The life story of the Buddha is lofty, elevated, and provoking, offering us with a job mannequin we are able to admire and respect. We marvel at Prince Siddhartha’s renunciation of worldly life, and we’re in awe at his attainment of buddhahood.
However does the story additionally present us with smaller moments—moments of abnormal human emotion, emotions of intimacy and emotions of loss, or affectionate portraits of creatures who love and adore each other? Does the life story of the Buddha bear any relevance for me—on this very day—as I snuggle on the sofa with Danny, the sweetest and goofiest of my feline companions?
The Buddhist emphasis on nonattachment typically threatens to render Buddhism as one thing chilly and distant. So, it’s necessary to search for these smaller moments. What if we had been to contemplate what the Buddhist custom has to say concerning the relationship between Prince Siddhartha and his horse?
Horses in historic India had been extremely admired animals intently related to royalty, such that each king or prince value his salt was in possession of a wonderful horse. Prince Siddhartha isn’t any exception. He and the magnificent stallion Kanthaka are born at the exact same second. Kanthaka is massive and majestic, as white as jasmine and as lovely as the complete moon, so swift-footed (legend has it) that he’s able to traversing your entire universe from finish to finish, but nonetheless make it again earlier than breakfast!
Kanthaka performs a starring position on the evening of Prince Siddhartha’s renunciation. To set the scene: Nighttime falls, and the gods have put everybody within the palace right into a heavy slumber. Siddhartha wakes up his groomsman Chandaka and tells him to saddle the superb steed Kanthaka. Simply as my cats get nervous at any time when I begin to pack a suitcase—understanding that my departure on a visit should be imminent—Kanthaka, too, is a intelligent animal who instantly understands what is occurring. “This saddling could be very tight,” he thinks, “it’s not just like the saddling of different days. It should be that my grasp needs to go forth on the nice renunciation this very day!” Decided to assist his grasp, he carries Siddhartha upon his again and gallops towards the palace gate, which has been locked by the king. However Kanthaka has a plan: “If that gate doesn’t open by itself,” he thinks, “I’ll leap up with my grasp sitting on my again and bounce over town ramparts!”
Siddhartha is totally conscious of the essential position his horse has to play within the non secular journey towards buddhahood, for he says to Kanthaka: “When I’ve awoken to good full awakening, I will likely be grateful to you. Tonight, expensive Kanthaka, carry me throughout in a single evening, and thru you, I’ll change into a buddha and carry internationally!”
At dawn, on the banks of a river, Siddhartha engages in a sequence of actions to finish his renunciation of worldly life—actions that will later come to be ritually reenacted by candidates for monastic ordination in lots of Buddhist cultures. He cuts off his hair with a sword, removes his royal clothes and jewellery, and places on a set of rag robes. The ultimate act inside this sequence is the dismissal of his groomsman and horse—an important second of severance, a breaking of the final creaturely ties that bind Siddhartha to the world.
It’s at this second of severance that we’re given a poignant glimpse of the intimate affection between Siddhartha and his horse. Of their ultimate second of togetherness, Kanthaka licks Siddhartha’s ft and sheds heat tears. And, in response, Siddhartha strokes the horse and says to him gently: “Don’t cry, Kanthaka. You’ve proven what a very good horse you’re! Be affected person, and this exertion of yours will shortly bear fruit!”
So, Siddhartha departs alone with a view to change into the Buddha and convey the dharma to the world—hooray!—however what’s the destiny of his horse? In some sources, Kanthaka can’t bear the separation from his grasp and instantly dies of a damaged coronary heart. In different sources, Kanthaka doesn’t die instantly; as an alternative, he returns to the palace, filled with grief and neighing loudly and pitifully. Now that Siddhartha is gone, his horse appears to function a stand-in for the absent prince—a handy goal for all of the feelings of longing and anger aroused by the prince’s departure. In a single supply, Siddhartha’s deserted spouse, upon seeing the riderless Kanthaka, faints and falls to the bottom. Regaining consciousness, she throws her arms across the horse’s neck and pleads with him: “Alas, Kanthaka, noble horse, my husband’s companion! The place did you’re taking him?” In one other supply, she bursts into outright anger, calling Kanthaka a “vile horse keen on ignoble deeds.”
The prince’s father has an analogous response, throwing himself on the bottom and looking out up at Kanthaka with eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Kanthaka,” he cries, “after doing so many favors for me in battle, right now you might have completed me an important disfavor!—for you might have carried off into the forest my beloved son. Take me to him right now, or go there shortly and convey him again—for I can’t stay with out him.”
The palace erupts into chaos. Girls faint and swoon; a king throws himself to the bottom. It’s Kanthaka’s animality, I believe, that permits for such uncooked expressions of intimacy. The animal’s lack of human language is at play. Unable to talk or defend himself, Kanthaka simply stands there in silence—like a devoted canine—mutely absorbing the highly effective waves of emotion emitted by those that have been deserted by the prince for the sake of his future buddhahood.
Finally, Kanthaka dies of grief, regardless of the determined measures folks take to avoid wasting his life. Sweetmeats coated in honey and different meals match for a king are provided to him, but Kanthaka doesn’t eat. Consistently considering of the longer term Buddha, he weeps. The ladies of the harem use their regal clothes to wipe away Kanthaka’s tears; they stroke his head, his neck, and his again—however all to no avail. Stricken with grief on the lack of his grasp, Kanthaka starves himself to demise.
The life story of the Buddha is a story that has fascinated me for many years. As an idealistic scholar in my late teenagers and early twenties, I admired the story for its highly effective illustration of a few of the fundamental truths of Buddhism: Every part is impermanent. There isn’t a self. All attachment inevitably results in struggling. With time and rising age, nonetheless, I’ve come to see that the story is wealthy sufficient to offer full recognition to sure different truths, as nicely: Attachment is highly effective. Love is compelling. And loss seems like a private affront.
I nonetheless admire the totally woke up Buddha, sitting in good serenity and nonattachment beneath the Bodhi Tree. However I additionally admire Kanthaka the horse—weeping, grief-stricken, refusing oats and honey, mutely licking his grasp’s ft with affection.
