compelling everyone soon forgot about the teaching and went
over to enjoy the much more interesting performance.
Upagupta saw the people drifting away, then he also decided
to join the crowd to see what was going on. Contemplating all of this,
the monk decided to teach Māra a lesson.
Once the performance had ended, Upagupta offered Māra
an exquisite garland of flowers.
“That was a great show,” said Upagupta. Māra, of course, was
flattered by this and gladly accepted the garland, placing it proudly
around his own neck. Suddenly the garland changed into a coil of
rotting carcasses; it was revealed to be made of the decaying bodies
of a snake and a dog, and even a human corpse. It really stank.
Even though it was so repulsive, Māra found that, no matter
how hard he tried, he could not take the festering garland off his
neck.
“Please remove this fœtid garland,” he begged.
“I will do that only under two conditions,” said Upagupta.
“The first is that you must promise not to disrupt Buddhist teachings
in the future. The second is that you show me the real image of the
Buddha. I know that you have seen him on many occasions, but
I have never done so. I would like to see an image of the Buddha
that is exactly like him. ”
Māra was very pleased with this idea and agreed with Upagupta
readily. “But, if I change myself into the image of the Buddha,” said
Māra, “you must promise that you will not worship me, for I am not
worthy of such reverence.”
Upagupta promised this and Māra transformed himself into an
image that looked exactly like the Buddha. When Upagupta saw it,
deep devotion arose in his heart and he fell to his knees — “Like a tree
cut off at the root,” and bowed reverentially to the Buddha image.
Māra felt that the monk had broken his promise but Upagupta tried
to reassure him:
“….I bow down before that Sage
But I do not revere you!”
“How is it,” replied Māra, “that I am not revered when you thus
bow down before me?”
“I shall tell you,” said the elder…
“Just as men bow down
to clay images of the gods
knowing that what they worship
469
is the god and not the clay,
so I, seeing you here,
wearing the form of the Lord of the World,
bow down to you,
conscious of the Sugata,
but not conscious of Māra.”
Divyāvadāna, p 363
John S. Strong, ‘The Legend and Cult of Upagupta,’
pp 110‐11, Motilal Banarsidass
K.G.’s use of this motif also has echoes of the legend of
Pygmalion and Galatæa: the former was a sculptor who made
a statue so beautiful that he fell in love with it. Such was the pain
of his unrequited longing, that the gods took pity on him and brought
the statue to life — she became known as Galatæa. George Bernard
Shaw based his famous play on this theme.
There is also a poignant passage, in the ‘Collection of
Sayings on the Faculties’ (S 48.41), where we hear: “The Blessèd
One had arisen from retreat in the evening and was seated
warming his back in the rays of the setting sun. The Ven. Ānanda
went up to him and paid his respects. While he was massaging
the Blessèd One’s limbs he said: “It is amazing, Lord, it is
incredible… the colour of the Blessèd One’s skin is no longer
clear and bright; all his limbs are flaccid and wrinkled, his body
is bent forward and the faculties of eyes, ears, nose, tongue and
bodily sensation are all degenerating.”
“So it is, Ānanda, so it is. Youth has to age, health has
to sicken.
“Shame on you, sordid Age!
Maker of ugliness.
Age has now trampled down
The form that once had grace.”
(Bhikkhu Ñānamoli trans.)
8. Page 359, As one unfurls the sheaf of leaves that make up
the trunk of a plantain and one finds beneath it no sound wood…
This simile, for the insubstantial nature of things, is often found in
the Pāli Canon. For example it is used to represent the corelessness
of the six senses at S 35.234, and the emptiness of mental formations
(thoughts, emotions, memories etc.) in the famous ‘Lump of Foam’
discourse at S 22.95:
470
Form is like a lump of foam,
feeling a water bubble;
perception is just a mirage,
metal formations like a plantain,
consciousness, a magic trick –
so says the Kinsman of the Sun.
However one may ponder it
or carefully inquire,
all appears both void and vacant
when it’s seen in truth.
A teaching in a similar spirit, but using a chariot’s parts rather
than the sheathed leaves of a plantain, is given by the nun Vajirā
at S 5.10:
Just as, with an assemblage of parts,
The word ‘chariot’ is used,
So, when the aggregates exist,
There is the convention of ‘a being.’
9. Page 360, ‘This is not me, this does not belong to me,
this is not my self’… This phrase is derived from the discourse
that brought about the enlightenment of the Buddha’s first five
disciples, in the Deer Park at Saranath, near Benares: the Anatta‐
lakkhana Sutta (‘The Discourse on Selflessness’). It is found in
the Mahāvagga, at MV 1.6, and at §59 in the ‘Collection of Sayings
on the Elements,’ S 22.59 (see also Chapter 10, note §12). It is
also found, most appropriately, in the Dhātuvibhanga Sutta, at
M 140.14‐8, (see Appendix 2).
10. Page 360, As one crossing a stream by means of a
raft… This simile is taken directly from a famous one used by
the Buddha in the Alagaddūpama Sutta (‘The Discourse on the
Simile of the Snake’) at M 22.13. He describes how a person puts
together a raft in order to get from this shore, which is full of
danger, to the further shore, where there is perfect safety. Then,
having arrived safely, that person considers: “This raft has been
very helpful to me, suppose I were to hoist it onto my head or
shoulder and then go wherever I want.”
The Buddha then asks: “What do you think; by doing this, is
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