Part 1: Marīci’s heresy

Now, a disciple of the Master, Marīci, a son of Bharata, who knew the eleven aṅgas like his own name, endowed with the qualities of an ascetic, delicate by nature, wandered with the Master like a young elephant with the lord of the herd. The dust on the roads being heated by the multitude of sun’s rays terrible at midday in the hot season, as if by goldsmiths; the roads being deserted because of the hot winds, closely resembling the flames of an invisible fire; his own body resembling damp fuel that is being heated because of its constant streams of perspiration rising from head to foot, and with an unendurable odor caused by his soiled body and clothes wet with perspiration, like the odor from a dry skin sprinkled with water; his feet burned, imitating an ichneumon’s standing on hot ground,^[1] overcome by thirst, he thought to himself:

“I am the grandson of the Teacher of the World, Ṛṣabha Svāmin, Mt. Meru with sun and moon of complete knowledge and complete faith. I am the son of the Lord of Bharata, the depository of discernment, the Ākhaṇḍala of the whole six-part country (i.e., Bharatakṣetra). In the presence of the fourfold congregation and of the Master, I became a mendicant, accompanied by pronouncement of the five great vows. This being so, it is not fitting for me to go home from my post, like a warrior from the battle-field, dripping with shame. Now I am not able to bear, even for an hour, the load of qualities belonging to an ascetic, hard to bear like a mountain. On the one hand, there is disgrace to the family, etc.; on the other hand, there is the vow difficult to perform. Here, a precipice; there, a tiger. I have fallen into a dilemma, alas!

Oh, I have an idea! This road will surely be like a smooth path on a mountain even though rough. Those ascetics are conquerors over hurtful acts of mind, speech, and body. I am conquered by them. Therefore, in future I shall carry three staves. They are bald because they subdue their senses by pulling out the hair from their heads. I, on the contrary, shall have a bald head by shaving. They always abstain from destruction, etc., of gross and fine life. On my part, there will be abstinence from destruction, etc., of gross life. They are without possessions. I shall have some things—a gold ring, etc. They are without shoes; I shall wear shoes. They are fragrant from the eighteen thousand rules of good conduct. I, malodorous from my conduct, shall use sandal, etc. Those sādhus are free from illusion. I am covered with illusion. I shall carry an umbrella over my head, a sign of that. They wear white clothes; but I, impure from passions (kaṣāya), shall wear reddish-brown (kāṣāya) garments, in memory of that fact. They, fearing evil, give up the use of water which contains much life. Let me have bathing and drinking with water used in moderation.”

After making these plans according to his own idea, Marīci wore his own outfit and then, such as he was, wandered with the Master. Just as a mule is neither horse nor donkey, but has a share of both, so Marīci was then neither ascetic nor householder. Many people who saw him different from the great sages, like a crow among haṃsas, asked him about dharma, out of curiosity. He taught the sādhus’ dharma, preeminent with its mūla- and uttaraguṇas. Questioned as to why he did not practice it himself, he said he was unable. After enlightening the souls capable of emancipation who came wishing to become mendicants, Marīci sent them to the Master’s feet. The Master, Ṛṣabha-bannered, the sole relation (bestowing) benefit without ulterior motive, himself gave initiation to those who came with enlightenment.

One day, when Marīci was wandering thus with the Master, a virulent disease appeared in his body, like a wood-insect in wood. The ascetics took no care at all of Marīci, who had been outcast by them because he had fallen from his vows, like a monkey outcast by his troop because he had fallen from a support.^[2] As he had no care, he suffered very much from the disease, like a sugarcane plantation without guards from boars, etc.^[3] When he, alone, had fallen into a terrible disease like a great forest, Marīci reflected, “Alas! In this very existence, my bad karma has risen, since these sādhus, my own people, look upon me with indifference, as if I were an enemy. And yet, no sādhu can be blamed for not caring for me, any more than the sun for making the owl blind. How could they, who have ceased from all censurable activity, do service to me who am engaged in censurable things, like well-born people to an outcast? It is not fitting to make them serve me, for that would lead to the spread of evil rising from the breaking of vows. So, I should look for some one with weak dharma like myself to care for me. For deer consort with deer.” Reflecting thus, Marīci recovered, somehow or other. For in course of time salty ground becomes free from salt.

One day, a Rājput named Kapila, a man who would attain emancipation after a long time, came from somewhere to the Master’s lotus-feet. He listened to the dharma of the Lord delivering a sermon, a rainy-season cloud for bestowing benefits on all. Like moonlight to the cakravāka, like the sun to the owl, like medicine to a sick man whose good fortune is exhausted (i.e., doomed to die), like coolness to one suffering from wind, like the rainy-season to a goat,³⁷¹ the dharma spoken by the Master did not please Kapila. Wishing to hear another dharma, casting his glance here and there, he saw Marīci with characteristics differing from those of the Master’s disciples. He went from the Master to Marīci, wishing to find another dharma, like a foolish buyer from a rich man’s shop to a poor man’s shop. When he asked him about dharma, Marīci said, “There is no dharma here. If you are seeking dharma, listen to the Master.” Again he went to Ṛṣabha Svāmin’s feet and again listened to his dharma in the same way. Spoiled by his own karma, the Master’s dharma did not please him. For what is the use of a full pond to a miserable cātaka? He went again to Marīci and said, “Have you no dharma whatever? How could there be a vow without dharma?” Marīci reflected, “He is suitable for me. Ah! This union of similar people has taken place after a long time as the result of fate. Let him be a companion for me who have no companion.” So thinking, he said, “There is dharma; and here is dharma.” By that one falsehood, Marīci acquired for himself a terrible birth extending for a crore of crores of sāgaras. He initiated Kapila and made him his companion. From that time there has been heresy on the part of mendicants.^[4]

Footnotes and references:

[1]:

This is the equivalent of the Western, ‘like a cat dancing on hot bricks.’

[2]:

Apparently, it is an unpardonable offense for a monkey to fall. I have not been able to find any more definite allusion, though several persons have told me such a belief is current.

[3]:

The destruction of their crops by wild animals constitutes a serious problem for Indian farmers. It is customary to keep watch at night. Wild pigs are among the worst offenders and are especially fond of sugar-cane.

[4]:

It seems an accepted belief (in India) that goats are especially averse to rain, though why more so than other animals I have not been able to ascertain.