JOIN USAre women obstacles to men's spiritual cultivation?
Have you heard the story of Subha, a Buddhist nun accosted by a man so deeply infatuated that he wanted her to break her monastic vows and fulfil his sexual desires? It appears in the Therigatha, a collection of poems in Pali by and about “the first Buddhist women.” This is a remarkable story that deserves to be retold, especially because it overturns the typical narrative wherein women are depicted as being obstacles to men’s spiritual cultivation. I came across it in an English translation of the collection by Charles Hallisey, who is the Yehan Numata Senior Lecturer on Buddhist Literatures at Harvard University. This translation was made possible by the Murty Classical Library of India, an initiative to translate and disseminate great literary works of India from the past two millennia.
Subha was a “theri,” meaning “senior one” among ordained Buddhist women. One day, as she entered the mango grove that served as a retreat for monks and nuns during the rainy season, a man who was overwhelmed with lust grabbed her. She told him that it was not right for him to touch a woman who had left the life of a householder and become a nun. She indicated, in clear terms, that she was not interested in any dalliance or liaison with him. Disregarding her words, he told her that being a nun was not a suitable choice for someone like herself who was “young and innocent.” He instructed her to take off her “yellow robe” so that they could “enjoy each other” in the grove. When she rejected his advances again, he tried to lure her with the promise of a palace, attendants, sandalwood, gold, gems and pearls.
After these strategies failed, he thought that evoking the fear of ageing might work in his favour. He said, “Holy one, would you rather go to old age/ with your body untouched, / like a blue lotus that arises from the water/ but is untouched by human hands?” Subha told the man that he was out of his mind, and she asked him what he saw when he looked at her body. He promptly replied that her eyes, which were like the eyes of a fawn, inflamed his passion.
On hearing this, she called herself “a daughter of the Buddha” and said that she desired nothing because the path of her teacher had “destroyed the urge for it down to the root.” She plucked out her eye, and told the man, “Here, take the eye, it’s yours.” He was shocked. Since the man was unwilling to respect her lack of consent, Subha taught him an important lesson about objectification from a philosophical perspective. There is nothing inherently attractive about any organ; our perceptions and associations make it so. She said, “Eyes are just little balls in various shapes. / With its tears, an eye is a bubble of water between the eyelids, / like a little ball of lac in the hollow of a tree, / and milky mucus comes out of it.”
The man was struck with guilt, and he begged for forgiveness. He had not anticipated this outcome from his encounter with the nun. He appealed to her, and said, “Holy one, be whole again, this won’t happen again.” His flawed view was corrected through her spiritual teachings. When she reached where the Buddha was, “her eye became as it was before.”
The end may not appeal to people who read it as a miracle rather than a metaphor. Subha opened the eyes of the man who was about to commit an act of sexual misconduct. She taught him to look past superficial appearances, and develop insight. This heartfelt gesture of kindness was rewarded by the teacher, who was her own guide in cultivating wisdom.
(The author is a freelance writer, journalist and book reviewer.)