Is What Buddha Did Not Teach, More Important?

By [http://ezinearticles.com/?expert=Bhaskar_Banerjee]Bhaskar Banerjee

Buddha, his childhood name was Gautama, was born in 536 BC. His father, the king of Kapilavastu, India (now known as Nepal) wished to learn the future of the boy, and an assemblage of seven great astrologers of the age sat to discuss mutually and make a correct foretelling. Six of them raised their middle and index fingers, indicating two possibilities: either that he would become a Chakravarti Raja, the all-conquering King of all four directions, or a foremost ascetic, the likes of which the world had never seen. Now this is no prediction at all, because every one of us has these two possibilities. Why we are not able to attain our pinnacle, and remain in a quandary all our lives, is quite another matter.

So, this group of the Six of the Wise Words, left Shuddodhana, because that was the name of Buddha's father, and meaning "the purity of opulence', in more confusion because, as a king he could make every necessary wherewithal available to make Gautama a great warrior, and that is what he had wanted his son to become. But there was one astrologer, his name was Kodanna, who sat silent, as if in meditation; he did not seem to have participated with the other greats in their findings. He was the youngest of the group and had, in a short span of time, earned quite a reputation. The King demanded of him his opinion. Unlike others, he raised but just one finger to the great happiness of Shuddodhana, in anticipation of what he wanted to hear. He was disappointed, however, because Kodanna merrily announced that there was no possibility ever other than the child growing to be the lotus of all asceticism.

The lotus has always been very symbolic of Indian philosophical thinking. It grows only in dirt and watery mire but is ever untouched by water. A drop just rolls over without wetting a lotus leaf, which symbolizes detachment - untouched by either happy or the sad events of life. Kodanna's prediction ended here, but what a living prediction for the world to remember of the Buddha's life!

I am reminded of another incident of Buddha's life. A middle-aged and very revered practitioner of the austere ways of life, called a sannyasin, once came to the house of Shuddodhana, and kept looking transfixed at the young Gautama for quite a while. A faint sign of recognition and veneration came about in his countenance, and he quietly got up, and bowed his head down at Gautama's feet, to the surprise of neither, excepting the father, who was simply amazed at the unbelievable goings-on before his eyes. To add to his astonishment, he saw a stream of tears running down the sannyasin's eyes.

All he could ask in his shock was "What happened?" The sage replied, "This boy, I could see, carried the Lotus of Renunciation, the highest realization of the order of our practice". "But why Sir, why those tears in your eyes", enquired Shuddodhana. "Because", said the hermit, "I will not be there alive any more to witness the greatest of events of the Buddha attaining to Buddhahood".

Let us now focus on our turn to be surprised: When this incident happened Buddha was not even the Buddha as we know of him today. He was all of twenty-four then, and was first initiated into a life of a Mendicant Wanderer at the age of twenty-nine. Protected by his father who was bent on proving Kodanna the forecaster wrong, Gautama was afforded a life of utter material affluence, the underlying idea being that he remained distracted from his predicted path of a life away from home. But this was not to be! Destiny had other greater design in store for him, and through him, for the benefit of mankind as a whole.

How could the sannyasin see the future so uncannily in its realism when it seemed inconsequentially improbable and out of place that not even an iota of wild imagination could have dreamt of, and the sage was yet a neophyte in the hierarchy ranks of enlightenment? In fact, it would be wrong to use the word "hierarchy", as there is no such prescribed rule in the course of one's enlightenment; the overwhelming effect being all so gripping, that one is from tip to toe wholly engulfed in it.

I am not in the least trying to impress upon anyone that these stories are true historic accounts of the life of the Buddha. It may be, it may be not; what science or what clairvoyance did Kodanna or the sannyasin possess or did not posses, is not the point in question. To me the yarns spun around such tales are very significant in that they hammer home the mysticism surrounding the lives of these man-gods, encapsulating subtle fleeting messages for the imagination to capture which would otherwise be very difficult to convey in words. What is not said, therefore, becomes more important than what is.

Indeed, what Buddha taught the world can not be understated; the teachings are immeasurably priceless. But think of it from another dimension: Did what Buddha not teach more important? To me, the answer is an affirmative "Yes", if only if we were to become receptive enough as also a receptacle to his all-pouring rain of Silence.

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