And this pity of his with the world, with the gods, and with the supreme god, vanquished in Kamanita the last remnant of his self-love.
But he now considered—
“During this new day also, perfect Buddhas are certain to appear who will declare the truth. And when these divinities I see around me now, hear the truth with regard to their salvation, and remember that in the earliest dawn of the universal day they saw a being who went away out of the universe, then the memory will redound to their advantage. ‘Already one from our midst—as it were a part of ourselves—has preceded us on that road,’ they will say to themselves, and that will conduce to their salvation. So that I shall help all in helping myself. For no one can, in truth, help himself without helping all.”
Very soon, some of the stellar gods, and, by and by, more of these, began to notice that there was one among them who did not shine like the others, ever brighter, but who, on the contrary, lost in brilliance.
And they called to him—
“Ho, there, brother! Turn thy gaze upon the great hundred-thousandfold Brahma in order that thou mayst recover brilliance and shine like us. For thou also, brother, art called to the bliss of reflecting the glory of the supreme god.”
When the gods called to him thus, Kamanita neither looked nor listened.
And the gods who saw him grow ever paler were very greatly troubled about him, And they appealed to Brahma.
“Great Brahma, Our Light and Preserver, oh look upon this poor creature who is too weak to shine even as we, whose brilliance decreases always and does not increase! Oh give him of thy care, illumine, revivify him! For him also hast thou surely called to reflect in bliss thy divine glory.”
And the great Brahma, full of tenderness for all created beings, turned his attention to Kamanita to refresh and strengthen him.
But Kamanita’s light, nevertheless, decreased visibly.
Then the great Brahma was more grieved that this one being would not suffer himself to be illumined by him and did not reflect his glory, than he was glad that a hundred thousand sunned themselves in his light, and hailed him with shouts of joy.
And he withdrew a large part of his divinely illuminating power from the universe—power sufficient to set a thousand worlds on fire—and directed it on Kamanita.
But Kamanita’s light continued to pale, as though drawing nearer to complete extinction.
Brahma now became a prey to great anxiety.
“This one star withdraws from my influence—so I am not then omnipotent. I do not know the way he is going, so I am not omniscient. For he is not expiring as do the beings who expire in death, to be reborn each according to his works; not as the worlds go out in the Brahma night, only to shine forth again. What light illumines his way, seeing that he disdains mine? So there is then another light more luminous than mine? And a road which leads in the opposite direction to mine—a road to the untraversed land? Shall I myself, mayhap, ever take that road—that path to the untraversed land?”
And now the minds of the stellar gods also became filled with great anxiety, great trouble.
“This one withdraws from the power of the great Brahma, so then the great Brahma is not omnipotent? What light can be lighting his way, seeing that he disdains that of the great Brahma? So there is then another light more splendid than that which we so blissfully reflect? And a road that leads in the opposite direction to ours—a road to the untraversed land? Shall we, mayhap, ever take that road—the road to the untraversed land?”
Then the hundred-thousandfold Brahma pondered—
“My mind is made up. I shall reabsorb my illuminating power, now diffused throughout space, and shall plunge all these worlds again into the darkness of the Brahma night. And when I have gathered my light into a single ray, I shall turn it upon that one being in order yet to rescue him for this my Brahma world.”
And the hundred-thousandfold Brahma now reabsorbed all the illuminating power which he had diffused throughout space, so that the worlds sank again into the darkness of the Brahma night. And gathering his light into a single ray he directed it on Kamanita.
“Henceforward there must shine at this point,” he thought, “the most radiant star in all my Brahma world.”
Then the hundred-thousandfold Brahma drew his ray with sufficient illuminating power to set a hundred thousand worlds on fire, back into himself, and again diffused his light throughout the whole of space.
At the point, however, where he hoped to see the most radiant of all the stars, only a little, slowly dying spark was to be seen.
And while in immeasurable space, worlds upon worlds flashed and shouted as they pressed forward into the new Brahma day, the pilgrim Kamanita went out quite, as a lamp goes out when it has consumed the last drop of oil in its wick.
Note
It need scarcely be remarked that the few passages from the Upanishads are quoted from Professor Deussen’s Sechzig Upanishads des Veda. To the second great translation of this excellent and indefatigable inquirer, Die Sutras des Vedanta, my tenth chapter owes its origin. If this curious piece is in substance a presentation of Indian Uebermenschentum—as the extreme antithesis to Buddhism—it is in its form a painfully accurate copy of the Vedantic Sutra style, with the enigmatic brevity of the text, the true principle of which—as Deussen has rightly recognised—consists in giving only catchwords for the memory, but never the words that are important to the sense. In this way the text could without danger be fixed in writing, since it was incomprehensible without the oral commentary of the teacher, which thus usually became all the more pedantically intricate. Indeed, these Kali-Sutras—like the whole Vajaçravas—are a jocular fiction of mine—but one, I believe,
