2 : Sensuality
§ 2.1 Then Sakka the deva-king addressed Pañcasikha the gandhabba-son, “My dear Pañcasikha, the Blessed One is staying in Magadha to the east of Rājagaha in Indasāla Cave on Vediyaka mountain, to the north of a brahman village called Ambasaṇḍa. That being the case, we would like to go there to see that Blessed One, worthy & rightly self-awakened.”
Responding, “As you say, auspicious one,” and taking his yellow beluva-wood lute, Pañcasikha the gandhabba-son went along with Sakka the deva-king as the king’s escort. Then—as a strong man might extend his flexed arm or flex his extended arm—in the same way, Sakka the deva-king, surrounded by the devas of the Thirty-three and escorted by Pañcasikha the gandhabba-son, disappeared from the heaven of the Thirty-three and reappeared… on Vediyaka mountain.
And on that occasion both Vediyaka mountain and Ambasaṇḍa the brahman village were exceedingly aglow—such was the deva-might of the devas. All around the village, people were saying, “Tonight Vediyaka mountain is on fire! Tonight Vediyaka mountain is ablaze! Tonight Vediyaka mountain is burning! Why is it that tonight both Vediyaka mountain and Ambasaṇḍa the brahman village are exceedingly aglow?” They were terrified and their hair stood on end.
Then Sakka the deva-king addressed Pañcasikha the gandhabba-son, “It’s not easy, my dear Pañcasikha, for beings like me to approach the Blessed One when he is in jhāna, delighting in jhāna, there in the midst of seclusion. That being the case, you first charm the Blessed One, and when the Blessed One has been charmed by you, I will then approach him—the Blessed One, worthy & rightly self-awakened.”
Responding, “As you say, auspicious one,” and taking his yellow beluva-wood lute, Pañcasikha the gandhabba-son went to the Indasāla Cave and, on arrival, thinking, “Just to the extent that I am not too far from the Blessed One, and not too near to him, and he will hear my voice,” he stood to one side. As he was standing there, he took up his yellow beluva-wood lute and made it sound, while singing these verses touching on the Buddha, touching on the Dhamma, touching on the Saṅgha, and touching on lust:
My lady SunDazzle,
I revere your father, Timbaru,
who sired such a lovely lady—
the mother of my joy.
As a breeze is pleasing to one who is sweating,
or a drink to one who thirsts,
you, radiant one, are dear to me,
as the Dhamma is to an arahant.
Like medicine for the afflicted,
like food for the hungry,
calm me, lady,
like water for a fire ablaze.
As an elephant, overcome by summer’s heat,
plunges into a lotus pond—
cool, covered with stamens & pollen—
so I would plunge
into your bosom & breasts.
Like an elephant
beyond the power of the goad,
unfazed by lances & hooks,
I have no sense of what’s proper to do,
intoxicated by the shape of your thighs.
My heart is filled with yearning,
my heart is utterly changed.
Like a fish having swallowed the hook
I cannot turn back.
O, lady of gorgeous thighs,
embrace me.
Embrace me,
O lady of languid eye.
Hold me tight, my lovely:
That is my highest wish.
Though small at first, my desire—
O you of wavy hair—
has grown to manifold power
like an offering to an arahant.
May the fruit of the merit
from deeds I’ve done for arahants
ripen in being with you,
lady lovely in every limb.
May the fruit of the merit
from deeds I’ve done in all the world,
ripen in being with you,
lady lovely in every limb.
Like the Buddha—through jhāna,
one-pointed, intent, & mindful,
a sage longing for the deathless—
so I long, SunDazzle, for you.
As a sage would rejoice
in gaining the supreme awakening,
so would I, my lovely,
in mingling with you.
If Sakka, lord of the Thirty-three,
were to grant me a wish,
I would choose you, my lady:
My passion is so strong.
As I would to a Sal tree
not long in bloom,
I honor & bow to your father,
O wise one,
who engendered someone like you.
When this was said, the Blessed One said to Pañcasikha the gandhabba-son, “They flow together, Pañcasikha: the sound of your words with the sound of your music, and the sound of your music with the sound of your words. Neither is the sound of your words outrun by the sound of your music, nor the sound of your music by the sound of your words. When did you compose these verses touching on the Buddha, touching on the Dhamma, touching on the Saṅgha, and touching on lust?”
“One time, venerable sir, the Blessed One was staying near Uruvelā under the goatherd’s banyan tree on the bank of the Nerañjarā River, right after his awakening. And on that occasion Timbaru, the gandhabba-king had a daughter named Lady SunDazzle, and I was in love with her. But she had the love of another. Mātali, the charioteer had a son named Sikhaṇḍi, and she was in love with him. So when I couldn’t gain her by other means, I took my yellow beluva-wood lute and went to Timbaru’s residence and, on arrival, I made my yellow beluva-wood lute sound and sang these verses touching on the Buddha, touching on the Dhamma, touching on the Saṅgha, and touching on lust. [And he repeats the verses.]
“When this was said, Lady SunDazzle said to me, ‘My dear, I have never seen that Blessed One face to face, but I have heard of him when I danced in the devas’ Sudhamma assembly hall. And because you praise that Blessed One, let us get together today.’
“And so I got together with her—not right then, but later.”
[At this point, Sakka feels that the Buddha is in the right mood to meet with him, so he has Pañcasikha announce his arrival.] — DN 21
§ 2.2 As Subhā the nun was going through Jīvaka’s delightful mango grove, a libertine [a goldsmith’s son] blocked her path, so she said to him:
‘What wrong have I done you
that you stand in my way?
It’s not proper, my friend,
that a man should touch
a woman gone forth.
I respect the Master’s message,
the training pointed out by the one Well-Gone.
I am pure, without blemish:
Why do you stand in my way?
You—your mind agitated, impassioned;
I—unagitated, unimpassioned,
with a mind entirely freed:
Why do you stand in my way?’
‘You are young & not bad-looking,
what need do you have for going forth?
Throw off your ochre robe—
Come, let’s delight in the flowering grove.
A sweetness they exude everywhere,
the trees risen-up with their pollen.
The beginning of spring is a pleasant season—
Come, let’s delight in the flowering grove.
The trees with their blossoming tips
moan, as it were, in the breeze:
What delight will you have
if you plunge into the grove alone?
Frequented by herds of wild beasts,
disturbed by elephants rutting & aroused:
You want to go
unaccompanied
into the great, lonely, frightening grove?
Like a doll made of gold, you will go about,
like a goddess in the gardens of heaven.
With delicate, smooth Kāsī fabrics,
you will shine, O beauty without compare.
I would gladly do your every bidding
if we were to dwell in the glade.
For there is no creature dearer to me
than you, O nymph with the languid regard.
If you do as I ask, happy, come live in my house.
Dwelling in the calm of a palace,
have women wait on you,
wear delicate Kāsī fabrics,
adorn yourself with garlands & creams.
I will make you many & varied ornaments
of gold, jewels, & pearls.
Climb onto a costly bed,
scented with sandalwood carvings,
with a well-washed coverlet, beautiful,
spread with a woolen quilt, brand new.
Like a blue lotus rising from the water
where no human beings dwell,
you will go to old age with your limbs unseen,
if you stay as you are in the holy life.’
‘What do you assume of any essence,
here in this cemetery grower, filled with corpses,
this body destined to break up?
What do you see when you look at me,
you who are out of your mind?’
‘Your eyes are like those of a fawn,
like those of a sprite in the mountains.
Seeing your eyes, my sensual delight
grows all the more.
Like tips they are, of blue lotuses,
in your golden face
—spotless:
Seeing your eyes, my sensual delight
grows all the more.
Even if you should go far away,
I will think only of your pure,
long-lashed gaze,
for there is nothing dearer to me
than your eyes, O nymph with the languid regard.’
‘You want to stray from the road,
you want the moon as a plaything,
you want to jump over Mount Sineru,
you who have designs on one born of the Buddha.
For there is nothing anywhere at all
in the cosmos with its devas,
that would be an object of passion for me.
I don’t even know what that passion would be,
for it’s been killed, root & all, by the path.
Like embers from a pit—scattered,
like a bowl of poison—evaporated,
I don’t even see what that passion would be,
for it’s been killed, root & all, by the path.
Try to seduce one who hasn’t reflected on this,
or who has not followed the Master’s teaching.
But try it with this one who knows
and you suffer.
For in the midst of praise & blame,
pleasure & pain,
my mindfulness stands firm.
Knowing the unattractiveness
of things compounded,
my mind cleaves to nothing at all.
I am a follower of the one Well-Gone,
riding the vehicle of the eightfold way:
My arrow removed, effluent-free,
I delight, having gone to an empty dwelling.
For I have seen well-painted puppets,
hitched up with sticks & strings,
made to dance in various ways.
When the sticks & strings are removed,
thrown away, scattered, shredded,
smashed into pieces, not to be found,
in what will the mind there make its home?
This body of mine, which is just like that,
when devoid of dhammas doesn’t function.
When, devoid of dhammas, it doesn’t function,
in what will the mind there make its home?
Like a mural you’ve seen, painted on a wall,
smeared with yellow orpiment,
there your vision has been distorted,
meaningless your human perception.
Like an evaporated mirage,
like a tree of gold in a dream,
like a magic show in the midst of a crowd—
you run blind after what is unreal.
Resembling a ball of sealing wax,
set in a hollow,
with a bubble in the middle
and bathed with tears,
eye secretions are born there too:
The parts of the eye
are rolled all together
in various ways.’
Plucking out her lovely eye,
with mind unattached
she felt no regret.
‘Here, take this eye. It’s yours.’
Straightaway she gave it to him.
Straightaway his passion faded right there,
and he begged her forgiveness:
‘Be well, follower of the holy life.
This sort of thing
won’t happen again.
Harming a person like you
is like embracing a blazing fire.
It’s as if I have seized a poisonous snake.
So may you be well. Forgive me.’
And released from there, the nun
went to the excellent Buddha’s presence.
When she saw the mark of his excellent merit,
her eye became
as it was before. — Thig 14
§ 2.3 “Then, Vāseṭṭhas, those beings, consuming the rice ripened in unplowed ground, remained with that as their nourishment, that as their food, for a long, long time. As they, consuming the rice cooked without boiling, remained with that as their nourishment, that as their food, for a long, long time, then to an even greater extent did coarseness descend on their bodies, to an even greater extent were beauty & ugliness discerned. In women, the female sexual organ appeared. In men, the male sexual organ appeared. The women stared excessively at the men, and the men at the women. In them, staring excessively at one another, passion was born. A fever descended on their bodies. They, as a result of that fever, engaged in sexual intercourse. And on that occasion, when (other) beings saw them engaging in sexual intercourse, some threw dust, others threw ashes, others threw cow dung, (saying,) ‘Away with you, vile ones! Away with you, vile ones! How can a being do such a thing to another being?’ Just as now, in some areas, when the bride is being led (to the groom), some throw dust, others throw ashes, others throw cow dung. They remember that ancient, original custom, but they don’t understand the meaning.” — DN 27
