English
The Bhaddāli Sutta, the fifth, is finished. 6. The Discourse on the Quail Simile Thus have I heard – On one occasion the Blessed One was dwelling among the Anguttarāpas, in a market town of the Anguttarāpas named Āpaṇa. Then indeed the Blessed One, having dressed in the morning, taking his bowl and robe, entered Āpaṇa for alms. Having gone for alms in the market, and having returned from the alms-round after the meal, he approached a certain forest grove for his day-residence. Having entered that forest grove, he sat down for his day-residence at the root of a certain tree. Venerable Udāyī also, having dressed in the morning, and taking his bowl and robe, entered the market for alms. Having gone for alms in the market, and having returned from the alms-round after the meal, he approached that forest grove for his day-residence. Having entered that forest grove, he sat down for his day-residence at the root of a certain tree. Then, as Venerable Udāyī was in seclusion, withdrawn, a thought arose in his mind thus: “Indeed, the Blessed One is the remover of many painful things for us; indeed, the Blessed One is the bringer of many pleasant things for us; indeed, the Blessed One is the remover of many unwholesome things for us; indeed, the Blessed One is the bringer of many wholesome things for us.” Then, Venerable Udāyī, having risen from his seclusion in the evening, approached the Blessed One; having approached, he saluted the Blessed One and sat down to one side. 149. Seated to one side, Venerable Udāyī said to the Blessed One: “Here, Bhante, as I was in seclusion, withdrawn, a thought arose in my mind thus: ‘Indeed, the Blessed One is the remover of many painful things for us; indeed, the Blessed One is the bringer of many pleasant things for us; indeed, the Blessed One is the remover of many unwholesome things for us; indeed, the Blessed One is the bringer of many wholesome things for us.’ For we, Bhante, formerly used to eat in the evening, and in the morning, and at midday, and at the wrong time. There was a time, Bhante, when the Blessed One addressed the bhikkhus, saying: ‘Come, bhikkhus, abandon this eating at the wrong time during the day.’ Then, Bhante, there was a change for me, there was displeasure for me: ‘Even that which faithful householders In the daytime, at the wrong time, they give delicious food, both solid and soft. Yet, the Blessed One spoke of abandoning even that, the Fortunate One spoke of relinquishing even that. We, venerable sir, seeing love and reverence, shame and dread for the Blessed One, thus abandoned that daytime untimely meal. We, venerable sir, now eat in the evening and in the morning. There was indeed a time, venerable sir, when the Blessed One addressed the bhikkhus – ‘Come now, bhikkhus, abandon this night-time untimely meal.’ For me, venerable sir, there was indeed a change, there was indeed distress – ‘That which was considered more delicious than these two meals, the Blessed One spoke of abandoning even that, the Fortunate One spoke of relinquishing even that.’ Formerly, venerable sir, a certain man, having obtained soup in the daytime, said this – ‘Come, put this aside, in the evening we will all eat together.’ Whatever gatherings there were, venerable sir, all of them were at night, few in the daytime. We, venerable sir, seeing love and reverence, shame and dread for the Blessed One, thus abandoned that night-time untimely meal. Formerly, venerable sir, bhikkhus wandering for alms in the pitch-dark night, would enter cesspools, would fall into ditches, would climb onto thorn fences, would climb onto sleeping cows, would meet with young boys, both those who had done deeds and those who had not, and women would invite them with unwholesome intentions. Formerly, venerable sir, I was wandering for alms in the pitch-dark night. Indeed, venerable sir, a certain woman saw me, washing a dish in a window opening. Seeing me, she was frightened and cried out – ‘Oh dear, it’s a demon!’ When this was said, I, venerable sir, said to that woman – ‘I am not a demon, sister; I am a bhikkhu standing for alms.’ ‘A bhikkhu’s killer, a bhikkhu’s mother’s killer...’ Oh, for the monk, indeed! Better for you, monk, your belly to be cut open with a sharp cow-butcher's knife, not better, however, that in the pitch-darkness of night for the sake of your belly you wander for alms. As I, venerable sir, recall that, it occurs to me thus: 'Indeed, for us the Blessed One is the remover of many painful things, indeed, for us the Blessed One is the bringer of many pleasant things; indeed, for us the Blessed One is the remover of many unwholesome things, indeed, for us the Blessed One is the bringer of many wholesome things.' 150. Just so, Udāyī, some foolish men here, when told by me, 'Abandon this!', they say thus: 'Why does this ascetic bother with such a small, such a trifling thing? He just makes it difficult.' They do not abandon it, and they establish distrust in me. And for those monks who desire to train, that, Udāyī, becomes a strong bond, a firm bond, a solid bond, an unrotting bond, a thick, heavy log. Just as, Udāyī, a quail-bird bound by a rotting creeper-snare meets its death, or bondage, or destruction right there. Now, Udāyī, if someone were to say thus: 'That by which that quail-bird, bound by a rotting creeper-snare, meets its death, or bondage, or destruction right there, that is for it a weak bond, a feeble bond, a rotting bond, a bond without essence'; would he, Udāyī, speaking rightly, be speaking rightly? "No, venerable sir. That by which, venerable sir, that quail-bird, bound by a rotting creeper-snare, meets its death, or bondage, or destruction right there, that is for it a strong bond, a firm bond, a solid bond, an unrotting bond, a thick, heavy log." Just so, Udāyī, some foolish men here, when told by me, 'Abandon this!', they say thus: 'Why does this ascetic bother with such a small, such a trifling thing?' "This ascetic is too scrupulous about trifles?" They do not abandon that very thing, and they establish distrust in me. And for those bhikkhus desirous of training, for them, Udāyi, that becomes a strong bond, a firm bond, a solid bond, an unrotting bond, a thick, unyielding log. 151. "But here, Udāyi, some young men of good family, being told by me, ‘Abandon this!’ they say thus: ‘What is this trifle, this small thing to be abandoned, which the Blessed One speaks of abandoning, which the Fortunate One speaks of relinquishing?’" They abandon that very thing, and they do not establish distrust in me. And those bhikkhus desirous of training, having abandoned that, are without anxiety, with hair laid down, living on what is given by others, they dwell with a mind like a wild animal. For them, Udāyi, that becomes a weak bond, a feeble bond, a rotten bond, a bond without substance. Just as, Udāyi, a king’s elephant, with tusks like a ploughshare, fully grown, of noble birth, accustomed to battle, bound with strong ropes and fetters, bending its body just a little, breaks and shatters those bonds, and departs wherever it wishes. Now, Udāyi, if someone were to say thus: ‘Those by which that king’s elephant, with tusks like a ploughshare, fully grown, of noble birth, accustomed to battle, bound with strong ropes and fetters, bending its body just a little, breaks and shatters those bonds, and departs wherever it wishes, those are for it a strong bond, a firm bond, a solid bond, an unrotting bond, a thick, unyielding log’; would he, Udāyi, speaking thus, be speaking rightly?" "No, Venerable Sir. Those by which, Venerable Sir, that king’s elephant, with tusks like a ploughshare, fully grown, of noble birth, accustomed to battle, bound with strong ropes and fetters, bending its body just a little, breaks and shatters those bonds, and departs wherever it wishes, those are for it a weak bond, a feeble bond, a rotten bond, a bond without substance." Then. "Just so, Udāyi, some young men of good family, when told by me, 'Abandon this,' they say thus: 'What is this trifling, insignificant thing to be abandoned, which the Blessed One tells us to abandon, which the Fortunate One tells us to relinquish?' They abandon that, and they do not develop distrust in me. And those monks who desire to train, having abandoned that, live without much trouble, with subdued minds, living on alms, with a deer-like mind. For them, Udāyi, that is a weak bond, a feeble bond, a rotten bond, a hollow bond." 152. "Just as, Udāyi, a man, poor, without possessions, without wealth; he might have one house, dilapidated, crumbling, where crows nest, of no great value; one bed, dilapidated, crumbling, of no great value; one pot with a little grain, of no great value; one wife, of no great value. He might see a monk gone to the park, with hands and feet well-washed, having eaten delicious food, seated in cool shade, devoted to higher thought. It might occur to him: 'How happy, indeed, is recluseship! How healthy, indeed, is recluseship! Oh, if only I were to shave off my hair and beard, put on saffron robes, and go forth from home to homelessness!' But he would not be able to abandon that one house, dilapidated, crumbling, where crows nest, of no great value; to abandon that one bed, dilapidated, crumbling, of no great value; to abandon that one pot with a little grain, of no great value; to abandon that one wife, of no great value; and shave off his hair and beard, put on saffron robes, and go forth from home to homelessness. Now, Udāyi, if someone were to say thus: 'The bonds by which that man is bound, so that he cannot abandon that one house, dilapidated, crumbling, where crows nest, of no great value; cannot abandon that one bed, dilapidated, crumbling, of no great value; cannot abandon that one pot with a little grain..." abandoning a small amount of grain, not a superior kind, abandoning a wife, not a superior kind, having shaved off hair and beard, having put on saffron robes,