One day Ānanda was feeding off sea-weed from the side of a mountain and without knowing it swallowed a fish. Having eaten this flesh, he felt his whole body thrilled. “What could this be, that is so sweet?” Spitting a piece from his mouth he saw that it was the flesh of a fish. “All this time I did not know these were good to eat!” Ānanda then thought about how to get more, “Every morning and evening the fish come to pay me their respects. If I make it obvious that I am eating them, not a single one will ever come again but they will all escape far away. I must wait until they are leaving and catch one or two of the stragglers from behind and then eat them.”
And so he fed thereafter. The fish, seeing the decline in their numbers, wondered, “From where does this threat to our kinfolk arise?” One wise fish thought, “I do not like what this Ānanda is doing. I will investigate it.” When the fish went the next time to pay their respects, the wise fish hid himself in Ānanda’s ear. When Ānanda dismissed the fish, he ate the last one from the rear of the school. Having seen this for himself, the wise fish told the others and they became frightened and fled away.
Ānanda had by that time become so greedy for the flesh of fish that he took no other food. Soon he became weak with hunger. “Where could they have gone to?” While searching for the fish Ānanda came to a certain mountain. “The fish must be hiding near this mountain. I think they must have fled here and hidden themselves for fear of me. I shall encircle the mountain and search it out.” So from his head to his tail he covered both sides of the mountain thinking, “If they live in here they will try and escape.”
Coming around the mountain, Ānanda saw the end of his own tail and thought, “This fish has tried to cheat me by hiding here.” Very angry, he bit off with a loud chomp a fifty yojana piece of his own tail, thinking it was the flesh of another fish. This was extremely painful. The smell of his blood went out into the water and brought a host of fish who began biting Ānanda from his tail to his head. Because of his great size, he was unable to turn around and he came to destruction there. The fish reduced his body to a mountainous heap of bones. (Jāt 537)
3:2:4 THE NĀGAS
The nāgas are powerful and magical serpents. They share many characteristics with their European and Chinese mythological cousins, the dragons. The nāgas are quick to anger, loyal allies, but dangerous enemies. Like dragons, they are often found guarding treasure-hoards, and among their weapons is often found a poisonous or fiery breath.
According to the Pali-English Dictionary, the word nāga is cognate with the old English word snaca, from which is derived the modern English snake. In the Pali, the word nāga, while not nearly as multivalent as yakkha,356 does have some other uses that must be distinguished. It is very often used to refer to an elephant, especially a large impressive bull.357 By extension, it is sometimes used as an honorific term for the Buddha or great arahants, especially Moggallāna and Sāriputta. It may also be used, mostly in verse passages, to refer to ordinary snakes, especially cobras. Finally there is a rather rare usage of nāga to refer to a species of tree, now known as ironwood.358 Nevertheless, the problem of definition is much smaller than in the case of yakkhas; the class of beings known as nāgas is defined sharply enough to avoid confusion, the only doubtful cases being possible confusion with ordinary cobras.
The natural appearance of a nāga is that of a large, hooded serpent, resembling a giant cobra. However, they may also assume a human-like appearance at will. Many of the mythological beings in the Buddhist cosmology are capable of changing their form; we have several incidents in the sources of this power being used by yakkhas, devas and supaṇṇas. But the nāgas, it seems, are the greatest masters of shape-shifting, so that this power becomes almost a defining characteristic.
A certain being, although he had made meritorious kamma sufficient for a heavenly rebirth, was also guilty of having incestuous relations, so when he passed away he was reborn as a water-dwelling frog-eating nāga. He was disgusted and troubled by his bodily form and conceived a wish to return to the human state. “I shall seek ordination among the sons of the Sakyan, (Buddhist monks) they are followers of true Dhamma and of good moral habit. Surely if I become one of them, I will quickly win a human birth.”
So, assuming the shape of a brahmin youth, the nāga approached the bhikkhus and was granted ordination. After some time, he was sharing a hut with a fellow bhikkhu and when the latter got up in the middle of the night to do some walking meditation outside, the nāga fell comfortably into a deep sleep and reverted to his natural snake-form. When the bhikkhu returned to the hut he saw snake’s coils protruding from the window, and when he opened the door he saw the whole hut was filled from top to bottom with a giant snake. He cried out in alarm, and other bhikkhus came running to see what was the matter.
Having ascertained that the first bhikkhu was in fact a nāga, they took the case to the Buddha. The Buddha said that nāgas were not able to develop the dhammavinaya (“doctrine-and-discipline”) as bhikkhus. “You should instead keep the uposatha vows (eight precepts) on the nights of the new and full moon, and in that way you will quickly return to the human state.” The nāga left with sadness and uttering cries of distress. (Vin. Mv 1:63)
The Buddha then told the monks that a nāga will always revert to his natural form when falling asleep, or when having sexual relations with another nāga.359 He then decreed than no animal (tiracchānagato) should henceforth be ordained. And to this day, as part of the ordination ceremony every aspirant is asked “Manusso’si?” (“Are you human?”) (Vin. Mv 1:63)
The shape-shifting ability of nāgas is not limited to the human form. In one story, a nāga changes into the form of a jewel ornament on an ascetic’s robe, to escape from a hungry supaṇṇa (Jāt 154), and in another episode a nāga princess assumes the form of a frog as a disguise (Jāt 543). Perhaps most remarkable of all, a nāga once changed himself into a ship to rescue some shipwrecked sailors:
During the time of Kassapa Buddha, a ship was wrecked at sea by a mighty storm. There were only two survivors, and clinging to a plank they came to be washed up on a small island. Now one of these men was a follower of the Buddha and a sotāpanna (stream-enterer). In his distress he took refuge in the Triple Gem (Buddha, Dhamma and Saṅgha). A king of the nāgas had been born on that island and he, sensing the man’s goodness, came to their rescue. He transformed himself into a great ship with its masts of sapphire, its ropes of silver, the anchor and the oars of gold. A deva of the ocean (samuddadevatā) served as helmsman and stood on the deck crying out: “Anyone bound for Jambudīpa?” (Jāt 190)
Sometimes, however, a nāga may be afflicted with a great weariness (kilamati) on account of five things: his rebirth as a nāga, the shedding of his skin, sleepiness, mating with his own kind and fear of death. This weariness can prevent him from changing into a human form (Dhp-a 14:3).
Another magical aspect of the nāgas is the nature of their dwelling places. These are usually underwater: in lakes, ponds, rivers or the ocean. However, the water seems to serve more as a gateway to the nāga realm than as an actual abode. In the Bhūridatta Jātaka, the entrance to one nāga dwelling (bhavana) is said to be by way of a whirlpool in the Yamunā River, yet later in the same story some nāgas escape into that place by sinking through the earth (Jāt 543). When King Uggasena wished to visit the nāga world, the nāga king Campeyya by his magical power created (attano ānubhāvena māpesi) a golden road leading there, lined with golden towers adorned with lapis lazuli shields (Jāt 506). Furthermore, the descriptions of nāga realms, although usually entered via a river or a lake, do not sound at all submarine. There are verses spoken in praise of the beauty of the nāga world in a few Jātakas (e.g. Jāt 506 & 524) and they mention mango-groves, flocks of birds, even lakes and ponds.
On the other hand, there does seem to be something watery about nāgas. They are listed among the dwellers in the great ocean, (AN 8:19) and the commentary says that their palaces (vimāna) are on the crest of the ocean waves, (
AN-a 8:19) which also high-lights the magical and illusory character of the whole nāga world. Their semi-aquatic nature is illustrated by the following episode from the Bhūridatta Jātaka:
Prince Brahmadattakumāra had been exiled by his father, the king of Bārāṇasi, and was living in a hut near the place where the Yamunā empties into the great ocean.360 It so happened that a nāga woman, whose husband had died, had taken to wandering in her melancholy on the shores of the sea near that place. She, missing the sensual pleasures of the married state, seduced the prince and made him her husband. After some time, they had two children, a boy and a girl.
When some years had passed, messengers came from Bārāṇasi to inform the prince that his father was dead, and he had inherited the throne. He told his nāga wife: “Come with me, my dear, and you shall be chief queen among sixteen thousand women.” She replied that that was impossible, “You are human, but I am nāga. We have a deadly poison, and are very quick to anger. If I become annoyed with one of your other wives over some trifling matter, I could scatter her to ash with just a single glance.”
She could on no account be persuaded to come to Bārāṇasi, but she did relent in the matter of the children. She warned, however, that they were half-nāga and so had a delicate and watery nature (udakabījakā sukhumālā). “They would surely die from such a long journey exposed to the wind and the sun. You must make a large hollow vessel, like a boat, and fill it with water and they may travel along in that. Furthermore, you must have a pond dug near the palace in which the children can play. In that way they will be happy and healthy.” (Jāt 543)
Despite this, the nāgas also have a connection to the fire element. One common motif that occurs in the stories is a battle of supernormal power between a bhikkhu and a nāga, usually occupying the “fire-hut” (agyāgāra) of the “matted-hair ascetics” (jaṭila). It may be that there was some connection with fire and serpent worshipping cults, and their conquest by Buddhism. The first mass-conversion to the new faith was the one thousand jatiḷas under the leadership of the three Kassapa brothers. To win over the jatiḷas, the Buddha performed a series of supernormal miracles beginning with the taming of a nāga living in their fire-room:
Having arrived at the hermitage of Kassapa of Uruvelā, the Buddha asked: “If it is not troublesome for you, may I spend the night in your fire-hut?” The ascetic answered that it was not troublesome for him, but that there was a fierce nāga living in that place, “he is fierce, powerful, poisonous, terrible” (caṇḍettha iddhimā āsiviso ghoraviso)! The Buddha assured Kassapa that he would not be harmed, and Kassapa entered that fire-room, where he sat cross-legged, with his body erect and mindfulness established.
The nāga, seeing the Buddha, was not happy, and emitted smoke. The Buddha emitted smoke in return. The Buddha thought to himself: “I shall conquer this nāga’s heat with heat without destroying him.” Growing angry, the nāga blazed forth fire. The Buddha, having entered into the fire-element (tejodhātuṃ samāpajjitvā), blazed forth fire. The jaṭilas surrounded the fire-hut and were dismayed to see it full of a mass of flames. “The Great Samaṇa is beautiful, but surely he will come to destruction!”
In the morning the Buddha put the nāga, now tamed, into his bowl and showed it to Kassapa: “Here, Kassapa, is your nāga. His fire is now exhausted.” (Vin Mv 1: 12)
Very similar is the encounter of the bhikkhu Sāgato with a nāga in another jaṭila fire-hut (Vin Pac 51). In this case, the grateful villagers plied the monk with fermented liquor, and becoming intoxicated, he lay down in the Dhamma Hall with his feet pointing towards the Buddha. This was the occasion for the Buddha laying down the rule against strong drink.
Another incident which illustrates the theme of religious conversion is the encounter of Moggallāna with the nāga Ahicchatta:
Aggidatta was a brahmin who had gone forth as an ascetic and now led a large assembly. He taught that the mountains were their refuge, the forest was their refuge, and the trees were their refuge. Aggidatta instructed his followers that whenever a thought of sensual desire should arise, they should collect a jar full of sand and deposit it in a certain place. In time, this grew into a great mound, and a powerful nāgarājā (“nāga king”) named Ahicchatta took up residence there. The ascetics worshipped him and paid him great honour.
One day, Moggallāna came to the hermitage of Aggidatta and asked for a night’s lodging. Aggidatta, fearful that Moggallāna would take away his followers, refused. The elder then said that he would spend the night on the sand-hill of the nāga. During the night, the ascetics saw flames blazing up in that place, and surely thought that the visiting bhikkhu was being destroyed by the nāga.
In the morning Aggidatta said, “Well, let us see if that samaṇa is alive or dead!” But when they arrived at the sand-hill, Moggallāna was sitting peacefully on top with the nāga respectfully sheltering him from the sun with his spread-out hood. (Dhp-a 14: 6)
There is some intriguing symbolism here: an animist cult worshipping a serpent who lives on the heap of their collected defilements.
Somewhat different was the encounter of the novice Cūḷasumana and the nāga Pannago.361
Cuḷasumana had been ordained as a novice while still a young boy. It is said that he attained to state of an arahant while getting his head shaved. One day, his teacher Anuruddha was suffering from a stomach ailment and when he told Cuḷasumana that it could be cured by a draught of the medicinal waters from Lake Anotatta, the novice offered to undertake the journey. Using his supernormal power, the boy flew the five hundred yojana to the lake through the air.
At that time there lived a powerful nāgarājā (“nāga king”) named Pannago in the lake. As Cūḷasumana was approaching, Pannago was sporting in the water, enjoying sensual delights with his retinue of dancing girls. Seeing the novice overhead, the nāgā grew angry: “Who is this shaveling ascetic who flies over my domain, scattering the dust of his feet on my head? No doubt he has come here for some water from Anotatta, but he shall not get it!” So saying, the nāga spread his hood over the fifty yojana of the lake, covering it up like a pot with a lid.
The novice announced that he was here to get medicine-water for his teacher. The nāga refused to allow it: “To the east there is the River Ganges, go and get water from there. The water of Lake Anotatta you shall not get!”
Cūḷasumana announced that he would show the power (ānubhāva) of the Buddhasāsana (“Buddhist religion”), win a victory, and take the water for his teacher. Hearing this, the devas of the sky came and paid homage to Cūḷasumana. The word of the coming battle spread through the cosmos, through four world-systems, and devas and brahmās from various realms came to witness and pay homage to Cūḷasumana. They were spread as thickly in the air around Lake Anotatta as grains of sand.
Assuming the form of a brahmā god twelve yojana high, Cūḷasumana descended from the sky and trod with his foot on the hood of Pannago the nāga and the waters squirted forth from that place like a stream of urine (muttamuttaṭṭhānato). The assembly of devas saluted the victory, crying “Sadhu! Sadhu! Sadhu!” while Cūḷasumana collected a jar of water. The nāga was deeply humiliated in the presence of a multitude of devas. (Dhp-a 25: 12)
The most spectacular battle of all was the encounter of Moggallāna with the nāga Nandopananda. The Buddha, it seems, had surveyed the ten thousand fold world-system and the nāgarājā Nandopananda had come into the sphere of his vision as one who was in the grip of wrong view, but was ripe for conversion. He also saw that Moggallāna was the only one among his disciples who could tame this powerful nāga. With this in mind, he proceeded with five hundred bhikkhus to visit Tāvatiṃsa devaloka on the peak of Mt Sineru, and as the company of the Buddha travelled through the air, they passed over the abode of Nandopananda:
At that time, Nandopananda was reclining on his jeweled couch under a white parasol enjoying a banquet surrounded by three troops of dancing girls and his company of nāgas, surveying the array of fine food
and drink that had been prepared. Then he saw the Buddha and his company of five hundred bhikkhus passing directly overhead on their way to Tāvatiṃsa.
This evil thought arose in the mind of Nandopananda: “These little shaven headed ascetics are going in and out of Tāvatiṃsa directly over my dwelling. From now on they will no longer be scattering the dust of their feet on our heads!” He rose from his place and, having gone to the foot of Mt Sineru, Nandopananda changed his form (into that of a snake) and wrapped his coils around the mountain seven times. Rearing up, he spread his hood over Tāvatiṃsa so that it was entirely covered and hidden from sight.
Then, in the Buddha’s company, the elder Raṭṭhapala said, “Lord, from this place we could previously see Mt Sineru together with Tāvatiṃsa, and the Vejayanta Palace adorned with banners. What is the cause that we cannot see it now?” “Just now the nāgarājā Nandopananda has become angry and he has covered Tāvatiṃsa with his hood and plunged it into darkness.” Rātthapala and all the bhikkhus in turn asked the Buddha for permission to tame the nāga, but he refused them all except for Moggallāna.
Moggallāna assumed the form of a gigantic nāga and wrapped his coils fourteen times around Nandopananda, then rearing up his hood over the nāga king’s hood, he crushed him down against Sineru. Nandopananda caused his body to emit smoke, but Moggallāna saying, “Not only you can make smoke, but I can too,” also emitted smoke from his body. The nāga’s smoke did not afflict the elder, but the elder’s smoke afflicted the nāga. Nandopananda emitted fire, and so did Moggallāna. The nāga’s fire did not afflict the elder, but the elder’s fire afflicted the nāga.
The Buddhist Cosmos Page 25