trying to practise the precept of not handling gold and silver, the observance of which was of course incumbent on shramaneras and bhikshus alike, and that for the past few months we had not possessed as much as a single anna between us, they reacted rather as though we had told them we had leprosy. From that moment our fate was sealed. In the eyes of these representatives of `Pure Buddhism' we were no better than beggars, and it was clear they wanted nothing whatever to do with us. They were even unwilling to give us a little food. When, in response to the bell, we turned up at the dining-hall, we heard one of them murmur angrily, `Why do they come without being asked?' After the open-handed hospitality of the Hindu ashrams we had visited such an attitude came as a shock indeed.<br /><br />Nevertheless, we decided not to be discouraged. In the case of a step so important as the one we now wanted to take, difficulties were bound to arise, and the best thing we could do was to treat them as tests. Accordingly, at the first opportunity, we acquainted the monks with our religious history and made the formal request for ordination. After listening to our account in silence, they said they would consult among themselves and let us know their decision. It was not long in coming. They were all members of the Maha Bodhi Society, they explained, and in view of the fact that the Society would be responsible for the maintenance of monks ordained under its auspices, they were not permitted to ordain anyone without the consent of the General Secretary. Since the Society was at present very short of funds, they were sure that in our case this consent would not be forthcoming.<br /><br />Though we had known what the verdict would be, the shock when it came was none the less acute. All our plans were laid in ruins, all our hopes destroyed. Bitterly disappointed, we returned to Benares.<br /><br /><br />To Kusinara<br /><br />Chapter Forty-Four<br /><br />THROUGH THE CURTAIN OF FIRE<br /><br />THE WEEK THAT FOLLOWED was a period of bewilderment, uncertainty, and confusion. During the last few months the idea of being ordained at Sarnath had taken such complete possession of our minds - we had dreamed so much about it, built so much upon it - that the likelihood of our meeting with a refusal, and being denied something that was for us already a reality, had entered our consciousness only as the remotest and most abstract of possibilities. Difficulties we had been prepared for, even trials; but certainly we had never expected that in Sarnath, of all places, we should meet with downright hostility and incomprehension, or that our request for ordination should be rejected with flimsy excuses which, as we afterwards discovered, were no better than lies. Yet the unlikely, the virtually impossible, the unexpected, had actually happened. Our application had been rejected. We had been refused ordination as shramaneras. Once again we were just two homeless wanderers, with the difference that this time we had nothing to look forward to and nowhere to go. Back at the Ramakrishna Mission, where even Buddha Maharaj could not wholly disguise his astonishment at our return, we felt as though the bottom had dropped out of the universe and that we now hung aimless and directionless in a void.<br /><br />For me the situation was doubly upsetting. In addition to my own disappointment, which was keen enough, I had to cope with the consequences of Satyapriya's and be not only the confidant but the scapegoat for the violent anger and resentment that burst from him as soon as he had recovered from the initial shock of our rejection. Who were these monks of Sarnath, he demanded, furiously, and what right had they to refuse ordination to two candidates who, for aught they knew, were spiritually far more advanced than themselves? They were not monks at all. They were no better than caretakers in yellow robes, making a living out of the pilgrims, and furtively grubbing together a few wretched possessions. He knew what they were really like. He had talked with the Indian servants. Things were as bad at Sarnath as they had been in Calcutta, if not worse. The Maha Bodhi Society stank. Sinhalese monks were thoroughly corrupt. Buddhism itself was corrupt. He was glad that his eyes had been opened in time and that he had been prevented from taking a step he undoubtedly would have regretted all his life. Far from being disappointed that we had not been ordained, he was delighted. He felt as though he had had a lucky escape. His only regret was that he, an Indian, had been forced to beg for ordination from a set of Sinhalese rascals who had received their religion and their culture from India and who, before that, had been no better than monkeys. For this humiliation, so painful to his self-respect, he had me to thank. Had it not been for my insidious influence he would have had nothing to do with Buddhism, nothing to do with the filth and corruption of the Maha Bodhi Society. But that was how it always was. Due to his association with me he had been repeatedly humiliated. He had stood it long enough. In future he intended to have nothing whatever to do with Buddhism. The Sinhalese monks could keep their ordination. He was quite happy to remain what he had been born, a Hindu. There were plenty of Hindu monks who would be only too glad to have him for a disciple. If the worst came to the worst, he could always join the Ramakrishna Mission. They might not be very spiritual, but at least they did good social work. India needed social workers....<br /><br />When he had raged and stormed in this way on and off for a couple of days, my friend's fury gradually subsided, and before long I was able to talk him into a more reasonable frame of mind. However un-Buddhistic the behaviour of the monks at Sarnath might have been, I urged, as aspirants to Enlightenment it was our duty not to give way to feelings of resentment. On the spiritual path difficulties and disappointments were bound to arise, but if we regarded them as tests of our sincerity then they would strengthen rather than weaken our determination to reach our goal. Despite these pious words, however, in my heart of hearts I could not help recognizing the justice of much that Satyapriya said. True it was that we ought not to cherish resentment, and that the disappointment we had experienced should be regarded as a test, but no amount of spiritual whitewashing could disguise the fact that the monks at Sarnath were a worldly-minded lot, without the faintest spark of enthusiasm for spiritual things, and that in refusing our request for ordination they had been activated by mean and unworthy motives. Indeed, I had to admit that both the fact and the manner of their refusal had hurt me far more deeply than it had hurt Satyapriya. Besides being disappointed as a candidate for ordination, I was mortified as a Buddhist, and disgusted as a human being. Only my faith in Buddhism remained unshaken. Not for one instant did I consider seeking ordination elsewhere than in the spiritual community founded by the Buddha. The greater were the shortcomings of the latter-day disciples, the more they heightened the sublimity of the ideal and the more, indirectly, they intensified my devotion to the ideal. Suppressing my own disappointment, I therefore did my best to assuage my friend's resentment and convince him that the monks at Sarnath were not the only ones in India, and that though we had failed to get ordination the first time there was no reason why a second or third attempt should not be more successful. In any case, it was clearly impossible for us to stay at the Ramakrishna Mission much longer. We had already stretched their hospitality to the limits. Since we would have to go somewhere, we might as well go wherever there was the possibility of our being ordained as shramaneras.<br /><br />These arguments were not without their effect on my friend, who in any case was reproaching himself for the violence of his reaction. But to which of the holy places should we now make our way? Where would it be possible for us to get ordination? These were the questions that had to be answered, and answered immediately. We had spent several hours deep in earnest but ineffectual discussion, and were beginning to feel quite desperate, when Satyapriya suddenly recollected that one of the monks at Sarnath, the sole Indian member of the community, had mentioned to him the name of the well-known monk-scholar Bhikkhu Jagdish Kashyap, who for a number of years had been teaching Pali and Buddhist Philosophy at the Benares Hindu University. We would go and ask his advice. He would be able to help us. Even if he did not give ordination himself, he would certainly be able to tell us where to go and whom to approach for this purpose.<br /><br />In a matter of hours we had walked to the University, located Bhikkhu Kashyap's modest residence in a distant corner of the vast campus, and been whisked up a flight of bare cement steps into his presence. We at once saw that here was a completely different type of person from the monks at Sarnath. Extreme corpulence gave him an air of mountainous imperturbability. At the same time, the expression of exceptional intelligence that played upon the strongly-marked features of the dark-brown face created an impression of vivacity, even as the look of gentle benignity that beamed from them seemed to invite confidence and trust. In less than an hour we had acquainted him with much of our joint history, especially with its most recent chapter, that of our disappointment at Sarnath. Having listened in sympathetic silence, Bhikkhu Kashyap pondered deeply for a while. Then, rolling the words up from the depths of his enormous frame with a slowness that gave them a special emphasis, and speaking with evident warmth and sincerity, he advised us to go to Kusinara, the place where the Buddha had passed away into final Nirvana. There we would find U Chandramani Maha Thera, the seniormost Theravadin Buddhist monk in India. He had many disciples. In fact, he was well known for the generosity with which he gave ordinations. Provided we were able to convince him of our sincerity, there was no reason why he should not give us ordination too.<br /><br />These words filled us with fresh hope, and we decided to leave for Kusinara without delay. Since we had no money we would have to walk, but so great was our desire for ordination that if necessary we would have prostrated ourselves the whole distance, as Tibetan pilgrims sometimes did all the way from Lhasa to Bodh Gaya. When we told our friends at the Ramakrishna Mission what we proposed to do they were horrified. Kusinara was well over a hundred miles from Benares, they protested, and it was the hottest time of year. We would never reach our destination alive. The dreaded hot wind from the deserts of western India had already started blowing, and every day the newspapers carried reports of people dropping dead from the heat. Why not stay in Benares a few weeks, and leave as soon as the early monsoon rains had cooled the air? This was sensible advice, and in any other circumstances we would have heeded it. Having just spent several hours walking to the University and back in the furnace-like heat of midday we knew only too well what awaited us at almost every step of our journey. A curtain of fire hung between us and our goal. Nevertheless our minds were made up. There was no time to be lost. Through the curtain of fire we would go, or perish in the attempt.<br /><br />Early next morning we set out for Sarnath. Being north-east of Benares it lay directly in our path, and with its hallowed associations it was obviously the best point for our journey to begin. While the monks of the Maha Bodhi Society could hardly be said to welcome us, they were much less unfriendly than on our first visit. Indeed, once we had made it clear that we were on our way to Kusinara, and would not be staying, two or three members of the community, better-natured than the rest, became quite cordial. One of them, the same Indian monk who had mentioned the name of Bhikkhu Jagdish Kashyap, turned out to be not only a native of Deoria, the district in which Kusinara was situated, but a personal disciple of U Chandramani, from whom he had received his shramanera ordination. On hearing that we were going to Kusinara in quest of ordination he gave us two letters of introduction, one to U Chandramani himself, and one to his seniormost female disciple. What Kashyap-ji had told us about the Maha Thera's generosity in granting ordinations was perfectly true, he said, and we were almost certain to get what we wanted. Another monk, a Sinhalese, who as one of the Joint Secretaries of the Maha Bodhi Society was in charge of its institution and activities in Sarnath, was even kinder. Taking us aside, he told us in a friendly, even affectionate, manner, that he strongly sympathized with our aspirations and wished us the best of luck. We should not take it too much to heart, he added, that on our previous visit he and his brother monks had refused to grant us ordination. It was extremely difficult to know who was sincere and who was not. Hundreds of people came to Sarnath asking for ordination. Most of them were Hindus who only wanted to be supported. After a number of painful experiences, he and the other bhikkhus had learned to exercise extreme caution.<br /><br />These friendly attentions, together with the fact that we had been invited to take our midday meal in the refectory, not only raised our spirits but disposed us to look more charitably on the shortcomings of the Sarnath monastic establishment. True, none of the monks could be described as spiritually-minded, and some seemed barely religious. For them Buddhism was evidently not the path to Enlightenment, but simply part of the national culture of their land, a culture in which they had been born and brought up, and to the external requirements of which they instinctively conformed. But at the same time it was clear that they were not bad fellows at heart and wished us no harm. What we had taken for hostility was in fact only defensiveness. We had descended on them out of the blue, and they had reacted to us in much the same way as a bevy of Anglican cathedral clergy would have reacted to a ragged and barefoot African Christian who, having sold all his possessions and given the money to the poor, had suddenly appeared at a Deanery tea-party wanting to know what he should do next. Now that they had had time to recover from the shock, and had been assured that we were taking our eccentricities elsewhere, they had no objection to wishing us success in our mission. With their benedictions ringing in our ears, we therefore left Sarnath more light-hearted than we had arrived. Before our departure Satyapriya warned me that this would be definitely our last attempt. If we failed to obtain ordination in Kusinara he would give up Buddhism altogether and become a Hindu monk and I would have to follow his example. Against such an idea as this my whole soul rose in revolt. For me there could be no second choice. Come what might, it was ordination as a Buddhist monk I wanted and nothing else. However, not wishing to provoke an argument at the outset of the journey I kept my thoughts to myself.<br /><br />For the next eight days we were on the road. Or rather, we were on the railway track, for having met the branch line over the first ridge out of Sarnath we had decided that, since we had no map, it would be best to follow it for as far as we could. From village to nondescript village ran the gleaming silver rails, from town to ramshackle town, straight through the flat brown landscape, over the beds of dried-up streams, past field after withered field, with only the telegraph wires for company and nothing but the long green line of the occasional mango grove to lend a touch of colour to the scene. In most of the villages and towns through which they passed there was a temple or an ashram of some kind and here we usually spent the night. Since the heat was all that we had been led to expect, and more, we tried to get the greater part of the day's walking done by noon. Rising before dawn, when the stars had not yet faded from the sky, and quickly stuffing our scanty belongings into the small cloth bag that was all each of us now carried, we carefully picked our way through the gloom, found the railway line, and headed north. By the time the sun was up we were well on our way. One morning, when we had risen even earlier than usual, we saw in the soft earth at the side of the track the imprints of a tiger's enormous paws. They were not more than an hour old and continued for several hundred yards. Evidently we were not the only ones who followed the railway track.<br /><br />After walking for two or three hours we stopped and had breakfast, generally halting beside a river so that we could take our bath at the same time. Breakfast consisted of chatua, or roasted barley flour, a small bag of which had been given us by a friendly Hindu ascetic with whom we had passed the second night of our journey. Mixed with water, and kneaded into a soft cake, it was not unpalatable, and sufficed to keep us going until our next meal. As soon as we were rested and refreshed we set off again. All this time the sun had been growing steadily hotter, and by nine o'clock the perspiration would be not only pouring from our faces but trickling down our bodies and soaking into our robes as well. Sometimes, especially when the hot wind was blowing, the heat was so intense that we had to walk along with a wet towel wrapped turban-wise round the head for protection. Yet great as the discomfort was we pressed on without slackening our pace. At every step we took, white dust rose in suffocating clouds, then drifted away like smoke. Only when the sun was at its zenith, and the shadows had been swallowed up in the broad noonday glare, did we start looking for shelter. By this time even the brave shrilling of the cicadas had died away among the scorched-up grass, while the landscape quivered and danced in the heat as though behind a veil. From the cracks in the ground exhalations shot up like flames.<br /><br />Our favourite shelter was a mango grove, where the dense foliage provided a shade that, after the heat outside, was so exquisitely cool as to be voluptuous. If no mango grove was forthcoming we generally took refuge, as at night, in a temple or an ashram, where more often than not a friendly ascetic or sympathetic villager would bring us something to eat, and where, if local curiosity or local sympathy proved sufficiently strong, Satyapriya would become involved in discussion. In one or two places the villagers were so hospitable, and in the course of a few hours became so warmly attached to us, that on their insistence we stayed till the following day. Once, indeed, we were passed on, as it were, to a son in a village further up the line, who promptly proved himself to be truly a chip off the paternal block by entertaining us as lavishly as his father had done the day before. Usually, however, we left our place of midday refuge at about five o'clock, when the heat had abated, and after finding our way back to the railway track continued our journey until nightfall. In this way we generally covered twelve to fifteen miles a day. Once, either to make up for lost time or because we were feeling particularly energetic, we covered twenty-nine miles.<br /><br />Most of the temples and ashrams at which we spent the night, or where we stayed for a few hours during the day, were of either the Vaishnavite or the Shaivite persuasion, and in most the only vestige of spiritual activity we saw was the smoking of ganja or Indian hemp. In one at least, restrictions based on distinctions of caste were, so we found, strongly insisted on. It was on the fifth day of our journey, and at nightfall we had reached Mau. This was the biggest place we had seen since leaving Benares, and judging from the number of shops and houses being run up - apparently by refugees from East Pakistan - it was in process of vigorous, if chaotic, expansion. On the outskirts of the town, next to the railway, stood a fairly large ashram. Here we decided to halt. For some time nobody took any notice of us, and from the noise and bustle that surrounded us we concluded that, far from being a centre of quiet contemplation for those who had renounced the world, it was a place of ecclesiastical business, where people came to pray - and pay - for success in worldly undertakings. Eventually, when we were thinking of leaving, the head of the Ashram approached us. He was a tall, thin old Vaishnavite ascetic, shaven-headed, and wearing the customary string of tiny basil-wood beads. Though at first inclined to be sarcastic, after a short conversation he became quite friendly and offered us some sweetmeats. He himself smoked ganja. We were then shown to the veranda of the Shiva temple next door, where we spent the night in the company of an elderly monk, an orthodox Advaita Vedantin, whose leg had been broken when he fell down on the railway track one night while under the influence of ganja.<br /><br />The following morning, while we were sitting on the veranda with the crippled monk and a few other people, an old dhobini or washerwoman came and sat down nearby. As we had decided to leave somewhat later than usual that day, we asked her if it would be all right for us to come to her house for our midday meal. Shocked and dismayed at the idea, she explained that since she belonged to a very low caste indeed it was quite impossible for us to take cooked food from her hands. If we liked she would give us some uncooked things instead. This was not what we wanted. Determined to break the orthodox taboo, we persisted in asking her for at least one roti or cake of unleavened bread apiece, at the same time doing our best to convince her that one caste was as good as another. Our arguments proved not altogether without effect. Though the poor old creature continued to protest that it was quite impossible for holy men like ourselves to accept cooked food from members of the Dhobi caste, it was clear that her resistance was weakening, and that she was in two minds about the matter. All the time we were talking, however, the crippled monk had kept up a stream of threats and abuse. If she dared to pollute the holy men by giving them cooked food with her unclean washerwoman's hands, he warned her, he would see to it that she was given a sound thrashing as soon as they had left the place. These harsh words turned the scale. Wiping a tear from her eye, the old woman got up and crept silently away. Apparently the fact that the holy men themselves had no objection to being polluted did not matter. But we had not seen the last of our downtrodden friend. Some time later she reappeared, bringing with her some sweetmeats for Satyapriya and me and a handful of ganja for the crippled monk and his companions. Far from being mollified by her devotion, however, that pillar of orthodoxy continued to scoff and jeer at her in the most heartless fashion. Nevertheless, he smoked the ganja she had brought.<br /><br />On the sixth day of our journey we said goodbye to the railway track and started heading in a more easterly direction. We had not gone many miles when we came to the great river Saraya or Sarabhu. The only means of crossing was by the ferry-boat, and for this we had to wait an hour. The ferry-boat belonged, we discovered, to the Mahant or abbot of the local Math or orthodox Hindu monastic establishment, and before its departure the Mahant's disciple, a fat monk dressed in white like a householder, came and collected the fares from the passengers, not sparing even the poorest of them, who paid up with many groans and much grumbling. Since we were ascetics the fat monk was good enough to excuse us from paying, but as soon as he found out that we were Buddhists he could not resist the temptation of airing his views on the innate superiority of brahmins, especially brahmin monks and holy men, to which category, judging by the sacred thread that hung round his neck, he himself belonged. Naturally, we were not backward in giving our own views on the subject of caste, views with which all our fellow passengers who were not themselves either brahmins or Kshatriyas seemed to be in hearty agreement. By this time the ferry-boat was more than full. Having extorted the last anna from the last reluctant passenger, the Mahant's disciple waddled back to the Math, and with long thrusts of the boatman's poles the unwieldy craft moved off.<br /><br />The concluding stages of our journey were the worst, and had it not been for the hope that every step was bringing us nearer to the goal of our desires it might have been difficult for us to carry on. It was still early May, and the heat, having risen in fiery crescendo to its terrific climax, now seemed likely to remain there indefinitely. Not a drop of rain fell. Day by day the hot dry wind from the desert, laden with dust, blew more strongly and more scorchingly than ever upon the hard, sun-baked earth, which by this time had become criss-crossed with a network of innumerable cracks and fissures, some of them several inches wide. Travelling during the less hot hours of the day, and taking advantage of every scrap of shade, grimly and wearily Satyapriya and I plodded on from temple to temple and from ashram to ashram, mile after mile across the heat-stricken land. In some of the temples and ashrams at which we halted we were given a cordial welcome, in others our reception was more reserved. Towards the end of our journey our stops became more and more frequent. At one place we took our bath in a pond full of lotuses. At another, where we came across an unusually well-kept ashram standing within a secluded mango grove, a friendly Nanak Panthi, or follower of Guru Nanak, not only put us up for the night but treated us with exceptional kindness.<br /><br />On our last morning we were less fortunate. Indeed, this was the least fortunate part of the whole journey. We had intended to halt for an hour or two at the Buddhist Rest House which had been built, so the Nanak Panthi had informed us, not half a dozen miles from our destination. On our arrival there we found that the Rest House had been converted into a school, and the headmaster received us in a very unfriendly fashion. We had no alternative but to set off again at once. Before long we were heartened by the sight of the dome of the Maha Parinirvana Stupa rising majestically from behind a cluster of trees in the far distance, and leaving the road we cut straight across the fields towards it. I could not help thinking with what exultation, only ten or twelve days earlier, we had seen the pinnacle of the Mulagandhakuti Vihara rising above the tree-tops of Sarnath. Did Kusinara hold a similar disappointment in store for us? Or were we destined to receive here the ordination on which we had set our hearts?<br /> </span></div>Ratnaketuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01888085287982272571noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283778884707929385.post-20423797049699821032007-03-17T15:29:00.000+05:302007-07-26T15:32:01.496+05:30Sangharakshita's India 3<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">The Rainbow Road<br />1949<br /><br /><strong>Meeting Ambedkar in Delhi</strong><br /><br />Coming to know that Ambedkar was in Delhi, whither he had returned from Nagpur a few days after the conversion ceremony, I decided to go to see him and personally congratulate him on his great and historic achievement. Most of the Eminent Buddhists from the Border Areas were still in the city, waiting to receive the Dalai Lama and the Panchen Lama when they arrived at the end of the month, and I was able to persuade them to accompany me, even though many of them had not heard of Ambedkar before and did not know that he had been responsible for the conversion of hundreds of thousands of people to Buddhism.<br /><br />Thus it was with representatives of several different Buddhist traditions that I descended, one fine morning in the second week of November, on Dr Ambedkar's modest residence in Alipore Road. As there was no room big enough for him to receive us all in, chairs were set out in the compound, and there, in a semi-circle, we sat facing our host in the hot sunshine. The Scheduled Castes leader - now a Buddhist leader - sat behind a small table, his wife at his side. I saw at once that he was far from well, and that the brown, pear-shaped face beneath the pith helmet looked tired and haggard. So tired and haggard did it look, and so full of suffering the dark eyes, that I apologized for disturbing him, saying that we had come simply to pay our respects and to congratulate him on his conversion to Buddhism. It had been my intention that we should stay no more than fifteen minutes, but in the event we stayed two hours. Ambedkar was unwilling to let us go. Or rather, he was unwilling to let me go, for it was solely to me that he addressed himself throughout the meeting, to the exclusion of Dhardo Rimpoche, Sonam Topgay, and the rest of the Eminent Buddhists. He was a deeply worried man. The movement of mass conversion had been successfully inaugurated, but what of the future? There was still so much to be done.... From the way he spoke, sitting there with arms resting on the table and lowered head, it was clear that the weight of his responsibilities had become almost too much for him to bear and that he wanted to transfer some of that weight to younger shoulders. Indeed, I had the distinct impression that the shoulders to which he wanted to transfer some of it were my own. Be that as it may, the meeting was undoubtedly tiring him. The broken sentences came from his lips with increasing difficulty, and at ever longer intervals. Eventually, when his head was already resting on his outstretched arms, his eyes closed in utter weariness. Whereupon, to his doctor wife's evident relief, we all quietly left.<br /><br /><br /><br /><strong>In the Sign of the Golden Wheel</strong><br /><br />I had arrived in Nagpur at one o'clock. Less than an hour later, when I was still settling into my new quarters, there was a sudden commotion in the yard outside and a few seconds later three or four members of the Indian Buddhist Society burst into the little outhouse. `Baba Saheb' was dead. He had died in Delhi the previous night. The bearers of these dire tidings were not only in a state of deep shock but utterly demoralized. They were barely able to tell me that the Society's downtown office was being besieged by thousands of grief-stricken people who, knowing of my presence in Nagpur, were demanding that I should come and speak to them. Obviously it would be impossible for me to address so many people without a microphone and loudspeakers. I therefore told my visitors to organize a proper condolence meeting. They should organize it for seven o'clock that evening. I would address the meeting and console people for the loss of their great leader as best I could. There being no time to lose, my visitors departed without further ado, taking with them others who had arrived after them, and I was left to consider my own reactions to the news of Ambedkar's death. Though shocked, I was not surprised. At the time of our last meeting he was evidently a very sick man, and I had been astonished to learn, before my departure from Delhi, that he had flown to Kathmandu in order to attend the Fourth Conference of the World Fellowship of Buddhists. There, as I afterwards heard, he was given a standing ovation by the assembled delegates and addressed them, by popular demand, on `Buddha and Karl Marx'. Returning to Delhi on 1 December, he visited the exhibition of Buddhist art, attended a meeting in honour of the Dalai Lama, and passed some time in the Rajya Sabha or Council of States, of which he was a member. The evening of 5 December was spent receiving a deputation of Jain leaders, listening to a record of his favourite Buddhist devotional song and, apparently, working on the preface to his book The Buddha and His Dhamma. At 6.30 the following morning, when I was on my way to Nagpur, his wife had entered his bedroom to find him dead.<br /><br />The condolence meeting was held in the Kasturchand Park, which was little more than a large open space part of which was occupied by a small pavilion. Roads apparently debouched into it from a number of directions, for on my arrival there at seven o'clock, by which time night had fallen, it was the dark centre of a gigantic wheel the golden spokes of which were formed by the lighted candles carried by the long columns of mourners who were converging on the place from all over the city. As the columns entered the park I saw that the men, women, and children carrying the candles were all clad in white - the same white that only seven weeks ago they had worn for the conversion ceremony. Whether on account of their demoralized state, or because there was not enough time, the organizers of the meeting had done little more than rig up a microphone and loudspeakers. There was no stage and, apart from a petromax or two, no illumination other than that provided by the thousands of candles. By the time I rose to speak - standing on the seat of a rickshaw and with someone holding the microphone up in front of me - about 100,000 people had assembled. Under normal circumstances I would have been the last speaker, but on this occasion I was the first. In fact as things turned out I was the only speaker. Though some five or six of Ambedkar's most prominent local supporters one by one attempted to pay tribute to their departed leader, they were so overcome by emotion that, after uttering only a few words, they burst into tears and had to sit down. Their example was contagious. When I started to speak the whole vast gathering was weeping, and sobs and groans filled the air. In the cold blue light of the petromax I could see grey-haired men rolling in agonies of grief at my feet.<br /><br />Though deeply moved by the sight of so much anguish and despair, I realized that for me, at least, this was no time to indulge in emotion. Ambedkar's followers had received a terrible shock. They had been Buddhists for only seven weeks, and now their leader, in whom their trust was total, and on whose guidance in the difficult days ahead they had been relying, had been snatched away. Poor and illiterate as the vast majority of them were, and faced by the unrelenting hostility of the Caste Hindus, they did not know which way to turn and there was a possibility that the whole movement of conversion to Buddhism would come to a halt or even collapse. I therefore delivered a vigorous and stirring speech in which, after extolling the greatness of Ambedkar's achievement, I exhorted my audience to continue the work he had so gloriously begun and bring it to a successful conclusion. `Baba Saheb' was not dead but alive. To the extent that they were faithful to the ideals for which he stood and for which he had, quite literally, sacrificed himself, he lived on in them. This speech, which lasted for an hour or more, was not without effect. Ambedkar's stricken followers began to realize that it was not the end of the world, that there was a future for them even after their beloved Baba Saheb's death, and that the future was not altogether devoid of hope.<br /><br />While I was speaking I had an extraordinary experience. Above the crowd there hung an enormous Presence. Whether the Presence was Ambedkar's departed consciousness hovering over the heads of his followers, or whether it was the collective product of their thoughts at that time of trial and crisis, I do not know, but it was as real to me as the people I was addressing.<br /><br />In the course of the next four days I visited practically all the ex-Untouchable `localities' of Nagpur, of which there must have been several dozen, and addressed nearly thirty mass meetings, besides initiating about 30,000 people into Buddhism and delivering lectures at Nagpur University and the Ramakrishna Mission. My locality speeches were rendered simultaneously into Marathi by Kulkarni, who despite being nearly twice my age not only kept pace with me but did full justice to the energy and passion with which I spoke. As he had done on the occasion of my previous visit, he maintained a detailed record of my engagements which he afterwards wrote up in article form. When the time came for me to be again on my way I had addressed altogether 200,000 people and forged, incidentally, a very special link with the Buddhists of Nagpur, indeed with all Ambedkar's followers. As I wrote to Dinoo from Calcutta a few weeks later:<br /><br />... I think I can say without vanity that I created a tremendous impression. Dr Ambedkar's followers told me that they felt my being there at that critical juncture was a miracle and that I had saved Nagpur for Buddhism. Had I not been there, there is no knowing what would have happened. At first people felt that the end of the world had come. But after listening to my speeches - which were very strong indeed - they felt full of hope and courage and determined to work for the spread of Buddhism. On the last day of my visit I gave no less than eleven lectures. The last meeting was held at 1.30 in the morning, when fifteen thousand people were converted to Buddhism.<br /><br />Nor was that all. The events of the last four or five days had had their effect on me as well as on my auditors. My letter to Dinoo continued:<br /><br />My own spiritual experience during this period was most peculiar. I felt that I was not a person but an impersonal force. At one stage I was working quite literally without any thought, just as one is in samadhi. Also, I felt hardly any tiredness - certainly not at all what one would have expected from such a tremendous strain. When I left Nagpur I felt quite fresh and rested. Now let us see about the rest of the programme.<br /><br />By the rest of the programme I presumably meant the work that had been awaiting me at the Maha Bodhi Society's headquarters, where I spent six or seven weeks seeing the December 1956 and January 1957 issues of the Maha Bodhi Journal through the press, as well as bringing out my dialogue `Is Buddhism for Monks Only?' and essay `Buddhism and Art' in booklet form with funds provided by Dinoo.<br /><br /><br /><strong>Ambedkar and the ex-Untouchables<br /></strong>from<br />The History of my Going for Refuge<br /><br /><br />Bhimrao Ramji Ambedkar was an Untouchable from Bombay state who, overcoming enormous obstacles, became an economist, a lawyer, an educationalist, a politician and, finally, free India's first Law Minister and the chief architect of her Constitution. Throughout his life he fought for the amelioration of the lot of India's tens of millions of Untouchables and for the removal of the age-old social, religious, economic, political, and educational disabilities imposed on them by the Caste Hindus - disabilities which reduced them to a state of virtual, even of actual, slavery.<br /><br />However, his efforts met with little or no success, and after thirty years of struggle Ambedkar came to the conclusion that the Caste Hindus were not going to mend their ways, that there was no salvation for the Untouchables within Hinduism, and that they would have to change their religion. On 14 October 1956, when he had been out of office for six years, he therefore not only embraced Buddhism himself by publicly taking the Three Refuges and Five Precepts from U Chandramani Maha Thera, from whom I had received my sramanera ordination, but also inaugurated the historic movement of mass conversion to Buddhism by administering those same Refuges and Precepts, together with twenty-two vows of his own devising, to the 380,000 Untouchable men, women, and children who had assembled for the occasion. Six weeks later he died.<br /><br />As related in Ambedkar and Buddhism, I had known Ambedkar since 1952, when we met after an earlier exchange of letters, and during the critical period immediately following his death I did whatever I could to ensure that the movement of mass conversion to Buddhism continued. This involved the making of a whole series of lecture tours in the course of which I visited cities, towns, and villages all over central and western India and came into contact with tens upon tens of thousands of ex-Untouchable Buddhists, some of whom I indeed received into Buddhism myself. But whether received into Buddhism by me, by a fellow monk, or by one of their own leaders, like their great emancipator they all became Buddhists simply by taking the Three Refuges and Five Precepts. Taking the Refuges and Precepts by reciting them after a monk or other leading Buddhist was, of course, a standard procedure among lay Buddhists, especially in south-east Asia. I had witnessed the ceremony at centres of the Maha Bodhi Society and elsewhere on numerous occasions and had myself conducted it scores of times. But never before had I seen the Three Refuges and Five Precepts taken with the sincerity, zeal, and fervour that I saw them taken by the largely illiterate and wretchedly poor ex-Untouchables, many of whom had travelled a hundred miles or more on foot for the purpose. For the `born Buddhists' of Ceylon and Burma, `taking Pansil', as the Sinhalese called it, was little more than a pious formality, the sort of thing that a good Buddhist did, and not so much an expression of commitment to the Three Jewels as an affirmation of one's cultural and ethic identity. In the case of the ex-Untouchables it was very different. For them taking the Refuges and Precepts, or becoming Buddhists, meant conversion in the true sense of the term. It meant not only the repudiation of Hinduism, not only deliverance from what Ambedkar called `the hell of caste', but also being spiritually reborn in the sense of becoming free to develop in every aspect of their lives, whether social, economic, cultural, or religious. Indeed, as I could see from the light in their eyes and the rapturous look on their faces, in repeating the words of the ancient Pali formula the ex-Untouchables, far from just `taking Pansil', were in fact giving expression to their heartfelt conviction that Buddhism was their only hope, their only salvation. They were Going for Refuge to the Three Jewels.<br /><br />In the course of my tours I had many opportunities of seeing Ambedkar's followers take the Three Refuges and Five Precepts, sometimes in very large numbers, and the sight of their sincerity, zeal, and fervour never failed to move me deeply. Moreover, I felt that they were taking the Refuges and Precepts, and becoming Buddhists, out of feelings very similar to those which, in my own case, had found an outlet in the poem `Taking Refuge in the Buddha'. There was one big difference. Whereas I had written my poem after a single experience of disappointment and frustration, they had all Gone for Refuge as a result of a lifetime of systematic harassment and humiliation. But though the difference was a big one, it was quantitive rather than qualitative, so to speak, and in spite of it I felt very close to my ex-Untouchable brothers and sisters. It did not matter that I was English and they were Indian, or that I was a monk and they were laymen and laywomen. For them as for me there could be refuge only at the feet of the Buddha, even though their conception of that refuge was less meta=physical than mine. Thus as a result of my contact with the ex-Untouchable Buddhists I came closer to seeing that monasticism and the spiritual life were not identical, and that Going for Refuge was the principal unifying factor in Buddhism. I came closer to seeing that Going for Refuge was the central and definitive act of the Buddhist life.<br /><br /><br /> </span>Ratnaketuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01888085287982272571noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283778884707929385.post-59919618816689369462007-03-17T15:20:00.000+05:302007-07-26T15:23:27.637+05:30Sangharakshita's India 2<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">The Rainbow Road<br />1949<br /><br />Kusinara<br /><br />Chapter Forty-Five<br /><br />AT THE SHRINE OF THE RECUMBENT BUDDHA<br /><br />THE PLACE AT WHICH WE HAD ARRIVED with so much hope, and where we were to spend the next two weeks, was one of the most famous and ancient Buddhist shrines in India. With Lumbini, Bodh Gaya, and Sarnath it was, in fact, one of the four principal places of Buddhist pilgrimage, to which devout followers of the Enlightened One came to worship, to meditate, and to make offerings from all over the Buddhist world. Like Sarnath, it had been sacked at the time of the Muslim conquest, like Sarnath it had remained derelict and deserted for more than 600 years, and like Sarnath it had been reoccupied around the turn of the century after being disinterred by the spade of a British archaeologist. Like Sarnath, too, in addition to its two stupas it consisted mainly of a monastery and guest-house, a temple, a school, and an archaeological area. Unlike Sarnath, however, it was rather off the beaten track, and despite its importance was therefore a smaller and shabbier place, and much more rural in character. Indeed, with its weed-choked paths and shrub-infested masonry it had an air of having only partly emerged from the surrounding jungle. In atmosphere too Kusinara was unlike Sarnath. Though both were exceptionally peaceful places, at Sarnath the peacefulness was touched with joy, as of glad tidings imparted to mankind, whereas here it was tinged with solemnity, even with sadness, as of a great loss sustained. After all, Kusinara was the scene of the Great Decease, and though nearly 2,500 years had passed, the vibrations of the sublime pathos of the occasion still seemed to linger in the air.<br /><br />As might have been expected, the resident monastic community of Kusinara was even smaller than that of Sarnath. In fact it consisted of only U Chandramani himself and an Indian monk, his disciple. There were, however, five or six shaven-headed, yellow-robed anagarikas. Though faithful observers of the Ten Precepts, these devoted women were not technically nuns, indeed could never be nuns, for according to the Theravada, the form of Buddhism predominant in South-east Asia, the tradition of ordination for women had died out many centuries ago and could not be revived. In addition to their personal religious duties, the anagarikas cooked and swept for the monks and did the rest of the menial work. The oldest and seniormost of them was a frail little old woman of about sixty-five known as Mother Vipassana, and it was to her that one of our letters of introduction was addressed. A Nepalese brahmin by birth, and for many years a widow, she had been drawn to Buddhism through her contact with U Chandramani and for the last few years had lived in retirement at Kusinara. Apart from keeping a motherly eye on the other anagarikas, all of whom were much younger than herself, she devoted her time to the study of the Pali texts and to meditation. Though it may have been less radiant, the smile that lit up her worn features had the same peculiar sweetness as that which had illumined the face of Mother Lakshmi, in the Sandalwood Country. From the very first she took a great liking to Satyapriya and me, and could never do enough for us. No sooner had she read the letter of introduction than she set about preparing us a meal, had a room in the guest-house swept out, showed us where we could take a bath and, most important of all, arranged for us to see U Chandramani.<br /><br />The interview took place the following morning at the Chapter House, in the dim, practically unfurnished ground-floor room that was evidently both sitting-room and study. U Chandramani sat up cross-legged on an old cane-bottomed armchair, the only chair in the room; Satyapriya and I, who on entering had made the traditional three prostrations, knelt before him on the strip of worn and frayed carpet that one of the anagarikas had pulled out for us. As usual, Satyapriya acted as spokesman for us both. Once my eyes had become accustomed to the gloom, I was therefore free not only to take in our surroundings but to study the personage to whom we had been directed, and on whom all our hopes now centred. Draped in the dull orange robes of the Burmese Sangha, which left his right shoulder bare, U Chandramani was an impressive figure. Though he was well over seventy, and looked his age, his frame was sturdy and robust, while the deeply furrowed Mongoloid face with the sagging jowl and remarkably long ear-lobes expressed both strength and determination of character. As he sat there gravely listening to Satyapriya's highly circumstantial account of our joint history from the time of our meeting in Singapore down to the time of our disappointment at Sarnath he looked for all the world like the statue of a Lohan, or traditional Chinese representation of an Arahant. He sat impassive as a statue too. Only when my friend happened to dwell more on my own particular career did he glance in my direction, and I saw that his face, which had seemed stern at first, in fact wore a benevolent, even a fatherly expression.<br /><br />`So you want to be ordained, do you?' he said with a chuckle, apparently by no means displeased at the idea, when Satyapriya had at last finished. `Well, well, we shall have to see.' For the next hour we were therefore subjected to an interrogatory which, though kindly, was extremely searching. What U Chandramani particularly wanted to know was whether we had been properly initiated into Buddhism by taking the Three Refuges and Five Precepts from a monk in the traditional ceremonial manner, for unless this had been done, and we were already upasakas or lay brothers, it would hardly be possible for us to be ordained as shramaneras or novice monks, which represented the next highest degree of initiation. Fortunately neither of us had any difficulty in satisfying U Chandramani on this point. I had taken the Refuges and Precepts, five years earlier, from the scholar-monk U Thittila, then working as a stretcher-bearer in London; Satyapriya, less fortunate, had taken them two years ago in Calcutta from His Holiness. When he learned of my connection with U Thittila, who like himself was Burmese, U Chandramani showed both surprise and pleasure. Indeed, he seemed to regard it as a good omen. The rest of the interrogatory was concerned with questions of a more general nature. How many Precepts had we been observing? What was our understanding of the Doctrine? Which method of meditation were we practising and what results had we achieved? Eventually it was all over. If we had not passed with flying colours, we had at least not done too badly, and judging by the nods of approval that he had given from time to time U Chandramani was not dissatisfied with our replies. He would consider our request, he now told us, and let us know in a few days' time whether or not it was possible for him to accept the responsibility of giving us ordination. Meanwhile, we could make ourselves comfortable at the guest-house, the anagarikas would see to our meals, and we could explore the sacred site at our leisure. There was much that was worth seeing. With a good-humoured wave of his hand he dismissed us. Scarcely able to believe that our application had not been rejected out of hand, we prostrated ourselves three times and withdrew.<br /><br />For the next few days we followed U Chandramani's advice and explored Kusinara. Our first halt was naturally at the Maha Parinirvana Stupa which, according to tradition, marked the spot where the Buddha, coming to the end of his last journey, had laid himself down on a stone couch in the sal grove of the Mallas and allowed his Enlightened consciousness to dissociate itself from the physical body. Though smaller than the Dhamekh Stupa at Sarnath, it was in a much better state of repair, having in fact been practically rebuilt by U Chandramani with the help of funds donated by Burmese Buddhists. On completion of the work, the whole dome had been gilded, but that was years ago, long before the war, and now all that remained of this evidence of devotion were a few patches of gold leaf that gleamed in the morning sunlight. Not far from the Stupa was the Temple of the Recumbent Buddha. This was a place of no architectural pretensions whatever. Indeed, it was nothing more than a whitewashed brick shed, long and narrow, with a barrel roof that had been put up to protect the celebrated image which, next to the Stupa itself, in the heyday of Kusinara had been the principal object of worship at the sacred site. This image, which belonged to the Gupta period, was about thirty feet in length, and represented the Buddha at the time of the Great Decease. One foot on top of the other, head supported on right hand, stiff and solemn he lay there in his gilded robe, the great face serene and majestic in the hour of bodily death as ever it had been during life. Though the temple was so small that there was barely room to circumambulate the image, to me, at least, the dimensions of the place were exactly right. As we knelt there in the gloom, with only two or three lighted candles flickering between us and the placid features of that enormous face, so deep was the silence, and of such inexpressible solemnity, that we seemed to be present at the very deathbed of the Master. Before many days had passed, the Stupa and the Temple had become the twin centres of our spiritual existence. Every evening, at sunset, we sat and meditated in front of the Stupa, stirring only when it loomed a black shape against the star-filled depths of the sky. Every morning, long before dawn, having chanted our praises in that unsleeping ear, we sat and meditated beside the stone couch of the Recumbent Buddha. During the rest of the day we studied, talked with Mother Vipassana and, of course, continued our explorations.<br /><br />Next to the Maha Parinirvana Stupa and the Temple, and apart from the excavated ruins that made up the archaeological area, the most interesting relic of Kusinara's glorious past was the Angar Chaitya, the mound marking the spot where the earthly remains of the Buddha had been cremated. Interesting as this was, however, we had not gone more than half-way round it before we came upon something more interesting still. Near the Chaitya grew an enormous peepul tree, and high up in the tree, half hidden by the dense foliage, there was perched a strange figure in a saffron-coloured loincloth. As soon as he caught sight of us he let out a loud whoop, apparently of welcome, and with amazing agility swarmed chuckling and gibbering down the tree until he stood balancing himself only a few feet above our heads. We then saw that he was Chinese, and that his arms, shoulders, and chest, which were bare, were covered with a multitude of burns. Though he seemed to know a little Hindi, his pronunciation was so uncouth that it was impossible for us to make out more than a few words. In response to his gesticulations, however, we looked up into the tree, and eventually saw among the branches a kind of rough platform, so clumsily put together from half a dozen planks as to seem like the nest of some enormous bird. It was here that the strange figure lived. As we afterwards learned, he had lived in the tree for a number of years, and though he moved about freely among the branches he never set foot on the ground. Periodically he applied lighted candles to different parts of his body and allowed them to burn down into the flesh. This was, of course, an extension of the Far Eastern Buddhist practice of burning wax cones on the head at the time of ordination, as a sign of one's willingness to suffer for the sake of Supreme Enlightenment, and was not without precedent in traditional Chinese Buddhism - or indeed, without canonical sanction in the White Lotus Sutra. Whatever visiting Buddhists may have thought of these bizarre practices, the local Hindus were full of admiration, and Cheenia Baba, as they called him, was held in high esteem. Some of the villagers, indeed, would bring him candles to burn on himself in the belief that whatever prayers they offered up while he was doing so were sure to be granted.<br /><br />A less eccentric figure than Cheenia Baba, and of more importance for the history of modern Kusinara, was one whom it was no longer possible to see in the flesh. This was Mahavir Swami, a faded full-length photograph of whom, discoloured by damp, hung in a worm-eaten frame on the front veranda of what had formerly been the main Vihara. A veteran of the Indian Mutiny of 1857, he had settled in Kusinara towards the end of the last century after being ordained in Ceylon. At that time Kusinara was completely in ruins. So desolate was the place, indeed, that it was popularly believed to be haunted, and no one dared go anywhere near it. Undeterred, Mahavir Swami had built a bamboo hut and then, in 1902, the first Buddhist monastery to be erected in modern India. Unfortunately, by the time Satyapriya and I visited it the building was somewhat dilapidated, and Mahavir Swami's portrait looked down on cracked cement floors and crumbling brickwork that was rapidly becoming covered by green mould. U Chandramani had come and joined Mahavir Swami in 1901, the year before the Vihara was built, and had not only resided there without interruption ever since but continued his predecessor's work of restoring the ruined shrines of Kusinara and making the place once more a living centre of Buddhism. Half a century of service to the Dharma! Half a century of single-minded dedication! When we had finished exploring Kusinara, and seen all that the old man had achieved, we could not help thinking that even if we had visited all the Buddhist centres of India we could hardly have found a more suitable person to ask for ordination.<br /><br />But to ask was one thing, to be given quite another. Some days had now elapsed since our first interview. Vaishakha Purnima, the thrice-sacred anniversary of the Buddha's Supreme Enlightenment, was drawing near. Moreover, from remarks let fall by Mother Vipassana, we gathered that at least one person in Kusinara was not happy at the idea of our receiving ordination from U Chandramani. The Indian monk, it seemed, had objected to it on the grounds that if we were ordained we would become entitled to a share of the Vihara property after the Maha Thera's death! But we need not have worried. When the moon that rose every night above the shadowy dome of the Maha Parinirvana Stupa was almost full, U Chandramani called us to his room and with his customary affability told us that he was prepared to accede to our request. We would be ordained immediately after breakfast on the morning of the Vaishakha Purnima Day. It would have to be clearly understood, however, that in giving us the shramanera ordination, he would not be accepting any responsibility for our future training, nor would it be possible for us to stay with him at Kusinara. As we could see for ourselves, the resources of the Vihara were limited, and he was not in a position to support two more disciples. But if it was only ordination we wanted, he said, with evident warmth and sincerity, then he would ordain us with the greatest pleasure and we could have his blessing, too, into the bargain.<br /><br />Ex-brahmin that he was, Satyapriya was at first shocked by the idea of our being ordained after breakfast, and not before it, while still fasting. But after breakfast it was definitely to be. Buddhism attached no importance whatever to ritual purity and impurity, we were reminded, and an empty stomach was no more holy than a full one. At nine o'clock on Thursday, 12 May 1949, therefore, after we had eaten our breakfast in the old Vihara, we received the long-expected summons to the Chapter House. Here U Chandramani handed us our robes, tied up in a bundle, and told us to go and take a bath and put them on. Our heads had already been shaved the previous day. The robes for which we now exchanged the informal saffron of the last two years were of the regulation size, shape, and colour, and along with the rest of the permitted articles - girdle, water-strainer, needle, and razor - had been presented to us by Mother Vipassana and the other anagarikas, who in order to have them ready in time for the ceremony had, in fact, sat up stitching the complicated seams until late at night. U Chandramani himself had presented us with our begging-bowls. On our returning to the Chapter House, duly `robed and bowled' as the texts have it, we were made to squat on our heels with our elbows resting on our knees and our hands joined together at our foreheads. This was an extremely difficult and uncomfortable position. Indeed, after a few minutes the pain in various parts of my body became excruciating. As I afterwards realized, the position we were made to adopt was that of the child in the womb, for the ordination represented the process of spiritual rebirth, and `at the birth of a child or a star, there is pain'.<br /><br />Having to remain in such a position throughout the ceremony was by itself ordeal enough, but for me at least the difficulties of ordination were by no means over. The Three Refuges - the Refuges in the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Sangha - had not only to be repeated thrice each but repeated in both Pali and Sanskrit. This was to make sure that the novice monk was able to distinguish between the two kinds of pronunciation, for in the early days of Buddhism, when the Buddha's Message was preserved and transmitted exclusively by oral means, the slightest carelessness in matters of phonetics could in the course of time result in a serious distortion of the letter of the Teaching leading, perhaps, to eventual loss of its spirit. Try as I might, however, my English tongue could not manage to reproduce the elusive Indian sounds. U Chandramani, for his part, was determined that the requirements of tradition should be scrupulously respected. Time and again he intoned the sacred formulas, patiently coaching me in the production of aspirated consonants, nasalized terminations, and palatal sibilants. After much effort on my part, and much exercise of patience on his, I eventually succeeded in repeating the Refuges to his complete satisfaction in both Pali and Sanskrit and we were able to pass on to the next part of the ceremony, which consisted in the taking of the Ten Shramanera Precepts. This time reciting in Pali only, and with less regard to pronunciation, Satyapriya and I undertook to abstain from injury to living beings, from taking the not-given, from unchastity, from false speech, and from intoxicants, as well as from untimely meals, from song, dance, instrumental music and indecent shows, from garlands, perfumes, unguents and other worldly adornments, from large and lofty beds, and from handling gold or silver. All these precepts we were already observing, but the kindly, simple, and good-humoured manner in which U Chandramani explained each one gave them a fresh significance, and we felt that we would die rather than be guilty of the smallest infringement. The more formal part of the proceedings ended with the Maha Thera solemnly adjuring us in the last words which the Buddha had addressed to his disciples, as he lay on his deathbed in the Sal Grove, only a few hundred yards away: `With mindfulness strive on!'<br /><br />We were now fully-fledged shramaneras! The desire of our hearts had been fulfilled! We had been spiritually reborn! The ordination ceremony was over! But not quite over, it seemed. Having been born anew, we had to be given new names. As we relaxed our cramped limbs, U Chandramani asked us on which day of the week we had been born. Neither of us knew. Well, well, murmured the old man, mildly astonished at such ignorance, but evidently not disposed to be over-strict about a matter of secondary importance, he would have to manage as best he could without the information. In Burma each day of the week was associated with certain letters of the alphabet, and a monk's name had to begin with one of the letters belonging to the particular day of the week on which he had been born. In our case, since it would not be possible for him to follow this procedure, he would have to name us at random, as he himself thought best. Satyapriya would be known as Buddharakshita. Dharmapriya would be known as Dharmarakshita. With these names, which placed us under the protection of the first and the second Refuges, we were well content. Whether on account of the forgetfulness of old age, however, or for some other reason, U Chandramani had overlooked the fact that he already had a disciple called Dharmarakshita. This disciple was the same Indian monk whom we had met at Sarnath, the one who had given us our letters of introduction, and he was even now in Kusinara, having arrived shortly before our ordination. On hearing that I had been given the same name as himself he came rushing over to the Chapter House. If there were two Dharmarakshitas, he protested, there would be endless confusion. People would not know which of us was which. My letters would be delivered to him. What was worse, his letters would be delivered to me. Neither of us would ever know where we were. `Oh well,' said our preceptor, dismissing all this fuss and bother about names with a gesture of good-humoured impatience, `Let him be Sangharakshita!'<br /><br />In this unceremonious manner was I placed under the special protection of the Sangha, or Spiritual Community, rather than under that of the Dharma, or Teaching. Even before the matter of names had been sorted out, however, Mother Vipassana and the other anagarikas were thronging round us not only to offer congratulations but to salute our feet in the traditional manner, just as we had already saluted the feet of U Chandramani and the other monks. These symbolic acts served to remind us that our ordination had not only an individual but also a social significance. As shramaneras we belonged to a community, to a spiritual community, the community of the spiritually reborn. In this we had a definite place, and our relationship with other members of the community, lower or higher than ourselves in the hierarchy, was not only clearly defined but governed by a strict protocol. With Mother Vipassana our relationship was of a very special kind. Next to our preceptor, she was for us the most important person at Kusinara. In the absence of our own mothers, who in a Buddhist land would have taken a prominent part in the proceedings, she had constituted herself our Dharma Mata or Mother in Religion, and besides organizing the preparation of our robes, she offered the customary ceremonial meal to U Chandramani and all the other monks at Kusinara including, of course, Buddharakshita (as I must now call him) and myself. Indeed, as we afterwards learned, when the Indian monk had objected to our ordination she had spoken up strongly and warmly on our behalf. But for her, therefore, we might not have been ordained at all.<br /><br />Though it meant so much to us, for most of the people who had come to Kusinara for the Vaishakha Purnima our ordination that morning was only a very minor incident in the events of the thrice-sacred day - if, indeed, they knew of it at all. What mainly interested them was the procession that took place in the afternoon when, strung out behind the glittering instruments of the brass band, a long line of orange-robed monks with red Burmese parasols, white-clad laity with black umbrellas, and schoolchildren with books or handkerchiefs on their heads, wound their way through the fields from the Vihara to the neighbouring villages. Unfortunately, before the brass band had got more than half-way there the sky became overcast, thunder crashed and boomed, lightning flashed, and the rain came down in such torrents that the procession had to be abandoned, together with the rest of the day's programme. The rainy season had begun!<br /><br />Buddharakshita and I had intended to leave Kusinara on the fourth day after our ordination. The bowls we had been given were of iron, and before we could use them they had to be lacquered to prevent rust. U Chandramani himself showed us how this was done. After being coated with a certain kind of oil, very thick and dark, the bowls were baked for a couple of hours in a specially constructed oven. The whole process had to be repeated eight or nine times. Even so, the results were not very satisfactory, and far from presenting the smooth, black, glossy appearance of some bowls we had seen ours looked as though they had been coated with cheap brown varnish. When the lacquering was finished, however, and we were ready to set out on our travels again, Bhikkhu Dharmarakshita asked us to stay for two more days and join him and the rest of our fellow disciples in celebrating U Chandramani's seventy-third birthday. We could hardly refuse his request. Indeed, though it meant a slight readjustment in our plans, we were glad to have an opportunity of showing how much we appreciated our preceptor's achievement, and I undertook to compose a poem in honour of the occasion. This time the day's celebrations were not interrupted by rain, and the procession and the public meeting passed off as planned. At three o'clock the following afternoon, having paid our respects to U Chandramani and the other monks, and said goodbye to the anagarikas, Buddharakshita and I left Kusinara. U Chandramani had asked us to go and preach the Dharma to his disciples at Butaol and Tansen, in southern Nepal, and both he and Mother Vipassana had provided us with letters of introduction. On the way we could visit Lumbini, where the Buddha had been born, which was just across the Indo-Nepalese border. From Tansen we hoped to go up to Pokhara, in central Nepal, and from there perhaps to Muktinath, the sacred mountain that was a place of pilgrimage for Buddhists and Hindus alike. It might even be possible for us to penetrate into Tibet. Equipped with our robes and our bowls, as a bird with its two wings, there was now no limit to where we might go.<br /><br /><strong>To Lumbini</strong><br /><br />THE FIRST THING WE DID after leaving Kusinara was to get lost. In fact, though we did not really have far to go, our journey that day was difficult in a number of ways. Since for the time being we had decided to head due west, we had the sun shining in our faces all the time. Moreover, there was no proper path, and the people of the villages through which we passed always seemed to misdirect us. One man, indeed, refused to direct us at all. When we stopped and asked him the way he only looked at us with surly suspicion and inquired, none too politely, who and what we were. We were Buddhist monks, we told him, and were on our way from Kusinara to Lumbini. `Oh,' he exclaimed, turning away with a hostile sneer, `You are the people who have dismembered Dharma as the Muslims have divided India into Hindustan and Pakistan!' He was, of course, a brahmin. Eventually, after walking for twelve or thirteen miles, we reached the village of Raggerganj, on the outskirts of which there was situated the hermitage of an ascetic. Though the place was not much more than a ganja club, the ascetic himself was quite friendly, and not only offered us sugar-water but allowed us to sleep under a tree in the courtyard. In the middle of the night a storm blew up, and we were forced to retreat into the porch of the hermitage. We did not pass a very restful night.<br /><br />Our main preoccupation next morning was to find a place where we could start putting our begging-bowls to the use for which they were intended and go for alms. Now that we were shramaneras we were resolved to do this in strictly traditional fashion. We would beg from door to door until we had obtained enough cooked food for our one meal of the day, not skipping so much as a single house. We would not accept people's invitations, nor would we even sit down inside a house in order to eat the food that we had collected. After walking from 5.30 until 10.30, with only a little chatua to sustain us on the way, we were feeling rather hungry. But at the first township to which we came we found the atmosphere so forbiddingly commercial that our courage failed us and tired as we were we decided not to stop there. Luckily there was a village only a mile further on. Before reaching the village proper, which was called Barspar, we halted at a well and asked a woman who was drawing water there to pour some into our lotas or brass pots. Respectfully she refused. She belonged to the Chamar or leather-worker caste, she explained, and for high-caste holy men like ourselves contact with anything that she had touched would mean pollution. Buddharakshita and I could hardly believe our ears. The woman at the well was saying exactly the same thing as the Matangi woman had said to Ananda, cousin and personal attendant of the Buddha, 2,500 years ago, and saying it in exactly the same circumstances. History was repeating itself. Making exactly the same reply as Ananda had done, we told the woman that what we wanted was water, not caste. Whereupon she gladly filled our lotas. India had not changed much since the days of the Buddha, it seemed.<br /><br />Having quenched our thirst, we made our way to the woman's hut, which was situated nearby, on the outskirts of the village, and stood silently in front of the door with our bowls in our hands. Before very long a man came out and after looking at us in a rather puzzled manner asked us what we wanted. When begging at orthodox Buddhist doors, of course, a monk never spoke, but here there seemed to be no alternative, and we therefore told the man that we had come for alms. On hearing this he went inside and quickly returned with a small quantity of paddy or unmilled rice. This we refused, saying that we accepted only cooked things. He thereupon offered us money; but this too we refused. Either there was no cooked food in the hut or, what was more likely, he was afraid to give it on account of his caste. Not wishing to cause him further embarrassment, we quietly departed.<br /><br />On entering the village we took our stand at the entrance to what was probably either a brahmin or a Kshatriya house, where a number of people had assembled on the veranda. After gazing at us for some time with undisguised astonishment they asked us what we wanted, to which we again replied that we had come for alms. Like the man in the hut, they at first wanted to give us some paddy, but on being told that we accepted only cooked food they eventually dropped into our bowls a handful of puffed rice, which, having been parched, was not in orthodox Hindu eyes cooked food in the technical sense that boiled rice was. From the buzz of comment that rose from the veranda it was clear that astonished as they were by the unfamiliar cut and colour of our robes, and by the fact that we stood holding our bowls in silence instead of shouting out `Give alms!' as the Hindu ascetics and holy men did, the villagers were still more astonished by our insistence on accepting only cooked food. In their experience, holy men were strict observers of the caste system, and avoided the risk of pollution by accepting as alms only uncooked food. Since from our complexion, dress, and deportment we were, so far as they could see, high-caste holy men, they were completely mystified by our disregard of the conventional code. For our part, we could now see that by obliging his homeless disciples to beg from door to door without regard to caste, and to accept only cooked food, the Buddha had initiated a social revolution - a revolution that had been checked, in the end, by the forces of brahminical reaction.<br /><br />Our next stop was at a Muslim house. On learning what we wanted, the sarong-clad occupant told us to go round to the back door. If the Hindus saw him giving us alms, he said, he would be in danger of a beating. Who was it that had really divided India, we wondered. Besides giving us alms himself, this friendly son of the Prophet accompanied us to all the other houses we visited and his explanations saved us a lot of trouble. Indeed, thanks to his exertions we were able to complete the remainder of our almsround in silence. Some of the people at whose doors we stood were sympathetic, others sarcastic. One well-to-do brahmin asked us to come in and sit down, saying that since he had just finished eating and there was nothing left he would prepare a meal specially for us. This kind offer we refused, as we already had something in our bowls, and our refusal impressed him more than ever. Another brahmin, who had also just eaten, poured into each of our bowls a pint of milk, in which the puffed rice, boiled rice, curried vegetables, fruits, curds, pickles and all the other things we had been given were soon afloat. Before long we had more than enough for our requirements, and we therefore made our way to a mango grove on the outskirts of the village. Since this was the first time we had gone out begging in the traditional Buddhist manner, the occasion was one of unprecedented importance in both our lives, and it was with a sense of elation that we sat down in the deep, cool shade of the handsome trees. Apparently it was something of an event in the life of the village too, for we were followed to the mango grove by a crowd of about a hundred people who, with the dull curiosity of sheep or cows, stood staring at us from among the trees as though they intended to do so for the rest of the day. Feeling a little uncomfortable under all those eyes, and wishing to be left in peace, we asked them to go away until we had finished our meal. This they eventually did, though not without much urging on the part of our Muslim friend and many backward glances at us over their shoulders.<br /><br />As soon as they had gone we put our hands into our bowls, kneaded the contents into a uniform if rather sticky mess, and started on our meal. While we were eating someone came running up with an enormous tray piled high with rice, curries, and lentil soup. Although we already had all that we really wanted, we accepted a small quantity, and asked that the rest should be distributed as prasad. According to the Scriptures, the first time the future Buddha had tried to eat almsfood he had nearly vomited with disgust. Either we had been brought up less delicately than he had, or we were more fortunate in what we had collected. Far from feeling any disgust, as soon as we got used to the idea of eating everything mixed up together we thoroughly enjoyed our meal. What was left over we scattered at the foot of a tree for the birds. When the villagers saw that we had finished they started drifting back to the mango grove, whereupon, having collected them together and made them sit down on the ground, Buddharakshita addressed them on the necessity of leading a moral life and the importance of observing the Five Precepts of ethical behaviour. Though this was probably drier spiritual fare than that to which they were accustomed, they listened attentively, and we had the satisfaction of repaying them for their hospitality by preaching the Dharma in the traditional manner. At three o'clock we left for Maharajgunj, a village about a dozen miles away.<br /><br />Our second experience of begging our food in the traditional manner was not unlike our first. Having spent the night at Maharajgunj, where we slept on a stone platform under a tree, we set out again before six o'clock and after walking all the morning, and passing through four or five villages, some large and some small, we eventually made our way to the village of Tehri with the intention of going for alms there. As we entered the place we saw an aged Vaishnava ascetic with a big rosary round his neck sitting on a bedstead making a kamandalu, the special waterpot carried by orthodox Hindu monks. Without pausing in his work, he called out to us rather roughly and asked us what we wanted. When we explained that we had come for alms he told us, none too politely, that he could not give us anything. The first house outside whose door we stood did not give us anything either, but at all the remaining houses the womenfolk proved wonderfully kind and generous. On hearing that we were willing to accept cooked food from them even though they belonged to the Aheer or dairy farmer caste, a very low caste indeed, they gave us rice, unleavened bread, vegetable curries, lentil soup, and curds in such profusion that both our bowls were quickly filled.<br /><br />Since there was no mango grove at Tehri, we had to finish our second meal of almsfood in whatever shade was available, after which we walked a short distance along the riverside until we came to a fine shady mango tree where we rested for a while, and where an old woman brought us drinking water. We then continued our journey, following the river for a few miles until we came to another village. Though late afternoon, it was still scorching hot, and having quenched our thirst at the Forestry Department pump we were glad to sit down for a few minutes at the edge of a grove of sal trees. Shortly after this, for the second time since leaving Kusinara, we lost our way. In the absence of any road, we had been forced to try and find our way across the fields, with the result that before long we found ourselves wandering round in circles uncertain in which direction we ought to go. We were still wandering in this manner when we stumbled, quite by accident, upon a small village, where an old Shaivite devotee received us with the greatest respect and insisted on giving us sugar-water to drink. He and a Muslim neighbour then not only directed us which road to take but were also good enough to accompany us for a short distance so as to make quite sure that we did not miss it. From then onwards we had no difficulty. After being given more sugar-water to drink, this time by a sympathetic shopkeeper, we met up with our old friend the railway line, and after following it eastward for a mile, reached the township of Nautanwa.<br /><br />On our arrival at the Lumbini Rest House, a tiny building not far from the centre of the town, we were at once warmly welcomed by the thin and elderly, but extremely active and energetic, Sinhalese monk who had been posted there by the Maha Bodhi Society to look after the needs of pilgrims on the last stage of their journey to the birthplace of the Buddha. Despite his great seniority in the Order, Venerable K. Sirinivas Nayaka Maha Thera was no stickler for protocol, and seeing how hot and tired we were, cheerfully set about lighting a fire and preparing tea. What if we were only shramaneras, and he an elder, he declared, brushing aside our protests. We obviously needed a cup of tea, and since the servant had gone home for the night and would not be back until morning, he would prepare it.<br /><br />Two days later, having passed the time pleasantly enough in the company of our friendly and communicative host, we left Nautanwa for Lumbini. With us were Brahmachari Munindra, a Barua Buddhist whom we had met at Sarnath, and two young friends of his, Arun Chandra, an Indian, and U Thaung Aung, a Burmese, all of whom had arrived late the previous night, long after Buddharakshita and I had finished talking with Venerable Sirinivas and gone to bed. Since Aung was travelling with a certain amount of luggage, a coolie had to be engaged in the bazaar, a process which occasioned some loss of time and no little trouble. Eventually we were all ready to start. After walking for nearly two miles we came to the river that marked the boundary between India and Nepal. At this time of year it was a river bed rather than a river, and we had no difficulty in wading through the sluggish trickle of muddy water that still flowed in the deepest part of the channel. On the other side a broad dirt-track led through the sparse jungle of the Terai, and following this we traversed two villages, at the second of which Munindra and Aung stopped for a drink of milk. On the way we saw a black antelope and a small herd of red deer browsing among the sal trees. Lumbini was now quite near, the coolie told us. Quickening our pace, we traversed two more villages, and before long could see in the distance two mounds of earth surmounted by small brick towers with a diminutive temple in between.<br /><br />During the couple of days that we spent at Lumbini our feelings were divided between joy at being at the very spot where the future Buddha had first seen the light of day, and a sense of regret, even outrage, at the desolate and neglected appearance of the sacred place. It was as though the tide of Buddhist revival, which flowed strongly at Sarnath, and none too feebly at Kusinara, had as yet hardly touched Lumbini. The only modern building to be seen was the Rest House erected by the Government of Nepal for the benefit of pilgrims, where we installed ourselves soon after our arrival, and where the caretakers provided us with a meal. Those other than pilgrims found it convenient to use the Rest House, however. Either because there was no other accommodation, or because in this land of autocracy even the lowest representative of authority was accustomed to behave in a high-handed manner, touring government officials regularly treated it as a sort of caravanserai. On the evening of our arrival a police inspector turned up with twenty of his men and soon the peace and silence of the place were lost in uproar. Next day it was even worse. While their master was busy squeezing money from the local landlords, who from time to time arrived on elephants, bearing with them the customary gifts, some of the inspector's men slaughtered a goat in the compound and without removing its hair, hide or anything else cooked it whole over an open fire. Though Munindra, Arun Chandra, and Thaung Aung were by no means vegetarians, on seeing this gruesome sight all five members of our little party felt like making a strong protest. But on reflection we decided not to do so. The police inspector had been drinking since early morning, and to judge from the way in which he was behaving with the landlords he was not the sort of person who would be amenable to reason. All the same, we could not help thinking how sad it was that the First Precept, the precept of abstaining from injury to any living being, should be so flagrantly violated in the very birthplace of the Buddha.<br /><br />Apart from the two mounds, which rose like two volcanic islands out of a perfect sea of loose bricks, and seemed to have once formed the lower half of twin stupas, the only ancient building of which any trace remained above ground was the Rummindei Temple. This was so small as to be a chapel rather than a temple, and in an extremely dilapidated, not to say ruinous, condition. On our first visit to the place, soon after our arrival, we found the door locked, and it was not until the evening of our second day at Lumbini that it was opened by the old Hindu woman who kept the key and was responsible, so it seemed, for the rudimentary worship that kept alive the religious traditions of the place. The interior of the temple was disappointing. The only object of interest was a stone slab so well worn, and so thickly smeared with vermilion, that the figure of Mahamaya holding on to the branch of a sal tree as she stood giving birth to the future Teacher of Gods and Men was barely discernible. On our questioning the old woman it soon became clear that she had not even heard of the Buddha or of Buddhism and that she was under the impression that the temple was dedicated to a Hindu goddess.<br /><br />More easy of access was the Ashoka Pillar nearby, which stood beneath the open sky behind a low iron railing. On its highly polished surface the ancient Brahmi letters were cut deep and clear, and we could still spell out the announcement `Here the Blessed One was born.' For some reason or other, I felt even more deeply moved here than I had done either at Sarnath or Kusinara. The truncated stone shaft stood so calmly and so simply beneath the cloudless blue sky; it seemed so unpretentious, and yet to mean so much. Lingering behind when Buddharakshita and the others had moved on in the direction of the mounds, I gathered some small white flowers and with a full heart scattered them over the railing at the foot of the column.<br /> </span>Ratnaketuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01888085287982272571noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283778884707929385.post-44596890010460609082007-03-17T15:00:00.000+05:302007-07-26T15:39:26.544+05:30Sangharakshita's India<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">The Rainbow Road<br />1949<br /><br /><strong>With Jagdish Kashyap at BHU</strong><br /><br />THE BENARES HINDU UNIVERSITY CAMPUS was several square miles in extent and criss-crossed by broad tree-lined avenues along which plied a small army of brightly painted cycle-rickshaws. Some distance behind the trees, and usually at considerable intervals, rose the red sandstone blocks of the University buildings, all of them in the `neo-Hindu' style of architecture, and all of enormous size. `Buddha Kuti', Bhikkhu Jagdish Kashyap's modest two-storey residence, was situated in a quiet corner just inside the perimeter wall, not far from the University Post Office, and several miles from the red sandstone splendours of the main entrance. Buddharakshita and I had not been long in Benares before we went to pay our respects to our kind adviser and inform him of the successful outcome of our mission to Kusinara. We were staying, not very happily, at the Burmese Rest House in the city, where the two harsh-voiced, rough-mannered Burmese monks jeered at us for being vegetarians. `Not eat meat!' they exclaimed angrily. `You must eat meat! If you don't eat meat you're not Buddhists, you're Hindus!' Though the rainy season was now well advanced, we were still no nearer to finding a place in which to spend the Rains Residence than we had been in Nepal. Buddharakshita was strongly in favour of our making another attempt to enter Ceylon, where we would be able to study and where we could take the higher ordination. Partly because I was without means of identification, and partly because I did not feel well enough to embark on further wanderings, I was against this plan. It was Bhikkhu Kashyap who resolved the dilemma. With characteristic generosity he made it clear that, if it would be of any use, there was room for one of us at Buddha Kuti, but only for one, and that he would be happy to provide not only board and lodging but instruction. This of course meant the end of the partnership between Buddharakshita and myself, which had now lasted uninterruptedly for two and a half years. After prolonged discussion, my impetuous friend suddenly announced that his mind was made up. He would go to Ceylon. I should stay in Benares with Bhikkhu Kashyap. Since I was unfit to travel, and needed a bit of looking after, this was clearly the best arrangement. In any case, he added, unable to resist a parting shot, it was me that Bhikkhu Kashyap wanted as a disciple, not him. Within twenty-four hours I had moved into Buddha Kuti and Buddharakshita was on his way to Calcutta.<br /><br />Though I was sorry to lose my warm-hearted but irascible companion, once the actual parting was over my predominant feeling was one of relief. Living with Buddharakshita had at times been a nightmare, and it was only now that I was once more on my own that I realized how great the strain had been. True, since our ordination he had been easier to get on with. The deference and submissiveness of the Newars had been as balm to his soul, and seeing him better-tempered than he had been for a long time I had begun to entertain hopes that the demon by which he was periodically afflicted had been permanently exorcized. These hopes were soon shattered. While we were at the Padmagarbha Vihara there arrived in Butaol a young Newar monk who had just spent two years in Ceylon. Not content with exhibiting his accomplishments to an admiring circle of friends and relations, and covering the walls of the Vihara with the Sinhalese posters of all the lectures he had given, he tried to treat Buddharakshita and me as he thought newly-ordained shramaneras ought to be treated by a fully-ordained monk who had just spent two years in the very citadel of orthodoxy. Buddharakshita bore it for a couple of days, then after an altercation which did credit neither to him nor to his antagonist he exploded. The young monk's grandmother did her best to assuage my friend's wrath. `Take no notice of him,' she confided. `He's the fool of the family. We only sent him to Ceylon to become a monk because he wasn't bright enough to be of much use in the family business.' But the damage had been done. The demon was back. Yet despite the tensions of our life together, and my relief at finding myself once more on my own, I was far from failing to appreciate the many sterling qualities that Buddharakshita undoubtedly possessed. But for him I might never have spent two years as a wandering ascetic, might never have made the difficult transition from the old way of life to the new, and for that I was deeply grateful.<br /><br />In less than a week I was feeling perfectly at home in my new surroundings, and had embarked on a course of study that was to keep me busy - almost without interruption - for seven of the quietest and happiest months I have ever known. Life at Buddha Kuti was simple in the extreme, and there were no distractions. Apart from a bookcase filled ceiling-high with books my room contained only a string bed, a table, and a chair. Bhikkhu Kashyap's room, which was next door, and communicated with mine, contained no more - not even a piece of carpet on the floor, or a picture on the wall. As I soon realized, it was not that my new preceptor attached any special importance to asceticism: he simply did not bother with material things. Except for two or three students reading Pali for their BA, who came once a week, there were no visitors, and even the married nephew who lived downstairs was rarely seen or heard. Other than Bhikkhu Kashyap, the only person with whom I had any contact was the servant, a thinner, darker, less sprightly version of Shankara Pillai who had the distinction of being the illegitimate son of a Sinhalese monk.<br /><br />Our day began at dawn. After we had breakfasted on tea and toast (the latter saturated with ghee and sprinkled with sugar) I read Pali, Abhidhamma, and Logic with Bhikkhu Kashyap, then returned to my room and did the exercises he had set me. This kept me busy until noon, when we had the usual rice-and-curry lunch. Bhikkhu Kashyap, mindful of the Indian equivalent of `An apple a day keeps the doctor away,' always rounded off the meal by chewing a couple of cloves of raw garlic. In the afternoon, having enjoyed a brief siesta, I either studied on my own, referring to my teacher occasionally if necessary, or engaged in literary work. When it was dusk Bhikkhu Kashyap took his stick and we went for a walk. Every time we drew abreast of one of the big margosa trees that lined the broad avenues through which we passed I was struck by a strong current of vitality. Perhaps it was only the sun's heat radiating from the rough grey trunks, but I could not help feeling that the trees were alive, even as I was alive - that they were living presences, almost personalities. The first time we went out Bhikkhu Kashyap confessed that only a year ago he was so fat that he could not walk. If he tried to do so the insides of his thighs chafed so badly that he bled. For the last year, however, he had been following naturopathy, and having succeeded in reducing his weight by about a third was now a firm believer in that system of medicine. A few weeks later, when I fell ill with jaundice, he persuaded me to follow naturopathy too. On our return to Buddha Kuti I took a glass of hot milk (strictly speaking against the rules, but Bhikkhu Kashyap insisted) and carried on with my studies. At ten or eleven o'clock I paid my respects to my teacher in the traditional manner, asking forgiveness for whatever offences I might have committed in the course of the day, and retired for the night to my string bed.<br /><br />The three subjects that I read with Bhikkhu Kashyap (or Kashyap-ji, as he was generally known) were all quite new to me and I cultivated them with varying degrees of success. Not having much of a gift for languages, I had the greatest difficulty with Pali, the ancient Indian language in which the Theravada redaction of the Buddha's Teaching had been preserved. According to Kashyap-ji, who besides being trained in Western academic disciplines was a pandit of the old type, and had learned everything by heart at an early age, Pali grammar was child's play, and he did his best to encourage me with the reminder that in Pali there were only 700 rules, whereas Sanskrit had 3,000. I was far from finding Pali child's play. Though I did my exercises every day, and committed to memory long lists of conjugations and declensions, I did so with grim determination rather than with the gay abandon that Kashyap-ji seemed to think appropriate to the subject. Sometimes I felt dull and bored. Luckily my teacher was not one of those who believe that you first have to learn the grammar of a language thoroughly before being allowed to look at a text, and before many weeks had passed I had been introduced to the Tipitaka. Some of its books were composed in ridiculously simple Pali, explained Kashyap-ji, and a smattering of grammar was all that was needed to understand them. Starting with these books, and progressing gradually to others more difficult, one could easily get through the forty-five volumes of the Royal Thai edition of the Tipitaka in a twelvemonth. Why, it was not even a volume a week! Though I did not live up to these expectations, and though my knowledge of Pali never went much beyond the smattering necessary to carry me through such works as the Dhammapada and the Udana, the delight of being able to study the Buddha's Teaching in what many Buddhists believed were his own words more than compensated for the difficulties of learning the language in which it had been imparted.<br /><br />With both Abhidhamma and Logic I fared rather better, especially with Logic. Though in my early and middle teens I had read quite widely in philosophy, for some reason or other I had completely neglected this ancient and venerable partner of metaphysics, ethics, politics, aesthetics, and rhetoric. It was therefore with some trepidation that I set about making good the omission. But I need not have worried. Once I had emerged from the thorny thickets of Formal Logic I found myself in one of the most fascinating and enjoyable stretches of the intellectual terrain in which it had ever been my lot to wander, and with companions among the most delightful it had ever been my good fortune to meet. Bradley, admittedly, was a little forbidding, but Mill and Carveth Read I found exhilarating in the extreme, while F.C.S. Schiller's Formal Logic, a Radical Empiricist's brilliant exposure of the aridities and absurdities of the subject, as traditionally expounded, was undoubtedly one of the most hilarious books I had ever encountered. While I was reading it there escaped me from time to time chuckles - even guffaws - which Kashyap-ji, in his room next door, never heard when I was studying Pali.<br /><br />However conventional Kashyap-ji's teaching methods might have been, his manner of teaching was unconventional enough. When I entered his room (the communicating door was always left open) it was generally to find him stretched out on his string bed like a stranded whale, sound asleep, for though he could work day and night when necessary he could sleep day and night too with equal ease. As Professor of Pali and Buddhist Philosophy his duties were minimal, and much of his time was therefore spent on the string bed, which creaked protestingly from time to time, and where he slept without benefit of either mattress or pillow. On my coughing, or murmuring `Bhante!' a single eyelid would twitch, whereupon I would put my question, which was generally on some knotty point of Pali grammar, or Abhidhamma, or Logic, which I had not been able to unravel by myself. Without opening his eyes, and without moving, Kashyap-ji would proceed to clear up the difficulty, heaving the words up from the depths of his enormous frame and rolling them around on his tongue before releasing them in slow, deliberate utterance. Sometimes he rumbled on for only a few minutes, sometimes for half an hour. Whatever he said was clear, precise, and to the point. If I asked about a particular passage of text, he always knew whereabouts it came, what had come before, and what followed. Yet all the time he had hardly bothered to wake up. As I returned to my room I would hear behind me a sigh and a snore and before I had settled down at my table Kashyap-ji would be sound asleep again.<br /><br />The intercourse between us was not always of this kind. When not stretched out on the string bed, Kashyap-ji could be both animated and entertaining, with a pleasant touch of the unsophisticated humour of his Bihari peasant ancestry. Sometimes he spoke about his experiences in Ceylon, where he had studied at the Vidyalankara Pirivena (where I had seen him at the 1944 Convocation, when he came to receive the title of Tripitakacharya), and where he had been ordained. Though he had enjoyed his stay, he did not have a very high opinion of the Sinhalese Buddhists. Monks and lay people alike were narrow-minded and unintelligent. Formalism was rife. Once, when he was returning from his almsround, his robe had come undone, and in order to adjust it he had put his begging-bowl down on a patch of grass. `Just look at the Indian monk!' shrieked an old woman who saw him. `Supposed to be a scholar! He doesn't even know how to respect his bowl!' According to tradition, begging-bowls should never be placed on the bare ground. On another occasion he was lecturing on the well-known Buddhist doctrine of anatta, literally `no self' or `no soul'. In order to understand the meaning of anatta, he had declared, one had first to understand the meaning of atta, `self' or `soul'. For unless one knew what particular concept of `self' or `soul' the Buddha was negating how could one possibly know what his teaching of `no self' or `no soul' was meant to convey? This was apparently beyond the Sinhalese Buddhists. There were angry shouts of protest from the audience. `We don't want you bringing your Hindu philosophy here!' yelled the monks. `Sit down! Sit down!' In vain Kashyap-ji tried to explain that it was not his intention to defend the detested atta doctrine. He was not allowed to continue his lecture. Some of his experiences had been of a more amusing kind. Sinhalese monks were always wanting to know which nikaya or sect of the Monastic Order he belonged to. In fact, said Kashyap-ji, they were no less inquisitive on this score than orthodox Hindus were on the subject of caste. His usual reply was that he belonged to `Buddha Nikaya'. One group of monks, not satisfied with this, had asked him whether he covered his right shoulder with his robe when leaving the monastery or whether he left it uncovered, the point of the enquiry being that some nikayas followed one practice, some the other. `When it's cold,' Kashyap-ji had replied, `I cover both shoulders. When it's hot, I keep one shoulder uncovered, and when it's very hot I don't wear any robe at all!' One day, when he had gratefully acknowledged the part played by Ceylon in the preservation of the Pali Scriptures, my preceptor delivered himself of his considered opinion of the Sinhalese Buddhists in the following memorable words. `Sangharakshita-ji,' he said, speaking slowly and deliberately, and with evident feeling, `they are a set of monkeys ... sitting on a treasure ... the value of which ... they do not understand.'<br /><br />Much as Kashyap-ji's anecdotes reflected on the Buddhists of Ceylon, there was nothing in his attitude to suggest either self-righteousness or censoriousness, and he was capable of telling a story against himself with equal relish. Before being appointed professor at Benares Hindu University he had spent some time in Penang, where there was a large and wealthy Chinese business community, and a flourishing Buddhist movement. Whenever he performed his devotions in the magnificent temple they had built he saluted the image of the Buddha but, being a Theravadin, he did not salute the images of Kuan Yin and the other attendant Bodhisattvas. One day the Chinese Mahayana Buddhist with whom he was staying gave him for lunch nothing but rice. When Kashyap-ji, mildly astonished, enquired what had happened to the curries he was told that the rice was the main thing. `Of course the rice is the main thing,' agreed Kashyap-ji, `but the curries are also necessary.' `Just so,' retorted his host. `The curries are also necessary, as you say. Similarly, the Buddha is the main thing - no one doubts that; but the Bodhisattvas are necessary too.' After this homely lesson, said my teacher, he was always careful to salute the Bodhisattvas.<br /><br />Though Kashyap-ji definitely preferred the `rationalism tinged with mysticism' of the Theravada to the `mysticism tinged with rationalism' of the Mahayana, and though his main interest in life was the revival of Pali studies in India, he was an exceptionally tolerant and open-minded person with a real respect for the right - and duty - of the individual to think for himself. For him, the born teacher, teaching represented not a process of indoctrination but a sharing of knowledge, a pooling of intellectual resources, and while he was always ready to answer my questions he never made the slightest attempt to influence my thinking. On the contrary, in after years he was fond of maintaining that in some respects he had learned as much from me as I had from him. While it was not for me to contradict my preceptor on such a point as this, whatever exchange there might have been between us must have been very unequal - `the price of a hundred oxen for the price of nine'. Besides sharing with me his vast knowledge of the Pali Scriptures, especially the Abhidhamma, Kashyap-ji was the means of introducing me to some of the less well-known branches of Indian religious tradition. Among these were Jainism, and the heterodox (i.e. non-Vedic, even anti-Vedic) post-medieval mysticisms, some of which were believed by scholars to have been continuous with the last phases of Tantric Buddhism. In addition to the texts of my regular trivium I read with him the Jaina Apabhramsa equivalent of the Dhammapada (with which, as he pointed out, it had a number of verses in common), and a riddling, esoteric work by Kabir known as the Bijak. For all members of the shramana as distinct from the brahmana group of Indian religions, Kashyap-ji indeed had a strong sympathy, a sympathy that was by no means confined to books. On our rare expeditions into Benares, when I accompanied him on visits to Jain monk-scholars and Kabir Panthi ascetics, I could see for myself how cordial his relations with them all were, and how much they, on their part, loved and venerated him.<br /><br />As might have been expected, during the whole of the time that I was with him Kashyap-ji made no attempt to restrict my freedom, in particular my freedom to read and write what I pleased. All his books, as well as his ticket to the University library, were at my disposal, and he never questioned the use I made of them. Indeed, it did not seem to occur to him to question it. When not occupied with Pali, Abhidhamma, and Logic I therefore read more widely than I had done for several years. As the mood seized me, I also wrote. After being confined to works that I had come across more or less by accident, it was delightful to be able to range at will through all the fields of literature, ancient and modern, Eastern and Western, sacred and profane. But delightful though it was, such freedom was not without problems of its own. More clearly than ever before, it brought out into the open a conflict in my interests, perhaps a conflict in my nature itself, which the circumstances of my wandering life with Buddharakshita had tended to obscure.<br /><br />The nature of this conflict was well illustrated by two letters which I received during the second half of my stay at Buddha Kuti. One was from the redoubtable Bhikkhu Soma. He had already taken me very seriously to task for `gadding about' instead of settling in one place and getting down to serious work, and having seen some of my recent contributions to the Buddhist magazines of Ceylon he now wrote to put me to rights as regards my literary work. When I could write such excellent articles on Buddhist philosophy, he demanded, why did I waste my time writing those foolish poems? By a strange coincidence the other letter, which was from a Sinhalese Buddhist laywoman, arrived on the same day, and expressed exactly the opposite point of view. When I could write such beautiful poems on Buddhism, she asked, why did I spend so much time writing those dry, intellectual articles? The truth of the matter was that I agreed - and disagreed - with both correspondents. The conflict was not so much between the philosophically-inclined monk and the poetry-loving laywoman, as between Sangharakshita I and Sangharakshita II. Sangharakshita I wanted to enjoy the beauty of nature, to read and write poetry, to listen to music, to look at paintings and sculpture, to experience emotion, to lie in bed and dream, to see places, to meet people. Sangharakshita II wanted to realize the truth, to read and write philosophy, to observe the precepts, to get up early and meditate, to mortify the flesh, to fast and pray. Sometimes Sangharakshita I was victorious, sometimes Sangharakshita II, while occasionally there was an uneasy duumvirate. What they ought to have done, of course, was to marry and give birth to Sangharakshita III, who would have united beauty and truth, poetry and philosophy, spontaneity and discipline; but this seemed to be a dream impossible of fulfilment. For the last two and a half years Sangharakshita II had ruled practically unchallenged. Aided and abetted by Buddharakshita, who strongly disapproved of poetry, he had in fact sought to finish off Sangharakshita I altogether, and but for the timely intervention of Swami Ramdas, who firmly declared that writing poetry was not incompatible with the spiritual life, Sangharakshita I might well have died a premature death in Muvattupuzha.<br /><br />However, despite the bludgeoning that he had received he had not died, and after leading a furtive existence in Nepal he was now coming into his own again at Buddha Kuti. Kashyap-ji's dealings were of course mainly with Sangharakshita II, but he had no objection to Sangharakshita I being around, and even spoke to him occasionally. Soon Sangharakshita I was feeling strong enough to demand equal rights. If Sangharakshita II devoted the afternoon to The Path of Purity, Sangharakshita I spent the evening immersed in the poetry of Matthew Arnold, which for some reason or other exerted a powerful influence during this period. When the former wrote an article on Buddhist philosophy, or edited the second edition of Kashyap-ji's Buddhism for Everybody, the latter composed poems. Sometimes, while one self was busy copying out extracts from the books he had been reading, the other would look idly out of the window and watch the falling of the rain. One day there was a violent clash between them. Angered by the encroachments of Sangharakshita I, who was reading more poetry than ever, and who had written a long poem which, though it had a Buddhist theme, was still a poem, Sangharakshita II suddenly burned the two notebooks in which his rival had written all the poems he had composed from the time of their departure from England right down to about the middle of their sojourn in Singapore. After this catastrophe, which shocked them both, they learned to respect each other's spheres of influence. Occasionally they even collaborated, as in the completion of the blank verse rendition of the five paritrana sutras that had been started in Nepal. There were even rare moments when it seemed that, despite their quarrels, they might get married one day.<br /><br /><br /><br /><strong>Rajgir<br /></strong><br />SPRING HAD COME TO THE PLAINS OF BIHAR, and the beauty of the landscape as it lay in the bright morning sunshine beneath an expanse of soft blue sky was such as to melt the heart of artist and farmer alike. In all directions, far as the eye could see, stretched the chequer-work of the fields, their dusty brown soil now flushed with the lighter or darker green of rice, wheat, pulse, potatoes, and other early crops. On either side of the road stood huge shady peepul trees, like that beneath which the Buddha gained Enlightenment, and tamarinds with gnarled boughs and light, feathery foliage. Beyond, in the middle distance, mango groves brooded like banks of cloud. Some of the fields were edged by smooth-stemmed areca palms, or else by squat, clumsy-looking date palms with deep notches in their trunks where they had been tapped for toddy. Nearer at hand grew clumps of graceful bamboos, sahajan trees whose straight slim branches were white with bloom, and another tree which, though devoid of leaves, was decked out with enormous scarlet flowers that, according to Kashyap-ji, were traditionally likened to lumps of raw meat. After the rains that had fallen during the night the air was fresh and clean and full of the sweet scent of the sulphur-coloured mango blossom. On the horizon to the south, ten or twelve miles away, the hills of Rajgir loomed grey and purple through the mist.<br /><br />We had left Benares a week earlier, on the last day of January. Kashyap-ji had decided to take a holiday. After twelve years at the Hindu University he was badly in need of a change. He was tired of the caste-ridden atmosphere of the place, tired of its undisguised hostility to Buddhist studies, tired of having so little to do. As he had already confided to me, he was there very much on sufferance. Dominated as it was by orthodox brahmins, the University had not wanted to have a Professor of Pali and Buddhist Philosophy at all, and Kashyap-ji's appointment had been due to the insistence of the multi-millionaire philanthropist Jugal Kishore Birla, a benefactor whose wishes the University could not afford to ignore. But though the University had been forced to appoint a Professor of Pali and Buddhist Philosophy it was not obliged to supply him with pupils. In fact it made it as difficult as possible for him to get any. Under University regulations, no one could take Pali without also taking Sanskrit. In other words Pali and Buddhist Philosophy were not allowed to become alternatives to Sanskrit and Hindu Philosophy. One could take Sanskrit and Pali, or only Sanskrit, but under no circumstances could one take only Pali. So effectively did these tactics limit the number of Kashyap-ji's students that he never had more than three or four, sometimes none at all. For someone as devoted to his subject as he was this was a bitter disappointment. He had accepted the professorship only because he hoped it would enable him to make some contribution to the advancement of Buddhist studies and thus, indirectly, to the cause of Buddhism; but as it became more obvious every year that Pali and Buddhist Philosophy were unwelcome guests at the Benares Hindu University, he had come to the conclusion that he was wasting his time there and he was now thinking of resigning. Before taking this drastic step, however, he wanted to get away from the University for a while and think things over. We would both have a holiday. He would show me some of the holy places of Bihar, and from there, perhaps, we would go up into the foothills of the eastern Himalayas, to a place called Kalimpong.<br /><br />For the past week, therefore, we had been in Bihar, in the land of the Great Disciples. The disciples in question were Shariputra and Maudgalyayana, the two principal followers of the Buddha, who like Kashyap-ji himself had come from that part of India. They had both been born, in fact, not far from Nalanda, and it was towards the ruins of the great monastic university that had subsequently grown up on this spot that we were now making our way. Outwardly at least the seven days that we had so far spent in Bihar had been more eventful than seven months in Benares. In Patna, the ancient Pataliputra, where our tour had started, we were constantly accosted in the streets by young men who asked us if we were Buddhist monks and who, when we replied in the affirmative, begged us to establish a Buddhist temple there and propagate the Teaching of the Buddha. Only a few months earlier the relics of Shariputra and Maudgalyayana had been received all over the state amidst scenes of tremendous popular enthusiasm, and demands for the revival of the faith that had brought so much glory to Bihar were very much in the air. In Bihar Sharif, where we addressed two meetings, we had spent the night at the local college, which was said to be built on the site of the ancient monastic university of Odantapuri - as, indeed, was the whole town. From Bihar Sharif we had walked to the village of Dipnagar, and from Dipnagar, where we had addressed another meeting the previous night, we had decided to walk to Nalanda. For Kashyap-ji this was quite a feat, but the interest and enthusiasm that surrounded us at every stage of our journey - so different from anything he had encountered in Benares - was having a tonic effect on him and he felt equal to any exertion, even that of walking.<br /><br />He also felt that he was a monk again. For the last two days we had been `going for alms' in the traditional manner, a thing he had not done since leaving Ceylon. Like the monks at Sarnath, he had taken it for granted that this was no longer possible in India. Unlike the monks at Sarnath, however, he was willing to make the experiment, and to find out for himself whether the success Buddharakshita and I had had with our begging-bowls in the villages between Kusinara and Lumbini had been simply a happy accident or whether it was, in fact, still possible for a Buddhist monk to subsist on alms in the India of the twentieth century. As one of us at least had expected, the experiment was entirely successful. Both in Bihar Sharif and in Dipnagar we had each collected enough food for half a dozen monks, and townsfolk and villagers alike had given not only with devotion and joy but with the consciousness that we - and they - were reviving a tradition that had been dead for six or seven hundred years. Kashyap-ji was delighted. A great problem had been solved. No longer was it necessary to depend for one's maintenance on educational institutions unsympathetic to Buddhism or worldly-minded Buddhist organizations more interested in collecting money than in preaching the Dharma. As in the days of old, a monk could rely for his support directly on the people. In his mind's eye he saw himself walking from village to village with his begging-bowl all over Bihar, teaching Pali and Buddhist Philosophy wherever he went.<br /><br />Nalanda was only three miles south of Dipnagar, on the Rajgir road, and exhilarated as we were by the beauty and freshness of the morning and by a new-found sense of freedom it did not take us much more than an hour to get there. After taking tea with Venerable Fu Chin Lama, an ancient Chinese monk, in the tiny Rest House he had built just behind the railway station, we went for alms to the nearby village of Kul, which according to the accounts of the seventh-century Chinese pilgrim Yuan Chwang, was the birthplace of Maudgalyayana. Our presence naturally created some excitement among the inhabitants and when we had finished our meal we were invited to address a small crowd of about a hundred persons that had gathered nearby. In the afternoon we set out for Bargaon, a large village that had originally belonged to the ancient monastic university of Nalanda. Here we put up at the Svetambar Jain Dharmasala, that is to say, a Rest House belonging to the `white-robed' - as distinct from the Digambar, `sky-clad' or naked - sect of the Jains. Nearby, in the midst of the open fields, was a large Bodhisattva image, fairly well preserved, and with a lengthy inscription on its halo. Having been unearthed by a local farmer, it had been set up beneath a tree and was now being worshipped as a sort of guardian deity of the fields. We also visited a temple dedicated to Surya, the Sun God, outside which stood two large and beautiful images of polished black stone, one of the Buddha, the other of the Hindu goddess Parvati. Though Surya had been greatly honoured in Vedic times, such temples were rare, and I did not remember having seen one before. That evening a public meeting was held, but although about one hundred people attended it the response was not, for some reason or other, quite so enthusiastic as in other places.<br /><br />Early next morning, accompanied by the Curator of the Nalanda Museum, we went to see the ruins of the ancient monastic university. For close on a mile heaps of dark red brick rose at intervals from the ochre-coloured plain in a way that, from a distance, seemed vaguely Mexican rather than Indian. As we approached the huge walls of the principal monastery buildings, and saw the many-storeyed stupa towering above our heads, grand even in decay, a picture of Nalanda Maha Vihara as it lives in the vivid pages of Yuan Chwang rose involuntarily before our mind's eye. How easily we could imagine the great Chinese pilgrim approaching the lofty portals of the then spiritual metropolis of the far-flung Empire of Buddhism! Those were the spacious days when 10,000 students and more than 1,000 teachers thronged the cells and cloisters of its dozen nine-storeyed monastery buildings, when daily one hundred lectures were delivered, when its three great libraries treasured up the accumulated wisdom of more than 1,000 years of Buddhist religion and culture, and when the aged and venerable Silabhadra, at whose feet Yuan Chwang sat for many years, presided over the studies and directed the spiritual practices of monks of more than fifty nationalities. Now the place was deserted. 800 years ago Nalanda had been sacked by the iconoclastic fury of the Muslim invader, its monks slaughtered, its treasure carted away. For six whole months the palm-leaf manuscripts in the three libraries had burned. As we paced along the cool corridors, and peered into the secluded cells, Kashyap-ji and I could not help wondering what it had been like to be a monk at Nalanda and whether, now that Buddhism was returning to India, it would ever be possible for a new Nalanda to rise from the ashes of the old.<br /><br />From Nalanda to Rajgir was a distance of only seven or eight miles, but the exertions of the last few days were beginning to tell on Kashyap-ji and when, twenty-four hours later, we left the Nalanda area, it was not on foot but seated in one of five or six tiny railway carriages behind a brisk little engine of the local branch line. We had gone for alms in the village of Sarichak, which according to some scholars was the birthplace of Shariputra, and given two more lectures, and it was time for us to be on our way.<br /><br />In Rajgir we stayed at the Japanese Buddhist Temple, a modest two-storeyed building which was situated almost at the foot of the Vipula range and faced west towards the site of the Veluvana or Bamboo Grove, where the Buddha had often stayed. In the absence of the Japanese monks, who had either left for Japan just before the war or been interned, there was the usual Hindu cuckoo in the Buddhist nest, the cuckoo in this case being a long-bearded ascetic who had once belonged to the Ramakrishna Mission. Though he came to meet us at the station, and though he made us welcome enough, he was clearly more interested in naturopathy than in Buddhism. In the shrine upstairs the images on the altar were inches deep in dust and cobwebs. Shocked by the sight, Kashyap-ji and I at once set to work and cleaned things up, carefully putting to one side the grimy photographs of Sri Ramakrishna and Swami Vivekananda that had usurped the place of honour. Though most of his time was taken up by his naturopathic practice, the good swami was not altogether neglectful of the religious traditions of the temple, which belonged to a branch of the Nichiren sect. For half an hour every evening he banged away at the big Japanese drum, bawling as he did so the words of the great mantra namu myoho renge-kyo - `Salutation to White Lotus Sutra!'<br /><br />Our first expedition was to the site of the Bamboo Grove, which lay on the other side of the road not far from the foot of the Ratnagiri Range. Not a single bamboo was to be seen. In fact, there was hardly any vegetation, and what with the heaps of rubble that were lying all around, the appearance of the place was drear and desolate. A few yards south of the site, however, there was a training camp for gram sevaks, or village workers, from the Patna and Gaya Districts of Bihar. In response to their invitation we addressed them on Buddhism, Buddhist culture, naturopathy, untouchability, and other subjects almost daily during the next two weeks. Another expedition took us to the Pippala Cave, which was not a cave at all but a huge, fortress-like structure built entirely of enormous blocks of roughly-dressed stone. According to tradition it had been occupied by Mahakashyapa, whom the Buddha had declared to be the foremost of his disciples for ascetic practices, even as Shariputra was the foremost in wisdom and Maudgalyayana the foremost in psychic powers. On this expedition we were not alone. With us were Reverend Riri Nakayama, a dignitary of the Shin School of Japanese Buddhism who had come to India for a pacifist conference, and Venerable Amritananda, a rising young Newar monk who had received his training in Ceylon. On another occasion we were accompanied by a strange young American who had adopted the Vaishnava faith. Awkwardly clad in a white dhoti, and with the tiki or crown-lock of the orthodox Hindu, he was more than a little eccentric, and I could not help wondering whether, in the inscrutable ways of `Providence', this transatlantic travesty of the genuine Indian article was not meant as a warning to me. Every five or ten minutes he assured us, in broken Hindi, and at great length, that he was a strict vegetarian, and that his motto was `Only pure food, from a pure hand, in a pure house.' By `pure' he of course meant vegetarian. He also informed us that he would like to hold satsangh or spiritual communion with us, and that we were free to ask him any question. Whenever Kashyap-ji asked him anything, however (I declined to do so), he at once adopted an expression of intense self-satisfaction, cast up his eyes, and declared `That is a secret between me and my guru!' Less ecstatic than the American Vaishnava, but more open to discussion, was the priest in charge of the local Roman Catholic mission, with whom Kashyap-ji and I had a long `comparative' talk about mysticism, Christian and Buddhist. Since my teacher had never been inside a Christian place of worship, we spent a few minutes in the mission chapel. It was strange to see the red light that indicated the presence of the Blessed Sacrament burning in such a place. When we left, the priest handed me two books by Thomas Merton, an author whose name I had not heard before. The two books were Seven Storey Mountain and Seeds of Contemplation. Perhaps I could find time to read them, he said.<br /><br />I certainly could. Devouring the books back at the Japanese temple I discovered that Thomas Merton was an Irish-American Catholic who, as a young man, had become a Trappist monk. Seven Storey Mountain, which was his autobiography, did not appeal to me very much. It was pervaded by an atmosphere I disliked - the stifling atmosphere of Roman Catholic domestic piety. Seeds of Contemplation, however, a collection of essays, appealed to me more strongly than might have been expected. Despite the author's predominantly theistic idiom, several of his insights appeared strikingly relevant to my own spiritual situation, even to my own spiritual needs. For some time past I had been greatly preoccupied with the question of the ego, not only with the theoretical question of what it was, or was not, but with the more practical one of how to get round it, or get rid of it, or get beyond it. Meditation did not seem enough. Something more drastic and more down-to-earth was needed, something that could be practised every hour of the day, something that would provide a constant check to the unruly motions of the egoistic will. In Seeds of Contemplation I found what I wanted, or at least a clear enough indication of it. The disciple should surrender his will absolutely to the will of his spiritual superior. In small matters as in great he should have no will of his own, not even any personal wishes or preferences. This was the secret. This was the way to subjugate the ego, if not to destroy it completely. Though the idea was certainly not unfamiliar to me, it had never struck me so forcibly before, and I resolved to apply it forthwith to my relations with Kashyap-ji. In future his wishes would be my law. I would have no wishes of my own. Whenever he asked me if I would like to do something, as in the goodness of his heart he often did, I would reply that I had no preference in the matter, and that we would do just as he wished. For the remainder of the time that we were together I faithfully adhered to this resolution. As a result, I had no troubles, and experienced great peace of mind. What the priest at the mission would have thought, had he known that Seeds of Contemplation had helped me in this way, I cannot imagine. Still less can I imagine what Father Merton would have thought. Perhaps he would not have been greatly surprised. In later years he became deeply interested in the spiritual teachings of the East, particularly in Taoism and Zen Buddhism, and in fact died in a Buddhist monastery in Bangkok - from an accident caused by a faulty electrical connection. I have sometimes wondered if there was a moral to be drawn from the bizarre and tragic manner of his end.<br /><br />Our most important expedition - indeed, the climax of our travels in the Land of the Great Disciples - took us to a place that was not only farther away and higher up than either the Bamboo Grove or the Pippala Cave but of even greater spiritual significance. Taking advantage of a sudden change in the weather, which since our arrival in Rajgir had been cold, windy, and rainy, we set out one Sunday afternoon for the Gridhrakuta or Vulture Peak. Our way led through the hill-encircled valley where the old city of Rajagriha, capital of the kingdom of Magadha, had once stood. As we entered the opening known as the North Gate we at once became aware of the pin-drop silence of the place. The road, which must have existed in the time of the Buddha and King Bimbisara, ran southward through a dense jungle of huge white-flowered cactus trees that were branched like candelabra, ragged thorn bushes, and clumps of slim yellow bamboo. After walking for about half an hour in the hot sunshine we passed the ruins of the Manniyar Math, a Jain temple which had originally been a seat of snake-worship. Soon after this we came to the site of Bimbisara's Jail. Here it was that the aged king had been imprisoned by his son Ajatasatru. Only the foundations of the building remained. According to Buddhist tradition the unhappy monarch used to gaze from his cell window eastward towards the Vulture Peak where he could see the Buddha, conspicuous in his yellow robe, walking up and down. It was in these circumstances that the Buddha, appearing in a spiritual body to the devoted consort of the dethroned king, preached for her consolation the Mahayana sutra known as `The Meditation on the Buddha of Eternal Life'.<br /><br />Shortly afterwards the road branched off towards the east and before long we were ascending the lower slopes of the Ratnagiri Range. As we climbed up we could not help admiring the almost cyclopean strength and skill of the ancient engineers who had paved the road with such huge flat stones and built up giant steps at regular intervals. Small brick structures, now in ruins, marked the points where King Bimbisara had descended from his chariot and where he had dismissed his retinue before making the final ascent. At both of these Kashyap-ji and I rested for a few minutes and enjoyed the cool breeze that came sweeping across the mountain-top. The Vulture Peak itself was an enormous mass of rock which some primeval convulsion of the earth's crust had flung up with such violence that, as the almost vertical lines of its strata plainly showed, it was now standing practically on end. At the foot of the rock the road narrowed to a path which, having spiralled round the peak from east to west past a succession of caves and grottoes, finally thrust upwards and emerged at a square platform whereon stood the ruins of a brick structure once occupied by the Buddha. From here one could see the whole valley at a single glance. To the west lay the Golden Range, Sonagiri, to the north-west the Brilliant Range, Vaibharagiri, to the south the Ample Range and the Jewel Range, Vaipulyagiri and Ratnagiri, and to the north the Uplifted Range, Udayagiri. Hither the Buddha had been accustomed to retire from the comparative noise and bustle of the Bamboo Grove. Here he had spent the pleasant spring days and starry summer nights plunged in profound meditation. From this dizzy eminence, he had gazed down on the many-storeyed mansions, the busy streets, the crowded markets, of the great and ancient city of Rajagriha. Most important of all, here on the wind-swept heights of the Vulture Peak - at the summit, as it were, of mundane existence - he had revealed to the most receptive of his disciples the transcendental splendours of the White Lotus Sutra, his ultimate teaching, the sutra in which is enacted the Drama of Cosmic Enlightenment, the great drama in which all the different `ways' of the Buddha's Teaching are shown to be comprised in the Great Way, the One Way, the Way of the Buddha, and in which the Buddha himself is revealed not only as a historical figure but as an eternally active spiritual principle - the principle of Enlightenment.<br /><br />As we gazed, even as the Master must have gazed, first at the valley 1,000 feet below - once a populous city, now an impenetrable jungle - then at the blue encircling hills, and finally beyond the hills to the green and fertile fields, the mud-walled villages, the pleasant mango groves, of ancient Magadha, the modern Bihar, a prayer went forth from my heart. I prayed that not only in this land, the Land of the Great Disciples, but in every land, men might hearken to the Voice of the Buddha, as it sounded from the unseen heights of the spiritual Vulture Peak. I prayed that they might set their feet on the Path leading to their own and others' Enlightenment. Finally, I prayed that I too might one day be enabled to help in some way towards this end. Though I did not know it, the last part of my prayer was to be granted sooner than I expected.<br /><br /><strong>Buddha Gaya</strong><br /><br />Bodh Gaya! Bodh Gaya! How many people have come to you in the course of ages! How many pilgrim feet have trodden the dust of your groves, how many pairs of hands been joined in silent adoration beneath the wide-spreading boughs of the Tree of Enlightenment, how many heads touched in profound thanksgiving the edge of the Diamond Throne! Bodh Gaya! Bodh Gaya! How beautiful you are in the morning, with the sunlight streaming on the renovated facade of your great temple as it rises four-square against the cloudless blue sky! How beautiful in the evening, when in the shadowy depths of the deserted temple courtyard a thousand votive lamps glitter like reflections of the stars! Bodh Gaya, I shall always remember how beautiful you were the first time I saw you, when my heart was young, and you made me your own!<br /><br />The shrines of Sarnath, Kusinara, and Lumbini had all been destroyed in the twelfth century, and both the Mulagandhakuti Vihara and the Temple of the Recumbent Buddha had been built in modern times. Since they had been built by Buddhists, their management was naturally in Buddhist hands. At Bodh Gaya the situation was different. The Maha Bodhi Temple, or Temple of the Great Enlightenment, restored by General Sir Alexander Cunningham in 1870, was substantially the one built in the second century on the remains of an earlier Ashokan structure. In the course of two millennia the level of the surrounding countryside had risen by twenty or thirty feet, with the result that the entire temple complex, including the Bodhi-tree and the Diamond Throne, now stood in an enormous rectangular well. Until earlier that year, management of the temple had been in the hands of the Hindu Mahant, or Abbot, of Bodh Gaya, then the second biggest landowner in the state of Bihar, one of whose predecessors had somehow gained possession of it in the sixteenth century. As an orthodox brahmin, the Mahant's main interest was in the offerings of the pilgrims, who in recent centuries had been making their way to Bodh Gaya in ever-increasing numbers. Under an Act of the State Government, however, management of the temple had now been transferred to a committee, but as the constitution of the committee had been so framed as to ensure a permanent Hindu majority things were not much better than they had been in the Mahant's time. Images of the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas were still being smeared with vermilion, and in a shed-like structure near the main entrance five of them were being palmed off on a gullible Hindu public as representations of the five Pandava brothers, legendary heroes whose exploits were described in the Mahabharata. To assist the deception, the images had been draped with pieces of dirty cloth, so that only their faces were visible. Venerable Sangharatana was furious. `Just like the bloody Hindus!' he exploded, tearing the cloths from the images and flinging them violently on the floor. `Always trying to assimilate Buddhism to their own dirty religion! Always trying to get a bit more money out of the stupid pilgrims! Pilgrims? Bah! Superstitious idiots! They deserve to be robbed!' Though rather taken aback by this un-monk-like outburst, I could not help sympathizing with Venerable Sangharatana's feelings. As I well knew, he was a personal disciple of Anagarika Dharmapala, and for more than thirty years Dharmapala had tried without success to gain for the Buddhists some say in the management of their own most sacred shrine.<br /><br />In the holy of holies, a pleasingly simple chamber lit only from the door, it was even worse. A stone lingam, or phallic symbol of the god Shiva, had been let into the middle of the floor in front of the offering-table, just where one was likely to trip over it in the semi-darkness. Long-legged brahmins clambered like monkeys all over the altar, passing backwards and forwards in front of the great sedent image of the Buddha, and vociferously insisted on doing the pilgrim's worshipping for him - for a consideration. Nothing we were able to say could still their clamour or convince them that we did not require their services. We were Buddhist monks, we protested. We were quite capable of worshipping the Buddha ourselves. They took absolutely no notice. `We are brahmins,' they chorused, jumping down off the altar and grabbing us by the arm. `We are the priests here. We will make all the offerings. We will pray to God for you. How much will you pay us?' In circumstances like these it was not easy to concentrate on the great golden figure in the background, or to feel that I was in the place where the Buddha had gained Supreme Enlightenment. Had it not been for the Tibetan pilgrims, indeed, I might not have really felt it at all, and my most vivid memories of that first visit to Bodh Gaya would have been of evading the clutches of mercenary brahmin `priests' and consecrating boundary walls.<br /><br />As it was, the Tibetans were my salvation. They were poor, they were ragged, they were dirty, and the other pilgrims looked down on them, but they had walked all the way from Tibet, some of them with babies on their backs, and now they came shuffling in through the gate with their prayer-wheels and rosaries in their hands and expressions of ecstasy on their upturned faces. For them history did not exist. They knew nothing about the Mahant, nothing about the management of the temple. They did not even see the brahmins. As they circumambulated the temple, as they prostrated themselves before the Diamond Throne, as they lit butter-lamps round the Bodhi-tree, they saw only the naked fact of the Buddha's Supreme Enlightenment, and through their eyes, even if not with my own, I could see it too.</span>Ratnaketuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01888085287982272571noreply@blogger.com