While the Blessed Buddha was staying in Śrāvastī, in the Jetavana, Anāthapiṇḍada’s Park, the nāgas thrice felt fiery sand fall from the heavens upon them, reducing their bodies to mere skeletons. After fiery sand thrice fell from the heavens upon a young nāga, reducing his body to that of a mere skeleton, he asked his mother, “Mother, how long must I endure such suffering?”

“Son, for as long as you are in this life.”

Through all of this, fiery sand had not fallen on other nāgas who possessed miraculous powers and great might, prompting him to ask, “Mother, why did it not fall upon them?”

His mother replied, “It did not fall upon them because they possess miraculous powers and great might; they live for eons and they sustain the earth. Even the garuḍa Suparṇi could not dislodge them.”

Through all of this, fiery sand had not fallen on a number of scrawny nāgas either, prompting him to ask, “Mother, why did it not fall upon those of their type?”

“It did not fall upon them because they took refuge and adopted the precepts in the presence of the Blessed One.”

“If that is so, then I too shall take refuge and adopt the precepts in the presence of the Blessed One.”

“Son, a single life’s suffering is easy to bear, that of many lifetimes is not. If you take refuge and adopt the precepts in the presence of the Blessed One, but then do not properly heed them, you will have to endure suffering as a denizen in the hell realms for a long time to come.”

The young nāga thought, “What suffering could be worse than my present suffering? I shall take refuge and adopt the precepts in the presence of the Blessed One.”

Conjuring up the appearance of a brahmin, he set off for Jetavana, where he saw monks applying themselves to and abiding in meditation, recitation, yoga, and concentration. Upon seeing them, he felt faith and thought, “Oh my! Should I first take refuge and adopt the precepts or go forth?”

On thinking it over, he decided, “I shall go forth,” and with that he approached a monk and said, “Noble one, I want to go forth.”

“As I am new, you should go to someone else, an elder.”

“Noble one, I do not know anyone else. This is my first time in the presence of a noble being, so I ask you, please, introduce me to a monk.”

As the new monk’s preceptor was a hermit living in the forest, the monk took the nāga disguised as a brahmin to see him and said, “Preceptor, as this noble son wants to go forth, I ask that you allow him to go forth.”

The preceptor replied, “My dear sir, the Blessed One said, ‘Monks, one could accept being pressed into work as a butcher, but it is not right to leave the life once you have gone forth and been ordained.’ This brahmin would go to the hells and I too would fall, so I will not ordain him.”

“Please, preceptor,” the monk replied, “all you need do is allow his going forth and I shall undertake to train and instruct him.”

After the preceptor had allowed the nāga’s going forth and ordained him, the preceptor said to the monk, “My dear sir, you and he now share a preceptor. As his instructor, you must quiz him, you must instruct him, and you must train him.”

The monk recited the Ekottarikāgama and then had the nāga repeat it. As he did so with great vigor, it took on the cadence of a prayer. The monk instructor’s eyes lit up with joy and the monk said to the nāga disguised as a brahmin, “My dear sir, shall we seek alms together or on our own?”

The nāga disguised as a brahmin thought, “I cannot live on the things humans eat; I had better return to the land of nāgas, where I can imbibe ambrosia, and return once I’ve eaten.”

“Instructor, let us seek them on our own.”

“Very well, my dear sir,” replied the monk.

The nāga would drink the ambrosia of the gods in the land of nāgas and then return. As nāgas require a lot of sleep, he would soon fall into slumber. The monk would return later from his alms round as the nāga was rising from his nap.

One day, the monk received alms right away, took them, and headed home. As he drew near, he heard a sound, like a smith pumping his bellows, coming from his hut. Looking through the keyhole, he saw the entire hut filled with the coiled up body of a nāga and cried out, “A shape shifter! A shape shifter!”

Understanding well what such words meant, the nāga hastily transformed, cloaking his natural appearance and reverting to his conjured look. Monks gathered around and asked him, “What is the matter?”

“He’s a shape shifter,” the monk replied.

They said, “This venerable applies himself diligently, always making an effort in his recitations. Why do you begrudge him?”

“I do not begrudge him in the least. It is just that he’s a shape shifter.”

While they were conferring, the Blessed One passed by and inquired, “What is the matter?”

“Blessed One, he’s a shape shifter.”

The Blessed One replied, “A shape shifter will not take root in this Dharma and Vinaya; therefore, you must banish shape shifters from this Dharma and Vinaya. If someone wishing to go forth approaches any of you, ask him, ‘You are not a shape shifter, are you?’ If you allow going forth without asking this, a breach occurs.

“Monks, a nāga’s nature is characterized by five things; the rest are emanations. What are these five? Nāgas are born a natural birth, they die a natural death, they sleep a natural sleep, they are nourished naturally, and they procreate naturally—these are the qualities they exhibit.”

The Blessed One said to the nāga, “My dear sir, with this body of yours you cannot attain any of a host of qualities, so leave and do no harm to the monks.”

The nāga, not knowing where he might wind up, eventually came upon a forest of śāla trees, where he conjured up a monastery with a high gate, skylights, and latticed windows. It was adorned with balustrades, beguiling to the heart and beautiful to the eye, with a staircase to the upper level, and perfectly outfitted with beds, seats, and supplies. To arriving monks and departing monks, he provided all the supplies they needed.

After passing the rainy season at the monastery, an old-timer left for Śrāvastī, where, as was their wont, the group of six disciples thought, “Here, it is we who teach the Dharma to the brahmins and householders that come and assemble. It is we who trounce our adversaries and it is we who spread the fame of our order.”

As the group of six did whatever their self-appointed duties called for, they would never leave the gate into Jetavana unattended. Upananda rose early one morning, cast aside his toothbrush, donned his orange ceremonial robe, and took up his post at the gate into Jetavana. When he saw, approaching off in the distance, an old-timer with a head as white as an āgati flower and drooping eyebrows, Upananda thought, “No doubt this is one of our elder monks.”

Going out to greet him, he said, “Welcome, elder, welcome.”

“Homage to you, instructor,” replied the old-timer.

Upananda thought, “My! Why, I don’t recognize this old-timer as one of our instructors, nor do I recognize him as one of our preceptors.”

Upananda then asked him, “Old-timer, where have you come from?”

“From the śāla forest.”

“Why? Is there a monastery there?”

“Yes, there is.”

“What type is it?”

“Oh, it is but a poor one.”

“What is it like? How is it poor? If it is fully outfitted, it is a monastery, but if it lacks all the trappings, it is poor.”

“It is a monastery.”

“What’s there?”

“A monk caretaker lives there and provides arriving monks and departing monks with all the supplies they need.”

As was their wont, when one among the group of six heard the slightest news they all gathered in the afternoon to discuss it. So Upananda went to the assembly hall and said to the group of six, “We venerables must put off our other business for a time.”

“Have you heard some news?”

“Indeed I have. There is a monastery in the śāla forest.”

“What’s there?”

“A monk caretaker lives there and provides arriving monks and departing monks with all the supplies they need. Come, let us pay a visit.”

The expelled nāga, who was now disguised as an elderly monk caretaker, saw the six approaching from off in the distance, and thought, “So those rogues have come here. How would they treat me if I were to provide them with all the supplies they need?”

With that thought, he allocated, in order of seniority, canopied beds and terraced cottages and provided them with all the supplies they needed.

A few days after they had settled in, they said, “Nanda and Upananda, this old-timer has no obvious source of income, nor any obvious record of allocations. We should make him account for what is here.”

They said to him, “Old-timer, you have no obvious source of income, nor any obvious record of allocations. Come and account for them.”

“Noble ones,” he replied, “are you merely displeased or utterly disappointed?”

“We are not just ‘merely displeased,’ for our fellow brahmacārin would denounce us if it were said, ‘The group of six passed the rainy season at that very monastery and yet they know nothing of its income and know nothing of its allocations.’ ”

“Elders, I will comply. How long must I keep records? Twelve years?”

“Old-Timer, in twelve years even the doors of this temple will have collapsed.”

“How about seven years?”

“That’s impracticable.”

“How about seven months?”

“Still impracticable.”

“How about seven days?”

The group declared, “Nanda and Upananda, record whatever supplies this old-timer receives over the next seven days. Old-timer, we order you to comply.”

The nāga, disguised as the old-timer, thought, “I shall make this monastery disappear once the seven-day period is up.”

To some of our poorer fellow brahmacārin, the nāga proceeded to offer mantles, to some upper robes, to some under robes, to some undershirts, to some begging bowls, and to some small plates.

When the group of six saw this they said, “Nanda and Upananda, investigate this old-timer and after seven days, evict him along with his partisans.”

After seven days had passed, the old-timer made the monastery vanish as the group of six slept, and fled to the seashore.

The group of six, who awoke from their sleep on a piece of dry ground, said, “Nanda and Upananda, get up and fetch some chalk so we may check the accounts.”

When they noticed they had been sleeping on a piece of dry ground, they realized, “We have opposed one who trusted in the Blessed One and served the Buddha, Dharma, and Saṅgha, causing him to flee and make his monastery disappear.”

When the monks asked the Blessed One, “Who was this being? A god, a nāga, a yakṣa?” the Blessed One replied, “That monk caretaker was a shape shifter and yet this was so: if the group of six had not opposed him, he would have served the Buddha, Dharma, and Saṅgha for as long as the teachings remained.”

The Blessed One reflected, “All those shortcomings ensue from the monks’ forcing him to account for the monastery’s income and allocations that had no obvious source or recipient.”

The Blessed One then decreed, “A monk should not be forced to account for income and allocations with no obvious source and recipients. A monk should not be forced to account for those items for which the receipt is evident but its allocation is obscure. A monk should not be forced to account for those items of which the allocation is evident but its receipt is obscure. A monk should mindfully and attentively monitor those items of which both the receipt and its allocation are evident.”

After his encounter with the group of six, the shape-shifting nāga fled to the seashore, where he conjured up a second monastery with a high gate, skylights, and latticed windows. It too was adorned with balustrades, beguiling to the heart and beautiful to the eye, with a staircase to the upper level and perfectly outfitted with beds, seats, and supplies. Ocean nāgas, in the guise of brahmins and householders, gathered there and listened to the shape-shifting nāga teach the Dharma. After hearing the Dharma, they provided arriving monks and departing monks with all the supplies they needed.

After passing the rainy season at the monastery, an old-timer left for Śrāvastī. As was their wont, the group of six thought, “Here, it is we who teach the Dharma to the brahmins and householders who come and assemble. It is we who trounce our adversaries and it is we who spread the fame of our order.”

As the group of six did whatever their self-appointed duties called for, they would never leave the gate into Jetavana unattended. One day, Upananda rose early in the morning, cast aside his toothbrush, donned his orange mantle, and took up his post at the gate into Jetavana. When he saw, approaching off in the distance, an old-timer with a head as white as an āgati flower and drooping eyebrows, Upananda thought, “No doubt this is one of our elder monks.”

Going out to greet him, he said, “Welcome, elder, welcome.”

“Homage to you, instructor.”

Upananda thought, “My! I don’t recognize this old-timer as one of our instructors, nor do I recognize him as one of our preceptors.”

Upananda then said to him, “Old-timer, where have come from?”

“I’ve come from the seashore.”

“Why? Is there a monastery there?”

“Yes, there is,” he replied.

“What type is it?”

“Oh, it is but a poor one.”

“What is the monastery like? How is it poor? If it is fully outfitted, it is a monastery, but if it lacks all the trappings, it is poor.”

“It is a monastery.”

“What’s there?”

“A monk preacher lives there, where he teaches the Dharma to brahmins and householders. After hearing the Dharma, they provide arriving monks and departing monks with all the supplies they need.”

As was their wont, when one among the group of six heard the slightest news they all gathered in the afternoon to discuss it. So Upananda went to the assembly hall and said to the group of six, “We venerables must put off our other business for a time.”

“Have you heard some news?”

“Indeed I have,” Upananda replied. “There is a monastery on the seashore.”

“What’s there?”

“A monk preacher lives there, where he teaches the Dharma to brahmins and householders. Upon hearing the Dharma from him, they provide arriving monks and departing monks with all the supplies they need. Come, let us pay a visit.”

The debarred nāga, now disguised as a monk preacher, saw the six approaching from off in the distance, and thought, “Ah! Those rogues have arrived. What would they do if I refused to demurely acquiesce to them?”

The ocean nāgas, in the guise of brahmins and householders, then gathered there and he taught them the Dharma. After hearing the Dharma, they provided the arriving monks and departing monks with all the supplies they needed, at which point the group of six said, “Nanda and Upananda, what does this old-timer know?”

“The Ekottarikāgama.”

“If these monks here are all versed in the Three Piṭakas, are teachers of Dharma in their own right, and possessed of intelligence and untrammeled confidence, why does he, who teaches the Dharma using this out-of-date Ekottarikāgama, not request teachings from them?”

They said to the nāga, disguised as the monk preacher, “What do you know, old-timer?”

“The Ekottarikāgama.”

“You teach the Dharma using this out-of-date Ekottarikāgama while these monks here are all versed in the Three Piṭakas, are teachers of Dharma in their own right, and possessed of intelligence and untrammeled confidence. Why do you not request teachings from them?”

“What? Nobles ones, do I stop them? Why do you not teach the Dharma?”

“Nanda and Upananda, this old-timer is at odds with us. We will act to evict him.”

Thinking, “If they move to evict me, I won’t find a place among the nāgas either,” then, while the group of six were sleeping, the nāga made the monastery vanish and slipped into the ocean.

On waking on the sandy beach, the group of six said, “Nanda and Upananda, get up and erect a lion throne from which we shall teach the Dharma.”

When they noticed they had slept on a sandy beach, they said, “We opposed one who trusted in the Blessed One and served the Buddha, Dharma, and Saṅgha, causing him to flee and make his monastery disappear.”

When the monks asked the Blessed One, “Who was this being? A god, a nāga, a yakṣa?” the Blessed One replied, “That monk preacher was a shape shifter and yet this was so: If the group of six monks had not opposed him, he would have served the Buddha, Dharma, and Saṅgha for as long as the teachings remained.”

The Blessed One thought, “All those shortcomings ensue from the monks’ teaching without being requested to do so.”

With that he said, “A monk should not teach without first having been asked to do so. If a monk teaches without first having been asked to do so, a breach occurs. If he is invited to do so, then no offense ensues.”

Buddharakṣita, a wealthy householder with much riches and goods who lived in Śrāvastī, took a wife of equal caste and together they played with, took pleasure in, and amused one another.

Looking to guide them, the venerable Śāriputra went to their house and enjoined the householder and his wife to seek refuge and pledge to uphold the precepts. Some time afterwards, the householder’s wife conceived a child.

Knowing this being was certain to become one of the fortunate, the venerable Śāriputra visited the family without any ascetic followers in his wake. Prostrating at his feet, the householder asked, “Does the noble one have no ascetic followers?”

“Householder,” he replied, “do you think my ascetic followers simply sprout up like weeds? It’s those who issue from people like you who become my ascetic followers.”

“Noble one, my spouse has conceived a child. If she should give birth to a boy, I will offer him as an ascetic follower to the noble one.”

“Householder, I accept.”

After eight or nine months had passed a boy was born, well proportioned, pleasing to the eye, handsome, radiant, with a golden complexion, a head shaped well like a parasol, long arms, a broad forehead, eyebrows that meet, and a prominent nose.

Three weeks, or twenty-one days, after the birth, relatives came and gathered to celebrate his birth in grand style, during which time they discussed what name should be chosen for the boy. Some said, “Since the boy is Buddharakṣita’s son, the boy should be named Saṅgharakṣita,” and thus he was named Saṅgharakṣita.

Fortified with milk, curd, butter, ghee, cream, and other nourishing foods, the boy Saṅgharakṣita grew quickly, shooting up like a lotus in a pond. On the very day Saṅgharakṣita was born, that same day sons were also born to five hundred merchants, each of whom was given a name appropriate to his patrilineage.

In time the boy Saṅgharakṣita grew up and the venerable Śāriputra knew it was time to allow his going forth. So, looking to guide them, he went alone without any ascetic followers in his wake to the boy’s house. After prostrating at Śāriputra’s feet, the householder Buddharakṣita laid out a seat and invited the venerable Śāriputra to sit. As he sat, Śāriputra signaled to prompt the householder Buddharakṣita. The householder Buddharakṣita then said to Saṅgharakṣita, “Son, when you were in your mother’s womb, before you were even born, I offered you as an ascetic follower to the noble Śāriputra. Go and serve him.”

As this was to be Saṅgharakṣita’s last life as a sentient being, a smile had already spread across his face and, without apprehension, neither crestfallen nor gloomy, he pledged to do as he was told. With that he became the venerable Śāriputra’s attendant apprentice and follower. After the venerable Śāriputra had allowed his going forth and given him ordination, he taught Saṅgharakṣita how Dharma practitioners conduct themselves and made him recite the Four Āgamas.

Some time later, after assembling merchandise to bring on their journey across the ocean, the five hundred sons of the five hundred merchants conferred and decided to bring, along with their goods, a noble monk across the ocean.

“Gentlemen, the ocean is full of many terrors. So those of us that journey across the ocean would do well to ask for the company of a noble one who might teach us the Dharma.”

Beginning their search, they asked, “Who shall we ask to come?”

Some answered, “Gentlemen, we should ask our peer, the noble Saṅgharakṣita, for we grew up together playing in the dirt with him.”

They went to him, prostrated at his feet, and said, “Noble Saṅgharakṣita, we grew up together playing in the dirt with you, our peer, so if we set out upon the ocean, an ocean full of many terrors, we would do well were the noble one to teach Dharma to those of us crossing the ocean. Therefore, noble one, we ask that you come with us across the ocean.”

“Gentlemen,” he replied, “as I am not at liberty to do as I please, you should put your request to my preceptor.”

They went to the venerable Śāriputra, bowed their heads at his feet, and said, “Noble Śāriputra, please give us your attention. We grew up together playing in the dirt with our peer, the noble Saṅgharakṣita. So if we set out upon the ocean, an ocean full of many terrors, we would do well were the noble one to teach Dharma to those of us crossing the ocean. For that reason, we ask that you send the noble Saṅgharakṣita with us across the ocean.”

“Ask the Blessed One himself and I will not object.”

They went to the Blessed One, bowed their heads at his feet, and said, “Blessed One, please give us your attention. We grew up together playing in the dirt with our peer, the noble Saṅgharakṣita. So if we set out upon the ocean, an ocean full of many terrors, we would do well were the noble one to teach Dharma to those of us crossing the ocean. For that reason, we ask that you send the noble Saṅgharakṣita with us across the ocean.”

The Blessed One considered whether or not these merchants had any meager roots of virtue and saw that they did. Considering who their awakening hinged on, he saw that it hinged on the monk Saṅgharakṣita. The Blessed One then said to the venerable Saṅgharakṣita, “Saṅgharakṣita, you shall go on this journey across the ocean and face your fears along with what provokes them.”

With his silence, the venerable Saṅgharakṣita assented to the Blessed One. After performing rites for protection, good luck, and success, the five hundred merchants together with the venerable Saṅgharakṣita carried their goods to the ocean in carts, on poles, in baskets and hampers, and on camels, bullocks, and donkeys. Setting out for the ocean, they passed in stages through villages, towns, countryside, kingdoms, and markets until they reached the ocean shore, where they paused to recover from the weariness of the road. For five hundred denarii they obtained a ship and hired five hundred crew members to serve as stewards, cleaning staff, divers, deck hands, and riggers. After calling out three times, they set out upon the ocean in pursuit of riches.

Part of the way into their voyage, they and their seafaring ship were held up by nāgas. The merchants began to implore Śiva, Varuṇa, Kubera, Śakra, Brahmā, and other gods, “Whoever it is that dwells here, be they gods, nāgas, yakṣas, or gandharvas, may they tell us what they desire!”

From the ocean there came a voice, saying, “Give us the noble Saṅgharakṣita!”

“The noble Saṅgharakṣita is our peer. We grew up together playing in the dirt with him. The Blessed One and the venerable Śāriputra have entrusted him to us, so we would sooner die and face our death with him than turn him over.”

The venerable Saṅgharakṣita said to them, “What are you talking about, gentlemen?”

“Noble one,” they replied, “a voice from the ocean has said, ‘Give us the noble Saṅgharakṣita!’ ”

“Why do you not give me over?”

“Noble one, you are our peer. We grew up together playing in the dirt with you. The Blessed One and the venerable Śāriputra have entrusted you to us, so we would sooner die and face our death with you than turn you over.”

The venerable Saṅgharakṣita thought, “This must be what the Blessed One meant when he said to me, ‘Saṅgharakṣita, you shall go on this journey across the ocean and face your fears along with what provokes them.’ ”

Taking up his begging bowl and robe, he prepared to jump into the sea. Seeing him prepare to jump, the merchants shouted, “Noble Saṅgharakṣita! What are you doing? What are you doing?”

As they tried to stop him, Saṅgharakṣita jumped into the sea and at the very moment he did so, the nāgas released the ship. Taking the venerable Saṅgharakṣita, the nāgas returned to the land of the nāgas.

Smiling at one another, the nāgas and their nāga women watched in amazement as they invited the venerable Saṅgharakṣita to pay homage to a set of shrines, saying, “Noble Saṅgharakṣita, this shall be the sanctuary of the perfectly awakened Buddha Vipaśyin, while these shall be the sanctuaries of the perfectly awakened Buddhas Śikhin, Viśvabhū, Krakucchanda, Kanakamuni, and Kāśyapa. This shall be the sanctuary of the Blessed One Śākyamuni.”

After prostrating to the shrines with them, Saṅgharakṣita sat on the seat they had arranged at the center of the assembled nāgas. The nāgas joined their palms and supplicated him: “Noble Saṅgharakṣita, though the Blessed One’s sūtras and mātṛkā have taken root among gods and humans, we nāgas were born into this cursed state with fallen forms! O noble one, please see that the ultimate sūtras take root among us!”

Saṅgharakṣita assented with the words, “I shall do just that.”

The shape shifter who had fled his seaside monastery for the land of the nāgas after being confronted by the group of six then chose three nāga youths and said to the first, “You shall memorize the Saṃyuktāgama.”

To the second he said, “You shall memorize the Madhyamāgama.”

To the third he said, “You shall memorize the Dīrghāgama. The nāgas can learn how to recite the Ekottarikāgama by listening to me recite it.”

When the young nāgas began to recite, the first closed his eyes as he sought to memorize the Saṃyuktāgama, the second turned his back as he sought to memorize the Madhyamāgama, while the third sat off in the distance as he sought to memorize the Dīrghāgama.

Because the shape shifter had greater exposure to Buddhist customs than the others, he was respectful, deferential, and came first to all of their chores. He would rise early and say, “Noble ones, get up and brush your teeth. Pay homage to the gathering of blessed ones and their shrines. Eat and make the bed.”

Once, as they were all reciting their respective Āgamas, the shape shifter said, “Noble one, if nāga youths recite the Āgamas, will they remember them or not?”

Saṅgharakṣita replied, “Even if with their good memories they remember them, they still have certain flaws.”

“Noble one,” the shape shifter asked, “what are their failings?”

“They lack respect and deference. The first closes his eyes as he seeks to memorize the Saṃyuktāgama, the second turns his back as he seeks to memorize the Madhyamāgama, while the third sits off in the distance as he seeks to memorize the Dīrghāgama. You alone are respectful, deferential, and come first to all of your chores.”

“Noble one,” the shape shifter replied, “it is not that they lack respect and deference. The one who closes his eyes as he seeks to memorize the Saṃyuktāgama has noxious eyes that burn; the one who turns his back as he seeks to memorize the Madhyamāgama has noxious breath; and the one who sits off in the distance as he seeks to memorize the Dīrghāgama has a noxious touch. I myself have noxious fangs.”

Frightened, the venerable Saṅgharakṣita thought, “Look! I am living among my mortal enemies,” and he grew pallid, emaciated, feeble, withered, thin, and weak.

The shape-shifting nāga asked, “Noble one, why have you become pallid, emaciated, feeble, withered, thin, and weak?”

“I am among enemies so the moment I do anything to upset you, I shall be reduced to naught but a memory.”

“We do not intend to harm the noble one. However, given the situation, does the noble one wish to return to Jambudvīpa?”

“My dear sir, I do. I do not care for this place.”

The nāgas discussed the matter among themselves and when the noble Saṅgharakṣita’s ship passed by on its return journey, they raised him from the waters and placed him on board the ship.

Smiles broke out upon the merchants’ faces as they stared in amazement and cried out, “Welcome back, noble Saṅgharakṣita, welcome back!”

Saṅgharakṣita said, “Gentlemen! Rejoice, for I have seen to it that the Four Āgamas have taken root in the land of nāgas!”

“Noble one, we do! We rejoice in this good you have done for others, for this is the job of those who go forth.”

Reunited and happy, the merchants and the venerable Saṅgharakṣita completed the journey back to shore. On arriving, all were tired and weary. As his companions slept, the venerable Saṅgharakṣita turned his gaze to the ocean.

The Blessed One has said, “Monks, there are five things one never tires of looking at and which are in no way displeasing to the eye. What are the five? One never tires of looking at a clever and youthful elephant; a king of the world; the ocean with its monsters; Sumeru, the king of mountains; and a tathāgata, an arhat, a perfectly awakened buddha—these five things are in no way displeasing to the eye.”

Saṅgharakṣita gazed long at the ocean until just before dawn when, fatigued, he was overcome by a deep sleep. Not long after, the merchants loaded the pack animals and set out. But because it was in the wee hours of the morning, they could not see the venerable Saṅgharakṣita and they began to look and ask one another, “Gentlemen, what has happened to the noble Saṅgharakṣita?”

Some suggested he had gone ahead while others said he was still coming from behind and still others said he was traveling in the middle of the caravan. After searching everywhere to no avail, they gave up. Dispirited and downcast, they said, “Gentlemen, it is not good that we have left the noble Saṅgharakṣita behind. We must turn around.”

But then, on reflection, it occurred to them, “The noble Saṅgharakṣita possesses miraculous powers and great might. If he did not meet his end in the ocean, how could he meet his end while traveling on dry land? With his miraculous powers and great might, he must have gone far ahead of us and be waiting there now.”

With the call, “Gentlemen, come, let us go!” they set out.

When the sun rose, its rays struck the venerable Saṅgharakṣita as he lay asleep on the empty, sandy beach, waking him from his slumber. Seeing no one around, he thought, “What will I do if the merchants have left? They might have gone in any direction!”

With great courage, the venerable Saṅgharakṣita set out but he could see no trail. After searching about, he spied a narrow path and set off upon it. After a time, he saw, in a forest of śāla trees, a monastery with a high gate, skylights, and latticed windows. It was adorned with balustrades, beguiling to the heart and beautiful to the eye, with a staircase to the upper level and perfectly outfitted with beds, seats, and supplies. It was surrounded by a variety of trees, and graced with pools and ponds, ringing with the sounds of swans, cranes, peacocks, parrots, mynahs, and cuckoos. When he saw the monks, finely dressed and well trained, living peacefully in this glorious and heavenly abode, he respectfully approached them.

With a show of respect, they said to him, “Welcome, reverend Saṅgharakṣita, welcome. From where have you come just now?”

After he explained everything that had happened, they let him rest and once he recovered from the fatigue of the road, they led him into the monastery. Once there, he saw that fine seats had been arranged and choice foods laid out. They asked him, “Reverend Saṅgharakṣita, are you not thirsty? Are you not hungry?”

“Venerables,” he replied, “I am thirsty and I am hungry.”

“Then partake, reverend Saṅgharakṣita.”

“I will eat with the saṅgha.”

“Reverend Saṅgharakṣita, you are tired from your travels, so eat now. Later the food will have spoiled.”

Seeing the drawback in waiting, Saṅgharakṣita ate and then took a seat off to one side. Some time later, the meal was laid out and when the gaṇḍī beam was struck, the monks filed in, each carrying his own begging bowl, and sat down in order of seniority. As soon as they sat down, the monastery vanished and each of their begging bowls turned into iron clubs of different sorts. For the remainder of the meal, they bludgeoned each other over the head with their iron clubs, cracking their skulls open and inflicting unbearable pain that caused them to cry out pitifully.

As soon as the mealtime ended, the monastery reappeared as before while the monks also resumed their peaceful demeanors. The venerable Saṅgharakṣita approached them and asked, “Who are you, venerables? What karma has led you to this?”

“Reverend Saṅgharakṣita,” they replied, “the people of Jambudvīpa are skeptical, so you will not believe us.”

“Why would I not believe what I have seen with my own eyes?”

“Reverend Saṅgharakṣita, we were disciples of the perfectly awakened Buddha Kāśyapa. While in the meal queue, we fought and, as the fruition of that karma, have been born as denizens of an ephemeral hell. As soon as we die and pass from this life, we will be reborn among the denizens of hell and will have to live there in such straits. Reverend Saṅgharakṣita, once you have returned to Jambudvīpa, say to your fellow brahmacārin, ‘Venerables, do not fight in the food queue like Kāśyapa’s monks. Do not act so as to accrue the fortune for that mass of suffering.’ It would be good if you were you to explain our plight at length.”

After agreeing to do just that, Saṅgharakṣita departed. After some time, he saw again as before, in a forest of śāla trees, a second monastery with a high gate, skylights, and latticed windows. It was adorned with balustrades, beguiling to the heart and beautiful to the eye, with a staircase to the upper level, and perfectly outfitted with beds, seats, and supplies. It was surrounded by a variety of trees, and graced with pools and ponds, ringing with the sounds of swans, cranes, peacocks, parrots, mynahs, and cuckoos. When he saw the monks, finely dressed and well trained, living peacefully in this glorious and heavenly abode, he respectfully approached them.

With a show of respect, they said to him, “Welcome, reverend Saṅgharakṣita, welcome. From where have you come just now?”

After he explained everything that had happened, they let him rest and once he recovered from the fatigue of the road, they led him into the monastery. Once there, he saw that fine seats had been arranged and choice foods laid out. They asked him, “Reverend Saṅgharakṣita, are you not thirsty? Are you not hungry?”

“Venerables, I am thirsty and I am hungry.”

“Then partake, reverend Saṅgharakṣita.”

“I will eat with the saṅgha.”

“Reverend Saṅgharakṣita, you are fatigued from your travels, so eat now. Later the food will have spoiled.”

Seeing the drawback in waiting, he ate and then took a seat off to one side. Some time later, the meal was laid out and when the gaṇḍī beam was struck, the monks filed in, each carrying his own begging bowl, and sat down in order of seniority. As soon as they sat down, the monastery vanished and the food and drink turned into molten iron. For the remainder of the meal, they doused one another in molten iron, scalding their bodies and inflicting unbearable pain that caused them to cry out pitifully.

As soon as the mealtime ended, the monastery reappeared as before while the monks also resumed their peaceful demeanors. The venerable Saṅgharakṣita approached them and asked, “Who are you, venerables? What karma has led you to this?”

“Reverend Saṅgharakṣita,” they replied, “the people of Jambudvīpa are skeptical, so you will not believe us.”

“Why would I not believe what I have seen with my own eyes?”

“Reverend Saṅgharakṣita, we were disciples of the perfectly awakened Buddha Kāśyapa. Once the saṅgha had received a supply of rich food and when a group of arriving monks turned up, those of us overcome by greed thought and even said, ‘We should not serve the food until the arriving monks have left.’ For seven days, an unseasonable rain fell, spoiling the food and drink, leaving it unsuitable for consumption. Thus we wasted what had been given in faith and, as the fruition of that karma, have been born as denizens of an ephemeral hell. As soon as we die and pass from this life, we will be reborn among the denizens of a great hell and will have to live there in such straits. Reverend Saṅgharakṣita, once you have returned to Jambudvīpa, say to your fellow brahmacārin, ‘Venerables, do not waste what has been given in faith like Kāśyapa’s monks. Do not act so as to accrue the fortune for that mass of suffering.’ It would be well were you to explain our plight at length.”

After agreeing to do just that, Saṅgharakṣita departed. After some time, he saw again as before, in a forest of śāla trees, a third monastery with a high gate, skylights, and latticed windows. It was adorned with balustrades, beguiling to the heart and beautiful to the eye, with a staircase to the upper level and perfectly outfitted with beds, seats, and supplies. It was surrounded by a variety of trees, and graced with pools and ponds, ringing with the sounds of swans, cranes, peacocks, parrots, mynahs, and cuckoos. When he saw the monks, finely dressed and well trained, living peacefully in this glorious and heavenly abode, he respectfully approached them.

With a show of respect, they said to him, “Welcome, reverend Saṅgharakṣita, welcome. From where have you just now come?”

After he explained everything that had happened, they let him rest and once he recovered from the fatigue of the road, they led him into the monastery. Once there, he saw that fine seats had been arranged and choice foods laid out. They asked him, “Reverend Saṅgharakṣita, are you not thirsty? Are you not hungry?”

“Venerables, I am thirsty and I am hungry.”

“Then partake, reverend Saṅgharakṣita.”

“I will eat with the saṅgha.”

“Reverend Saṅgharakṣita, you are fatigued from your travels, so eat now. Later the food will have spoiled.”

Seeing the drawback in waiting, he ate and then took a seat off to one side. Some time later, the meal was laid out and when the gaṇḍī beam was struck, the monks filed in, each carrying his own begging bowl, and sat down in order of seniority. As soon as they sat down, the monastery caught alight, burst into flames, and was engulfed in a fire that began to burn as a single, giant inferno. For the remainder of the meal, the fire raged, burning their bodies and inflicting unbearable pain that caused them to cry out pitifully.

As soon as the mealtime ended, the monastery reappeared as before while the monks also resumed their peaceful demeanors. The venerable Saṅgharakṣita approached them and asked, “Who are you, venerables? What karma has led you to this?”

“Reverend Saṅgharakṣita,” they replied, “the people of Jambudvīpa are skeptical, so you will not believe us.”

“Why would I not believe what I have seen with my own eyes?”

“Reverend Saṅgharakṣita, we were disciples of the perfectly awakened Buddha Kāśyapa. In time, our ethics became lax and we became dissolute. When the ethical monks evicted us from the monastery, we took up in an empty monastery. After a while, an ethical monk happened by, which gave us an idea. We thought, ‘He alone can purify patronage. We must get him to stay,’ and so he stayed. And in time, as a result of that, many ethical monks gathered there, who then proceeded to evict us. Those of us who could not bear this piled wood, straw, and dried dung and set fire to the monastery, burning many of the monks intent on training there. As the fruition of that karma, we have been born as denizens of an ephemeral hell. As soon as we die and pass from this life, we will be reborn among the denizens of hell and will have to live there in such straits. Reverend Saṅgharakṣita, once you have returned to Jambudvīpa, say to your fellow brahmacārin, ‘Venerables, do not nurse hatred for your fellow brahmacārin as Kāśyapa’s monks did. Do not act so as to accrue the fortune for that mass of suffering.’ It would be well were you to explain our plight at length.”

After agreeing to do just that, Saṅgharakṣita departed. On his journey, the venerable Saṅgharakṣita saw beings shaped like walls, pillars, trees, leaves, flowers, fruit, rope, brooms, bowls, mortars and pestles, pots, and even beings cut at the waist, their bodies held together by tendons.

Eventually, the venerable Saṅgharakṣita reached a settlement with an ashram where there lived five hundred seers. The seers saw the venerable Saṅgharakṣita approaching from off in the distance and began to confer with one another: “Listen, gentlemen. These ascetic sons of the Śākya tend to preach a great deal. Let none of us offer a single word in response.”

Having made this pact, they remained where they were. With a peaceful demeanor, Saṅgharakṣita approached them, but when he requested a place to stay, they gave not a word in response. A single seer, intent on merit, said, “Why do we not give you a place to stay? It is because you have a fault. You tend to preach a lot. You must therefore swear an oath: I will give you a place if you refrain from giving even the slightest sermon.”

“Seer, as you instruct, I shall not preach,” replied Saṅgharakṣita.

The seer took Saṅgharakṣita to an unoccupied thatched hut in the settlement and told him he could sleep there. Saṅgharakṣita sprinkled water on, swept, and applied fresh cow dung to the dirt floor of the thatched hut. On seeing this, the seers said, “Gentlemen, these ascetic sons of the Śākya are sanitary.”

Saṅgharakṣita washed his feet outside the thatched hut before going back inside. Sitting down, he crossed his legs, held his body erect, and rested in mindfulness. A goddess living in the ashram went to the venerable Saṅgharakṣita during the evening watch and said, “Noble Saṅgharakṣita, please teach the Dharma.”

“Goddess, I wish you well but did you not see I received this resting place by making a pact? Would you like me to be kicked out?”

The goddess thought, “This renunciant is tired, so I shall return during the night watch.” She returned during the night watch and said, “Noble Saṅgharakṣita, please teach the Dharma.”

“Sister, you just can’t leave it be! You must want me to be kicked out!”

She thought, “This renunciant is still groggy from sleep. I shall return during the final watch.” She returned during the final watch and said, “Noble Saṅgharakṣita, why do you sleep? I woke you in the middle of the night and asked you to teach the Dharma.”

“Sister, you are trying by every means to get me kicked out!”

“Noble one, the darkness of night has passed. Even if you were kicked out, why would it matter? You’d be seeking to leave soon anyway. Did the Blessed One not say you must face your fears along with what provokes them?”

“Sister, what you say is true. I must get going regardless of whether I am kicked out. Since these people are brahmins, I should recite a verse the brahmins themselves take to be true.”

Saṅgharakṣita then began to recite the Brāhmaṇavarga:

So long as doubt remains, going naked With matted hair, smeared in mud; a motley diet; Sleeping rough, unwashed and smelly; And the practice of squatting, do not make men pure. But he who forsakes violence toward all who live; Acts with virtue; is pacific, subdued, and restrained; And aspires to purity, even if he be bedecked in jewelry, That is a brahmin, an ascetic, a monk.

On hearing this verse, the seers thought, “This monk’s verses express the real meaning of ‘brahmin.’ ” One seer drew near, then a second and a third, until they all surrounded him, at which point the goddess charmed them so they could not see one another. After that Saṅgharakṣita began to recite the Nagaropama Sūtra:

Thus did I hear at one time. The Blessed One was staying in Śrāvastī, in the Jetavana, Anāthapiṇḍada’s Park. The Blessed One said to the monks, “Monks, before I achieved perfect awakening and became a perfect buddha, I went alone into the wild. While inwardly absorbed, this perfect thought arose in my mind: ‘Ah! This world is prone to suffering, for we are born, we age, we die, we deteriorate, and then it all happens again. And though a higher state exists, beings who age and die know nothing of the perfect remedies that exist.’

“I then pondered what was needed for birth to occur and what conditions contribute to the occurrence of birth. On proper reflection, I realized this perfectly and as it is: if there is becoming, there will be birth, and becoming contributes to the occurrence of birth.

“I then pondered what was needed for becoming to occur and what conditions contribute to the occurrence of becoming. On proper reflection, I realized this perfectly and as it is: if there is grasping, there will be becoming, and grasping contributes to the occurrence of becoming.

“I then pondered what was needed for grasping to occur and what conditions contribute to the occurrence of grasping. On proper reflection, I realized this perfectly and as it is: if there is craving, there will be grasping, and craving contributes to the occurrence of grasping.

“I then pondered what was needed for craving to occur and what conditions contribute to the occurrence of craving. On proper reflection, I realized this perfectly and as it is: if there is sensation, there will be craving, and sensation contributes to the occurrence of craving.

“I then pondered what was needed for sensation to occur and what conditions contribute to the occurrence of sensation. On proper reflection, I realized this perfectly and as it is: if there is contact, there will be sensation, and contact contributes to the occurrence of sensation.

“I then pondered what was needed for contact to occur and what conditions contribute to the occurrence of contact. On proper reflection, I realized this perfectly and as it is: if there are seats for the six senses, there will be contact, and seats for the six senses contribute to the occurrence of contact.

“I then pondered what was needed for the seats of the six senses to occur and what conditions contribute to the occurrence of the seats of the six senses. On proper reflection, I realized this perfectly and as it is: if there are name and form, there will be seats for the six senses, and name and form contribute to the occurrence of seats for the six senses.

“I then pondered what was needed for name and form to occur and what conditions contribute to the occurrence of name and form. On proper reflection, I realized this perfectly and as it is: if there is consciousness, there will be name and form, and consciousness contributes to the occurrence of name and form.

“I then pondered what was needed for consciousness to occur and what conditions contribute to the occurrence of consciousness. By reversing the conception of ‘I,’ one will not incite what follows from that.

“Thus consciousness contributes to name and form, name and form contribute to the seats of the six senses, the seats of the six senses contribute to contact, contact contributes to sensation, sensation contributes to craving, craving contributes to grasping, grasping contributes to becoming, becoming contributes to birth, birth contributes to aging and death, and the occurrence of sorrow, lamentation, suffering, unhappiness, and strife. And that is how, I thought, this whole huge mass of suffering comes to be.

“I then pondered what must be absent for aging and death not to occur and what must cease for aging and death to cease. On proper reflection, I realized this perfectly and as it is: if there is no birth, no aging and death will occur, and the cessation of birth arrests aging and death.

“I then pondered what must be absent for birth not to occur and what must cease for birth to cease. On proper reflection, I realized this perfectly and as it is: if there is no becoming, no birth will occur, and the cessation of becoming arrests birth.

“I then pondered what must be absent for becoming not to occur and what must cease for becoming to cease. On proper reflection, I realized this perfectly and as it is: if there is no grasping, no becoming will occur, and the cessation of grasping arrests becoming.

“I then pondered what must be absent for grasping not to occur and what must cease for grasping to cease. On proper reflection, I realized this perfectly and as it is: if there is no craving, no grasping will occur, and the cessation of craving arrests grasping.

“I then pondered what must be absent for craving not to occur and what must cease for craving to cease. On proper reflection, I realized this perfectly and as it is: if there is no sensation, no craving will occur, and the cessation of sensation arrests craving.

“I then pondered what must be absent for sensation not to occur and what must cease for sensation to cease. On proper reflection, I realized this perfectly and as it is: if there is no contact, no sensation will occur, and the cessation of contact arrests sensation.

“I then pondered what must be absent for contact not to occur and what must cease for contact to cease. On proper reflection, I realized this perfectly and as it is: if there are no seats for the six senses, no contact will occur, and the cessation of the seats for the six senses arrests contact.

“I then pondered what must be absent for the seats of the six senses not to occur and what must cease for the seats of the six senses to cease. On proper reflection, I realized this perfectly and as it is: if there are no name and form, no seats of the six senses will occur, and the cessation of name and form arrests the seats of the six senses.

“I then pondered what must be absent for name and form not to occur and what must cease for name and form to cease. On proper reflection, I realized this perfectly and as it is: if there is no consciousness, no name and form will occur, and the cessation of consciousness arrests name and form.

“I then pondered what must be absent for consciousness not to occur and what must cease for consciousness to cease. On proper reflection, I realized this perfectly and as it is: if there is no conditioning, no consciousness will occur, and the cessation of conditioning arrests consciousness.

“I then pondered what must be absent for conditioning not to occur and what must cease for conditioning to cease. On proper reflection, I realized this perfectly and as it is: if there is no ignorance, no conditioning will occur, and the cessation of ignorance arrests conditioning.

“Thus the cessation of ignorance arrests conditioning, the cessation of conditioning arrests consciousness, the cessation of consciousness arrests name and form, the cessation of name and form arrests the seats of the six senses, the cessation of the seats of the six senses arrests contact, the cessation of contact arrests sensation, the cessation of sensation arrests craving, the cessation of craving arrests grasping, the cessation of grasping arrests becoming, the cessation of becoming arrests birth, the cessation of birth arrests aging and death, and sorrow, lamentation, suffering, unhappiness, and strife. And that is how, I thought, this whole huge mass of suffering comes to cease.

“Monks, I thought of this as an old path I had found, an old route, an old trail which seers of old have traveled and traversed. It is analogous to this: Say that a person wanders, passing through a great forest, and discovers an old path, an old route, an old trail which people of old have traveled and traversed and he follows it until he sees an old city and a king’s delightful old palace, with its resplendent gardens, resplendent parks, resplendent pools, and fine hedges. On seeing it, he thinks, “I shall go and speak to the king!” He goes to the king and says, “Your majesty, please grant me your attention. I was wandering, passing through a great forest, when I discovered an old path, an old route, an old trail which people of old have traveled and traversed and I followed it until I saw an old city and the king’s delightful old palace, with its resplendent gardens, resplendent parks, resplendent pools, and fine hedges. Your Majesty, allow me to restore the city, allow me to restore the king’s palace.” In time, the king’s palace prospers and thrives, crops are bountiful and the land teems with animals and people.

“Just so, monks, I too have found an old path, an old route, an old trail which seers of old have traveled and traversed. Monks, what is this old path, this old route, this old trail which seers of old have traveled and traversed? It is this, the Noble Ones’ Eightfold Path, which consists of right view, right thought, right speech, right action, right livelihood, right effort, right recollection, and right concentration.

“Monks, this is the old path, the old route, the old trail which seers of old have traveled and traversed. I reached it and on reaching it, I saw aging and death, and I saw the origins of aging and death, the cessation of aging and death, and the path that leads to the cessation of aging and death. I saw birth, becoming, grasping, craving, sensation, contact, the seats of the six senses, name and form, consciousness, and conditioning. And I saw the origins of conditioning, the cessation of conditioning, and the path that leads to the cessation of conditioning. And so, having been perfectly awakened by my perception, I proclaim it to an array of monks, nuns, laymen, laywomen, tīrthikas, ascetics, brahmins, sādhus, and wandering mendicants.

“And when a monk perfectly accomplishes it, he too becomes an accomplished adept, sagacious, righteous, and an agent of virtue. And when a nun, a layman, or a laywoman perfectly accomplishes it, they too become accomplished adepts, sagacious, righteous, and agents of virtue.

“Thus it is that such a one who lives purely is magnanimous, of benefit to a great many beings, prodigious, and teaches widely and perfectly among gods and humans.”

Saṅgharakṣita closed his sermon with the dedication:

“May all who live here gathered On the earth or in the sky Be always kind to creatures, And practice Dharma night and day.”

All present realized the truths and in that moment achieved the fruit of a non-returner and with it, miraculous abilities. In one voice they cried out, “Well said, reverend Saṅgharakṣita, well said!”

The goddess then released them from the miraculous spell they were under so they came to see one another again. As they caught sight of one another, they exclaimed, “Oh! You too were here?”

“You were here?”

“I was here.”

“Good!”

The seers had discovered a mighty state and having discovered it, proclaimed, “Reverend Saṅgharakṣita, if it is permitted, we would receive the going forth, ordination, and monkhood in the well-proclaimed Dharma and Vinaya. We would live the holy life in the Blessed One’s presence.”

Smiling, Saṅgharakṣita said, “Venerables, your great and dauntless self-confidence is noble. It is excellent! It is excellent! What is more, the Blessed One said, ‘Five advantages rightly come only to the wise with perfect vision who aspire to going forth.’ What are those five? (1) It is only the wise with perfect vision who aspire to going forth about whom it may rightly be said, ‘He will pursue his aim without diversion.’ (2) It is only the wise with perfect vision who aspire to going forth about whom it may rightly be said, ‘I make offerings to and praise those who are slave, agent, or emissary to no one, those who are independent and not in anyone’s service.’ (3) It is only the wise with perfect vision who aspire to going forth about whom it may rightly be said, ‘He will attain the unsurpassed accomplishment and bliss of nirvāṇa.’ (4) It is only the wise with perfect vision who aspire to going forth about whom it may rightly be said, ‘Even should he fail to attain the unsurpassed accomplishment and bliss of nirvāṇa, he will be reborn among gods.’ (5) It is only the wise with perfect vision who aspire to going forth about whom it may rightly be said, ‘Buddhas, the saintly disciples of buddhas who have reached perfection and entered perfection, and saintly beings praise renunciants in many ways.’ ”

Saṅgharakṣita continued, “So, you shall go forth. But will you go forth before the Blessed One or before me?”

“Before the Blessed One,” the seers replied.

“In that case, come, let us go to the Blessed One.”

“Reverend Saṅgharakṣita, shall we travel under our own miraculous powers or under your miraculous powers?”

Hearing this pained the venerable Saṅgharakṣita, who thought, “If they have attained such a store of qualities due to my influence, it looks as if I am but a raft to them.”

Dispirited, he replied, “Venerables, I have a small task to perform, so please wait here for a bit.” And with that, he sat down at the base of a tree, his legs crossed, his body erect, and rested in mindfulness.

The Blessed One said, “There are five benefits to being well versed in the teachings. What are they? One becomes knowledgeable about the aggregates, knowledgeable about the constituents, knowledgeable about the seats of the senses, knowledgeable about interdependent arising, and one need not rely on others for instructions or further teachings on them.”

Thus, by applying himself diligently, Saṅgharakṣita came to understand saṃsāra’s ever-revolving five cycles. It being by nature subject to degradation, decline, dispersal, and destruction, all of Saṅgharakṣita’s conditioning was overwhelmed and he abandoned all disturbing emotions. He perceived that he had, in that very life, actualized the unsurpassed aim of the holy life for which the sons of noble families, with perfect faith, cut their hair, shave their beards, don the saffron robes, and go forth from home into homelessness. With his achievement, he understood, “My births have come to an end, I have lived the holy life, I have done what needed doing, I will know no lives after this one.”

Thus he became an arhat, free of desire for the three realms, for whom filth was equal to gold, for whom space was equal to the palm of his hand, whose emotions had been cooled as if treated by a balm of sandalwood, and whose knowledge had rent open the shell. He attained knowledge, clairvoyance, and discerning wisdom. He turned his back on worldly gain, desires, and esteem, and was venerated, honored, and saluted by Indra and the gods who attend him.

Saṅgharakṣita said to the seers, “Gentlemen, hold on to the corner of my robe and we shall travel under my miraculous powers.”

The seers grabbed hold of his robe, and the venerable Saṅgharakṣita, like a swan spreading its wings, flew with his miraculous powers up into the sky above.

Along the way, the five hundred merchants were securing their wares when they saw Saṅgharakṣita and exclaimed, “Noble Saṅgharakṣita! Is that you? Welcome!”

“I have come.”

“Where are you headed?”

“These five hundred sons of noble families want monkhood, to go forth and be ordained in the well-proclaimed Dharma and Vinaya, so we are going to the Blessed One.”

The merchants replied, “Noble Saṅgharakṣita, we too will go forth, so please alight and sit while we secure our wares.”

Saṅgharakṣita descended and they secured their wares. Saṅgharakṣita then led the one thousand sons of noble families to the Blessed One, who was seated in the midst of hundreds of monks, teaching. From off in the distance, the Blessed One saw Saṅgharakṣita approaching with his gifts. Though he saw them, he asked the monks, “Monks, do you see Saṅgharakṣita coming from off in the distance?”

“We do, reverend.”

“Monks, this monk Saṅgharakṣita comes with gifts for the Tathāgata. There is no gift for the Tathāgata like these, the gift of disciples.”

Saṅgharakṣita went to the Blessed One, bowed his head at his feet, and sat off to one side before requesting the Blessed One, “Reverend, these one thousand sons of noble families want monkhood, to go forth and be ordained in the well-proclaimed Dharma and Vinaya. May the Blessed One, out of compassion, allow their goings forth and allow their ordination.”

The Blessed One allowed goings forth by saying the phrase, “Come, monk,” and so as soon as he said, “Come, monks. Live the holy life,” their hair fell out and they were clad in robes; with but a week’s growth of hair and beard, begging bowls and water jars in hand, settled, with the composure of monks who had been ordained for one hundred years. As was said,

Hair tonsured and body clad in robes By the Tathāgata’s call to come forth, That moment, their senses were perfectly stilled And their bodies garbed by the Buddha’s mind.

The Blessed One gave them instructions, to which they applied themselves with diligence, effort, and exertion, abandoning all disturbing emotions and actualizing arhatship. Thus they became arhats, free of desire for the three realms, for whom filth was equal to gold, for whom space was equal to the palm of his hand, whose emotions had been cooled as if treated by a balm of sandalwood, and whose knowledge had rent open the shell. They attained knowledge, clairvoyance, and discerning wisdom. They turned their backs on worldly gain, desires, and esteem, and were venerated, honored, and saluted by Indra and the gods who attend him.

The venerable Saṅgharakṣita asked the Blessed Buddha, “Reverend, I have seen beings shaped like walls, pillars, trees, leaves, flowers, fruit, rope, brooms, bowls, mortars and pestles, and pots, as well as beings cut at the waist, their bodies held together by tendons. Reverend, what actions did they perform for it to ripen in such ways?”

“Saṅgharakṣita,” replied the Blessed One, “those being themselves performed the actions—which have accrued a heap of karma, whose results have matured, which follow their course like an irrigation channel, which inevitably come to be—so who else will experience the actions they themselves have performed and accrued?

“Saṅgharakṣita, actions which have been performed and accrued do not ripen upon the external elements. They do not ripen upon the element of water, upon the element of fire, nor upon the element of wind. Likewise, virtuous and nonvirtuous actions which have been performed and accrued come to fruition upon the aggregates, elements, and seats of the senses of the one who performed them, for:

“Actions never waste away, Not even after one hundred eons. When the time and the conditions Are right, they alight upon embodied beings.

“Saṅgharakṣita, in a time now passed, during this fortunate eon, when the lifespan of beings was twenty thousand years, the Blessed Buddha Kāśyapa appeared in the world, a teacher, a tathāgata, an arhat, a perfectly awakened buddha, a knowledgeable and venerable one, a sugata, one who knew the world, an unsurpassed guide who tamed beings, a teacher to gods and men. Those beings you saw were his disciples when he lived and dwelt in the Ṛṣipatana Deer Park near Vārāṇasī.

“Saṅgharakṣita, when those beings you saw who were shaped like walls were monks, they defaced a wall belonging to the saṅgha with their spit. As the fruition of that act, they have come to resemble walls.

“When those beings you saw who were shaped like pillars were monks, they defaced a pillar belonging to the saṅgha with their mucus. As the fruition of that act, they have come to resemble pillars.

“When those beings you saw who were shaped like trees, leaves, flowers, and fruit were monks, they used trees, leaves, flowers, and fruit belonging to the saṅgha for their own ends. As the fruition of that act, they have come to resemble trees, leaves, flowers, and fruit.

“When those beings you saw who were shaped like rope and brooms were monks, they used rope and brooms belonging to the saṅgha for their own ends. As the fruition of that act, they have come to resemble rope and brooms.

“When those beings you saw who were shaped like bowls were monks, they were in charge of providing clean drinking water. When they were washing the bowls, some arriving monks arrived and asked the monks, ‘Do novices get whatever drinks are provided to the saṅgha?’

“Seized by stinginess towards the novices, they replied, ‘Do you not see we are washing the bowls? The drinks have already been drunk.’

“The novices thought, ‘It would seem we are too late,’ and left dispirited, with expressions of resignation. As the fruition of that act, those monks have come to resemble bowls.

“When those beings you saw who were shaped like mortars and pestles were monks, they were in charge of begging bowls and they said to an arhat novice who had at the time been appointed keeper of the seals, ‘Novice, we have quite a bit of grain to grind in the mortar, so give it here.’

“The arhat novice replied, ‘Elders, I’m busy at the moment. Please wait a bit. I shall give it to you later.’

“Feeling impatient, the monks became enraged and said, ‘Novice, if we wanted to use the mortar, we could toss you into the mortar and grind you too! To say nothing of a bit of grain!’

“The arhat novice thought, ‘They are enraged. If I respond to them, it will only inflame their anger further,’ so he remained silent.

“After a time their rage passed, and when it did he went to them and said, ‘Elders, do you know who I am?’

“They replied, ‘Yes, we know. You are but a novice who has gone forth for the perfectly awakened Buddha Kāśyapa. We, however, are monks.’

“ ‘Elders, though that is so, since going forth, I have done all that needed to be done. What is that? I have abandoned all disturbing emotions and actualized arhatship. While you are bound by all bonds, I have been definitively freed from all bonds. As you have spoken harshly, you must confess your wrongs as wrong! Doing so will wither away the act, exhaust it, and finally put it to rest.’

“Although the monks confessed their wrongs as wrong, the actions came to fruition, causing them to resemble mortars and pestles.

“Those beings you saw who were shaped like pots were formerly bondmen in the service of the saṅgha. Once as they were boiling medicinal herbs, the monks spoke offensively to them, whereupon they broke the pots in anger. As the fruition of that act, they have come to resemble pots.

“And when the beings you saw who were cut at the waist, their bodies held together by tendons, were monks in charge of supplies, they were overcome by stinginess and switched supplies, swapping the summer supplies with those for the winter and switching the winter supplies with those for the summer. As the fruition of that act, they have become beings cut at the waist, their bodies held together by tendons.”

In doubt, the monks asked he who severs all doubts, the Blessed Buddha, “Reverend, what is it that Saṅgharakṣita has done, that the ripened fruit of that action has led him to be born into a rich household with ample wealth and possessions, to actualize arhatship, and to inspire the conversion of so many?”

“Monks,” replied The Blessed One, “Saṅgharakṣita himself performed the actions—which have accrued a heap of karma, whose results have matured, which follow their course like an irrigation channel, which inevitably come to be—so who else will experience the actions he himself has performed and accrued? Monks, actions which have been performed and accrued do not ripen upon the external elements. They do not ripen upon the element of water, upon the element of fire, nor upon the element of wind. Likewise, virtuous and nonvirtuous actions which have been performed and accrued come to fruition upon the aggregates, elements, and seats of the senses of the one who performed them, for:

“Actions never waste away, Not even after one hundred eons. When the time and the conditions Are right, they alight upon embodied beings.

“Monks, in a time now passed, during this fortunate eon, when the lifespan of beings was twenty thousand years, the Blessed Buddha Kāśyapa appeared in the world, a teacher, a tathāgata, an arhat, a perfectly awakened buddha, a knowledgeable and venerable one, a sugata, one who knew the world, an unsurpassed guide who tamed beings, a teacher to gods and men. While the Blessed Buddha Kāśyapa lived and dwelt in the Ṛṣipatana Deer Park near Vārāṇasī, Saṅgharakṣita went forth into his teachings and served as a custodian, living together with five hundred others.

“Most of the community of people who lived in that hilly fastness came to have great faith in him. Though he lived purely his entire life he never attained any of the store of qualities. Then one day he fell ill and though he was ministered to with medicinal roots, stalks, leaves, flowers, and fruits, the illness would not subside. In despair, as he was dying, he made this prayer: ‘Though I have spent my entire life living the holy life under Kāśyapa, the blessed tathāgata, perfectly awakened Buddha, and unsurpassed object of veneration, I have not attained any of the store of qualities. May these roots of virtue from having spent my entire life living the holy life ensure that I go forth into the teachings of Buddha Śākyamuni, regarding whom the blessed tathāgata and perfectly awakened Buddha Kāśyapa prophesied to the young brahmin Uttara, saying, ‘Young brahmin, in the future, when the lifespan of beings is one hundred years, you will become the tathāgata, the arhat, the perfectly awakened Buddha, the knowledgeable and venerable one, the sugata, the one who knows the world, the unsurpassed guide who tames beings, the teacher to gods and men known as the Blessed Buddha Śākyamuni, and go on to abandon all disturbing emotions and actualize arhatship.’

“The monk caretaker’s wards then approached him and asked, ‘Preceptor, have you attained any of the store of qualities?’

“ ‘No, I have not,’ he replied.

“They asked, ‘What prayers have you made?’

“He replied by explaining the prayer he had made.

“They said, ‘May we too, by taking you, our preceptor, as our spiritual guide, go forth into the teachings of that very Blessed One and go on to abandon all disturbing emotions and actualize arhatship.’

“Monks, the monk who served as monk caretaker in that life was none other than the monk Saṅgharakṣita. His five hundred wards are none other than these five hundred seers. The community of people who lived in that hilly fastness are none other than the five hundred merchants. Hence, now the ripened fruit of the venerable custodian’s action has led him to be born into a rich household with ample wealth and possessions. The prayers he made as he lay dying have led to his abandoning all disturbing emotions, actualizing arhatship, and inspiring such a massive conversion.

“The ripened fruits of wholly negative actions are wholly negative, while the ripened fruits of wholly positive actions are wholly positive, and the ripened fruits of mixed actions are mixed. Monks, therefore abandon wholly negative and mixed actions and seek wholly positive actions. Monks, this is how you should train.”

In doubt, the monks asked he who had severed all doubts, the Blessed Buddha, “Reverend, how did the youthful, shape-shifting nāga first gain faith?”

The Blessed One replied, “Monks, during this fortunate eon, when the lifespan of beings was twenty thousand years, the Blessed Buddha Kāśyapa appeared in the world, a teacher, a tathāgata, an arhat, a perfectly awakened buddha, a knowledgeable and venerable one, a sugata, one who knew the world, an unsurpassed guide who tamed beings, a teacher to gods and men. He lived and dwelt with a following of twenty thousand monks in the Ṛṣipatana Deer Park near Vārāṇasī. He taught the Dharma to his disciples, saying, ‘Monks, make your beds in forests and at the foot of trees; in uninhabited places, mountain basins, mountain caves, and huts of straw; in the open, in charnel grounds, in jungles, at the foot of mountains, and at the edges of forests, and there practice meditation. Monks, apply yourselves conscientiously and be sure you will have no regrets later. These are my instructions and my guidance.’

“After the Blessed One said this to the monks, the monks went to make their bed in forests and at the foot of trees; in uninhabited places, mountain basins, mountain caves, and huts of straw; in the open, in charnel grounds, in jungles, at the foot of mountains, and at the edges of forests. Some practiced meditation on the slopes of Sumeru. Some practiced meditation on the seven golden mountains, some at Lake Anavatapta, some along gently lapping ponds, and some in villages, towns, regions, countryside, and kingdoms inhabited by like-minded yogis.

“Meanwhile, a young nāga born not long before that was carried off to the top shelf of Mount Sumeru by the garūḍa Suparṇi. In time, the young nāga saw monks of pacific bearing diligently practicing meditation, recitation, and yoga. Seeing them caused great faith to well up in his mind. With his mind filled with faith, it occurred to him, ‘These great and noble souls have been freed from sufferings such as mine.’ The young nāga placed great faith in them, and eventually his time came, after which he was born into a brahmin family dedicated to the six duties, and in time he grew up under their nurture and care.

“He later went forth into the perfectly awakened and blessed Buddha Kāśyapa’s teachings and, through diligence, effort, and exertion, abandoned all disturbing emotions and actualized arhatship. Thus he became an arhat, free of desire for the three realms, for whom filth was equal to gold, for whom space was equal to the palm of his hand, whose emotions had been cooled as if treated by a balm of sandalwood, and whose knowledge had rent open the shell. He attained knowledge, clairvoyance, and discerning wisdom. He turned his back on worldly gain, desires, and esteem, and was venerated, honored, and saluted by Indra and the gods who attend him.

“On wondering, ‘Whence have I come? Where have I been born? What actions led to this?’ he saw that he had been a creature who had died and passed on, had been born among humans, and that he had given rise to great faith in great disciples.

“He then thought of his mother and father from his previous life as a young nāga. On wondering, ‘Where are my parents?’ he saw that they were among the nāgas. On wondering, ‘What are they doing?’ he saw that they were crying, still living among the nāgas. Using his miraculous powers, he went there and asked, ‘Father, Mother, why are you sad?’

“They replied, ‘Noble one, our young nāga was snatched shortly after his birth by the garūḍa Suparṇi. We do not know where to look for him.’

“He replied, ‘Father, Mother, I am he. After my time came and I died, I was born into a brahmin family dedicated to the six duties. I then went forth into the perfectly awakened and blessed Buddha Kāśyapa’s teachings and, through diligence, effort, and exertion, abandoned all disturbing emotions and actualized arhatship.’

“ ‘Noble one, given the wretched form you had, we never imagined you in the higher realms, to say nothing of arhatship! This is indeed amazing and marvelous! Did you find or attain such a store of qualities? Noble one, you are an accepter of alms but we are seekers of merit, so every day you must come to this very place and take your meal before returning.’

“After agreeing to that, every day he partook of ambrosia in the land of the nāgas before returning. Some monks asked his novice ward, ‘Novice, where does your preceptor eat and return from?’

“The novice ward replied, ‘I have not inquired.’

“ ‘If your preceptor partakes of ambrosia in the land of the nāgas before returning here, why do you not go with him?’

“ ‘How could I accompany him when he uses his miraculous powers and great might to travel there?’

“ ‘When he travels with his miraculous powers, hold on to the corner of his robe.’

“ ‘Will I not fall?’

“ ‘Dear sir, even if you were to hang Mount Sumeru from the corner of his robe, it would not fall. What need is there to speak of you?’

“With their encouragement, the novice ward went to where his preceptor used his miraculous powers to disappear, and waited. When his preceptor disappeared, the novice ward grabbed hold of the corner of his preceptor’s robe and together they rose into the sky above. After a time, the nāgas caught sight of them and arranged two seats along with two plates of offerings for them.

“The preceptor thought, ‘Why have they set out this second seat and plate of offerings?’ Looking behind him, he saw the novice and asked, ‘Son, you too have come?’

“ ‘Yes, preceptor, I have.’

“ ‘Good.’

“The nāgas thought, ‘This noble one has miraculous powers and great might and so can digest divine ambrosia. But this noble novice cannot. We had better give him ordinary food.’

“To the preceptor, they gave divine ambrosia, but to the novice they gave ordinary food. Because the novice generally tended to the preceptor’s begging bowl, he picked up the preceptor’s begging bowl and on doing so, saw that a single grain of rice had stuck to it. The novice put it in his mouth and on tasting it, knew it to be divine ambrosia. He thought, ‘These nāgas are stingy. Two sit down together and to one they give divine ambrosia but to the other they give ordinary food.’

“Unable to bear it, he made a misguided prayer, ‘May these roots of virtue from living the holy life under the guidance of the perfectly awakened and blessed Buddha Kāśyapa, an unsurpassed object of veneration, ensure that I be born right here after I have left this land of the nāgas.’

“As prodigious and complete actions are not contingent on a change of body, in that very life water began to drip from the novice’s hands, while the nāga host began to suffer a throbbing headache, prompting him to demand of the preceptor, ‘Noble one, this novice has given rise to an ignoble wish. Make him repudiate it!’

“The preceptor said to the novice, ‘Son, reject your ignoble wish to be among them.’

“Then the novice spoke this verse:

“ ‘This wish is so far-reaching, As I stay here in this land With water falling from my hands I lack the power to reject it.’

“Thus, he lost his life in the land of the nāgas only to be reborn again in that very place. And that, monks, is how the youthful, shape-shifting nāga first gained faith.”