Outlands Community USA

The Buddha and the Peacock Angel

Gautama the prince, charming and oh-so-otherworldy, entered the small village bearing his staff and his bowl. followed by his amaneuensis Ananda. Some stared in curiosity as the portly figure waddled along the path to the central market, his spindly wide-eyed companion with the crusted lips behind. A few did reverence, the word "pranam" floating like thin song along their way. The Holy One would slightly bow or nod. Ananda kept pace behind Gautama, his eyes wide as if blind, his open mouth gulping air. But there were others who would turn their back upon the holy prince; had he been anyone but who he was the Buddha may have been wounded by the slight. But he saw it for what it was, saying "They are of a different opinion than I and feel themselves superior. That may be so!"

Thereupon they came to the central market of the village and stopped at each stall and at each mat set with goods. A woman offered to Ananda and he a bowl of goat milk. Each drank a portion and moved on. A man offered freshly-cut fruit which the pair ate with thanks. Within a short time they had been fed by several of the charitable people of the place. Gautama in his turn thanked and blessed each one, then with Ananda found a large tree under which they might sit and observe the goings-on in the village.

In former times Ananda would have remarked to the son of Sakyamuni about the haughty faces shown to them by certain of the villagers, but after so many days of following him, step by step, village after village, and certain that he knew what Gautama might say, he kept silent.

The Buddha for his part stared a while at his scribe and at length addressed him. "Ananda! What think you of the haughty ones in the village yonder?" And Ananda, though surprised at the question, answered "O Tathagata, I feel that they are of a different opinion than we and feel superior in their beliefs!" "Well said, Ananda!," chortled the portly Bodhisattva, who then went on, "though we be of clear mind about things, perhaps they are!" Ananda had the greatest difficulty with humor and laughter and merely gaped at the sage. The son of Sakyamuni, accustomed as he was to having make explanation of many things to Ananda, exclaimed, "Ananda! Do we not feel in our hearts that what we preach is veritable and eternal?" Ananda slowly nodded. "Then and therefore it is not only possible that there be others whose sureness is equal to that of ours, or may surpass it, but in opinion differing." And again Ananda slowly nodded. "And how do we know," concluded the sage, "how do we know that we are in the right, truly so? Perhaps it is that these men are more correct than I." At last, Ananda laughed, feeling the strength and subtlety of the Buddha's irony somewhere in his own too-literal mind.

When he had sunken into that curious bliss which only seemed found in he and in he alone, by force of will he pulled Ananda along with him. Thus the skeletal scribe never protested and at length the two sat motionless, Gautama in his saffron robe and Ananada in his of deep dull scarlet. One would have thought them asleep, but the bodhisattvas never sleep. To look into their eye is to see fire aswirl.

After a goodly spell the Tathagata roused himself and raised his head, but Ananda remained entranced. "Rise you! Ananda!," called out Gautama. In a moment Ananda's huge eyes were open if unfocused. "Someone comes," announced his mentor.

There came toward them three small men the size and build of gnomes, and they bore between them a bundle of filthy tatters. When they came before the fabulous pair they then lay their package on the ground and proceeded to unfold it. Within lay what appeared to be an old religious statue. The idol moved and wheezed and then Ananada gasped, for it was a woman of so man years age that it did not seem possible that she should live. Looking to the three small burly men who had borne her to this place, the pair waited.

"Our beloved mother," rasped the eldest.

The Buddha nodded with his eyes alone.

"She is dying," offered the second," she has been her whole life a charitable woman, giving alms and succour to all."

The bodhisattva sat placidly.

It was Ananda who asked, "What do you ask of the Holy One?" Do you seek knowledge of her place in the next life, or do you wish that she may escape the Wheel of Suffering?"

The three short fellows looked aghast at Ananda. "Cannot the Tathagata heal her sickly frame?," asked the third. They had tears in their eyes.

A length spoke the Buddha, "She is about to leave this vale of Maya. She is bound to leave, which is just and good. Once free of her flesh she will see as I see, how we choose to suffer. My words anger you. But that is what is. I speak truth and nothing more." Without apology Gautama stopped his speech and the three gnomes looked on in amazement. Partly in rage and partly in despair the three carefully folded the old woman back into the tatters in which they bore her. Then they lifted her and carried her back along the path by which they had come.