6.3.4. Dilemma the Seventy-Fourth. Offerings To the Dead  

‘Venerable Nāgasena, these givers when they bestow their offerings, devote them specifically to former (relatives) now departed, saying: “May this gift benefit such and such.” Now do they (the dead) derive any benefit therefrom?’

6.3.4. Dilemma the Seventy-Fourth. Offerings To the Dead  

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‘Some do, O king, and some do not.’

‘Which then are they that do, and which do not?’

‘Those who have been reborn in purgatory, O king, do not; nor those reborn in heaven; nor those reborn as animals. And of those reborn as Pretas three kinds do not-the Vantāsikā (who feed on vomit), the Khuppipāsino (who hunger and thirst.), the Nijjhāma-taṇhikā (who are consumed by thirst). But the Paradattūpajīvino (who live on the gifts of others) they do derive profit, and those who bear them in remembrance do so too.’

^^^

‘Then, Nāgasena, offerings given by the givers have run to waste, and are fruitless, since those for whose benefit they are given derive no profit therefrom.’

^^^^

‘No, O king. They run not to waste, neither are fruitless. The givers themselves derive profit from them.’

^^^^

‘Then convince me of this by a simile.’

‘Suppose, O king, people were to get ready fish and meat and strong drinks and rice and cakes, and make a visit on a family related to them. If their relatives should not accept their complimentary present, would that present be wasted or fruitless?’

^^^^^^

No, Sir, it would go to the owners of it.’

‘Well, just so the givers themselves derive the profit. Or just, O king, as if a man were to enter an inner chamber, and there were no exit in front of him, how would he get out?’

^^^^^

‘By the way he entered.’

‘Well, just so the givers themselves derive the profit.’

^^^^^

‘Let that pass, Nāgasena. That is so, and I accept it as you say. We will not dispute your argument. But, venerable Nāgasena, if the offerings made by such givers do advantage certain of the departed, and they do reap the result of the gifts, then if a man who destroys living creatures and drinks blood and is of cruel heart, were after committing murder or any other dreadful act, to dedicate it to the departed, saying: “May the result of this act of mine accrue to the departed"—would it then be transferred to them?’

^^^^^^

‘No, O king.’

‘But what is the reason, what is the cause, that a good deed can accrue to them, and not an evil one?’

^^^^^^

‘This is really not a question you should ask, O king. Ask me no foolish question, O king, in the idea that an answer will be forthcoming. You will be asking me next why space is boundless, why the Ganges does not flow up stream, why men and birds are bipeds, and the animals quadrupeds!’

^^^^^^

‘It is not to annoy you that I ask this question, Nāgasena, but for the sake of resolving a doubt. There are many people in the world who are left-handed or squint. I put that question to you, thinking: “Why should not also these unlucky ones have a chance of bettering themselves?”’

^^^^^

‘An evil deed, O king, cannot be shared with one who has not done it, and has not consented to it. People convey water long distances by an aqueduct. But could they in the same way remove a great mountain of solid rock?’

^^^^^

‘Certainly not, Sir.’

‘Well, just in that way can a good deed be shared, but a bad one cannot. And one can light a lamp with oil, but could one in the same way, O king, light it with water?’

^^^^

‘Certainly not, Sir.’

‘Well, so is it that a good deed can be shared, but not an evil one. And husbandmen take water from a reservoir to bring their crops to maturity, but could they for the same purpose, O king, take water from the sea?’

^^^^^

‘Certainly not, Sir.’

‘So again is it that though a good deed can be shared, an evil one cannot.’

^^^^

‘But, venerable Nāgasena, why is that? Convince me of this by a reason. I am not blind, or unobservant. I shall understand when I have heard.’

^^^^

‘Vice, O king, is a mean thing, virtue is great and grand. By its meanness vice affects only the doer, but virtue by its grandeur overspreads the whole world of gods and men.’

^^^^

‘Show me this by a metaphor.’

‘Were a tiny drop of water to fall on the ground, O king, would it flow on over ten leagues or twelve?’

^^^^

‘Certainly not. It would only have effect on that very spot of ground on which it fell.’

‘But why so?’

‘Because o its minuteness.’

^^^^

‘Just so, O king, is vice minute. And by reason of its littleness it affects the doer only, and cannot possibly be shared. But if a mighty rain cloud were to pour out rain satisfying the surface of the earth, would that water spread round about?’

^^^^

‘Certainly, Sir. That thunderstorm would fill up the depressions in the ground and the pools and ponds, and the gullies and crevices and chasms, and the lakes and reservoirs and wells and lotus-tanks, and the water would spread abroad for ten leagues or for twelve.’

^^^^

‘But why so, O king?’

‘Because of the greatness of the storm.’

‘Just so, O king, is virtue great. And by reason of its abundance it can be shared by gods and men.

^^^^

‘Venerable Nāgasena, why is it that vice is so limited, and virtue so much more wide-reaching?’

^^^^

‘Whosoever, O king, in this world gives gifts, and lives in righteousness, and keeps Uposatha, he, glad, right glad, joyful, cheerful, happy, becomes filled with a sweet sense of trust and bliss, and bliss ruling in his heart his goodness grows still more and more abundantly. Like a deep pool of clear water, O king, and into which on one side the spring pours, while on the other the water flows away; so as it flows away it comes again, and there can be no failure there—so, O king, does his goodness grow more and more abundantly. If even through a hundred years, O king, a man were to keep on transferring to others (the merit of) any good he had done, the more he gave it away the more would his goodness grow, and he would still be able to share it with whomsoever he would. This, O king, is the reason why virtue is so much the greater of the two.

^^^^

‘But on doing evil, O king, a man becomes filled with remorse, and the heart of him who feels remorse cannot get away (from the thought of the evil he has done), it is forcibly bent back on it, thrown back on it, obtains no peace ; miserable, burning, abandoned of hope, he wastes away, and gaining no relief from depression, he is, as it were, possessed with his woe! just, O king, as a drop of water, falling on a dry river bed with its mighty sandbanks rising and falling in undulations along its crooked and shifty course, gains not in volume, but is swallowed up on the very spot where it fell, just so, O king, is a man, when he has done wrong, overcome with remorse, and the heart of him who feels remorse cannot get away from the thought of the evil he has done, it is forcibly bent back on it, thrown back on it, obtains no peace; miserable, burning, abandoned of hope, he wastes away, and gaining no release from his depression, he is, as it were, swallowed up of his woe. This is the reason, O king, why vice is so mean.’

^^^

‘Very good, Nāgasena! That is so, and I accept it as you say.’

Here ends the problem as to virtue and vice.

^^^^

6.3.5. Dilemma the Seventy-Fifth. Dreams  

‘Venerable Nāgasena, men and women in this world see dreams pleasant and evil, things they have seen before and things they have not, things they have done before and things they have not, dreams peaceful and terrible, dreams of matters near to them and distant from them, full of many shapes and innumerable colours. What is this that men call a dream, and who is it who dreams it?’

6.3.5. Dilemma the Seventy-Fifth. Dreams  

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‘It is a suggestion, O king, coming across the path of the mind which is what is called a dream. And there are six kinds of people who see dreams—the man who is of a windy humour, or of a bilious one, or of a phlegmatic one, the man who dreams dreams by the influence of a god, the man who does so by the influence of his own habits, and the man who does so in the way of prognostication. And of these, O king, only the last kind of dreams is true; all the rest are false.’

^^^^

‘Venerable Nāgasena, when a man dreams a dream that is a prognostication, how is it? Does his own mind set out itself to seek the omen, or does the prognostication come of its own accord into the path of his mind, or does some one else come and tell him of it?’

^^^^

‘His own mind does not itself seek the omen, neither does any one else come and tell him of it. The prognostication comes of its own accord into his mind. It is like the case of a looking-glass, which does not go anywhere to seek for the reflection; neither does any one else come and put the reflection on to the looking-glass. But the object reflected comes from somewhere or other across the sphere over which the reflecting power of the looking-glass extends.’

^^^^

‘Venerable Nāgasena, does the same mind which sees the dream also know: “Such and such a result, auspicious or terrible, will follow?”’

^^^^

‘No, that is not so, O king. After the omen has occurred he tells others, and then they explain the meaning of it.’

^^^^

‘Come, now, Nāgasena, give me a simile to explain this.’

‘It is like the marks, O king, and pimples, and cutaneous eruptions which arise on a man’s body to his profit or loss, to his fame or dishonour, to his praise or blame, to his happiness or woe. Do in that case the pimples come because they know: “Such and such is the event which we shall bring about?”’

^^^^

‘Certainly not, Sir. But according to the place on which the pimples have arisen, the fortune-tellers, making their observations, give decision, saying: Such and such will be the result.”’

^^^^

‘Well, in the same way, O king, it is not the same mind which dreams the dream which also knows: “Such and such a result, conspicuous or terrible, will follow.” But after the omen has occurred he tells others, and they then explain the meaning of it.’

^^^^

‘Venerable Nāgasena, when a man dreams a dream, is he awake or asleep?’

‘Neither the one, O king; nor yet the other. But when his sleep has become light, and he is not yet fully conscious, in that interval it is that dreams are dreamt. When a man is in deep sleep, O king, his mind has returned home (has entered again into the Bhavaṅga), and a mind thus shut in does not act, and a mind hindered in its action knows not the evil and the good, and he who knows not has no dreams. It is when the mind is active that dreams are dreamt. just, O king, as in the darkness and gloom, where no light is, no shadow will fall even on the most burnished mirror, so when a man is in deep sleep his mind has returned into itself, and a mind shut in does not act, and a mind inactive knows not the evil and the good, and he who knows not does not dream. For it is when the mind is active that dreams are dreamt. As the mirror, O king, are you to regard the body, as the darkness sleep, as the light the mind. Or again, O king, just as the glory of a sun veiled in fog is imperceptible, as its rays, though they do exist, are unable to pierce through, and as when its rays act not there is no light, so when a man is in deep sleep his mind has returned into itself, and a mind shut in does not act, and a mind inactive knows not the evil and the good, and he who knows not does not dream. For it is when the mind is active that dreams are dreamt. As the sun, O king, are you to regard the body, as the veil of fog sleep, as the rays the mind.

^^^^

‘Under two conditions, O king, is the mind inactive though the body is there—when a man being in deep sleep the mind has returned into itself, and when the man has fallen into a trance. The mind of a man who is awake, O king, is excited, open, clear, untrammelled, and no prognostication occurs to one whose mind is so. Just, O king, as men seeking concealment avoid the man who is open, candid, unoccupied, and unreserved—just so is it that the divine intention is not manifested to the wakeful man, and the man who is awake therefore sees no dream. Or again, O king, just as the qualities which lead to wisdom are found not in that brother whose mode of livelihood and conduct are wrong, who is the friend of sinners, wicked, insolent, devoid of zeal—just so is it that the divine intention is not manifested to the wakeful man, and the man who is awake, therefore, sees no dream.’

^^^^

‘Venerable Nāgasena, is there a beginning, a middle, and an end in sleep?’

‘Yes, O king, there is.’

^^^^

‘Which then is the beginning, which the middle, and which the end?’

‘The feeling of oppression and inability in the body, O king, of weakness, slackness, inertness—that is the beginning of sleep. The light “monkey’s sleep” in which a man still guards his scattered thoughts —that is the middle of sleep. When the mind has entered into itself—that is the end of sleep. And it is in the middle stage, O king, in the “monkey’s sleep” that dreams are dreamt. Just, O king, as when a man self-restrained with collected thoughts, stedfast in the faith, unshaken in wisdom, plunges deep into the woods far from the sound of strife, and thinks over some subtle matter, he there, tranquil and at peace, will master the meaning of it—just so a man still watchful, not fallen into sleep, but dozing in a “monkey’s sleep,” will dream a dream. As the sound of strife, so, O king, are you to regard wakefulness, and as the lonely wood the “monkey’s sleep.” And as that man avoiding the sound of strife, keeping out of sleep, remaining in the middle stage, will master the meaning of that subtle matter, so the still watchful man, not fallen into sleep, but dozing in a “monkey’s sleep,” will dream a dream.’

^^^^

‘Very good, Nāgasena! That is so, and I accept it as you say.’

Here ends the dilemma as to dreams.

^^^^

6.3.6. Dilemma the Seventy-Sixth. Premature Death  

‘Venerable Nāgasena, when beings die, do they all die in fullness of time, or do some die out of due season?’

6.3.6. Dilemma the Seventy-Sixth. Premature Death  

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‘There is such a thing, O king, as death at the due time, and such a thing as premature death.’

^^^^

‘Then who are they whose decease is at the due time, and who are they whose decease is premature?’

^^^^

‘Have you ever noticed, O king, in the case of mango trees or Gambu trees or other fruit-bearing trees, that their fruits fall both when they are ripe and when they are not ripe?’

^^^^

‘Yes, I have.’

‘Well, those fallen fruits, do they all fall at the due time, or do some fall prematurely?’

^^^^

‘Such of those fruits, Nāgasena, as are ripe and mature when they fall, fall in fullness of time. But of the rest some fall because they are bored into by worms, some because they are knocked down by a long stick, some because they are blown down by the wind, some because they have become rotten—and all these fall out of due season.’

^^^^

‘Just so, O king, those men who die of the effect of old age, they die in fullness of time. But of the rest some die of the dire effect of the Karma (of evil deeds), some of excessive journeying, some of excessive activity.’

^^^^

‘Venerable Nāgasena, those who die of Karma, or of journeying, or of activity, or of old age, they all die in fullness of time: and even he who dies in the womb, that is his appointed time, so that he too dies in fullness of time; and so of him who dies in the birth chamber , or when he is a month old, or at any age up to a hundred years. It is always his appointed time, and it is in the fullness of time that he dies. So, Nāgasena, there is no such thing as death out of due season. For all who die, die at the appointed time.’

^^^^

‘There are seven kinds of persons, O king, who, there being still a portion of their appointed age to run, die out of time. And which are the seven? the starving man, O king, who can get no food, whose inwards are consumed —and the thirsty man who can get no water, whose heart is dried up—and the man bitten by a snake, who, when consumed by the fierce energy of poison, can find no cure and he who has taken poison, and when all his limbs are burning, is unable to procure medicine—and one fallen into fire, who when he is aflame, can find no means of putting out the fire—and he who having fallen into water can find no firm ground to stand on—and the man wounded by a dart, who in his illness can find no surgeon—all these seven, there being still a portion of their appointed time to run, die out of due season. And herein (in all these seven cases) I declare that they are all of one nature. In eight ways, O king, does the death of mortals take place—through excess of windy humour, or of bilious humour, or of phlegmatic humour, through the adverse union of these three, through variations in temperature, through inequality in protection, through (medical) treatment, and through the working of Karma. And of these, O king, it is only death by the working of Karma that is death at the due season, all the rest are cases of death out of due season. For it is said:

^^^^

“By hunger, thirst, by poison, and by bites,
Burnt, drowned, or slain, men out of time do die;
By the three humours, and by three combined,
By heats, by inequalities, by aids,
By all these seven men die out of time.”

^^^^

‘But there are some men, O king, who die through the working of some evil deed or other they have committed in a former birth. And of These, O king, whosoever has starved others to death, after having been himself through many hundreds of thousands of years tormented by hunger, famished, exhausted, emaciated, and withered of heart, dried up, wasted away, heated, and all on fire within, will, either as youth or man or old man, die of hunger too. And that death will be to him a death at the appointed time. Whosoever has put others to death by thirst, after having through many hundreds of thousands of years become a Preta consumed by thirst, thin and miserable, will himself too, either as youth or man or old man, die of thirst. And that death will be to him a death at the appointed time. Whosoever has put others to death by having them bitten by snakes, will, after wandering through many hundreds of thousands of years from existence to existence, in which he is constantly bitten by boa constrictors and black snakes, himself too, either as youth or man or old man, die of snake bite. And that will be to him a death at the appointed time. Whosoever has put others to death by poison will, after existing for many hundreds of thousands of years with burning limbs and broken body, and exhaling the odour of a corpse, himself too, either as youth or man or old man, die of poison. And that will be to him a death at the appointed time. Whosoever has put others to death by fire, he having wandered from purgatory to purgatory, from one mass of burning charcoal to another, with burning and tortured limbs, for many hundreds of thousands of years, will himself too, either as youth or man or old man, be burnt to death. And that will be to him a death at the appointed time. Whosoever has put others to death by drowning, he having suffered many hundreds of thousands of years as a being disabled, ruined, broken, weak in limb, and anxious in heart, will himself too, either as youth or man or old man, die by drowning. And that will be to him a death at the appointed time. Whosoever has put others to death by the sword, he having suffered for many hundreds of thousands of years (in repeated births as an animal) from cuts and wounds and blows and bruises, or (when born as a man) ever destroyed by weapons, will himself too, either as youth or man or old man, perish by the sword. And that will be to him a death at the appointed time.’

^^^^

‘Venerable Nāgasena, the death out of due time that you also speak of—come now, tell me the reason for that.’

^^^^

‘As a great and mighty fire, O king, on to which dry grass and sticks and branches and leaves have been heaped, will nevertheless, when this its food has been consumed, die out by the exhaustion of the fuel. Yet such a fire is said to have gone out in fullness of time, without any calamity or accident (having happened to it). Just so, O king, the man who, when he has lived many thousands of days, when he is old and stricken in years, dies at last of old age, without any calamity or accident having happened to him, is said to have reached death in the fullness of time. But if there were a great and mighty fire, O king, on to which dry grass and sticks and branches and leaves had been heaped, then if a mighty rain cloud were to pour out rain upon it, and it were thus to be put out, even before the fuel was consumed, could it be said, O king, that that great fire had gone out in fullness of time?’

^^^^

‘No, Sir, it could not.’

‘But wherein would the second fire differ, in its nature, from the first?’

^^^^

‘The second one, Sir, which suffered from the onset of the rain—that fire would have gone out before its time.’

^^^^

‘Just so, O king, whosoever dies before his time does so in consequence of suffering from the attack of some disease—from excess of windy humour, or of bilious humour, or of phlegmatic humour, or from the union of the three, or from variations in temperature, or from inequality in protection, or from treatment, or from hunger, or from thirst, or from fire, or from water, or from the sword. This, O king, is the reason why there is such a thing as dying before one’s time.

^^^^

‘Or again, O king, it is like a mighty storm cloud which, rising up into the heavens, should pour out rain, filling the valleys and the plains. That cloud would be said to have rained without calamity or accident. Just so, O king, the man who after having lived long, dies at last, when he is old and well stricken in years, without any calamity or accident having happened to him, of old age, is said to have reached death in the fullness of time. But if, O king, a mighty storm cloud were to rise up into the heavens, and as it did so were to be dissipated by a mighty wind, could it be said, O king, that that cloud had perished in due time?’

^^^^

‘No, Sir, it could not.’

‘But wherein would the second cloud differ, in its nature, from the first?’

^^^^

‘The second one, Sir, which suffered from the onset of the whirlwind, would have been dissipated before its time.’

^^^^

‘Just so, O king, whosoever dies before his time does so in consequence of suffering from the attack of some disease—from excess of windy humour, or of bilious humour, or of phlegmatic humour, or from the union of the three, or from variations in temperature, or from inequality in protection, or from treatment, or from hunger, or from thirst, or from fire, or from water, or from the sword. This, O king, is the reason why there is such a thing as dying before one’s time.

^^^^

‘Or again, O king, it is like a powerful and deadly snake, which being angered should bite a man, and to him that poison, no impediment and no accident happening to it, should bring death. That poison would be said, without impediment or accident, to have reached its aim. Just so, O king, the man who, having lived long, dies at last, when he is old and well stricken in years, without any calamity or accident having happened to him, of old age, he is said to have reached, unimpeded and uninterrupted, to the goal of his life, to have died in the fullness of time. But if a snake charmer were to give a drug to the man while he was suffering from The bite, and thus get rid of the poison, could it be said that the poison was removed in the fullness of time?’

^^^^

‘No, Sir, it could not.’

‘But wherein, O king, would the second poison differ, in its nature, from the first?’

^^^^

‘The second one, Sir, which was acted upon by the introduction of the drug, would have been removed before its end was attained.’

^^^^

‘Just so, O king, whosoever dies before his time does so in consequence of suffering from the attack of some disease—from excess of windy humour, or of bilious humour, or of phlegmatic humour, or from the union of the three, or from variations in temperature, or from inequality in protection, or from treatment, or from hunger, or from thirst, or from fire, or from water, or from the sword. This, O king, is the reason why there is such a thing as dying before one’s time.

^^^^

‘Or again, O king, it is like the arrow discharged by an archer. If that arrow should go to the very end of the line of the path along which it was natural for it to go, then it would be said to have reached that aim, without let or hindrance. Just so, O king, the man who, having lived long, dies at last, when he is old and well stricken in years, without any calamity or accident having happened to him, of old age, is said to have reached death, unimpeded and uninterrupted, in the fullness of time. But if, at the moment when the archer was discharging the arrow, some one should catch hold of it, could that arrow be said to have reached the end of the line of the path along which it was shot?’

^^^^

‘No, Sir, it could not.’

‘But wherein, O king, would the second arrow differ, in its nature, from the first?’

^^^^

‘By the seizure which intervened, Sir, the course of the second arrow was arrested.’

^^^^

‘Just so, O king, whosoever dies before his time does so in consequence of suffering from the attack of some disease—from excess of windy humour, or of bilious humour, or of phlegmatic humour, or from the union of the three, or from variations in temperature, or from inequality in protection, or from treatment, or from hunger, or from thirst, or from fire, or from water, or from the sword. This, O king, is the reason why there is such a thing as dying before one’s time.

^^^^

‘Or again, O king, it is like the brazen vessel which a man should strike. And by his striking thereof a note should be produced, and sound to the very end of the line of the path along which it was its nature to sound. It would then be said to have reached that aim without let or hindrance. Just so, O king, the man who, having lived long, dies at last, when he is old and well stricken in years, without any calamity or accident having happened to him, of old age, is said to have reached death, without let or hindrance, in the fullness of time. But if a man were to strike a brazen vessel, and by his striking thereof a note should be produced, but some one, before it had reached any distance, were to touch the vessel, and at his touching thereof the sound should cease, could then that sound be said to have reached the end of the line of the path along which it was its nature to sound

^^^^

‘No, Sir, it could not.’

‘But wherein, O king, would the second sound differ, in its nature, from the first?’

‘By the touching which intervened, Sir, that sound was suppressed.’

^^^^

‘Just so, O king, whosoever dies before his time does so in consequence of suffering from the attack of some disease—from excess of windy humour, or of bilious humour, or of phlegmatic humour, or from the union of the three, or from variations in temperature, or from inequality in protection, or from treatment, or from hunger, or from thirst, or from fire, or from water, or from the sword. This, O king, is the reason why there is such a thing as dying before one’s time.

^^^^

‘Or again, O king, it is like the corn seed which had sprung up well in the field, and by means of a plentiful downpour of rain had become well laden far and wide with many seeds, and had survived in safety to the time of standing crops, that corn would be said to have reached, without let or hindrance, to its due season. Just so, O king, the man who, having lived long, dies at last, when he is old and well stricken in years, without any calamity or accident having happened to him, of old age, is said to have reached death, without let or hindrance, in the fullness of time. But if that corn, after it had sprung up well in the field, should, deprived of water, die, could it be said to have reached its due season?’

^^^^

‘No, Sir, it could not.’

‘But wherein, O king, would the second crop differ, in its nature, from the first?’

^^^^

‘Oppressed by the heat which intervened, that crop, Sir, perished.’

‘Just so, O king, whosoever dies before his time does so in consequence of suffering from the attack of some disease—from excess of windy humour, or of bilious humour, or of phlegmatic humour, or from the union of the three, or from variations in temperature, or from inequality in protection, or from treatment, or from hunger, or from thirst, or from fire, or from water, or from the sword. This, O king, is the reason why there is such a thing as dying before one’s time.

^^^^

‘And have you ever heard, O king, of a young crop that, after it had come to ear, worms sprung up and destroyed down to the roots?’

^^^^

‘We have both heard of such a thing, Sir, and have seen it, too.’

^^^^

‘Well, O king, was that crop destroyed in season, or out of season?’

^^^^

‘Out of season, Sir. For surely if worms had not destroyed the crop it would have survived to harvest time.’

^^^^

‘What then, O king! on a disaster intervening the crop is lost, but if no injury is done it, it survives to the harvest?’

^^^^

‘That is so, Sir.’

‘Just so, O king, whosoever dies before his time does so in consequence of suffering from the attack of some disease—from excess of windy humour, or of bilious humour, or of phlegmatic humour, or from the union of the three, or from variations in temperature, or from inequality in protection, or from treatment, or from hunger, or from thirst, or from fire, or from water, or from the sword. This, O king, is the reason why there is such a thing as dying before one’s time.

^^^^

‘And have you ever heard, O king, of a crop that had grown, and was bent down by the weight of the grains of corn, the ears having duly formed, when a so-called Karaka rain (hail-storm) falling on it, destroyed it?’

^^^^

‘We have both heard of such a thing, Sir, and have seen it, too.’

^^^^

‘Well, O king! would you say the crop was destroyed in season or out of season?’

^^^^

‘Out of season, Sir. For if the hail-storm had not come the crop would have lasted to harvest time.’

^^^^

‘What then, O king! on a disaster intervening the crop is lost, but if no injury is done it, it survives to the harvest?’

^^^^

‘That is so, Sir.’

‘Just so, O king, whosoever dies before his time does so in consequence of suffering from the attack of some disease—from excess of windy humour, or of bilious humour, or of phlegmatic humour, or from the union of the three, or from variations in temperature, or from inequality in protection, or from treatment, or from hunger, or from thirst, or from fire, or from water, or from the sword. This, O king, is the reason why there is such a thing as dying before one’s time.’

^^^^

‘Most wonderful, Nāgasena, most strange! Right well have you explained, by reason and by simile, how it is that people die before their time. That there is such a thing as premature death have you made clear and plain and evident. A thoughtless man even, Nāgasena, a puzzle-headed fellow, could by any one of your comparisons have come to the conclusion that premature deaths do occur;— how much more an able man! I was convinced already, Sir, by the first of your similes, that such deaths happen, but nevertheless, out of the wish to hear still further and further solutions, I would not give in.’

^^^^

Here ends the dilemma as to premature deaths.

^^^^

6.3.7. Dilemma the Seventy-Seventh. Wonders At the Grave  

‘Venerable Nāgasena, are there wonders at the cetiyas (the mounds raised over the ashes) of all who have passed entirely away (of all the Arahats deceased) ?

‘Of some, O king, but not of others.’

6.3.7. Dilemma the Seventy-Seventh. Wonders At the Grave  

^^^^

‘But of which, Sir, is this the case, and of which not?’

‘It is by the stedfast resolve, O king, of three kinds of people, that wonders take place at the cetiya of some person deceased who has been entirely set free. And who are the three? In the first place, O king, an Arahat, when still alive, may, out of pity for gods and men, make the resolve: “Let there be such and such wonders at my cetiya.” Then, by reason of his resolve, wonders happen there. Thus is it that wonders occur by the resolve of an Arahat at the cetiya of one entirely set free.

^^^^

‘And again, O king, the gods, out of pity for men, show wonders at the cetiya of one who has been entirely set free, thinking: “By this wonder may the true faith remain always established on the earth, and may mankind, believing, grow in grace!” Thus is it that wonders occur by the resolve of a god at the Ketiya of one entirely set free.

^^^^

‘And again, O king, some woman or some man of believing heart, able, intelligent, wise, endowed with insight, may deliberately take perfumes, or a garland, or a cloth, and place it on the Ketiya, making the resolve: “May such and such a wonder take place!” Thus is it that wonders occur by the resolve of human beings at the cetiya of one entirely set free.

^^^^

‘These, O king, are the three kinds of people by whose stedfast resolve wonders take place at the cetiyas of Arahats deceased. And if there has been no such resolve, O king, by one of these, then is there no wonder at the cetiya even of one whose āsavas had been destroyed, who had attained to the sixfold insight, who was master of himself. And if there be no such wonder, then, O king, one should call to mind the purity of conduct one has seen, and draw in trusting faith the conclusion: “Verily, this child of the Buddhas has been entirely set free!”’

^^^^

‘Very good, Nāgasena! That is so, and I accept it as you say.’

Here ends the dilemma as to wonders at the grave.

^^^^

6.3.8. Dilemma the Seventy-Eighth. Conversion And Conduct  

‘Venerable Nāgasena, those who regulate their lives aright—do they all attain to insight into the Truth, or are there some of them who do not?’

‘Some do, O king, and some do not.’

6.3.8. Dilemma the Seventy-Eighth. Conversion And Conduct  

^^^^

‘Then which do, Sir, and which do not?’

‘He who is born as an animal, O king, even though he regulate his life aright, will not attain to insight into the Truth, nor he who is born in The Preta world, nor he who holds wrong views, nor the deceitful man, nor he who has slain his mother, or his father, or an Arahat, nor he who has raised up a schism in the Order, nor he who has shed a Buddha’s blood, nor he who has furtively attached himself to the Order, nor he who has become a pervert, nor he who has violated a sister of the Order, nor he who, having been guilty of one or other of the thirteen grievous offences, has not been rehabilitated, nor a eunuch, nor an hermaphrodite—and whosoever is a human child under seven years of age, even though he regulate his life aright, will not attain to insight into the Truth. To these sixteen individuals there is no attainment of insight, O king, even though they regulate their life aright.’

^^^^

‘Venerable Nāgasena, there may or may not be a possibility of insight to the fifteen you have first singled out for opposition. But what is the reason why an infant, one under seven years of age, should not, even though he regulate his life aright, attain to insight? Therein there is still a puzzle left. For is it not admitted that in a child there is not passion, neither malice, nor dullness, nor pride, nor heresy, nor discontent, nor lustful thoughts? Being undefiled by sin, that which we call an infant is fit and ready (to the attainment even of Arahatship—how much more) is he worthy to penetrate at a glance into the four truths!’

^^^^

‘The following is the reason, O king, for my saying that an infant, even though he regulate his life aright, cannot attain to insight. If, O king, one under seven years of age could feel passion about things exciting to passion, could go wrong in things leading to iniquity, could be befooled in matters that mislead, could be maddened as to things that infatuate, could understand a heresy, could distinguish between content and discontent, could think out virtue and vice, then might insight be possible to him. But the mind of one under seven years of age, O king, is powerless and weak, mean, small, slight, obscure, and dull, whereas the essential principle of Nirvāṇa is transcendental, important, weighty, wide-reaching, and extensive. Therefore is it, O king, that the infant, with so imperfect a mind, is unable to grasp an idea so great. It is like the case of Sineru, O king, the king of the mountains, heavy and ponderous, wide-reaching and mighty as it is—could now a man, by his ordinary strength and power and energy, root that mountain up ?’

‘Certainly not, Sir.’

‘But why not?’

^^^^

‘Because of the weakness of the man, and because of the mightiness of Sineru, the mountain king.’

^^^^

‘Just so, O king, is the relation of the infant’s mind to Nirvāṇa.’

^^^^

‘And again, it is like the broad earth, O king, long and wide, great in expanse and extension, large and mighty—would now a tiny drop of water be able to wet and turn to mud that broad earth ?’

‘Certainly not, Sir.’

‘But why not, O king?’

^^^^

‘Because of the minuteness of the drop of water, and because of the greatness of the broad earth.’

^^^^

‘Just so, O king, is the relation of the infant’s mind to Nirvāṇa.

‘Or again, O king, suppose there were weak and powerless, minute, tiny, limited, and dull fire—would it be possible, with so insignificant a fire, to overcome darkness and make light appear over the whole world of gods and men?’

‘Certainly not, Sir.’

‘But why not, O king?’

^^^^

‘Because of the dullness of the fire, and because of the greatness of the world.’

^^^^

‘Just so, O king, the mind of one under seven years of age is powerless and weak, limited, insignificant, obscure, and dull; it is veiled, moreover, with the thick darkness of ignorance. Hard would it be, therefore, for it to shine forth with the light of knowledge. And that is the reason, O king, why to an infant, to one under seven years of age, even though he order his conduct aright, there can be no attainment of insight into the Truth.

^^^^

‘Or again, O king, suppose there were a Sālaka, minute in the measure of its body, and rendered lean by disease, and it on seeing an elephant king, which showed the signs of rut in three places, and was nine cubits in length, and three in breadth, and ten in girth, and seven in height, coming to its lair, were to begin to drag the elephant towards it with the view of swallowing it—now would the Sālaka, O king, be able to do ?’

‘Certainly not, Sir.’

‘But why not, O king?’

^^^^

‘Because of the minuteness of the Sālaka’s body, and because of the magnitude of the elephant king.’

^^^^

‘Just so, O king, the mind of one under seven years of age is powerless and weak, limited, insignificant, obscure, and dull. Grand and transcendental is the ambrosial essence of Nirvāṇa. With that mind so powerless and weak, so limited, insignificant, obscure, and dull, he cannot penetrate into the grand and transcendental essence of Nirvāṇa. And that is the reason, O king, why to an infant, one under seven years of age, even though he order his conduct aright, there can be no attainment to insight of the Truth.’

^^^^

‘Very good, Nāgasena! That is so, and I accept it as you say.’

Here ends the dilemma on conversion and conduct.

^^^^

6.3.9. Dilemma the Seventy-Ninth. The Pain Of Nirvāṇa  

‘Venerable Nāgasena, how is it? Is Nirvāṇa all bliss, or is it partly pain. ?

‘Nirvāṇa is all bliss, O king. There is no intermingling of pain in it.’

6.3.9. Dilemma the Seventy-Ninth. The Pain Of Nirvāṇa  

^^^^

‘That, Sir, is a saying we cannot believe—that Nirvāṇa is all bliss. On this point, Nāgasena, we maintain that Nirvāṇa must be alloyed with pain. And there is a reason for our adopting that view. What is that reason? Those, Nāgasena, who seek after Nirvāṇa are seen to practise exertion and application both of body and of mind, restraint in standing, walking, sitting, lying, and eating, suppression of sleep, subjugation of the organs of sense, renunciation of wealth and corn, of dear relatives and friends. But all those who are joyful and happy in the world take delight in, are devoted to, the five pleasures of sense—they practise and delight their eyes in many kinds of pleasurable forms, such as at any time they like the best—they practise and delight their ears in many kinds of pleasurable sounds of revelry and song, such as at any time they like the best—they practise and delight their sense of smell with many kinds of perfumes of flowers, and fruits, and leaves, and bark, and roots, and sap, such as at any time they like the best—they practise and delight their tongue with many kinds of pleasurable tastes of hard foods and of soft, of syrups, drinks, and beverages, such as at any time they like the best—they practise and delight their sense of touch with many kinds of pleasurable feelings, tender and delicate, exquisite and soft, such as at any time they like the best—they practise and delight their minds with many sorts of conceptions and ideas, pure and impure, good and bad, such as at any time they like the best. You, on the other hand, put a stop to and destroy, maim and mangle, put a drag on and restrain the development of your eye, and ear, and nose, and tongue, and body, and mind. Therefore is your body afflicted and your mind afflicted too, and your body being afflicted you feel bodily discomfort and pain, and your minds being afflicted you feel mental discomfort too and pain. Did not even Māgandiya, the ascetic, find fault with the Blessed One, and say: “The Samaṇa Gotama is a destroyer of increase ?”’

^^^^

‘Nirvāṇa, O king, has no pain in it. It is bliss unalloyed. When you, O king, maintain that Nirvāṇa is painful, that which you call “painful” is not Nirvāṇa. It is the preliminary stage to the realisation of Nirvāṇa, it is the process of seeking after Nirvāṇa. Nirvāṇa itself is bliss pure and simple, there is no pain mixed with it. And I will give you an explanation of this. Is there such a thing, O king, as the bliss of sovranty which kings enjoy?’

‘Most certainly.’

^^^^

‘And is there no pain, O king, mingled with that bliss?’

‘No, Sir.’

‘But surely then, O king, why is it that when their frontier provinces have broken out in revolt, the kings, to the end that they may bring the inhabitants of those provinces into subjection again, leave their homes, attended by their ministers and chiefs, their soldiers and their guards, and marching over ground even and uneven, tormented the while by gnats and mosquitoes and hot winds, engage in fierce fights, and suffer the presentiment of death?’

^^^^

‘That, venerable Nāgasena, is not what is called the bliss of sovranty. It is only the preliminary stage in the pursuit of that bliss. It is after they have thus, in pain, sought after sovranty, that they enjoy the bliss thereof. And thus that bliss, Nāgasena, is itself unmixed with pain, for the bliss of sovranty is one thing, and the pain another.’

^^^^

‘Just so, O king, is Nirvāṇa all bliss, and there is no pain mingled with it. Those who are in quest of Nirvāṇa afflict their minds and bodies it is true, restrain themselves in standing, walking, sitting, lying, and in food, suppress their sleep, keep their senses in subjection, abandon their very body and their life. But it is after they have thus, in pain, sought after Nirvāṇa, that they enjoy the Nirvāṇa which is bliss unalloyed—as kings do the bliss of sovranty after their foes have been put down. Thus is it, O king, that Nirvāṇa is all bliss, and there is no pain mingled with it. For Nirvāṇa is one thing, and the pain another.

^^^^

‘And hear another explanation, O king, of the same thing. Is there such a thing, O king, as the bliss of knowledge which those teachers have who have passed through their course?’

‘Yes, Sir, there is.’

‘Well, is that bliss of knowledge alloyed with pain?’

‘No.’

^^^^

‘What then, O king, is the good of their afflicting Themselves by bowing down before and standing up in the presence of their teachers; by drawing water, and sweeping out the cell, and placing tooth-sticks and washing-water ready; by living upon scraps left over; by doing service in shampooing, and bathing, and washing of the feet; by suppressing their own will, and acting according to the will of others; by sleeping in discomfort, and feeding on distasteful food?’

^^^^

‘That, Nāgasena, is not the bliss of knowledge, it is a preliminary stage in the pursuit thereof. It is after the teachers have, in pain, sought after knowledge, that they enjoy its bliss. Thus is it, Nāgasena, that the bliss of knowledge is unalloyed with pain. For that bliss of knowledge is one thing, and the pain another.’

^^^^

‘Just so, O king, is Nirvāṇa all bliss, and there is no pain mingled with it. Those who are in quest of Nirvāṇa afflict their minds and bodies it is true, restrain themselves in standing, walking, sitting, lying, and in food, suppress their sleep, keep their senses in subjection, abandon their very body and their life. But it is after they have thus, in pain, sought after Nirvāṇa, that they enjoy the Nirvāṇa which is bliss unalloyed—as teachers do the bliss of knowledge. Thus is it, O king, that Nirvāṇa is all bliss, and there is no pain mingled with it. For Nirvāṇa is one thing, and the pain another.’

^^^^

‘Very good, Nāgasena! That is so, and I accept it as you say.’

Here ends the dilemma as to the pain of Nirvāṇa.

^^^^

6.3.10. Dilemma the Eightieth. The Outward Form Of Nirvāṇa  

‘Venerable Nāgasena, this Nirvāṇa that you are always talking of—can you make clear by metaphor, or explanation, or reason, or argument, the form, or figure, or duration, or measure of it?’

6.3.10. Dilemma the Eightieth. The Outward Form Of Nirvāṇa  

^^^^

‘Nirvāṇa, O king, has nothing similar to it. By no metaphor, or explanation, or reason, or argument can its form, or figure, or duration, or measure be made clear.’

^^^^

‘That I cannot believe, Nāgasena—that of Nirvāṇa, which really after all is a condition that exists, it should be so impossible in any way to make us understand either the form, or figure, or duration, or measure! Give me some explanation of this.’

^^^^

‘Very well, O king, I will do so. Is there such a thing, O king, as the great ocean?’

‘Yes, the ocean exists.’

^^^^

‘Well, suppose some one were to ask you, saying: “How much water is there, your majesty, in the sea, and how many are the creatures that dwell therein?” When that question had been put, how would you answer him?’

^^^^

‘I should reply thus to such a question: “My good fellow! this is an unaskable thing that you ask me. No one ought to ask such a question. It is a point that should be left alone. The physicists have never examined into the ocean in that way. And no one can measure the water there, or count the creatures who dwell therein.” Thus, Sir, should I make reply.’

^^^^

‘But why, O king, would you make such a reply about the ocean which, after all, is really an existing condition of things. Ought you not rather to count and tell him, saying: “So and so much is the water in the sea, and so and so many are the creatures that dwell therein?”’

^^^^

‘That would be impossible, Sir. The question is beyond one’s power.’

^^^^

‘As impossible as it is, O king, to tell the measure of the water in the sea, or the number of the creatures dwelling therein, though after all the sea exists, so impossible is it in any of the ways you suggest to tell the form, or figure, or duration, or measure of Nirvāṇa, though after all it is a condition that does exist. And even, O king, if one of magical powers, master over mind, were to be able to count the water and the creatures in the sea, even he could not tell the form or the figure, the duration or the measure of Nirvāṇa.

^^^^

‘And hear another explanation of the same thing, O king. Are there, O king, among the gods certain of them called “The Formless Ones ?

‘Yes, Sir. I have heard there are such.’

^^^^

‘Well, O king, can you make clear by metaphor, or explanation, or reason, or argument the form, or figure, or duration, or size of these gods, the “Formless Ones?”’

‘No, I cannot.’

^^^^

‘Then, O king, there are none.’

‘The Formless Ones, Sir, do exist; and yet it is impossible in any of the ways you suggest to explain either their form or figure, either their duration or their size.’

^^^^

‘As impossible as it is, O king, to tell the form or figure, the duration or the size of the gods called “Formless Ones,” though they after all are beings that exist, so impossible is it in any of the ways you suggest to explain the form or the figure, the duration or the measure of Nirvāṇa, though after all it is a condition that does exist.’

^^^^

‘Venerable Nāgasena, I will grant you that Nirvāṇa is bliss unalloyed, and yet that is impossible to make clear, either by simile or explanation, by reason or by argument, either its form or its figure, either its duration or its size. But is there no quality of Nirvāṇa which is inherent also in other things, and is such that it can be made evident by metaphor ?’

^^^^

‘Though there is nothing as to its form which can be so explained, there is something, O king, as to its qualities which can.’

^^^^

‘O happy word, Nāgasena! Speak then, quickly, that I may have an explanation of even one point in the characteristics of Nirvāṇa. Appease the fever of my heart. Allay it by the cool sweet breezes of your words!’

^^^^

‘There is one quality of the lotus, O king, inherent in Nirvāṇa, and two qualities of water, and three of medicine, and four of the ocean, and five of food, and ten of space, and three of the wish-conferring gem, and three of red sandal wood, and three of the froth of ghee, and five of a mountain peak.’

^^^^

‘Venerable Nāgasena, that one quality of the lotus which you said was inherent in Nirvāṇa—which is that?’

^^^^

‘As the lotus, O king, is untarnished by the water, so is Nirvāṇa untarnished by any evil dispositions. This is the one quality of the lotus inherent in Nirvāṇa.’

^^^^

‘Venerable Nāgasena, those two qualities of water which you said were inherent in Nirvāṇa—which are they?’

^^^^

‘As water, O king, is cool and assuages heat, so also is Nirvāṇa cool, and assuages the fever arising from all evil dispositions. This is the first quality of water inherent in Nirvāṇa. And again, O king, as water allays the thirst of men and beasts when they are exhausted and anxious, craving for drink, and tormented by thirst, so does Nirvāṇa allay the thirst of the craving after lusts, the craving after future life, and the craving after worldly prosperity. This is the second quality of water inherent in Nirvāṇa.’

^^^^

‘Venerable Nāgasena, those three qualities of medicine, which you said were inherent in Nirvāṇa—which are they?’

^^^^

‘As medicine, O king, is the refuge of beings tormented by poison, so is Nirvāṇa the refuge of beings tormented with the poison of evil dispositions. This is the first quality of medicine inherent in Nirvāṇa. And again, O king, as medicine puts an end to diseases, so does Nirvāṇa put an end to griefs. This is the second quality of medicine inherent in Nirvāṇa. And again, O king, as medicine is ambrosia, so also is Nirvāṇa ambrosia. This is the third quality of medicine inherent in Nirvāṇa.’

^^^^

‘Venerable Nāgasena, those four qualities of the ocean which you said were inherent in Nirvāṇa—which are they?’

^^^^

‘As the ocean, O king, is free from (empty of) corpses, so also is Nirvāṇa free from (empty of) the dead bodies of all evil dispositions. This, O king, is the first quality of the ocean inherent in Nirvāṇa. And again, O king, as the ocean is mighty and boundless, and fills not with all the rivers that flow in to it; so is Nirvāṇa mighty and boundless, and fills not with all beings (who enter in to it). This is the second quality of the ocean inherent in Nirvāṇa. And again, O king, as the ocean is the abode of mighty creatures, so is Nirvāṇa the abode of great men—Arahats, in whom the Great Evils and all stains have been destroyed, endowed with power, masters of themselves. This is the third quality of the ocean inherent in Nirvāṇa. And again, O king, as the ocean is all in blossom, as it were, with the innumerable and various and fine flowers of the ripple of its waves, so is Nirvāṇa all in blossom, as it were, with the innumerable and various and fine flowers of purity, of knowledge, and of emancipation. This is the fourth quality of the ocean inherent in Nirvāṇa.’

^^^^

‘Venerable Nāgasena, those five qualities of food which you said were inherent in Nirvāṇa—which are they?’

^^^^

‘As food, O king, is the support of the life of all beings, so is Nirvāṇa, when it has been realised, the support of life, for it puts an end to old age and death. This is the first quality of food inherent in Nirvāṇa. And again, O king, as food increases the strength of all beings, so does Nirvāṇa, when it has been realised, increase the power of Iddhi of all beings. This is the second quality of food inherent in Nirvāṇa. And again, O king, as food is the source of the beauty of all beings, so is Nirvāṇa, when it has been realised, the source to all beings of the beauty of holiness. This is the third quality of food inherent in Nirvāṇa. And again, O king, as food puts a stop to suffering in all beings, so does Nirvāṇa, when it has been realised, put a stop in all beings to the suffering arising from every evil disposition. This is the fourth quality of food inherent in Nirvāṇa. And again, O king, as food overcomes in all beings the weakness of hunger, so does Nirvāṇa, when it has been realised, overcome in all beings the weakness which arises from hunger and every sort of pain. This is the fifth quality of food inherent in Nirvāṇa.’

^^^^

‘Venerable Nāgasena, those ten qualities of space which you said were inherent in Nirvāṇa—which are they?’

^^^^

‘As space, O king, neither is born nor grows old, neither dies nor passes away nor is reborn (has a future life to spring up into), as it is incompressible, cannot be carried off by thieves, rests on nothing, is the sphere in which birds fly, is unobstructed, and is infinite; so, O king, Nirvāṇa is not born, neither does it grow old, it dies not, it passes not away, it has no rebirth (no future life to spring up into), it is unconquerable, thieves carry it not off, it is not attached to anything, it is the sphere in which Arahats move, nothing can obstruct it, and it is infinite. These are the ten qualities of space inherent in Nirvāṇa.’

^^^^

‘Venerable Nāgasena, those three qualities of the wish-conferring gem which you said were inherent in Nirvāṇa—which are they?’

^^^^

‘As the wishing-gem, O king, satisfies every desire, so also does Nirvāṇa. This is the first quality of the wishing-gem inherent in Nirvāṇa. And again, O king, as the wishing-gem causes delight, so also does Nirvāṇa. This is the second quality of the wishing-gem inherent in Nirvāṇa. And again, O king, as the wishing-gem is full of lustre, so also is Nirvāṇa. This is the third quality of the wishing-gem inherent in Nirvāṇa.’

^^^^

‘Venerable Nāgasena, those three qualities of red sandal wood which you said were inherent in Nirvāṇa—which are they?’

^^^^

‘As red sandal wood, O king, is hard to get, so is Nirvāṇa hard to attain to. This is the first quality of red sandal wood inherent in Nirvāṇa. And again, O king, as red sandal wood is unequalled in the beauty of its perfume, so is Nirvāṇa. This is the second quality of red sandal wood inherent in Nirvāṇa. And again, O king, as red sandal wood is praised by all the good, so is Nirvāṇa praised by all the Noble Ones. This is the third quality of red sandal wood inherent in Nirvāṇa.’

^^^^

‘Venerable Nāgasena, those three qualities of the skimmings of ghee which you said were inherent in Nirvāṇa—which are they?’

^^^^

‘As ghee is beautiful in colour, O king, so also is Nirvāṇa beautiful in righteousness. This is the first quality of the ghee inherent in Nirvāṇa. And again, O king, as ghee has a pleasant perfume, so also has Nirvāṇa the pleasant perfume of righteousness. This is the second quality of ghee inherent in Nirvāṇa. And again, O king, as ghee has a pleasant taste, so also has Nirvāṇa. This is the third quality of ghee inherent in Nirvāṇa.’

^^^^

‘Venerable Nāgasena, those five qualities of a mountain peak which you said were inherent in Nirvāṇa—which are they?’

^^^^

‘As a mountain peak is very lofty, so also is Nirvāṇa very exalted. This is the first quality of a mountain peak inherent in Nirvāṇa. And again, O king, as a mountain peak is immoveable, so also is Nirvāṇa. This is the second quality of a mountain peak inherent in Nirvāṇa. And again, O king, as a mountain peak is inaccessible, so also is Nirvāṇa inaccessible to all evil dispositions. This is the third quality of a mountain peak inherent in Nirvāṇa. And again, O king, as a mountain peak is a place where no plants can grow, so also is Nirvāṇa a condition in which no evil dispositions can grow. This is the fourth quality of a mountain peak inherent in Nirvāṇa. And again, O king, as a mountain peak is free alike from desire to please and from resentment, so also is Nirvāṇa. This is the fifth quality of a mountain peak inherent in Nirvāṇa.’

^^^^

‘Very good, Nāgasena! That is so, and I accept it as you say.’

^^^^

Here ends the problem as to the form of Nirvāṇa.

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