The Life or Legend of Gaudama, the Buddha of the Burmese (Volume I)Bigandet, Paul Ambroise
Religion
The Life or Legend of Gaudama, the Buddha of the Burmese (Volume I)
Bigandet, Paul Ambroise
Buddhism -- Burma; Burma -- Religion; Gautama Buddha
While his attention was taken
up with this consideration, a great Brahma, named Gatigara, who in the
days of the Buddha Kathaba had been an intimate friend of our Phralaong,
and who, during the period that elapsed between the manifestation of
that Buddha to the present time, had not grown old, discovered at once
the perplexity of his friend's mind. "Prince Theiddat," said he, "is
preparing to become a Rahan, but he is not supplied with the dress and
other implements essentially required for his future calling. I will
provide him now with the thinbaing, the kowot, the dugout, the patta,
the leathern girdle, the hatchet, the needle, and filter."[3] He took
with him all these articles, and in an instant arrived in the presence
of Phralaong, to whom he presented them. Though unacquainted with the
details of that dress, and untrained in the use of those new implements,
the prince, like a man who had been a recluse during several existences,
put on with a graceful gravity his new dress. He adjusted the thinbaing
round his waist, covered his body with the kowot, threw the dugout over
his shoulders, and suspended to his neck the bag containing the earthen
patta. Assuming the grave, meek, and dignified countenance of a Rahan,
he called Tsanda and bade him go back to his father and relate to him
all that he had seen. Tsanda, complying with his master's request,
prostrated himself three times before him; then, rising up, he wheeled
to the right and departed. The spirited horse, hearing the last words of
Phralaong, could no more control his grief.[4]
"Alas!" said he, "I will see no more my master in this world." His
sorrow grew so great that his heart split into two parts, and he died on
the spot.
After his death, he became a Nat in the seat of Tawadeintha. The
affliction of Tsanda at parting with his good master was increased by
the death of Kantika. The tears that streamed down his cheeks resembled
drops of liquid silver.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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