The Lord Buddha¹¹

I have written a very powerful poem about nirvana. Tomorrow perhaps I will compose a song. This poem is about my first experience of nirvana — that is to say, in this incarnation. In previous incarnations I definitely had the experience of nirvana and I went beyond it. In this incarnation I have perhaps gone far beyond nirvana. One day I was enjoying my nirvana experience and I wrote this poem. I can tell many, many stories. It will be difficult even for my disciples to digest my experiences!

At Kamakura, and also at Borobudur, how I was conversing with the Lord Buddha! Many times it happened. Even in Puerto Rico I had such a wonderful conversation with the Lord Buddha.

I was told, although I did not see it when I used to meditate in Sri Aurobindo’s room, that Sri Aurobindo kept only one picture there, and that was the Lord Buddha’s picture. I meditated there every day for quite a few years, but I did not see the Lord Buddha’s picture in Sri Aurobindo’s room. Perhaps it was long before I was born that Sri Aurobindo kept the Lord Buddha’s picture. When I meditated there, I saw only two tigers.

The Lord Buddha’s wife was extremely eager to be her husband’s disciple, so she played a wonderful trick on him. Their son, Rahul, became very, very devoted to his father. The mother asked the son to go to his father and beg him for initiation. Ananda, the dearest disciple, and others felt very sorry for the little boy. He was all sincerity. At first the Lord Buddha refused. He said, “No, no, no! I will not accept my son.” But Ananda, his absolutely dearest disciple, begged him. Ananda said, “Look at his sincerity! How sincerely he wants to become your disciple! Please, please accept him.” So the Lord Buddha accepted Rahul, his son, as his disciple.

Then the son played a trick on his father! He said, “Father, you have left my mother. I have also left her. Now, who will take care of her?” What a wonderful trick he sprang upon his father! Then the father accepted his wife also as a disciple.

The Lord Buddha was a spiritual Master not only of infinite Compassion, but also of infinite Forgiveness. In the evening of his life, a former disciple invited him to come and eat at his place. That is how the story runs. Whether the host deliberately put poison inside the food or it was done inadvertently, God alone knows.

The disciples were very, very, very upset and furious, but the Lord Buddha said, “You must not, must not punish him. My time has come. Do not blame him." They did not do anything, because the Lord Buddha forgave that man.

At the age of eighty, the Lord Buddha could not walk properly. He could not keep his head and chest straight. According to the books, he needed a walking stick. He was bending and bending.

The Lord Buddha used to give lectures, and many, many seekers came, only to go. When the Lord Buddha gave talks, hundreds of people used to come. One day these people would come to listen to the Lord Buddha’s sermon, and the following day they would go to hear a talk given by another spiritual Master. Like this it went on and on and on. The Lord Buddha’s disciples Ananda and Sariputra begged their Master, “You are now too old. Please, please give up offering sermons. Those who want to become your followers will come.”

The Lord Buddha said, “I am not doing this to acquire more followers. I am doing it as a service to mankind. When people come to me, they get some benefit. And when they go to the other Master, they get some benefit.”

The strangest thing is that the Lord Buddha and another spiritual Master, Mahavira, could not or did not want to meet. Only nine and a half miles — some say six and a half miles — separated them from one another, but they did not have the occasion to meet. In two neighbouring villages they were born, and they left home at practically the same time. The Lord Buddha had a son and Mahavira had a daughter.

Mahavira’s way was the most difficult way, the most arduous. He tortured his body to the extreme. Physical discomfort he embraced. In the Lord Buddha’s case, he also wanted to practise austerity. Then he came to realise that austerity was not the answer; the middle path was the answer. Sujata taught him to follow the middle path.

It is like music. If you play on the higher scale all the time, nobody will appreciate your music. Again, if you play always on the lower scale, nobody will appreciate it. We start from the middle scale and occasionally we enter into the highest scale and the lowest scale. Who will be able to sing always on the highest scale?