Reaching the main gate, we stopped. It was not only closed but also extremely heavy; it would take a thousand men to open this gate. While I was as strong as a billion elephants (NK), I wasn’t in the mood to use my brute strength to open the gate. Instead, I remember thinking to myself, “If I cannot magically open this gate, I will have Kamthaka jump over it!” Kamthaka was apparently thinking along the same lines. “If this gate does not magically open, I will leap over it with my master on my back and Chandaka holding onto my tail!” Chandaka was thinking more or less exactly the same thing: “If this gate does not magically open, I will personally leap over it with my master on my shoulder and Kamthaka under my arm!” (NK) When I heard about Chandaka’s claim, I shook my head, slightly piqued. “First of all, I’m not the size of a parrot,” I remember thinking. “I couldn’t possibly ride on Chandaka’s shoulder. Second of all, Kamthaka is not the size of a house cat—he couldn’t fit under Chandaka’s arm!” It turns out none of these things were necessary, however, because the God of the Gate (and no, I hadn’t realized there was a God of the Gate, but there was and he turned out to be a very nice man) simply opened the gate for us and allowed us to exit the palace grounds that way. (NK)
It was at that moment that Mara, the god of death and delusion, first appeared to me. He manifested in the sky above me—he was tall, with a thick black moustache—and commanded me to turn back. “Stay at your father’s palace, young prince,” Mara hissed down at me. “If you do so, you will rule the entire world!” As this was the first time I had ever met Mara, I looked up and asked, “Who are you?” “I am Vasavatti,” Mara replied. (The truth was that he was from Vasavatti, so I’m not sure why he said he was Vasavatti, other than he was trying to confuse me, which he usually was.) Now that I understood who Mara was, I nodded coolly and announced, “I do not wish to be a king, rather I wish to be a savior.” Mara glared down at me for a moment, then snarled, “Every bad thought you ever have, young prince, I will know about.” (NK) Suddenly he was gone—then, just as suddenly, he was right next to me, invisible, but definitely present, watching over me and waiting. I found this slightly disconcerting; I won’t deny that it rattled me a little. It turned out, however, that “I am watching over you all the time” was Mara’s high-water mark of scariness. Everything he said and did from that moment on was, as you will see, breathtakingly feeble.
Outside the palace walls, I stopped and looked back. “Farewell, old life,” I cried out. “Farewell luxury, farewell privilege and indulgence, yes, farewell!” With that, I pulled off all of my jewelry. (ASV 6:12–13) (I was wearing rings, bracelets, earrings and toe-rings, not to mention my small tiara.) Before we left, Chandaka had draped a turban around my head filled with a thousand (or possibly ten thousand) layers of jewels and gems, which made my head look like a gigantic flower. (NK) I then stripped off my silken clothes. A monk passed by and I yelled over at him. “You there! Throw me your clothes! I cannot be a holy man while wearing silks!” (This monk turned out to be, no surprise at all, a god.) (NK)
“Hold up my mirror,” I commanded of Chandaka. Seeing my reflection in the bronze, I inhaled sharply, strangely moved by what I beheld. “I look so … holy,” I murmured to myself. Only one thing was wrong with the picture. Reaching up with one hand, I grabbed my long, luxurious hair. “No, my lord,” Chandaka whispered. “Not your magnificent hair.” “Yes, Chandaka, YES.” I yanked up my hair and diadem (the sort of mini-tiara I was wearing) and bellowed, “Who is fit to cut a bodhisattva’s hair? No one!” With that, I chopped my hair off and threw it, along with my diadem, straight up into the air. (ASV 6:57) “If I am to become a Buddha, let my hair and mini-tiara float in mid-air!” I proclaimed. “If not, let them fall to the ground!” I was confident that my hair and mini-tiara would float in mid-air obviously. I wouldn’t have made that statement otherwise. Still, I was slightly relieved to see my hair and mini-tiara floating in mid-air before me. (NK) (I later learned that the god Sakka—who had one thousand eyes, by the way—had sucked my hair and mini-tiara up to heaven, placed them in a jewel box and built a shrine to them.) (ASV 6:58) (I was Sakka in thirty-six different lifetimes, incidentally.) (ITI 12)
I crossed to Kamthaka and stared him in the eye. “You have served me well, gallant steed. I grieve at our imminent separation, but sadly, the time has come. You are an excellent horse and I promise that you will have an excellent rebirth! At the very least, the very least, Kamthaka, you will not go to hell. Is that a tear streaming down your face, noble friend? It is, and I know why you cry too, for I know what you are thinking: ‘Do not go, dear prince, for you are indeed my hero.’ Yet go I must, dear Kamthaka.” At this, Kamthaka burst into copious tears. (ASV 6:57) I held
