Selected suttas from the Therigatha
For free distribution only, as a gift of Dhamma
The verses of the Therigatha also serve as a powerful curative to any mistaken notion that the Buddha's teachings are somehow only applicable to -- and effective for -- men. The outstanding heroism and nobility of these pioneering women has served for over two and one-half millennia as an inspiration for all those who have endeavored to practice the Buddha's teachings since -- whether monk, nun, layman, or laywoman. Arahantship is open to all who -- like these exemplary women -- are willing to put forth the effort.
I.1 -- An Anonymous Bhikkhuni
Sleep, little theri, sleep comfortably,
wrapped in the robe that you've made,
for your passion is stilled --
like a pot of pickled greens
boiled dry.
I.11 -- Mutta
So freed! So thoroughly freed am I! --
from three crooked things set free:
from mortar, pestle,
& crooked old husband.
Having uprooted the craving
that leads to becoming,
I'm set free from aging & death.
So freed! So freed!
So thoroughly freed am I --
from my pestle,
my shameless husband
& his sun-shade making,
my moldy old pot
with its water-snake smell.
Aversion & passion
I cut with a chop.
Having come to the foot of a tree,
I meditate, absorbed in the bliss:
"What bliss!"
Four times, five, I ran amok from my dwelling,
having gained no peace of awareness,
my thoughts out of control.
So I went to a trustworthy nun.
She taught me the Dhamma:
aggregates, sense spheres, & elements.
Hearing the Dhamma,
I did as she said.
For seven days I sat in one spot,
absorbed in rapture & bliss.
On the eighth, I stretched out my legs,
having burst the mass
of darkness.
figure, beauty, & fame;
haughty with youth,
I despised other women.
Adorning this body
embellished to delude foolish men,
I stood at the door to the brothel:
a hunter with snare laid out.
I showed off my ornaments,
and revealed many a private part.
I worked my manifold magic,
laughing out loud at the crowd.
Today, wrapped in a double cloak,
my head shaven,
having wandered for alms,
I sit at the foot of a tree
and attain the state of no-thought.
All ties -- human & divine -- have been cut.
Having cast off all effluents,
cooled am I, unbound.
Ten children I bore
from this physical heap.
Then weak from that, aged,
I went to a nun.
She taught me the Dhamma:
aggregates, sense spheres, elements.
Hearing her Dhamma,
I cut off my hair & ordained.
Having purified the divine eye
while still a probationer,
I know my previous lives,
where I lived in the past.
I develop the theme-less meditation,
well-focused oneness.
I gain the liberation of immediacy --
from lack of clinging, unbound.
The five aggregates, comprehended,
standlike a tree with its root cut through.
I spit on old age.
There is now no further becoming.
Born in a high-ranking family
with much property, great wealth,
consummate in complexion & figure,
I was the daughter of Majjha, the treasurer.
Sons of kings sought for me,
sons of rich merchants
longed for me.
One of them sent my father a messenger,
saying, "Give me Anopama.
I will give in return
eight times her weight
in jewels & gold."
But I, having seen
the One Self-awakened,
unsurpassed, excelling the world,
paid homage to his feet,
sat down to one side.
He, Gotama, from sympathy,
taught me the Dhamma.
And as I sat in that very seat,
I attained the third fruit
[of non-return.]
Then I cut off my hair,
and went forth into homelessness.
Today is the seventh day
since I made craving
wither away.
[Punnika:]
I'm a water-carrier, cold,
always going down to the water
from fear of my mistresses' beatings,
harrassed by their anger & words.
But you, Brahmin,
what do you fear
that you're always going down to the water
with shivering limbs, feeling great cold?
[The Brahmin:]
Punnika, surely you know.
You're asking one doing skillful kamma
& warding off evil.
Whoever, young or old, does evil kamma
is, through water ablution,
from evil kamma set free.
[Punnika:]
Who taught you this
-- the ignorant to the ignorant --
'One, through water ablution,
is from evil kamma set free?'
In that case, they'd all go to heaven:
all the frogs, turtles,
serpents, crocodiles,
& anything else that lives in the water.
Sheep-butchers, pork-butchers,
fishermen, trappers,
thieves, executioners,
& any other evil doers,
would, through water ablution,
be from evil kamma set free.
If these rivers could carry off
the evil kamma you've done in the past,
they'd carry off your merit as well,
and then you'd be
completely left out.
Whatever it is that you fear,
that you're always going down to the water,
don't do it.
Don't let the cold hurt your skin."
[The Brahmin:]
I've been following the miserable path, good lady,
and now you've brought me
back to the noble.
I give you this robe for water-ablution.
[Punnika:]
Let the robe be yours. I don't need it.
If you're afraid of pain,
if you dislike pain,
then don't do any evil kamma,
in open, in secret.
But if you do or will do
any evil kamma,
you'll gain no freedom from pain,
even if you fly up & hurry away.
If you're afraid of pain,
if you dislike pain,
go to the Awakened One for refuge,
go to the Dhamma & Sangha.
Take on the precepts:
That will lead to your liberation.
[The Brahmin:]
I go to the Awakened One for refuge;
I go to the Dhamma & Sangha.
I take on the precepts:
That will lead to my liberation.
Before, I was a kinsman to Brahma;
now, truly a brahmin.
I'm a three-knowledge man.
consummate in knowledge,
safe & washed clean.
Black was my hair
-- the color of bees --
& curled at the tips;
with age, it looked like coarse hemp.
The truth of the Truth-speaker's words
doesn't change.
Fragrant, like a perfumed basket
filled with flowers: my coiffure.
With age it smelled musty,
like animal fur.
The truth of the Truth-speaker's words
doesn't change.
Thick & lush, like a well-tended grove,
made splendid, the tips elaborate
with comb & pin.
With age, it grew thin
& bare here & there.
The truth of the Truth-speaker's words
doesn't change.
Adorned with gold & delicate pins,
it was splendid, ornamented with braids.
Now, with age,
that head has gone bald.
The truth of the Truth-speaker's words
doesn't change.
Curved, as if well-drawn by an artist,
my brows were once splendid.
With age, they droop down in folds.
The truth of the Truth-speaker's words
doesn't change.
Radiant, brilliant like jewels,
my eyes: elongated, black -- deep black.
With age, they're no longer splendid.
The truth of the Truth-speaker's words
doesn't change.
Like a delicate peak, my nose
was splendid in the prime of my youth.
With age, it's like a long pepper.
The truth of the Truth-speaker's words
doesn't change.
Like bracelets -- well-fashioned, well-finished --
my ears were once splendid.
With age, they droop down in folds.
The truth of the Truth-speaker's words
doesn't change.
Like plaintain buds in their color,
my teeth were once splendid.
With age, they're broken & yellowed.
The truth of the Truth-speaker's words
doesn't change.
Like that of a cuckoo in the dense jungle,
flitting through deep forest thickets:
sweet was the tone of my voice.
With age, it cracks here & there.
The truth of the Truth-speaker's words
doesn't change.
Smooth -- like a conch shell well-polished --
my neck was once splendid.
With age, it's broken down, bent.
The truth of the Truth-speaker's words
doesn't change.
Like rounded door-bars -- both of them --
my arms were once splendid.
With age, they're like dried up patali trees.
The truth of the Truth-speaker's words
doesn't change.
Adorned with gold & delicate rings,
my hands were once splendid.
With age, they're like onions & tubers.
The truth of the Truth-speaker's words
doesn't change.
Swelling, round, firm, & high,
both my breasts were once splendid.
In the drought of old age, they dangle
like empty old water bags.
The truth of the Truth-speaker's words
doesn't change.
Like a sheet of gold, well-burnished,
my body was splendid.
Now it's covered with very fine wrinkles.
The truth of the Truth-speaker's words
doesn't change.
Smooth in their lines, like an elephant's trunk,
both my thighs were once splendid.
With age, they're like knotted bamboo.
The truth of the Truth-speaker's words
doesn't change.
Adorned with gold & delicate anklets,
my calves were once splendid.
With age, they're like sesame sticks.
The truth of the Truth-speaker's words
doesn't change.
As if they were stuffed with soft cotton,
both my feet were once splendid.
With age, they're shriveled & cracked.
The truth of the Truth-speaker's words
doesn't change.
Such was this physical heap,
now: decrepit, the home of pains, many pains.
A house with its plaster all fallen off.
The truth of the Truth-speaker's words
doesn't change.