Shortly after that, the earth opened up beneath Devadatta’s feet and swallowed him whole. (SY 3:14–15) I found this to be a rather abrupt conclusion to his story. I wished Devadatta’s death had been somewhat more drawn out, like if crows with metal beaks had slowly pecked him to death or he had slowly drowned in a vat of his own feces. Still, I did comfort myself with the knowledge that immediately afterwards, Devadatta was (and is to this very day I assume) impaled on a fiery iron pillar in Hell.
Had I been physically present when Devadatta died, I would have spoken the following words: “You have behaved badly, cousin, you have tried to obstruct the Buddha. Because of this, you will now go to Hell.” “I understand, Perfect One,” Devadatta would have groaned in response. “I confess my wickedness to you and beseech you to forgive me. I praise you boundlessly, Perfect One, and seek refuge in your loving, compassionate eyes.” “I am afraid it is too late for that, Devadatta, now it is time for you to burn forever, farewell.”
Part 3: End
24
Now I will tell you about the final months of my life.
I was old, over eighty years of age, living near Vulture Rock. I had decided that, much as I yearned for extinction, it would be better for the world if I lived on, not forever exactly, but close to it. In order for this to happen, Ananda had to ask me, beg me really, to continue living. Why things were set up that way, I have no idea. But I started dropping hints. (LSV 2; MPB)
One day Ananda and I were on top of Robber’s Cliff. I glanced over at him and sort of offhandedly remarked, “What a lovely place Robber’s Cliff is, eh, Ananda?” “Oh yes, master, very lovely indeed.” “Did you know, Ananda, that a being who has attained the very heights of awareness, has become a saint, essentially, did you know that such a being could live on for literally eons if he was only asked to? Isn’t that fascinating?” Ananda stared back at me in smiling silence. “Live on, Blessed One!” he was supposed to instantly cry out. “For the good of all the world, LIVE ON!” If he had said that, I was going to refuse him at first and make him repeat his plea, then refuse him again, and only when he had asked me for the third time, accept. But Ananda didn’t say a word. He just yawned and looked away.
I tried a second time a few weeks later at Serpent’s Pool. “What a grand place Serpent’s Pool is, eh, Ananda? Say, did I ever mention to you that a being who has fully awakened, a being like me, that is, could live on for, well, pretty much forever if only someone like YOU begged him to do so, did I mention that, Ananda?” Once again Ananda only gazed back at me and smiled blankly. I stepped things up at that point and started dropping hints everywhere we went, at Sattapani Cave, at Black Rock, even at the Squirrels’ Feeding Ground. “How pleasant this place is, eh, Ananda?” I would invariably begin. “Have I ever mentioned, old friend, that when a being like me has ascended to the very heights of perfection he could live on for a VERY long time if he was only asked to by another person, like you?”
But every single time Ananda only nodded vaguely and smiled back at me. Not only did he not beg me to stay, he never even asked me to. “Why do I require this dunce of an assistant to ask me to live on, why can’t I just do it myself?” I remember fuming on more than one occasion. Finally one night I got so fed up with Ananda’s obliviousness that I barked, “Get out of my tent!” at him. Ananda hustled to his feet, saluted me, and exited. I sat there grinding my teeth for a few minutes, then closed my eyes to meditate, took a few deep breaths—and felt someone standing right next to me. “Time to die, Buddha,” I heard a voice whispering in my ear. Opening my eyes, I saw Mara squatting next to me, smiling maliciously and twirling his moustache. I found this extremely irritating. I was not going to be told what to do by this jackass. “I will not die, Mara,” I replied, “until my followers are ready.”
“But your followers are ready,” Mara quickly countered. “I repeat: Time to die.”
Once again, I shook my head dismissively. “I will not die until my religion has become a success, Mara.”
“But your religion has become a success. So for the third time I tell you: Time to die.” (ANG 8:70)
I stared at Mara, not totally sure what to say next; he’d actually made some valid points for once. “Given that my entire life I have been extolling ‘extinction,’ the fact that I am fighting so hard to stay alive at this point is vaguely ironic,” I remember thinking to myself. “Fine,” I finally growled at Mara, “in three months I will die, satisfied?” Mara gaped back at me, apparently so accustomed to failing in my presence that he was rendered speechless by this success. I decided to confuse him further by singing a little song about myself in third person.
The rest of his life Tathagata’s renounced.
With joy and calm, life’s cause he’s denounced!
Mara got up and wandered away at that point, looking puzzled and insecure; my song had obviously rattled him.
Ananda came rushing back in. “What caused that massive earthquake, master?” he asked breathlessly. (Because there had been a huge earthquake when I announced that I would die in three months.) I was still furious
