And in the monk, who is nowhere held fast by his affections, there grows amid the unclouded cheerfulness of inward peace this perception—“that now is his salvation sure, that this is the last birth of all, that there will be no new existence beyond.”
The monk who has come thus far is rewarded with this highest wisdom. And this, O pilgrim, is the highest, holiest wisdom—“to know that all suffering is ended.” He who has found it has found a freedom which stands true and inviolable. For that is false, O pilgrim, which is vain and fleeting; and that is true which is real and permanent, the end of all delusion.
And he who from the very beginning was subject to birth, to the changes of age, and to death, has now, marking well the balefulness of this law of Nature, won for himself the safety that knows no birth, no age, no death. He who was subject to sickness, to impurity, to sin, has now reached the assurance that knows no change, that is pure and holy—
“I am saved and my salvation is within me; my life is ended, my work done, this world exists for me no longer.”
Such a one, O pilgrim, is called the “Finisher” because he has finished and made an end of all suffering.
Such a one, O pilgrim, is called the “Obliterator” because he has obliterated the delusion of “I” and “Mine.”
Such a one, O pilgrim, is called the “Weeder” because he has weeded out the plant of life by the roots so that no life can ever germinate again.
Such a one, so long as he is in the body, is seen of gods and men; but when his body is dissolved in death, he is no longer seen of gods and men. Nor does Nature—the All-seeing—see him any longer; he has blinded the eye of Nature, escaped from the Evil One. Crossing the stream of being, he has reached the island, the only one, that lies beyond age and death—Nirvana.
XX
The Unreasonable Child
After the Lord Buddha had ended his discourse, the pilgrim Kamanita remained sitting for a long time, silent and motionless, a prey to conflicting and sceptical thoughts. Finally he said: “Thou hast told me much of how the monk should in his lifetime make an end of suffering, but nothing whatever of what becomes of him when his body sinks in death and returns to its elements, except that from that time on neither men nor gods, nor even Nature herself sees him again. But of an eternal life of supreme happiness and heavenly bliss—of that I have heard nothing. Has the Master revealed nothing concerning it?”
“Even so, my brother, it is even so. The Master has revealed nothing concerning it.”
“That is as much as to say that the Lord Buddha knows no more of this most important of all questions than I myself,” replied Kamanita discontentedly.
“Dost thou think it to be so? Listen then, pilgrim. In that Sinsapa wood in the neighbourhood of Kosambi, where ye did swear—thou and thy Vasitthi—eternal fidelity and pledged yourselves to meet again in the Paradise of the West, the Lord Buddha at one time took up his abode. And the Lord Buddha came out of the wood, a bundle of Sinsapa leaves in his hand, and said to his disciples: ‘What think ye, O ye disciples, which are more numerous, these Sinsapa leaves which I have taken in my hand, or the other leaves yonder in the wood?’ And without taking much time to consider, they answered: ‘The leaves, Lord, which thou hast taken in thy hand are few, and far more numerous are the leaves yonder in the Sinsapa wood.’ ‘Even so also, O ye disciples,’ said the Master, ‘is that which I have discerned and not declared to you, greater in sum than that which I have declared. And why, O ye disciples, have I not declared everything? Because it is not salutary, is not in keeping with the ancient spirit of asceticism, and does not lead to the turning away from all earthly things, not to conversion from earthly lust, not to the final dissolution of all that is subject to change, not to perfect knowledge, not to Nirvana.’ ”
“If the Master spoke thus in the Sinsapa grove at Kosambi,” answered Kamanita, “then the matter is probably ever more serious still. For in that case, he has certainly been silent on the point in order not to discourage, or, as might well happen, even terrify his disciples; as he certainly would, if he should reveal to them the final truth—namely, annihilation. This seems to me to result as a necessary consequence from what thou hast so plainly stated. For, after all the objects of the five senses and of thought have been denied and rejected as fleeting, as without any real existence, and as full of suffering, there remain as a matter of fact no powers by means of which we could grasp anything whatsoever. So I understand, O Reverend One, from the doctrine thou hast just expounded to me, that a monk who has freed himself from all impurity falls a victim to annihilation when his body dies, that he vanishes, and has no existence beyond death.”
“Didst thou not say to me, pilgrim,” then asked the Lord Buddha, “that thou wouldst sit within a month at the feet of the Master in the Grove of Jetavana near Sravasti?”
“I assuredly hope to do so, O Reverend One; why dost thou ask me?”
“Then, when thou dost sit at the feet of the Master, what dost thou think, my friend—is the physical form which thou wilt then see, which thou wilt be able to touch with thy hand—is that the Perfect One, dost thou look upon it as such?”
“I do not, O Reverend One.”
“Perhaps, then, when the Master speaks to thee … the mind that then reveals itself, with its sensations, perceptions, ideas, is
