Nārada
On one occasion the Venerable Nārada was dwelling at Pāṭaliputta at the Cock’s Park. Now on that occasion King Muṇḍa’s wife Queen Bhaddā, who had been dear and beloved to him, had died. Since her death, he did not bathe, anoint himself, eat his meals, or undertake his work. Day and night, he remained brooding over Queen Bhaddā’s body. Then King Muṇḍa addressed his treasurer, Piyaka: “Well then, friend Piyaka, immerse Queen Bhaddā’s body in an iron vat filled with oil and enclose it in another iron vat so that we can see Queen Bhaddā’s body still longer.”
“Yes, sire,” the treasurer Piyaka replied. Then he immersed Queen Bhaddā’s body in an iron vat filled with oil and enclosed it in another iron vat.
Then it occurred to the treasurer Piyaka: “King Muṇḍa’s wife Queen Bhaddā has died, and she was dear and beloved to him. Since her death, he does not bathe, anoint himself, eat his meals, or undertake his work. Day and night, he remains brooding over the queen’s body. What ascetic or brahmin can King Muṇḍa visit, so that, having heard his Dhamma, he might abandon the dart of sorrow?”
Then it occurred to Piyaka: “The Venerable Nārada is dwelling at Pāṭaliputta, in the Cock’s Park. Now a good report about this Venerable Nārada has circulated thus: ‘He is wise, competent, intelligent, learned, an artful speaker, eloquent, mature, and an arahant.’ Suppose King Muṇḍa would visit the Venerable Nārada: perhaps if he hears the Venerable Nārada’s Dhamma, he would abandon the dart of sorrow.”
Then the treasurer Piyaka approached King Muṇḍa and said to him: “Sire, the Venerable Nārada is dwelling at Pāṭaliputta, in the Cock’s Park. Now a good report about this Venerable Nārada has circulated thus: ‘He is wise … and an arahant.’ Your majesty should visit the Venerable Nārada. Perhaps, when you hear the Venerable Nārada’s Dhamma, you would abandon the dart of sorrow.” The king said: “Well then, friend Piyaka, inform the Venerable Nārada. For how can one like me think of approaching an ascetic or brahmin living in his realm without first informing him?”
“Yes, sire,” Piyaka replied. Then he went to the Venerable Nārada, paid homage to him, sat down to one side, and said: “Bhante, King Muṇḍa’s wife Queen Bhaddā, who was dear and beloved to him, has died. Since the queen’s death, he does not bathe, anoint himself, eat his meals, or undertake his work. Day and night, he remains brooding over the queen’s body. It would be good, Bhante, if the Venerable Nārada would teach the Dhamma to King Muṇḍa in such a way that he can abandon the dart of sorrow.”
“Then let King Muṇḍa come at his own convenience.”
Then the treasurer Piyaka rose from his seat, paid homage to the Venerable Nārada, circumambulated him keeping the right side toward him, and went to King Muṇḍa. He told the king: “Sire, the Venerable Nārada has given his consent. You may go at your own convenience.”
“Well then, friend Piyaka, get the finest carriages harnessed!”
“Yes, sire,” Piyaka replied, and after he had gotten the finest carriages harnessed he told King Muṇḍa: “Sire, the finest carriages have been harnessed. You may go at your own convenience.”
Then King Muṇḍa mounted a fine carriage, and along with the other carriages he set out in full royal splendor for the Cock’s Park to see the Venerable Nārada. He went by carriage as far as the ground was suitable for a carriage, and then he dismounted from his carriage and entered the park on foot. He approached the Venerable Nārada, paid homage to him, and sat down to one side. The Venerable Nārada then said to him:
“Great king, there are these five situations that are unobtainable by an ascetic or a brahmin, by a deva, Māra, or Brahmā, or by anyone in the world. What five? (1) ‘May what is subject to old age not grow old!’: this is a situation that is unobtainable by an ascetic or a brahmin, by a deva, Māra, or Brahmā, or by anyone in the world. (2) ‘May what is subject to illness not fall ill!’: this is a situation that is unobtainable by an ascetic … or by anyone in the world. (3) ‘May what is subject to death not die!’: this is a situation that is unobtainable by an ascetic … or by anyone in the world. (4) ‘May what is subject to destruction not be destroyed!’: this is a situation that is unobtainable by an ascetic … or by anyone in the world. (5) ‘May what is subject to loss not be lost!’: this is a situation that is unobtainable by an ascetic or a brahmin, by a deva, Māra, or Brahmā, or by anyone in the world….
The sequel is identical to 5:48, including the verses. [61–62]
When this was said, King Muṇḍa asked the Venerable Nārada: “Bhante, what is the name of this exposition of the Dhamma?”
“Great king, this exposition of the Dhamma is named the extraction of the dart of sorrow.”
“Surely, Bhante, it is the extraction of the dart of sorrow! Surely, it is the extraction of the dart of sorrow! For having heard this exposition of the Dhamma, I have abandoned the dart of sorrow.”
Then King Muṇḍa said to the treasurer Piyaka: “Well then, friend Piyaka, have Queen Bhaddā’s body cremated and build a memorial mound for her. From today on, I will bathe and anoint myself and eat my meals and undertake my work.”
- Translator: Bhikkhu Bodhi
- Editor: Blake Walsh
With Nārada
At one time Venerable Nārada was staying near Pāṭaliputta, in the Chicken Monastery.
Now at that time King Muṇḍa’s dear and beloved Queen Bhaddā had just passed away.
And since that time, the king did not bathe, anoint himself, eat his meals, or apply himself to his work.
Day and night he brooded over Queen Bhaddā’s corpse.
Then King Muṇḍa addressed his treasurer, Piyaka,
“So, my good Piyaka, please place Queen Bhaddā’s corpse in an iron case filled with oil. Then close it up with another case, so that we can view Queen Bhaddā’s body even longer.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” replied Piyaka the treasurer, and he did as the king instructed.
Then it occurred to Piyaka,
“King Muṇḍa’s dear and beloved Queen Bhaddā has passed away.
Since then the king does not bathe, anoint himself, eat his meals, or apply himself to his work.
Day and night he broods over Queen Bhaddā’s corpse.
Now, what ascetic or brahmin might the king pay homage to, whose teaching could help the king give up sorrow’s arrow?”
Then it occurred to Piyaka,
“This Venerable Nārada is staying in the Chicken Monastery at Pāṭaliputta.
He has this good reputation:
‘He is astute, competent, intelligent, learned, a brilliant speaker, eloquent, mature, a perfected one.’
What if King Muṇḍa was to pay homage to Venerable Nārada? Hopefully when he hears Nārada’s teaching, the king could give up sorrow’s arrow.”
Then Piyaka went to the king and said to him,
“Sire, this Venerable Nārada is staying in the Chicken Monastery at Pāṭaliputta.
He has this good reputation:
‘He is astute, competent, intelligent, learned, a brilliant speaker, eloquent, mature, a perfected one.’
What if Your Majesty was to pay homage to Venerable Nārada? Hopefully when you hear Nārada’s teaching, you could give up sorrow’s arrow.”
“Well then, my good Piyaka, let Nārada know.
For how could one such as I presume to visit an ascetic or brahmin in my realm without first letting them know?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” replied Piyaka the treasurer. He went to Nārada, bowed, sat down to one side, and said to him,
“Sir, King Muṇḍa’s dear and beloved Queen Bhaddā has passed away.
And since she passed away, the king has not bathed, anointed himself, eaten his meals, or got his business done.
Day and night he broods over Queen Bhaddā’s corpse.
Sir, please teach the king so that, when he hears your teaching, he can give up sorrow’s arrow.”
“Please, Piyaka, let the king come when he likes.”
Then Piyaka got up from his seat, bowed, and respectfully circled Venerable Nārada, keeping him on his right, before going to the king and saying,
“Sire, the request for an audience with Venerable Nārada has been granted.
Please, Your Majesty, go at your convenience.”
“Well then, my good Piyaka, harness the finest chariots.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” replied Piyaka the treasurer. He did so, then told the king:
“Sire, the finest chariots are harnessed.
Please, Your Majesty, go at your convenience.”
Then King Muṇḍa mounted a fine carriage and, along with other fine carriages, set out in full royal pomp to see Venerable Nārada at the Chicken Monastery.
He went by carriage as far as the terrain allowed, then descended and entered the monastery on foot.
Then the king went up to Nārada, bowed, and sat down to one side. Then Nārada said to him:
“Great king, there are five things that cannot be had by any ascetic or brahmin or god or Māra or Brahmā or by anyone in the world.
What five?
That someone liable to old age should not grow old. …
That someone liable to sickness should not get sick. … That someone liable to death should not die. … That someone liable to ending should not end. … That someone liable to perishing should not perish. …
An unlearned ordinary person has someone liable to old age who grows old.
But they don’t reflect on old age:
‘It’s not just me who has someone liable to old age who grows old. For all sentient beings have someone liable to old age who grows old, as long as sentient beings come and go, pass away and are reborn.
If I were to sorrow and wail and lament, beating my breast and falling into confusion, just because someone liable to old age grows old, I’d lose my appetite and my physical appearance would deteriorate. My work wouldn’t get done, my enemies would be encouraged, and my friends would be dispirited.’
And so, when someone liable to old age grows old, they sorrow and wail and lament, beating their breast and falling into confusion.
This is called
an unlearned ordinary person struck by sorrow’s poisoned arrow, who only mortifies themselves.
Furthermore, an unlearned ordinary person has someone liable to sickness … death … ending … perishing.
But they don’t reflect on perishing:
‘It’s not just me who has someone liable to perishing who perishes. For all sentient beings have someone liable to perishing who perishes, as long as sentient beings come and go, pass away and are reborn.
If I were to sorrow and wail and lament, beating my breast and falling into confusion, just because someone liable to perishing perishes, I’d lose my appetite and my physical appearance would deteriorate. My work wouldn’t get done, my enemies would be encouraged, and my friends would be dispirited.’
And so, when someone liable to perishing perishes, they sorrow and wail and lament, beating their breast and falling into confusion.
This is called
an unlearned ordinary person struck by sorrow’s poisoned arrow, who only mortifies themselves.
A learned noble disciple has someone liable to old age who grows old.
So they reflect on old age:
‘It’s not just me who has someone liable to old age who grows old. For all sentient beings have someone liable to old age who grows old, as long as sentient beings come and go, pass away and are reborn.
If I were to sorrow and wail and lament, beating my breast and falling into confusion, just because someone liable to old age grows old, I’d lose my appetite and my physical appearance would deteriorate. My work wouldn’t get done, my enemies would be encouraged, and my friends would be dispirited.’
And so, when someone liable to old age grows old, they don’t sorrow and wail and lament, beating their breast and falling into confusion.
This is called
a learned noble disciple who has drawn out sorrow’s poisoned arrow, struck by which unlearned ordinary people only mortify themselves.
Sorrowless, free of thorns, that noble disciple only extinguishes themselves.
Furthermore, a learned noble disciple has someone liable to sickness … death … ending … perishing.
So they reflect on perishing:
‘It’s not just me who has someone liable to perishing who perishes. For all sentient beings have someone liable to perishing who perishes, as long as sentient beings come and go, pass away and are reborn.
If I were to sorrow and wail and lament, beating my breast and falling into confusion, just because someone liable to perishing perishes, I’d lose my appetite and my physical appearance would deteriorate. My work wouldn’t get done, my enemies would be encouraged, and my friends would be dispirited.’
And so, when someone liable to perishing perishes, they don’t sorrow and wail and lament, beating their breast and falling into confusion.
This is called
a learned noble disciple who has drawn out sorrow’s poisoned arrow, struck by which unlearned ordinary people only mortify themselves.
Sorrowless, free of thorns, that noble disciple only extinguishes themselves.
These are the five things that cannot be had by any ascetic or brahmin or god or Māra or Brahmā or by anyone in the world.
Sorrowing and lamenting
doesn’t do even a little bit of good.
When they know that you’re sad,
your enemies are encouraged.
When an astute person doesn’t waver in the face of adversity,
as they’re able to assess what’s beneficial,
their enemies suffer,
seeing that their normal expression doesn’t change.
Chants, recitations, fine sayings,
charity or traditions:
if by means of any such things you benefit,
then by all means keep doing them.
But if you understand that ‘this good thing
can’t be had by me or by anyone else’,
you should accept it without sorrowing, thinking:
‘The karma is strong. What can I do now?’”
When he said this, King Muṇḍa said to Venerable Nārada,
“Sir, what is the name of this exposition of the teaching?”
“Great king, this exposition of the teaching is called ‘Pulling Out Sorrow’s Arrow’.”
“Indeed, sir, this is the pulling out of sorrow’s arrow!
Hearing this exposition of the teaching, I’ve given up sorrow’s arrow.”
Then King Muṇḍa addressed his treasurer, Piyaka,
“Well then, my good Piyaka, cremate Queen Bhaddā’s corpse and build a monument.
From this day forth, I will bathe, anoint myself, eat my meals, and apply myself to my work.”