The Buddhist Cosmos

by Punnadhammo Mahathero

  The kinnara are mainly found in the commentaries and the later verses of the Khuddaka Nikāya. Their sole mention in the four principal nikāyas is found in the Aṇguttara and concerns their reluctance to speak:

  There are two reasons why kiṃpurisas do not utter human speech. That they may not speak a falsehood, and that they may not accuse another wrongly. (AN 2: 60, eng 61)

  The commentary to this passage cites two ways in which kinnaras can be made to speak:

  A kinnara was presented to King Asoka and he ordered it to speak, but it did not wish to. One of the king’s men said that he could make it talk, so he prepared a cooking pot and a skewer and showed them to the kinnara, who said “It is not right that one should impale another upon a skewer.” On another occasion, two kinnaras were brought to the king and again they did not wish to speak. Another man said he could get them to talk and he carried them out of the palace and into the market. There they saw ripe mangoes and fish for sale. Among them were some sour mangoes and some rotten ones. One of the kinnara said, “What poison these humans eat! How do they not get sick from it?” And the other agreed, “Surely they will get the leprosy!” (AN-a 2:61)

  One final story illustrates the deep affection kinnaras have for one another:

  A king had gone hunting in the Himavā and seeking game had penetrated far into that wild country. Following a delightful river up the slope of Mt Gandhamādana he came across two kinnaras. They were fondly embracing and covering each other with kisses while weeping and lamenting all the while. Approaching them softly the king asked:

  “I ask you, with your human-seeming form (mānusadehavaṇṇa), how are you known in the world of men?”

  “The wild animals deem us of human kind, but the hunters know us as kimpurisa (lit. ‘is it human?’)”

  The king asked them why they wept so. Their reply was that one night seven hundred years ago they had been out gathering flowers when a mountain torrent had suddenly rushed through a little stream and separated them from one another for an entire night.

  There we stood, on either bank,

  Gazing at one another.

  At times weeping, at times laughing;

  That night was very painful for us.

  The morning came with rising sun,

  The stream was dry.

  So we embraced once more;

  At times weeping, at times laughing.

  It was seven hundred years less seven,

  Since we were parted so.

  The king was astonished and asked them what was the lifespan of their kind, to which they answered one thousand years.

  A thousand years is our life, huntsman.

  And in that span there is no evil or sickness.

  Little is our suffering and great our bliss;

  But we are not freed from passion while life lasts. (Jāt 504)

  The Buddha told this tale to Mallikā, the beloved wife of King Pasenadi to mend a quarrel between them. The king and his queen had been those very kinnaras in a long ago life. Once again we see the appearance of the kinnaras raises questions. The king addresses them as “human-seeming” implying that they have something almost, but not quite, like a human form. The kinnara folk remain a delightful mystery of the Buddhist cosmos.

  CHAPTER FIVE—DEVAS

  3:5:1 DEVAS

  Above the human world in the cosmic hierarchy are the various levels of devas. The devas are beings of the kāmabhūmi, (plane of sense-desire) considered to have a fortunate rebirth, longer lives and more pleasure than human beings. They surpass humans in five qualities in particular: life-span (āyu), beauty (vaṇṇa), happiness (sukha), fame (yasa; the implication is that they have large retinues)493 and power (ādhipateyya) (AN 3: 18). Devas are anthropomorphic in appearance, and always very beautiful. As beings of the kāmabhūmi, like human beings and animals, they are gendered and enjoy sexual relations.494 Likewise, they consume solid food,495 although their food, called sudhābhojana, (Jāt 535) is much subtler than ours. Their bodies also are more refined then ours, and free of all gross impurities (Dhp-a 14:1). We have no clear indication as to the physical size of bhumma (earth-bound) devas, although it seems they were at most of human stature. The devas of the saggas (heavenly worlds) on the other hand are often described as having tigāvuta bodies, which would make them eight kilometres tall.496 Nevertheless, should they choose to do so, up to sixty devas can stand together on the point of an awl and not feel crowded (AN 2: 36).

  Devas are normally invisible to human beings, because our visual consciousness is not refined enough to perceive them (MN 90). In the same way brahmās, who are beings of the rūpabhūmi (plane of form), are normally invisible to devas (DN 18). In both cases, the higher-level being may be perceived by the lower as a brilliant light.497 In one sutta the Buddha recounts how before his full awakening his knowledge of devas grew in stages: first he perceived only a light, then he became aware of forms, then he was able to converse with them and finally acquired various knowledges about them such as to which class of deva they belonged and whether he had ever lived among them (AN 8: 64).

  The mode of birth for devas is opapātika yoni, spontaneous rebirth. The new deva simply appears fully grown, perhaps already equipped with a palace and a retinue, if its merit is sufficient (MN 12 & SN-a 1:46). There sometimes exists a kind of parent-child relationship among devas: the young ones are called devaputta and devadhītā, (“deva son” and “deva daughter”). In this case they are said to appear upon the lap of their parent, usually their father.498 Although the life-span of devas is very long, reaching 2.3 billion years in the highest of the saggas, they are mortal like all other beings in the Buddhist cosmos. However, for them death is as painless as birth. There is no prolonged death-agony. A few days before his passing, the deva observes in himself the “five signs”: his garments become soiled, his garlands fade, his armpits grow sweaty, his body loses its glowing complexion and he becomes restless on his seat (DN-a 14). At the end, he simply disappears from that place.

  The Pali word deva (it is the same in Sanskrit) derives either from the root div, meaning to play or make sport, or from the old Indo-Aryan dejā, meaning “to shine”499 It is related to both the Latin deus, god and to the old Iranian daevo, from which we get the English “devil.”

  The name deva or the alternate form devatā500 is sometimes used in a general way to refer to all beings superior to humans,501 but is more precisely used to refer to the beings of the plane of sense desire only. These devas exist in several levels: there are the bhumma devas who dwell on this earth, usually in the forest, the valāhaka devas who live in the sky and clouds and influence the weather, and there are the devas of the six saggas or heavenly abodes.

  The human realm is usually considered to be the ideal state for realization of the Dhamma, because of the balance of pleasure and pain. When the Buddha teaches Dhamma to the devas, they mostly become afraid and cry out, “We thought we were everlasting, not subject to change, but it is not so!” (AN 4:33) Their long lives of constant pleasure lull them into heedlessness.

  Nevertheless it is possible for some devas to hear the Dhamma and to attain to the fruits of the path. This is said to be a good reason to memorize passages of Dhamma while still in human form, so that one may recall them easily if reborn as a deva. Devas may recall the Dhamma in four ways: more fortunate devas may recite passages to them, some earthly bhikkhu with psychic power may preach to them, some devas are advanced enough to teach on their own account and some may recover old memories by speaking with other devas who were previously bhikkhus (AN 4: 191). There are many incidents of devas attaining to stream-entry recounted in the canon. It is specifically stated that there are some sotāpanna devas to be found in each of the saggas (AN 6: 34).

  In translations the devas are sometimes referred to as “gods.” This is a natural enough association and there is probably a deep historical link between the devas of Tāvatiṃsa (at least) and the pantheons of Greek and Norse mythology via the Aryan expansion
of the second millennium B.C. Nevertheless, the devas of Buddhist India differ from the gods of the West in at least two important respects. First, as mentioned above, they are mortal beings subject to birth and death (AN 5: 48). A human being may be reborn as a deva and when a deva dies he may be reborn human or even into the lower realms; indeed this is the case more often than not.502 Second, the devas are in no way the creators of the world; nor are they its governors in any but the most remote and notional sense. To these two important considerations, we might also add that the devas are in general much better behaved than the gods. In contrast to the well-known escapades of Zeus, when Sakka impregnated a human woman to fulfill her wish for sons, he did so by gently touching her navel with his thumb (Jāt 531).

  Rebirth into the deva realms is accomplished principally by acts of generosity, particularly when the giver makes an aspiration toward such rebirth.503 However the truly wise spiritual seeker does not desire any kind of rebirth, no matter how pleasant; existence as a deva is seen by the awakened as sensual bondage (SN 1:46 & SN 1:11).

  3:5:2 DEVAS OF THE EARTH AND SKY

  The lowest class of devas are those who do not dwell in any of the saggas (heaven realms), but are bound to the same terrestrial space as the humans and animals. There are many different levels of happiness and power among the earth-bounds devas. Some are poor things, not nearly as wretched as the petas perhaps, but approaching that state. Others are beings of great might and power. Like the higher devas of the saggas, they are normally invisible to humans, or appear only as a brilliant light. They may interact with humans from time to time, usually benevolently, but are more often content to simply enjoy their own existence. They prefer wild places, especially forests, to areas of human habitation, although there are also devas who dwell in towns, nagaradevatā. The wide spread and range of habitations of these devas approach an animistic or pantheistic view of the natural world and is an important component in the traditional Buddhist reverence for nature.

  3:5:3 BHUMMA DEVAS

  The devas of the forest, and of the earth generally, are collectively known as bhumma devas, the word bhumma referring to the earth or soil. This is considered the lowest form of deva, and a person who makes merit, but may have some deficiencies in his virtue, is reborn there:

  A young man lived a life of heedless pleasure, and having wasted his inheritance, he took to armed robbery. Captured by the king’s men, he was being led to his execution when a young woman took pity on him and gave him some sweet-meats. The Venerable Moggallāna was nearby, and he knew this man would be reborn in niraya if he did not make some merit quickly. So, the elder appeared before the man who stood with the sweets in hand. He offered them to the venerable elder bhikkhu. By this act, he would have re-appeared in the deva-world except that as his head was being chopped off, he had a mind of lust toward the young woman. As a result, he took birth as an inferior kind of deva, a tree-spirit whose abode was a large banyan tree in the jungle. (Pv-a 1:1)

  There are many kinds of bhumma devas, living in many kinds of abode. There are sea-devas (samuddadevatā, (Jāt 146, 190, 296)) river-devas (nadīdevatā, (Jāt 288)) forest-devas (aṭavidevatā, (Dhp-a 8:9) vanadevatā, (MN 45, SN 41:10, Jāt 13)) park-devas (uyyānadevatā, (Jāt 539) ārāmadevatā, (MN 45)) plant-, bush- or foliage-devas (palāsadevatā, (Jāt 370), rucādevatā, (Jāt 121)) grass-devas (kusanāḷidevatā, (Jāt 121)) as well as town-devas (nagaradevatā, (Jāt 497)) and household-devas (antodevatā, (Dhp-a 4:8)).

  Some of these devas enjoy a kind of symbiotic relationship with human kind. Human beings venerate them, make ritual offerings to them and in return they protect the health and wealth of their human benefactors. These are called balipaṭiggāhikā (“those who receive offerings”) devas. The Buddha approved of this practice, provided it did not involve sacrifice of living beings. He listed making such offerings among the factors which tend to growth of a lay person’s health and wealth, (AN 5:58) and said that if proper respect is not shown to the balipaṭiggāhikā devas, then they will not be happy and will fail to provide protection (AN 5: 228). The commentary identifies these devas with family ancestors who have been reborn in that state (AN-a 5:58).

  These domestic devas are also known as ārakkhadevatā (“guardian devas”), and these guardians appear in other contexts as well. One king with a penchant for gambling had an ārakkhadevatā, who had been his mother in a previous existence, who magically interfered with the dice rolls so that he always won (Jāt 546, Eng. 545). In another story, an abandoned baby prince was saved by his ārakkhadevatā who transformed herself into a she-goat and suckled him until some shepherds came along and adopted him (Jāt 536). In one very curious story, a battle between two armies is mirrored by a fight between the ārakkhadevatās of the two opposing nations who take the forms of a white bull and a black bull. Sakka had predicted that the white bull would triumph and his nation would win the war, but the general of the black bull’s army, learning of this, overturned the deva king’s prophecy by having his men kill the white bull with one thousand spears (Jāt 301).

  The most common kind of bhummadeva, to judge by their frequent appearance in the stories, is a rukkhadeva or tree-spirit. They are often called according to the type of tree which is their abode, as for example a “bodhi-tree deva” (assatthadevatā) or a “nimb-tree deva” (nimbadevatā) (Jāt 311). They are generally imagined as living in a small invisible abode among the foliage, but at times it seems almost as if they are identified with the tree itself:

  A certain bhikkhu was cutting branches from living trees in order to construct a dwelling. In doing so, he cut off the arm of the rukkhadeva’s son. The rukkhadeva was enraged, and considered killing the bhikkhu but instead reported the incident to the Buddha, who laid down the rule against cutting living plants.504

  Another story illustrates this point even more clearly:

  A king desired to build himself a remarkable palace. All of the other kings in India had palaces with many pillars, so he determined to have one built with but a single mighty pillar. At first his carpenters thought this could not be done, but then they found a great Sāl Tree in the royal forest which looked strong enough to serve.

  It was a noble, straight tree which was worshipped by folk of the towns and cities and received oblations from the royal family. It was an auspicious (maṅgala) Sāl Tree. They went and told the king of it, and he ordered it to be cut down. So the carpenters returned to the park with garlands in their hands, anointed the tree with the five-fold anointing (gandhapañcaṅgulikaṃ), tied a thread around it bound with flower blossoms, lit a lamp and offered oblations. They announced to the tree, “Here in seven day’s time we will come and cut down this tree. The king commands the felling. Any devas living in this tree must go to another place. We bear you no ill-will.”

  Hearing this, the deva of the tree thought, “Without a doubt those carpenters will fell this tree. My dwelling (vimāna) will be destroyed. The limit of my dwelling is the limit of my life.505 All around there are young sāl trees under my protection, where many of my deva relations dwell. Their dwellings too will be destroyed; the limit of my dwelling is also the limit of their lives. The loss of my own life does not afflict me as much as the loss of life of my kin. It is fitting that I give them life. (I.e. save them).”

  Thinking thus, at midnight he entered the royal bed-chamber, richly adorned in his deva finery and filling the whole chamber with light. There he stood in the air beside the bed, weeping. Seeing this, the king was frightened and said,

  Who are you, dressed in pure garment,

  Standing in the air?

  Why do you weep?

  And whence comes my fear?

  Within your kingdom, sire,

  I am known as the Lucky Tree.

  For sixty thousand years,

  I have stood and been worshipped.

  They built cities and towns,

  My Lord, my enemy.

  They built many palaces,

  But did not harm me.
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br />   They worshipped me, and so should you.

  The king replied,

  Never have I seen so great a tree;

  Great in height and in girth,

  Beautiful in form.

  I will make a palace,

  With one delightful pillar.

  This I give to you,

  And there may you live a long time, yakkha.

  Hearing this, the devarājā replied:

  Since it is arisen in your mind to destroy my body,

  Cut me up piece by piece;

  Cut the top, and then the middle and last the root.

  If you cut me thus, my death will not be suffering.

  Astonished, thinking this must be a more torturous way of death than one clean cut, the king asks why and is told that in this way there will be no danger of destruction to the young sāl trees, the deva’s kin, who grow round about. Impressed, the king grants the tree his protection and abandons the plan to cut it down. (Jāt 465)

  There exists a kind of class system among the bhummadevas, with the most exalted living in great trees, and the most humble in lesser vegetation. The following excerpt is from a Jātaka the Buddha told as a teaching against class prejudice:

  A powerful deva-king (mahesakko devarājā) was reborn as a rukkhadeva, dwelling in a huge, straight, beautiful blessing-tree (rucamaṇgalarukkho) in the king’s garden. In the same garden dwelt a humble deva in a clump of kusa grass. One day, the king ordered the big tree cut down to make a new pillar for his palace. The royal carpenters made a sacrifice to the tree, and announced that they would be felling it the next day. The rukkhadeva was distraught and fearful for the loss of his home, not knowing where he would flee with his children. None of his friends among the other devas were able to help, except for the kusa grass deva, who hit upon a ruse. He took on the form of a chameleon and caused the appearance of holes in the trunk of the blessing-tree. When the carpenters came with their saws and axes the next day they saw a trunk full of holes with a little lizard peeking out of one. Deciding it was too rotten to use as a pillar, they moved on. The blessing-tree deva remarked how of all these powerful devas, only the humble kusa grass deva had the wit to save his home. Truly, a good friend should not be chosen by his rank. (Jāt 121)