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The Therīgāthā

A Revaluation


Vijitha Rajapakse

Buddhist Publication Society
Kandy • Sri Lanka

The Wheel Publication no. 436

Published in 2000

BPS Online Edition © (2008)

Digital Transcription Source: BPS Transcription Project

For free distribution. This work may be republished, reformatted, reprinted and redistributed in any medium. However, any such republication and redistribution is to be made available to the public on a free and unrestricted basis, and translations and other derivative works are to be clearly marked as such.


The study presented here was originally published as a two-part contribution to the Buddhist Studies Review (vol. 12, nos. 1 & 2, 1995), the biannual journal of the Institut de recherche Bouddhique Linh Son (France) and the Pali Buddhist Union (Britain), under the title, “Therīgāthā: On Feminism, Aestheticism and Religiosity in an Early Buddhist Verse Anthology.” Reproduced with the kind permission of the editor of the Buddhist Studies Review, Russell Webb. The notes in this version have been slightly modified in a few places by its author.

About the Author

Vijitha Rajapakse was born in Colombo and received his undergraduate education at the University of Ceylon, Peradeniya, where he read Honours in Philosophy. His graduate studies, focused on philosophy of religion, were pursued in North American universities. He has been awarded M.A. (Western Ontario) and M.A., Ph. D. (McGill). He presently resides in the United States.

The Therīgāthā;
A Revaluation

The ancient Buddhist verse anthology known as the Therīgātha (Thī) attracted the attention of some of the earliest Western Pāli scholars [1] and actually became the focus of many admiring comments from a very notable woman among them, Caroline Rhys Davids (who also rendered the anthology into metrical English). [2] Inquirers into the status of women within the Theravāda tradition in particular have time and again drawn this remarkable text [3] into their various disquisitions. [4] Yet its content (which has a complex significance and, especially when viewed from present-day perspectives, encompasses many strands of meaning), does not seem to have been very closely scrutinized so far. Indeed, though Thī can be said to present an unusually attractive context for multidisciplinary investigation, it is doubtful whether this has been seriously recognized by modern researchers in Buddhist studies. The discussion in this article endeavours to make some amends for this situation by initiating a brief (though nevertheless somewhat broad-based) reflective analysis of the anthology which might serve as a catalyst towards a more thorough-going revaluation of Thī and its Commentary. What follows will first highlight the feminist dimension in a selection of the gāthās (whose women authors not unnaturally were often acutely conscious of their femininity, itthibhāvo); next, draw attention to the character and scope of the philosophic viewpoints and aesthetic and poetic perceptions that are woven into some of them; and finally, dwell on the religiosity that suffuses and indeed gives unity to the anthology, underscoring above all the Buddhist [5] inspiration and roots of this religiosity. The discussion in the sequel is mainly sustained by a process of primary reflection on Thī; yet our clarifications will on occasion acquire a comparative character, entailing not only a consideration of the insights developed in other Pāli textual sources, but also those set forth in a fairly wide range of Western philosophical and literary works as well as religious writings. [6]


Conventional approaches allow little room to assume that the articulations of religious and philosophical perspectives are notably affected by gender considerations, that is, by the biological differences between man and woman, male and female. Yet the distinctive gender character of both thinking and viewing has on occasion been strikingly highlighted in certain philosophical circles [7] and it is, in any event, an important recognition among contemporary feminists. Now when viewed against the background of these circumstances in particular, Thī strikes one as an interestingly instructive text. For what is encountered here is not only an ancient religious verse anthology of women’s authorship, but also one which, more significantly, often bears witness in revealing terms to women’s distinctive association with and appropriation of the Buddha’s soteriological teachings. Feminism as a stance that focuses upon and argues for the rights of women in the social world is of course not seriously underscored or projected in this text (though, as will be shown shortly, it is noteworthy that it does on occasion stress the equality of women and men in the mental sphere in somewhat rhetorical terms). However, feminism in another sense is very much in evidence in the work: indeed, Thī is replete with articulations that record some characteristic viewpoints, experiences, attitudes, and thought patterns of women.

How exactly does feminism thus understood manifest itself here? As already hinted, notwithstanding the frequent contemporary use of Thī to clarify the backgrounds of the earliest members of the Buddhist Order (and also for the larger purpose of gaining insights into women’s association with Buddhism during its early formative stages), [8] the various distinctively feminine perspectives that figure in these gāthās do not seem to have attracted much specific attention in recent times. Notable cross-culturally conceived feminist critiques of this decade show no awareness of Thī, [9] and the characteristic preoccupations with womanhood and the feminine that come to the fore in this setting are also apt to be overlooked in conventional expositions of Buddhist thought (where sensitivity to gender considerations is still non-existent or inchoate). [10] Yet there is much that is noteworthy in the feminine perspectives that find expression in Thī, and an examination of them is perhaps the most appropriate point of departure for our present discussion.

Considered overall, what the verses of Thī record in different ways is just one central thing: the success of committed Buddhist soteriological endeavours. Hence the Buddhist character of this text might impress many as not only paramount, but may finally overshadow the feminine origins of its contents. However, it needs to be repeated that the fact that the endeavours in question were those of women, though admittedly of mainly secondary importance to a purely religious estimation of the text, is nevertheless of great significance to a gender sensitive inquiry. For many verses of individual therīs (especially when viewed against the background of the relevant commentarial clarification) indeed reveal fascinatingly distinctive feminine perspectives, the likes of which are rarely seen elsewhere in Pāli canonical contexts. That the Buddhist spiritual exertions depicted here are those of women tends, to be sure, to be unmistakably emphasized in the gāthās, giving them a feminine stamp that is difficult to ignore. Yet the actual terms in which this is done are by no means uniform. On the contrary it can be said that in Thī, women’s distinctive gender consciousness is projected through a complex range of images, perceptions, and thoughts. Let me highlight a few characteristic examples.

The essential femininity of their authors is sometimes prominently and assertively proclaimed within the gāthās, a circumstance all the more significant once the strongly patriarchal social milieu in which Buddhism originated and developed is recalled. [11] The articulations of Subhā, for instance, begin with a poignantly invoked reference to her standing as a female:

A maiden, I, all clad in white, once heard
The Norm, and hearkened eager, earnestly,
So in me rose discernment of the Truths. (PsS, p. 142) [12]

To anyone conversant with the negative estimations of women set forth in such writings as the Kunāla Jātaka, [13] the sensitive awareness as well as understanding acceptance of the feminine seen in Thī will no doubt present a sharp contrast. Indeed, in this setting where female nature and womanly traits were viewed from within, none of the flaws of character attributed to women by (mostly male) critics were either perceived or acknowledged, “How should woman’s nature hinder us?”, asked one therī bent on winning emancipation, and proceeded firmly to rule out doubts raised about female capacities, both intellectual and spiritual. [14]

Complementing this attitudinal stance, there is also a striking reliance on what is perhaps best described as feminine models of experience and reflection (backed by images and symbols that can likewise be linked to them). In this connection, the ways in which some common preoccupations of women (both practical and emotional) are brought to bear on the interiorization of Buddhist doctrinal emphases merit particular notice, for they afford many evidences of this distinctive reliance. It is significant that one therī, it appears, came to recognize the universality of impermanence (anicca) as taught in Buddhism initially amidst domestic chores, actually in the course of what emerges as a cooking mishap. [15] Another, the sister Ambapālī—courtesan of great beauty in her lay life—arrives at a similar recognition in an even more strikingly feminine fashion: through a contemplative consideration of the faded charms of her formerly much admired body. The sensitively juxtaposed focusings on the graces of the youthful female figure and the unlovely changes wrought upon it through the passage of time evident in her articulations (see PsS, pp. 121–26) deserve to be viewed as some of the most arresting examples of Buddhist reflection rooted in feminine self-perceptions. Through a refined use of mainly natural imagery (the aestheticism that comes to the fore here is examined separately below, in Section IV), each detail in the female physique is depicted in Ambapāli’s utterances both in its welcome youthful aspect, and again in the conditions of unsightly woe in old age. Of her hair (which it must be noted is a cherished symbol of femininity in traditional South Asian societies, frequently adorned, and always worn long), for instance, she thoughtfully reminisced thus:

Glossy and black as the down of the bee my curls once clustered.
They with the waste of the years are liker to hempen or bark cloth …
Fragrant as casket of perfume, as full of sweet blossoms the hair of mine.
All with the waste of the years now rank as the odour of the hare’s fur …
Dense as a grove well planted, and comely with comb, pin and parting …
All with the waste of the years disheveled the fair plaits and fallen …
Glittered the swarthy plaits in head-dresses jewelled and golden.
All with the waste of the years broken, and shorn are the tresses … (PsS, p. 121) [16]

Then again, it is on the basis of a portrayal of a characteristic set of unhappy feminine experiences (no doubt deeply felt in the contemporary world) that Buddhism’s parallel emphasis on the pervasiveness of suffering (dukkha) is highlighted in Kisā Gotamī’s gāthās: sharing home with hostile wives, giving birth in bitter pain, suicide resorted to by some to avoid it, and the sad fate reserved for still others when mother and child “both alike find death” (PsS, pp. 108–9), are identified here as suffering associated with femininity, the woes of womanhood (dukkkho itthibhāvo). [17]

Significantly, the “Buddhist feminism” that one can discern in Thī also entailed on occasion an inversion of male paradigms. [18] Perhaps reflecting their largely male authorship, in many Buddhist writings females are cast in roles of seductresses, bent on weaning away men from their spiritual quests. [19] But here, in Thī, there are evidences of a veritable role-reversal: far from fostering passion, in its verses women proclaim piety and dispassion to worldly and passionate men. Some sayings of the therīs Subhā and Sumedhā (see PsS, pp. 142ff. and 165ff.) are particularly illustrative of this rather striking circumstance. Accosted by a would-be male seducer in her jungle retreat, Subhā intoned in the following manner:

Me pure, thou of impure heart; me passionless, thou of vile passions;
Me who as to the whole of me freed am in spirit and blameless.
Me whence comes it that Thou does hinder … (PsS, p. 150) [20]

Indeed, it is women’s success in overcoming the temptations of men and their considered attempts to divert women from spiritual endeavours, that the verses of both the above therīs most strikingly record.

Finally, it is necessary to observe that “liberty”, “liberation,” and “free womanhood” are ideas that are broached in a fair number of Thī contexts. [21] Indeed, that the bonds and burdens imposed on them by culture and social structures on account of their gender are severed and overcome was the ecstatic cry of quite a few of the therīs (and in this connection, the sense of relief expressed by some on their release from domestic servitude and kitchen drudgery is certainly noteworthy). [22] Yet in the last analysis the liberation celebrated here was most importantly a religious one: understood and projected in a typically Buddhist fashion, it entailed freedom from “rebirth and from death”, from “lust and hate” [23] —in short, an attainment of spiritual emancipation through an inner grasp of the system’s “saving truth” (vimokkhasacca). [24] And it is useful to remember that it is again a basic Buddhist emphasis that spurred the women of Thī to think positively about their potentialities and speak openly and without inhibitions in a patriarchal age. For it was the Buddha’s position that anyone possessed of the necessary mental and spiritual qualities—“be it woman, be it man” as a striking canonical statement affirms [25] —can find deliverance in Nibbāna.


Any attempt to probe into the philosophical content of Thī must of course take particular account of the work’s character and roots. To reiterate a point already made in the phraseology of a recent study, [26] what tends to be presented in this anthology in either “terse, pointed words or in longer details” are the statements of women in the Buddhist fold who had reached the crowning goal of their religious endeavours, the arahant state. On analysis, these statements reveal in various ways the experiences that preceded the attainment of that goal, the learning processes that were brought to bear in winning it, and how those who attained the unique state actually felt. Now evidently, this is not a context of self-expression within which elaborate, systematic expositions of Buddhist philosophy can be expected and, to be sure, nothing of the kind in the strict sense is to be found in Thī: even so basic a doctrine as that of the Four Noble Truths (cattāri ariyasaccāni), for instance, is not expounded, but rather tersely mentioned here. [27]

Still, there is little room to say that philosophical standpoints are not projected in Thī. On the contrary, all those who read the text carefully will no doubt note that attitudinal stances with philosophical undertones, and thoughts that have discernible philosophical implications, are very much in evidence in many of its verses. Put otherwise, what needs to be recognized in this context is this: it is possible, for one thing, to give philosophical characterizations to many features in the distinctively concrete, subjectively engaged quests for spiritual deliverance that are articulated in this work, and for another, there are several striking doctrinal emphases here which, though unsystematic, nevertheless offer important insights into the philosophical underpinnings of Buddhism. A few instances of both these manifestations of philosophy broadly conceived such as are encountered in Thī warrant some probing and elucidation.

Those conversant with the thought frames of European existentialisṃ [28] would perhaps recognize that there are good grounds for viewing the strikingly solitary and intensely personal soteriological endeavours of the authors of these verses against the background of certain characteristic emphases found in the writings of such philosophers as Kierkegārd, Heidegger, Marcel, and Sartre. It is significant, for instance, that much like Kierkegārd, [29] the therīs as a whole can be said to regard truth as a subjective and inward experience best approached through personal engagement rather than discursive thought or ratiocination (and leading to a transformation which is radical). [30] In this connection the distinctive terms in which some of them recognize and contrast their inner natures in early “unconverted” and later “converted” states are especially noteworthy, for they can be given philosophical meaning within Kierkegārd’s celebrated differentiation between the “aesthetic” and the “religious” (or “ethico-religious”) as elucidated in Either/Or and elsewhere. [31] Indeed, the Kierkegārdian view that there is a plane of living which is lacking in purpose, disconnected, and without direction or satisfactions, and another which is opposite in character—namely, unified, coherent, focused, and satisfying—tends to be clearly anticipated in the following verses of the therī Vimalā:

How was I once puff’d up, incens’d with the bloom of my beauty,
Vain of my perfect form, my fame and success ’midst the people,
Filled with the pride of my youth, unknowing the Truth and unheeding!…
Today with shaven head, wrapt in my robe,
I go forth on my daily round for food;
And ‘neath the spreading boughs of forest tree
I sit, and Second-Jhāna’s rapture win,
Where reas’nings cease, and joy and ease remain. (PsS, pp. 52–53)  [32]

The attitudinal patterns that inform many utterances in this ancient anthology can be linked to or viewed within still other existential thought frames. Existentialist categories of freedom, choice, commitment, and authentic existence in particular are indeed discernible underpinnings at many levels of the text. It is noteworthy, for instance, that several therīs here embark on their religious careers after making agonizing choices by and for themselves, highlighting in the process an acknowledgement of their essential freedom. Striking testimony to this is found in the verses of Sumedhā (PsS, pp. 65ff.): resisting both parental pressure and a king’s love, Sumedhā spurned marriage and adopted the religious life of a nun all on her own. Again, each one of the therīs of the anthology displays a singular commitment to spiritual self-culture and the consummation of its admitted goals. Now these goals, as will be evident from our discussion below (Section V), are of course rooted in a soteriological concern—an aspiration for deliverance—which is characteristic of Buddhist religiosity. Yet a final consequence of their consummation seems to be a consciousness of an accession to a truly authentic realm of being highlighted by the “cool”, “calm” and “serene” condition of the arahant. [33]

The distinctively subjective, practical orientation given to Buddhist teachings in Thī settings is clearly the source of the existentialist dimension that one can recognize there. And this orientation can again be viewed as a necessary key to an understanding of the text’s wider philosophical scope. As indicated at the outset of this section, systematic expositions of Buddhist doctrines are not presented in Thī. Yet no-one is likely to fail to notice that the therīs here frequently project some of their basic emphases in philosophical terms, [34] and in particular bear witness to an inner cognition of those informing ideas of the system’s world-view, namely, impermanence (anicca), suffering (dukkha), and insubstantiality (anattā). Characteristically, in some contexts one encounters references to a combined grasp of the significance of all “three signata” (tilakkhaṇā). [35] However, elaborations on these “signata” in other contexts are sometimes quite revealing, especially when their manifestation in living experience is dwelt upon or otherwise brought to the fore. In this connection the ways in which some Thī verses highlight anicca and dukkha as influences felt in life are perhaps particularly worthy of our notice.

Thus, viewed philosophically, in Ambapālī’s verses cited above to draw attention to their feminine perspectives, the main doctrinal point emphasized is of course impermanence. But how is it treated and presented? Clearly not as an abstract principle, but rather as one that affects one’s being intimately, and as a result is amenable to inner apprehension. Indeed, what emerges from the series of poignant contrasts drawn between the body’s youthful beauty and its later decline into a pitiful state which is “weakly and unsightly” and a “home to manifold ills” [36] is an intimate knowledge of anicca that is imbued with transformative, soteriological meaning. [37]

There is evidence that other therīs came to this knowledge as well. [38] But the focusings on dukkha carried in Thī are no less striking; besides, as will be indicated below, at certain levels they provide important insights into Buddhism’s philosophy of consolation, in other words, perspectives on the ways in which one might bear with and finally rise above one’s particular suffering. Of course, in Buddhist thought suffering is not altogether unrelated to impermanence. Distilling canonical insights, Buddhaghosa in his famous Visuddhimagga represented the transitoriness inherent in life as an aspect of suffering (vipariṇāma-dukkha). [39] In any event, that pain and adversity often constitute a veritable backdrop to life is an idea that is stressed in a variety of settings in Thī. In the articulations of Puṇṇā and Isidāsī, for instance, the burdens of domestic labour (with which poor women in particular were commonly charged) are clearly related to the dukkha Buddhism held to inform and undergird existence. [40] And, as already indicated in Section II above, Kisā Gotamī, while dwelling on confinement experiences, goes even further through her identification of suffering that touches womankind specifically, dukkho ittibhāvo[41]

Since its articulations, as repeatedly noted, are inspired by committed Buddhist living, it is, however, also possible to detect in Thī insights and emphases which are more positive in their philosophical implications. For instance, there are clearly in evidence here adumbrations of what might fairly be called a Buddhist philosophy of consolation: in a philosophical appraisal of the text one must not overlook the fact that the particular elaborations of anicca and dukkha just referred to ultimately have happy outcomes, for the therīs engaged in them finally accept the impermanence and suffering encountered in experience and tend to integrate them into their lives. Finally, it is well to observe that details of this integrative process—which actually led to the acquisition of a definitive “saving truth” (vimokkhasacca)—though mainly religious, are not without philosophical significance. For the truth thus acquired is very much a transcendent vision imbued with ultimate meaning. However, this is a matter that merits discussion in relation to our wider examination of the religiosity projected in Thī. Next I propose to turn to a consideration of some aspects of aestheticism reflected in the text.


Aestheticism in its most basic sense entails a sensitivity to and an appreciation of beauty. [42] The degree to which these attitudes manifest themselves in Buddhism is not a matter that seems to have come under much sustained scrutiny. [43] In any event, discerning readers, I think, should be able to recognize many evidences of aestheticism in Thī. At what levels in the anthology are these evidences most notably seen? And how exactly should they be examined? While identifying aesthetic objects (aesthetics), aesthetic experiences (aesthesis), and aesthetic making (poesis) as three pivotal conditions that are necessary for “aesthetics, of any sort to be an intelligible enterprise,” Brown, in a recent study, has indicated that in “specifically religious aesthetics” these conditions must be religiously grounded or have religious import. [44] This overview indeed seems to offer a useful interpretative frame for anyone interested in exploring the aesthetic dimensions of Thī.

Some especially striking textual evidences of aestheticism manifested here are perhaps best recognized if the “conditions” referred to by Brown are considered in reverse order. Thus, given its character as a verse anthology, Thī can fairly be taken as an exemplification of “aesthetic making” associated with Buddhist religiosity; and in viewing things from this angle, the technical merits of the verses of many individual therīs need to be especially borne in mind. Since what is offered here is not a literary study of Thī, it is unnecessary to dwell on this aspect of the matter. [45] But the particular ways in which the anthology tends to encompass “aesthetic objects” and “aesthetic experiences” certainly deserve clarification.

Since they were primarily concerned with and moved by things spiritual, the ascetic authors of Thī cannot of course be credited with inclinations to “celebrate” beauty for its own sake. [46] Yet the versified compositions in this work do frequently project cultured sensitivities to beauty in both the above senses. [47] And it is not difficult to identify evidence of such sensitivities (within which “aesthetic objects” as well as “aesthetic experience” can actually be discerned) in some of the contexts already cited. Thus, in Ambapālī’s gāthās, the youthful female body is clearly perceived as an object of beauty, though transient or non-abiding, and the imagery invoked to highlight that often reflects an unmistakable parallel sensitivity to the beauty manifested in the wider world. [48]

Delicate perceptions of beauty, both human and natural, are woven into Thī in other ways as well. The aestheticism that finds expression in the proto-dialogic setting of Subhā’s verses, for instance, is in some respects more striking than that recognizable in Ambapālī’s verses. Indeed, though she prefers not to be influenced by them, Subhā nevertheless tends to articulate through her would-be male seducer some fine sensitivities to the loveliness of the female form and the attractive charms of nature. In her verses the would-be seducer finds her maiden body “like a gold-wrought statue” (PsS, p. 151) and is above all captivated by her eyes:

Eyes hast thou like the gazelle’s, like an elf’s in
the heart of the mountains—
’Tis those eyes of thee, sight of which feedeth the
depth of my passion.
Shrined in thy dazzling, immaculate face as in
calyx of lotus,
’Tis those eyes of thee, sight of which feedeth the
strength of my passion.
Though thou be far from me, how could I ever
forget thee, O maiden,
Thee of the long-drawn eyelashes, thee of the eyes
so miraculous?
Dearer to me than those orbs is naught, O thou
witching-eyed fairy! (PsS, p. 152) [49]

And the world of nature where Subhā sought seclusion for her spiritual exercises is likewise perceived by her would-be seducer as an arena offering delights of its own Hence his call was:

Young art thou, maiden, and faultless—
what seekest thou in the holy life?
Cast off that yellow-hued raiment and come! In
the blossoming woodland
Seek we our pleasure. Filled with the incense of
blossoms the trees waft
Sweetness. See, the spring’s at the prime, the
season of happiness!
Come with me then to the flowering woodland, and
seek we our pleasure.
Sweet overhead is the sough of the blossoming
crests of the forest
Swayed by the Wind-gods. But thou an goest
alone in the jungle.
Lost in its depths, how wilt thou find aught to
delight or content thee? (PsS, p. 150) [50]

It must be remarked that beauty observable in nature is not always linked in Thī with sensuality, as is the case in the above verses. On the contrary, the serenely sailing moon in clear skies, for instance, is actually depicted in a few terse gāthās as a symbol of emancipation won. [51] On the other hand it is worth noting that this anthology—quite unlike the complementary Thag—does not bear witness to any striking attempt to connect the perceived beauty of the natural world with the vital concerns of spiritual growth and fulfilment. [52] In appreciating beauty, Thī typically tends to project a con-comitant awareness of its necessary ephemerality; and if one adopts Coomaraswamy’s perspective, [53] it is possible to say that what is thus articulated is a veritable defining feature in the way Buddhist religiosity relates to aestheticism and aesthetics. In any event, it would be opportune now to leave these latter themes aside and attempt to take stock of the religiosity manifested in our text.


Though it is widely recognized that what lies at the heart of Thī is a distinct religiosity, few matters relating to it seem to have been sorted out or scrutinized so far. [54] Now a comprehensive inquiry into the present subject will no doubt have to raise and answer many questions. However, a grasp of its basic orientation and emphases such as is sought here might be fairly served if attention is narrowed to just a few: What are the dominant traits of the religiosity that finds expression in Thī? How is it typically nurtured, and what are its characteristic results? The sequel, accordingly, proposes to address briefly these particular questions.

An early Buddhist text of the Theravāda tradition, Thī highlights the religiosity inculcated within this tradition in almost paradigmatic terms. Certain modern analysts of religion have turned out harshly negative assessments of Theravāda goals, [55] but their actual pursuit as reflected here bears witness to a spirituality that is vibrant and has echoes in the wider practice of esoteric religion. [56] In any event, the dominant traits of the religiosity that finds expression in Thī can be easily identified. Though its verses frequently invoke the Three Jewels (tisaraṇa) as refuges, this religiosity in the final analysis is not grounded on faith in the typical Western sense, but rather is an inwardly propelled striving for personal liberation modelled on Theravāda doctrinal teachings. [57]

An invariable starting point of such striving was renunciation—a total severing of mundane ties.The manner in which it was effected is indeed a theme upon which several therīs dwell, sometimes in revealing terms. What Subhā records in this regard is striking and serves to bring to the fore an essential implication of renunciation:

So I forsook my world—my kinsfolk all,
My slaves, my hirelings, and my villages,
And the rich fields and meadows spread around,
Things fair and making for the joy of life—
All these I left, and sought the Sisterhood,
Turning my back upon no mean estate. (PsS, p. 143) [58]

Of course, renunciation in Thī is not an end in itself. Rather, it is projected here as having its final raison d’étre in the committed pursuit of the Noble Eightfold Path (ariya aṭṭhaṅgika magga), the Buddha’s way to peace and liberation from the sufferings of Saṃsāra. [59] Now it would be useful to point out that the factors that constitute the Path [60] are in turn commonly held to “aim at promoting and perfecting the three essentials of Buddhist training, and discipline’ (which are identified in a broader classification as ethical training, mental culture, and wisdom, sīla, samādhi, paññā). [61] In any event, in reviewing Thī from a religious angle, what stands out most strikingly are attestations of the cultivation of these latter two essentials (samādhi and paññā), and the actual acquisition of ‘saving knowledge” and the consequent attainment of liberation in the arahant state. [62] Accordingly, I propose to confine the remainder of this discussion to an elucidation of some pertinent details on this score. It would be well to emphasize that what are encountered at this level are some of the most notable shared features found in verses of our anthology: the attainment of liberation as an arahant through spiritual self-culture is a feat that every therī celebrates here, sometimes amidst uniquely personal amplifications on the nature or implications of that liberation.

While ethical living is its veritable bedrock, Buddhist spirituality in the Theravāda tradition, especially in its higher reaches, is actualized through specialized forms of meditation practice—most notably samatha-bhāvanā (which is considered to lead to the development of mental tranquillity), and vipassanā-bhāvanā (which is held to result in the acquisition of higher religious insight). [63] In keeping with its position as a Pāli canonical work, the influence or the application of these particular approaches to self-culture is very much in evidence in Thī. In terse remarks several therīs here draw attention to their firm adherence to the moral norms (sīla) as stressed in Buddhism. [64] Efforts directed towards disciplining their minds and attaining higher insight, however, are focused upon in greater detail as the deepest concerns of their religiosity. Indeed, the pursuit of inner mastery and control is the most salient emphasis in some of the initial short articulations carried in the text. [65]

But such mastery and control were not easily achieved. As the verses of Samā and Uttamā (PsS, pp. 34–35, 36) indicate, many, to acquire the peace of mind (cetaso santiṃ) which they sought, had to engage in arduous struggles which, on occasion, were of long duration. Those of Samā and another anonymous therī, it appears, stretched for twenty-five years; the confession the latter makes in this regard is revealingly poignant:

For five-and-twenty years since I came forth
Not for one moment could my heart attain
The blessedness of calm serenity.
No peace of mind I found. My every thought
Was soaked in the fell drug of sense-desire.
With outstretched arms and shedding futile tears
I gat me, wretched woman, to my cell. (PsS, pp. 50–51) [66]

To be sure, against the uncollected psychological comportment that Buddhism recognized in common situations of mundane living, what it characteristically demanded of the serious religious aspirant was “systematic attention” (yoniso manasikārā). [67] Accorded definite soteriological implications in Nikāya settings, [68] this attentive attitudinal stance is basically meditative in orientation and plays a pivotal informing role in the spirituality articulated in our text at many levels. Though they do not use the phrase, the liberating penetration into the nature of things which Ambapālī as well as others, such as Abhirūpa-Nandā and Sundarī-Nandā, [69] finally proclaim indeed appears to be predicated on “systematic attention”. And insofar as it is shown to have furthered the development of insight in their cases as well as others, there is reason enough to view its basis and function in relation to vipassanā-bhāvanā.

In any event, since what the discipline and training adumbrated above aimed at was, of course, spiritual liberation as an arahant, it would be instructive next to focus on our text’s more prominent articulations on this important subject. Much like other Pāli canonical works, Thī allows no room to conclude that Nibbāna attained and experienced as an arahant is amenable to definition or description within the frames of ordinary discourse. Still, its verses sometimes encompass noteworthy statements on the implications of the liberation the arahant wins; and these, it is possible to say, convey certain instructive clues about the crowning achievement of Buddhist religiosity. Let me elaborate.

Though Buddhism’s quintessential religiosity has been identified loosely and uninformatively as “mystical” in certain modern interpretations, [70] a careful reading of Thī indicates that accession to spiritual perfection is depicted in its articulations as entailing an acquisition of “gnosis” (aññā), [71] replete with higher epistemic capacities. Given specific scope, the more striking elements in these capacities are often collectively referred to as the “triple knowledge” (tisso vijjā, tevijjā). [72] And, as often happens, when a therī proclaims, “the threefold wisdom have I gotten now,” [73] what exactly was meant? Significantly, these higher capacities are traditionally taken to be: (i) knowledge of one’s previous existences in Saṃsāra (pubbenivāsānussati-ñāṇa); (ii) knowledge of the death and rebirth of beings under the influence of their kamma (sattānaṃ cutūpapāta-ñāṇa); and (iii) knowledge of the destruction of the cankers of attachment, or “influxes” (āsavakkhaya-ñāṇa). [74]

But a particular knowing was not the only consequence of becoming an arahant. Many therīs here seem to refer pointedly to a distinct state of being as well. Indeed, when they joyfully proclaim that they are “free,” or that their minds are “liberated,” [75] what is implied, there is reason to infer, is an accession to a realm of being that transcends the one experienced in ordinary life. Escape from the repeated cycle of birth and death (punabbhavo) was of course one admitted attibute of the ṅew being” of the Buddhist saint [76] (who was projected as having rooted out all lust, sabbo rāgo samūhato, Thī 34). Recognized as ineffable, its essential transcendence, however, is frequently conveyed by a set of terms which appear on first analysis to carry a larger content of symbolic than of referential meaning. Thus, Thī again and again depicts the arahant as one who has reached a condition that is “cool” (sītibhūta) or “calm and serene” (upasanta). [77]

What has been brought to the fore in the paragraphs immediately preceding strikes me as some of the more outstanding features in the religiosity projected in Thī. Obviously, there are many other things worth noting in this connection. In any event, to conclude the present segment of this inquiry, I would like to draw attention to a few additional considerations that anyone probing the religiosity manifested in this text should take into account.

Clearly, highly motivated individual application is the main driving force behind the religiosity encountered here. Still, it is noteworthy that quite a few therīs acknowledge the assistance of preceptors, sometimes going so far as to ascribe crucial guiding roles to them. [78] Then again, one must not overlook the apparent suddenness with which the liberating insight dawns on many therīs. This comes to the fore rather strikingly in the following verses:

One day, bathing my feet, I sit and watch
The water as it trickles down the slope.
Thereby I set my heart in steadfastness,
As one doth train a horse of noble breed.
Then going to my cell, I take my lamp,
And seated on my couch I watch the flame.
Grasping the pin, I pull the wick right down
Into the oil …
Lo! The Nibbāna of the little lamp!
Emancipation dawns! My heart is free! (PsS, p. 73) [79]

Lastly, though I myself do not propose to delve into the matter as it would be necessary to go too far afield to do so, it is nevertheless well to point out that the existence of certain discernible variations in the ways different therīs of the anthology reach the final liberating vision poses a challenge of no small significance to all who seek to come to terms with the religiosity of Thī. There is room to ask whether these variations are directly relatable to the famous distinctions early Buddhist literature encompasses as regards modes of attaining liberation. (Nikāya sources, it should be observed, distinguish between cetovimutti, paññāvimutti, and ubhatobhāgavimutti .) [80]


To sum up, I think that the brief analytical and evaluative considerations relating to Thī presented in the foregoing discussion establish an important point: this ancient anthology of Pāli verse is a unique Buddhist composition which admits of examination from an interesting variety of angles. The main conclusions of our examination are significant. Authored by individual women members of the Buddhist Order, Thī bears a feminine stamp that comes to the fore impressively at certain levels. But the work also encompasses a notable philosophic dimension. And here, what can be detected are not only the classic emphases of Buddhist thinking, but also a striking delineation of the experienced transitions in the consciousness as it evolves from an ordinary state into a spiritually attuned one, such as is focused on the attainment of its higher potentialities.

Moreover, as a versified composition, Thī bears witness to a many-sided aestheticism: there are identifiable sensitivities to beauty (poetic, human, and natural) in many of its verses, though considered overall these sensitivities are mediated through an overarching Buddhist perspective which underscores the evanescence of things temporal.

There remains, finally, the religiosity. Though treated last, this is clearly the most important and consistently encountered feature in the utterances of varying length and content gathered in Thī. For the women who authored them were without exception committed Buddhist renunciants engaged in a shared soteriological quest. And the goal they aimed at and attained—liberation as an arahant—was again not only the same, but was also depicted in their verses in broadly similar terms.

Though this inquiry has focused on feminism, philosophy, aestheticism, and religiosity in Thī, it would be well to mention that its verses are not without insights on other concerns. For example, the anthology at several levels might be regarded as an important canonical work which clarifies some crucial, finer points in early Buddhism’s approaches to knowledge. Indeed, the uniquely personal terms in which access to supernormal knowledge and the character and scope of this knowledge tend to be detailed here might have few exact parallels elsewhere, except of course in the complementary Theragāthā.

Then again, in one context in particular, this work merits notice from anyone probing early Buddhism’s gerontological perspectives. The context in question is Ambapālī’s verses where they receive striking articulation, along with what amounts to a veritable semiotic of aging rooted in Buddhist soteriological reflection. Yet the anthology’s relevance or value as a textual resource for the study of these subjects seems to have been lost on those who have investigated them recently. [81] Perhaps one general constraint that has operated against the wider use of Thī in latter-day discussions is its origins and character: what it offers are not discourses or disquisitions on Buddhism, but rather insights into Buddhism as practised through subjective appropriation by the committed religious. For this very reason, Thī, one might say, is a work for whose fuller appreciation an empathetic understanding of Buddhist spirituality in its deepest sense is very much demanded. [82] That Buddhist studies sustained by narrow interests in ideas or linguistic details have often tended to ignore it, therefore, is not altogether surprising. Yet there is good reason to invite serious students of Buddhism to read and revalue the Therīgāthā text. For as our inquiry has sought to adumbrate, this text of short compass traceable to women contains many interesting strands of meaning, all underwritten by a practised religiosity which displays paradigmatic early Buddhist features.


  1. Therīgāthā, a gathering of 73 versified religious articulations in canonical Pāli, and attributed to women members of the Buddhist Order (therīs or bhikkhuṇīs), is traditionally juxtaposed to a much larger companion collection authored by their male counterparts, the Theragāthā (Thag). These two anthologies (which date back to the earliest period of Buddhist history, though committed to writing perhaps only around 80 BCE). were first printed in the West late in the nineteenth century in versions edited by R. Pischel and H. Oldenberg respectively. Their conjoint edition revised with appendices by KṚ. Norman and L. Alsdorf (The Thera-and-Therī Gāthā, PTS 1966) remains the standard text, and as such will be the source of our references hereafter. [back]
  2. Mrs. Rhys Davids published her translation of Thī as Psalms of the Sisters (1909) and that of Th as Psalms of the Brethren (1913), incorporating into each commentarial eludications taken from Dhammapāla’s Paramatthadīpanī. This particular order (which reverses the traditional one) is still retained in the single volume edition of the two translations now available as Psalms of the Early Buddhists (PTS 1980). Although English prose versions of the two anthologies have been brought out (cf. KṚ. Norman, tr., The Elders” Verses (PTS 1969–71), this article will use the Rhys Davids translation. In citations hereafter (both in the text and footnotes), Psalms of the Sisters is abbreviated as PsS; Psalms of the Brethren as PsB. It should be noted that in her Introduction to PsS Mrs. Rhys Davids went to some lengths in highlighting the uniqueness and value of Thī. Not only did she reject the attempts of K.E. Neumann (the German translator of both gāthā collections) to cast doubt on the feminine authorship of Thī, but she also sought to stress the fact that the “rare and remarkable utterances” enshrined in this anthology are indeed “profoundly and perennially interesting as expressions of the religious mind, universal and unconquerable” (PsS, pp. xix, xxīi). [Back]
  3. The Thī text deserves recognition as one of the oldest religiously reflective documents whose authority is attributable to a group of women. In commenting on the feminine viewpoints articulated here, Mrs. Rhys Davids drew attention to the need to remember that rarely “since the patriarchal age set in has woman succeeded in so breaking through her barriers as to set on lasting record the expression of herself and of things as they appeared to her” (PsS, p. xxīi). [Back]
  4. In this connection, the following writings are noteworthy: M.E. Lulius van Goor, Die Buddhistische Non (Leiden 1915), I.B. Horner, Women under Primitive Buddhism (London 1930, Amsterdam 1975, Delhi 1990), Meena Talim, Woman in Early Buddhist Literature (Univ. of Bombay 1972), R. Pitzer-Reyl, Die Frau im frühen Buddhismus (Berlin 1984) and Susan Murcott, The First Buddhist Women (Berkeley 1991). The general instructiveness of Th and Thī to the historian of religion has also been underscored in certain accounts of Buddhism, though in a fleeting manner. Thus, Ninian Smart (The Religious Experience of Mankind, New York 1969, p. 98), for instance, refers to the “tenderness” and “sense of beauty” in some of the gāthās, and points out that the poems of the early monks and nuns “help us realize that Buddhism was continuous with, even though transcendent to, the world around it.” There is again some recognition (though inchoate) of the relevance of these gāthās to a grasp of esoteric details of Buddhism’s psychological bases; cf. Rune E.A. Johansson, The Dynamic Psychology of Early Buddhism (London 1985). [Back]
  5. It should be noted that “Buddhist” and “Buddhism” as used in this article refer to the standpoint of the Theravāda tradition of early Buddhism. [Back]
  6. The comparative aspect in our proposed revaluative exercise hereafter, it should be noted, is not idiosyncratic (or for that matter dysfunctional) even when considered from a purely exegetical standpoint. Mrs. Rhys Davids, for instance, seems to have been notably persuaded that the thoughts and feelings expressed in the interesting settings of these gāthās merit examination from wider perspectives; and closing her Introduction to Thī, she actually drew attention to the new illumination that can result from an application of comparative insights on the ancient Buddhist religious articulations (cf. PsS, pp. li-lī). [Back]
  7. In The Subjection of Women (1869), John Stuart Mill, for example, expressed the view that the “knowledge men can acquire of women” will indeed be “wretchedly imperfect and superficial and always bound to remain so until women themselves have told all they have to tell” (Collected Works of John Stuart Mill 21, Toronto 1981, p. 271). The sociologically minded German philosopher George Simmel went much further and characterized civilization as an essentially masculine one, mirroring in the main the gender distinctive biases and perceptions of just one sex. The ideas in some of Simmel’s essays (especially the collection entitled Philosophische Kultur) have lately been considered to be seminal in scope, providing “a new point of view” from which to examine the role of gender in human reflective activities. Cf. Karen Horney, “The Flight from Womanhood,” The International Journal of Psychoanalysis 7 (1926). [Back]
  8. Cf. works cited in n. 4 above and also the following which occasionally use the text to illustrate many secondary details relating to early Buddhism’s background: Dev Raj, L”esclavage dans I”Inde ancienne d”aprés les textes palis et sanskrits (Pondichéry 1957), Uma Chakravarti, The Social Dimension of Early Buddhism (Delhi 1987), Richard Gombrich, Theravāda Buddhism: A Social History from Ancient Banaras to Modern Colombo (London 1988). [Back]
  9. Cf. Marilyn French, Beyond Power: Women, Men and Morals (London and New York 1985). [Back]
  10. However, that gender impacts on thought, it should be noted, is an important contemporary recognition. The ways in which it has influenced the development of Western philosophical ideas, for instance, has been the subject of several recent studies, cf. G. Lloyd, The Man of Reason: “Male” and “Female” in Western Philosophy (London 1984). See also M. Vetterling-Braggin (ed.), “Femininity”, “Masculinity” and “Androgyny”: A Modern Philosophical Discussion (Totowa, NJ 1982). [Back]
  11. Cf. V. Dhruvarajan, Hindu Women and the Power of Ideology (Granby, Mass. 1989). [Back]
  12. Daharāhaṃ suddhavasanā yaṃ pure dhammam asuṇiṃ
    Tassā me appamattāya saccābhisamayo ahu
    . (Thī 338) [Back]
  13. See text ed. and tr. by W.B. Bollée (PTS 1970). [Back]
  14. See PsS, p. 45. It is interesting to note that the doubts in question are raised by Māra, the mythic-symbolic focus of evil in Buddhism, who thus assumes the role of a “male chauvinist” in this setting. Māra generally functions in Theravāda sources as an opponent of goodness and spirituality, but the position taken by this figure here can be read as a result of feminine thinking within orthodox frames. Cf. T.O. Ling, Buddhism and the Mythology of Evil (London 1962) and MṂ.J. Marasinghe, Gods in Early Buddhism (Kelaniya 1974, pp. 192 ff.). [Back]
  15. See PsS, pp. 9–10, which carry the relevant commentarial excerpts that highlight these details. [Back]
  16. kālakā bhamaravaṇṇasadisā vellitaggā mama muddhajā ahunṃ
    te jarāya sānavākasadisā …

    …vāsito va surabhikaraṇḍaka pupphapūraṃ mama uttamaṅgabhu
    taṃ jarāya sasalomagandhikaṃ …

    kānanam va sahitaṃ suropitaṃ kocchasūvicitaggasobhitaṃ
    taṃ jarāya viraḷaṃ tahiṃ tahiṃ …

    saṇhagandhakasuvaṇṇamaṇḍitaṃ sobhate su veṇihi alaṅkataṃ
    Taṃ jarāya khalati siraṃ kataṃ …
    (Thī 252–55)

    The closing refrain in the English version cited above is “Such and not otherwise runneth the rune, the word of the Soothsayer”. It translates the original’s repeated allusions to the veracity of the Buddha’s teachings (saccavādi-vacanaṃ), which stress universal impermanence or the ineluctability of decay. [Back]

  17. dukkho itthibhāvo akkhāto purisadammasārathinā sapattikaṃ pi dukkhaṃ appekaccā sakiṃ vijātāyogale apakantanti sukhumāliniyo visāni khādanti janamārakamajjhagatā ubho pi bysannāni anubhonti. (Thī 216–17) [Back]
  18. It could be argued that at least the formal features of the perspectives brought to bear in this process admit of some comparisons with the emphases in modern femininist thought; cf. Marilyn French, Beyond Power, op. cit., Ch. 6. [Back]
  19. The male articulations in Th offer striking evidences of this; cf. PsB, p. 59; also pp. 14, 15, 39, 72–3. [Back]
  20. āvilacitto anāvilaṃ sarajo vitarajaṃ anaṇgaṅaṃ sabbattha vimuttamānasaṃ kiṃ maṃ ovariyāna tiṭṭhasi. (Thī 369) The verses of “Vaddha’s Mother” (PsS, pp. 103 ff.), when taken with those of her putative son (set forth in Thag, see PsB, pp. 194–5), bear witness in an even more direct fashion to an instance of a woman assuming the role of a spiritual mentor and instructing a man. [Back]
  21. Cf. PsS, pp. 100, 15, 21, 25, 146. The characteristic phrases used in the text to convey the above ideas are muttā and muttika. This, it is well to add, did not escape the notice of Mrs. Rhys Davids for, commenting pertinently, she observed: “It is a suggestive point that the percentage of Sisters” Psalms, in which the goal achieved is envisaged as Emancipation, Liberty won—about 23 percent —is considerably greater than the corresponding proportion in the Psalms by the Brethren (13 per cent). In most cases the male singer had had the disposal of his life in his own hands to a greater extent than was the case of each woman” (PsS, Introduction, pp. xxiv-xxv). [Back]
  22. Cf. PsS, pp. 15, 25. [Back]
  23. mutta”mhi jātimaraṇā (Thī 11); rāgañ ca ahaṃ dosañ ca vicchindantī viharāmi (Thī 24). Cf. PsS, pp. 15, 25. [Back]
  24. Thī 515. Our focusings on religiosity in Section V below will deal with this matter in greater detail. [Back]
  25. S I 32; cf. Book of Kindred Sayings I, p. 45 (PTS 1979). [Back]
  26. Cf. Pitzer-Reyl, Die Frau im frühen Buddhismus, op. cit., p. 57. [Back]
  27. Evidence of this may be found in the verses of Mahā-Pajāpatī and Kisā-Gotamī; cf. PsS, pp. 89, 108ff. [Back]
  28. For instructive overviews regarding the positions taken in existentialist thinking, see J. Collins, The Existentialists: A Critical Study (Chicago 1952) and M. Grene, Introduction to Existentialism (Chicago 1959). Cf. H.B. Blackham, Six Existentialist Thinkers (London 1951). [Back]
  29. Cf. Kierkegārd, Concluding Unscientific Postscript (Princeton 1941) and E. Geismar, Lectures on the Religious Thought of Soren Kierkegārd (London 1938). [Back]
  30. As will be shown more amply below (Section V), the inner knowing as admitted in Buddhism was of course attained through spiritual culture understood and interpreted in a distinctive fashion. Further, the knowing in question encompassed an important extra-sensory dimension (which cannot be accommodated within Western existentialism), as witnessed by numerous references to the “divine (or celestial) eye” (dibbacakkhu) and other allied capacities collectively referred to as abhiññā. Cf. PsS, p. 51; also pp. 74, 92, 95. In all these contexts, significantly, the attainment of liberating knowledge is portrayed as a process which has “rent aside the gloom of ignorance”—a moment of enlightenment when the darkness that stood in the way of deliverance is pierced or overcome (tamokkhandhaṃ padālayiṃ, as the text repeatedly puts it; cf. Thī 173, 179). [Back]
  31. Cf. Either/Or, A Fragment of Life (Princeton 1944), Stages on Life’s Way (Princeton 1940), and A. Shamueli, Kierkegārd and Consciousness (London 1971). [Back]
  32. mattā vaṇṇena rūpena sobhaggena yasena ca yobbanena c”upatthaddhā aññā samatimaññi “haṃ sājja piṇḍam caritvāna muṇḍā samghāṭipārutā nisinnā rukkhamūlamhi avitakassa lābhinī. (Thī 72, 75)

    The verses of Sīhā which follow nest serve to project the mental orientation in the first of the two stages referred to above in revealing terms, and merit notice as a further context which bears out the presence of proto-existentialist insights within the Buddhist spirituality articulated in Thī. Indeed, Kierkegārd’s analysis of the operation of the consciousness at the “aesthetic stage” in particular might be instructively recalled in reading Sīhā’s account of her former self, distraught, divided, and in despair (and hence displaying many symptoms of “sickness unto death” in Kierkegārd’s phrase), and the final dawn of the liberating vision in the course of an attempted suicide, detailed thus:

    Distracted, harassed by desires of sense,
    Unmindful of the “what” and “why” of things,
    Stung and inflated by the memories
    Of former days, o’er which I lacked control—
    Corrupting canker spreading o’er my heart—
    I followed heedless dreams of happiness,
    And got no even tenour to my mind,
    All given o’er to dalliance with sense. (PsS, p. 54)

    Ayonisomanasikārā kāmarāgena additā
    ahosiṃ uddhaṭā pubbe citte avasavattini
    pariyuṭṭhitā kilesehi sukhasaññānuvattinī
    samaṃ cittassa nālabhiṃ rāgacittavasānugā.
    (Thī 77, 78)

    It should be noted, however, that viewed within the doctrinal frames of early Buddhism itself, the “unconverted” mind can be said to reflect the proclivities and the psychological makeup of ordinary persons (puthujjana); and the “converted,” those of the spiritually awakened élite (ariyā). Cf. Compendium of Philosophy (Abhidhammatthasaṅgaha), tr. Shwe Zan Aung and C.A.F. Rhys Davids (PTS 1979), Introduction, p. 49. [Back]

  33. Section V below will also discuss the meanings of these terms and identify Thī contexts in which they occur. [Back]
  34. Thus, early Buddhism’s devaluation of sense-pleasure, for instance, is very much underscored in the verses of Selā:

    Like spears and javelins are the joys of sense
    That pierce and rend the mortal frames of us.
    These that thou callest “the good things of life” —
    Good of that ilk to me is nothing worth. (PsS, p. 44)

    sattisūlūpamā kāmā khandhānaṃ adhikuṭṭanā
    Yaṃ tvaṃ kāmaratiṃ brūsi arati dāni sā mamam.
    (Thī 58)

    Sumedhā expatiates on this theme in three verses (PsS, pp. 171–72), expressing similar thoughts. [Back]

  35. In this connection, the verses of Abhirūpa-Nandā, Uttamā, and Soṇā (PsS, pp. 23, 37, 63) are noteworthy. [Back]
  36. PsS, p. 125. [Back]
  37. The Commentary to Thī tends to recognize this especially when it maintains that Ambapālī’s intimate grasp of impermanence was complemented by insights into dukkha and anattā as well (paving the way to an attainment of the arahant state), see ibid. [Back]
  38. Cf. PsS, pp. 9–10 already referred to in the preceding section; the verses of Sumedhā are also significant in this connection, for some of them portray this theri “musing on impermanence, developing the thought” (ibid., p. 170). [Back]
  39. See Vism, sec. 499. Dukkha-dukkha, vipariṇāma-dukkha and saṅkhāra-dukkha are identified here as three modalities of suffering, and they encompass respectively the suffering experienced in body and mind, the suffering resulting from impermanence inherent in the nature of things, and the suffering associated with our very being as a psycho-physical complex. For some pertinent modern elucidations on this subject, see J.W. Boyd, “Suffering in Theravāda Buddhism,” in Suffering: Indian Perspectives, ed. KṆ. Tiwari (Delhi 1986). [Back]
  40. See PsS, pp. 117, 158–59. Puṇṇā, formerly a slave in a wealthy house, recounts drawing water from a stream “in fear of blows” even in the cold season; Isadāsī painfully recalls her endless (and thankless) domestic chores during her lay life. Cf. Dev Raj, op. cit., p. 59: “Probablement le travail le plus dur et le plus malsain auquel on employait les esclaves et les serviteurs des deux sexes était celui de la cuisine.” [Back]
  41. Cf. n. 17 above. [Back]
  42. Though “beauty” itself has been given a range of meaning in different aesthetic theories, following classical philosophic insights, it is here taken to stand for symmetry and proportion of form that typically occasion pleasing sentiments in the beholder. [Back]
  43. It is interesting to note that in commenting on Indian art and aesthetics, A.K. Coomaraswamy (cf. Traditional Art and Symbolism, ed. R. Lipsey, Princeton 1977) tends to deliver some strikingly positive judgements on Buddhism’s sensitivities to beauty, both natural and artistic. The “stimulus” to soteriological reflection provided by lovely things, especially in their evanescence, he notes, is very much in evidence in certain Pāli sources (cf. ibid., pp. 179 ff., “Samvega: Aesthetics of Shock”). Unfortunately, this maturity of judgement is not seen in other assessments of Buddhist attitudes to sensuous beauty. G. Van Der Leeuw (Religion in Essence and Manifestation, Princeton 1986, p. 631), for instance, has this to say on the subject: “In Buddhism the way of the infinite leads to nothingness. For the older Buddhism most faithfully preserved in the “little vehicle” (of salavation), Hinayana, is hostile to all sensuous representation: Buddhist art lived in Mahayana; nor is this to be wondered at, since in the former every presentation of the divine is proscribed: From disappears, and Will must be annihilated. Buddhism, then, is in the first instance the insight that this vanishing and annihilation are real; it is therefore the religion of the negative.” Even very recent probings in this area reflect scant empathetic knowledge, and finally deliver little that is really instructive, cf. A.J. Martin Beauty and Holiness, The Dialogue Between Aesthetics and Religion (Princeton 1990), pp. 148ff., “Buddhist Tradition.” [Back]
  44. Frank Burch Brown, Religious Aesthetics (Princeton 1989) p. 6. [Back]
  45. It is nevertheless well to observe that Western translators of this work have not been unmindful of these merits. Mrs. Rhys Davids, for instance, has set down some instructive comments on the metre and rhythm in some of the verses; cf. PsS. pp. xxxix ff. See also, Norman’s extensive comments in The Elders’ Verses II, pp. xxxix ff. In his more general observations, M. Winternitz in his A History of Indian Literature (tr. S.V. Sarma, Delhi, 1988, II, p. 98) has referred to their “power and beauty” and has gone so far as to say that the gāthās of the therīs and theras can “stand with dignity” beside the best products of Sanskrit lyric poetry. The poetic features of the gāthās receive a somewhat detailed examination in Siegfried Lienhard’s “Sur la structure poétique des Theratherīgāthā” (Journal Asiatique, 83, 1975). Patterns of rhythm, reiteration, and comparison brought to the fore here indeed serve to address the issue of “aesthetic making” (alluded to above) interestingly. [Back]
  46. To the contrary, given the prominent articulation of feelings of global distaste towards “sense desires” on the part of several therīs (cf. n. 34 above), it is in fact possible for critics to ask whether their general outlook was conducive to aesthetic perception at all. [Back]
  47. If one takes a cue from the recent reflections of Serge–Christophe Kolm (Le bonheur-liberté, Bouddhisme profond et modernité, Paris 1982, pp. 154–5), it is possible to ascribe a deeper aesthetic dimension to the nuns” contemplative living focused on self-perfection. For in noting that beauty has a place in the inner pursuit of the Buddha’s Way, Kolm insists: “Faire de sa vie une oeuvre d’art a déjā été le slogan d’esthétes occidentaux. Faire de soi une oeuvre d’art est la fin bouddhique Le bhikkhou est un culturiste du for intérieur.” But I do not propose to delve into this aspect of the subject just now, though the insightful point Kolm makes has great relevance here; inner culture is a matter I prefer to treat in relation to religiosity in the next section of this inquiry. [Back]
  48. Framed within early Buddhism’s meditational attitude towards one’s body—which Sue Hamilton (“From Buddha to Buddhaghosa—Changing Attitudes toward the Human Body in Theravada Buddhism,” in Religious Reflections on the Human Body, ed. by JṂ. Law, Bloomington, 1995, p. 52) rightly describes as ṅeither positive nor negative,” but “purely annalytical”)—Ambapālī’s verses are particularly significant to aesthetic theory for this reason: the formal inspiration behind them, one may argue, is the perception traditional to South Asia (and projected in its literatures) that the attractive woman is a possessor of “five attributes of beauty” (pañca kalyāṇāni) defined in terms of hair (kesa), flesh (maṃsa), teeth (aṭṭhi), skin (chavi), and youth (vaya). Cf. Pali-English Dictionary, p. 199. This, evidently, is an analytically structured perception of bodily beauty (the general approach exhibited here might be interestingly reviewed in relation to certain viewpoints in Western aesthetics, cf. G. Dickie, Introduction to Aesthetics, An Analytic Approach, Oxford, 1977). And it appears, in any event, to be the veritable subtext to the shifting details in the above verses, whose aestheticism, one would do well to note, is enhanced by evocative natural imagery so tastefully selected and artistically deployed. The equally evocative imagery through which the hideousness of decay is apt to be driven home in these gāthās must not, of course, be overlooked either; the use of poetic craftmanship to inculcate a characteristically Buddhist sensitivity to the unpleasant (asubha) indeed becomes specially evident at this level. It would be well to observe that once detached from its Buddhist soteriological moorings, Ambapālī’s delicate grasp of the decay to which physical beauty is subject might be interestingly set beside the variously articulated “ruminations” on “ruin” found in many of Shakespeare’s sonnets. Viewed poetically, Ambapālī’s basic recognition in regard to physical beauty, for instance, tends to be strongly echoed in one context here:

    Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea,
    But sad mortality o”ersways their power,
    How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea,
    Whose action is no stronger than a flower? (Sonnets, 65) [Back]

  49. akkhīni ca tiriyā-r-iva kinnariyā-riva pabbatantare
    tava me nayanāni dakkhiya bhiyyo kāmarati pavaḍḍhati.
    uppalasikharopamānite vimale hāṭakasannibhe mukhe
    tava me nayanāni dakkhiya bhiyyo kāmaguṇo pavaḍḍhati.
    api dūragatā saremhase āyatapamhe visuddhadassane
    na hi m’atthi tayā piyatarā nayanā kinnarimandalocane. (Thī 381–83)
  50. daharā ca apāpikā c”asi kiṃ te pabbajjā karissati
    nikkhipa kāsāyacīvaraṃ ehi ramāmase pupphite vane.
    madhurañ ca pavanti sabbaso kusumarajena samuddhatā dumā
    paṭhamvasanto sukho utu ehi ramāmase pupphite vane.
    kusumitasikharā ca pādapā abhigajjanti va māluteritā
    kā tuyhaṃ rati bhavissati yadi ekā vanam ogāhissasi.
    (Thī 370–72)

    The clash and contest between spiritual commitment and worldly urgings that figures prominently in the above setting, it is instructive to remark, is a much worked theme in the tradition of English metaphysical poetry in particular. Projected within Christian theological frames, it is, for example, basic to Andrew Marvell’s “A Dialogue Between the Resolved Soul and Created Pleasure”; cf. GṂ. Hopkins, “Golden Echo and Leaden Echo.”. [Back]

  51. Cf. PsS, pp. 10, 12. [Back]
  52. For some pertinent Th affirmations on this score, see PsB, pp. 99–108, 154. The latter context is very striking, for the thera Cūḷaka intones here:

    Hark! How the peacocks make the welkin ring,
    Fair-crested, fine their plumes and azure throat,
    Graceful in shape and pleasant in their cry.
    And see how this broad landscape watered well
    Lies verdure-clad beneath the dappled sky!
    Healthy thy frame and fit and vigorous
    To make good progress in the Buddha’s rule.
    Come then and grasp the rapt thought of the saint,
    And touch the crystal bright, the subtly deep,
    The elusive mystery—even the Way
    Where dying cometh not, ineffable. (Th 211–12) [Back]

  53. Cf. n. 43 above. [Back]
  54. This religiosity itself is apt to be characterized generally as a quest for an “insight” which is both “satisfying” and “saving”; cf. Susan Elbaum Jootla, Inspiration from Enlightened Nuns, Kandy 1988. The normative doctrinal teachings that enter into the pursuit of the arahant ideal as pursued by the therīs of our text is of course brilliantly expounded in I.B. Horner, The Early Buddhist Theory of Man Perfected, op. cit., 1936. [Back]
  55. It should be noted that Van Der Leeuw (op. cit., p. 631) actually saw the Theravāda as a “religion of nothingness.” The conclusions of E.O. James (Comparative Religion, London 1961, pp. 175–76) in this regard are in the same vein: “If nirvāṇa is not a nullity,” he insists it is nevertheless “a negative goal, since Ñbecoming cool’ virtually ends in Ñblowing out” … The quest for perfection (arahantship) inspires ennobling qualities of self-discipline and almost super-human effort, but … the conception of existence involved throughout is as negative and pessimistic as the state when the cessation of desire has been achieved.” [Back]
  56. Following the insights of E. Conze (Buddhism: Its Essence and Development, Oxford 1957, p. 11), it is possible to link this spirituality with “the common heritage of wisdom, by which men have succeeded in overcoming this world, and in gaining immortality or a deathless life.” Though one must be wary of global characterizations, Buddhism as practised by the nuns of Thī emerges very much as the “religion of annulment of suffering” (cf. G. Mensching, Structures and Patterns of Religion, Delhi 1976, p. 35). [Back]
  57. The idea of taking refuge in the Three Jewels tends to be incorporated into the verses of Puṇṇā and Rohiṇī, for instance, in identical terms (cf. Thī 249, 289: upehi buddhaṃ saranaṃ dhammaṃ sanghañ ca tādinaṃ …). It is instructive to observe that in its Christian interpretation, faith (pistis in Greek, fides in Latin) entails a trust in God’s redemptive action. Though in a recent publication, P.O. Ingram (The Modern Buddhist-Christian Dialogue, Lewiston, N.Y. 1988, p. 131) considers taking refuge to constitute faith in the Theravāda tradition, their equation can be misleading when applied to actual spiritual practice. For the sentiment of trust that is basic to taking refuge such as is conveyed in the Pāli term saddhā is not focused on a hope or belief in external redemptive action. (This point can be more concretely appreciated by perusing a work of Christian esoteric spirituality such as Thomas ā Kempis’ Imitatio Christi: the soteriological vision articulated here has many parallels in Thī, but it is crucially rooted in a trust in external redemptive action such as is not seen in the Therāvada context.) [Back]
  58. hitvān” ahaṃ nātigaṇaṃ dāsakammakarāni ca
    gāmakhettāni phītāni ramanīye pamodite
    pahāy” ahaṃ pabbajitā sāpateyyam anappakaṃ.
    (Thī 340)

    An analogous confession is woven into the verses of Sukulā (PsS, p. 61); see also those of Sanghā, Uppalavaṇṇā, Sundarī, and Sumedhā (PsS, pp. 21, 113, 139, 167) for still other articulations on renunciation. Typically, the religious renunciants of Thī lead homeless lives in secluded places in ways that conform to the famous injunction set forth in the Mahāvagga (I, 30). Though some (like Mittakālī and Paṭācārā, PsS, pp. 59, 73) refer to their particular dwelling places in general terms, quite a few live in the open air, choosing their “seat and abode” (senāsana) in classic fashion under the “foot of a tree” (rukkhamūla), a striking case being Vimalā (PsS, p. 53). Cf. Patrick Olivelle, The Origin and Early Development of Buddhist Monachism, Colombo 1974, p. 13. It is well to add that the nuns of Thī do not merely embrace eremetical asceticism focused on inner culture, but actually come forward on occasion to defend it against the cavils of sceptical critics. The verses of Rohiṇī (PsS, pp. 126 ff.), for instance, exemplify this: she marshals here an array of religiously impressive arguments to establish why “recluses are dear to me” (me samaṇā piyā). Significantly, some of these arguments are reminiscent of the points made in a notable Dīgha Nikāya context which focuses on the fruits of Buddhist renunciant religiosity, namely, the Sāmaññaphala Sutta. Cf. Bhikkhu Bodhi, The Discourse on the Fruits of Recluseship, The Sāmaññaphala Sutta and its Commentaries, Kandy 1988. [Back]

  59. This perception is an evident underpinning in, for instance, Cālā’s verses (PsS, pp. 97–98), cf. v. 186: ariyaṭṭhaṅgikaṃ maggaṃ dukkhūpasamagāminaṃ. Not surprisingly, references to the Path (denoted in different settings as magga, ariyamagga, maggaṭṭhaṅgika) occur very frequently in the text; cf. verses of Sakulā, Puṇṇā, Subhā, and Kisā-Gotamī. [Back]
  60. Eight in number, the factors of the Path are specified as rightness (sammā) in respect of view, thought, speech, action, livelihood, effort, mindfulness, and concentration (diṭṭhi, saṅkappa, vācā, kammanta, ājīva, vāyāma, sati, samādhi). These find classic enunciation within elaborations of the Four Noble Truths (cattāri ariyasaccāni); cf. Mahāsatipaṭṭhāna Sutta (D II 312–13). [Back]
  61. Cf. Walpola Rahula, What the Buddha Taught, Bedford 1959, p. 46. [Back]
  62. If one takes into account the Path of ten factors detailed in certain Nikāya sources (see, for instance, Saṅgīti Sutta, D III 271) and also recent interpretative reflections on the subject (cf. R. Bucknell, “The Buddhist Path of Liberation: Analysis of the Listing of Stages,” The Journal of the International Association of Buddhist Studies 7, 1984), one may perhaps regard what is referred to here as two further stages (the ninth and tenth) in the Path such as are not distinguished conventionally, namely, right knowledge (sammā ñāṇa) and right liberation (sammā vimutti). [Back]
  63. Much has been written regarding the above two forms of meditation practice, which are of course canonically identified; cf. D III 273; M I 404. For some pertinent modern elucidations see discussions in P. Vajirañāṇa, Buddhist Meditation in Theory and Practice (Colombo 1962) and Nyanaponika, The Heart of Buddhist Meditation (London 1962). It would be well to observe that though academic inquirers are apt to recognize problems in relating samatha and vipassanā (cf. P. Griffiths, “Concentration or Insight: The Problematic of Theravāda Meditational Theory,” Journal of the American Academy of Religion, 1981), meditators themselves do not appear to encounter them. Jane Hamilton-Merritt (A Meditator’s Diary, London 1979), for instance, projects concentrative exercises as virtually graduating into those focused on the development of insight. A similar connection, to be sure, is observable in Thī, as will be seen shortly. [Back]
  64. Thus Sisupacālā (PsS, p. 100) identifies herself at the outset as “a sister in the precepts sure”(bhikkhunī sīlasampannā). Puṇṇā (ibid., p. 119) refers likewise to her observance of the norms of moral conduct, her resolution to “keep the precepts” (samādiyāmi sīlāni). In an identical utterance Rohiṇī (Thī 289) gives expression to a similar commitment. [Back]
  65. Cf. PsS, pp. 12, 13, 14. Tissā’s self-admonition to “train in the training” (sikkhassa sikkhāya) is particularly noteworthy in this connection. In a no less striking, longer articulation, Dantikā (ibid., p. 38) is instructed by the sight of the taming of a wild elephant, and turns to train her own mind. [Back]
  66. paṇṇavisāti vassāni yato pabbajitā ahaṃ
    accharāsaṃghātamattaṃ pi citass” upasam” ajjhagaṃ.
    aladdhā cetaso santiṃ kāmarāgen” avassutā
    bāhā paggayha kandantī vihāram pāvisiṃ ahaṃ
    (Thī 67–68). [Back]
  67. The verses of Sīhā (PsS, p. 54; Thī 77; cf. n. 32 above) cited previously tend to bear this out notably: ayonisomanasikārā (in other words, the absence of “systematic attention”) is the phrase used here to describe the state of her psyche prior to her spiritual conversion and illuminative experience as an arahant. [Back]
  68. Cf. A I 3. It is worth noting that in an interesting study, Mirko Fryba (The Art of Happiness: The Teachings of Buddhist Psychology, Boston 1989, pp. 74 ff., 165) interprets yoniso manasikārā as “wise apprehension”, and sees it functioning as a means of opening “awareness of freedom.” [Back]
  69. Cf. PsS, pp. 23, 56. [Back]
  70. Cf. Conze, op. cit., p. 11. [Back]
  71. A defining attribute necessarily associated with the arahant state, aññā can be regarded as the shared essence of the articulations of the different therīs gathered in Thī. Indeed, viewed from the angle of Buddhist religiosity, these articulations, as often indicated in Dhammapāla’s Commentary, are but different proclamations of aññā. [Back]
  72. These phrases occur frequently in our text. The verses of Aḍḍhakāsī, Mettikā, Cālā, Uttarā, and Puṇṇā offer notable evidences of their use. See Thī 26, 30, 180, 187, 251; cf. PsS, pp. 26, 28, 95, 98, 119. Interestingly, tevijjā seems to be the product of a “conceptual revision” instituted by the Buddha, for it is derived from the Sanskrit trayi vidyā where the focus was on the three branches of Vedic learning. As indicated below, in its distinctive Buddhist usage, tevijjā stands for higher spiritual knowing of three kinds. There are, it must be noted, detailed elaborations on this theme, cf. A I 163–66. [Back]
  73. tisso vijjā anupattā, Thī 187, 194, 202; cf. PsS, pp. 98, 99, 102. [Back]
  74. “Divine eye” or “heavenly eye” (dibba-cakkhu) referred to in many Thī contexts cited immediately above (Thī 179) is usually taken to mean clairvoyant power basic to the second of the “knowledges” clarified in the preceding. Like classic Nikāya discussions (cf. Sāmaññaphala Sutta), Thī too considers the higher knowing entailed in “gnosis” (aññā) to encompass in all a total of six supernormal capacities (it is well to remark that tevijjā represents three characteristic factors within them). Some of Uppalavaṇṇā’s verses (PsS, p. 113) tersely highlight this matter:

    How erst I lived I know; the Heavenly Eye,
    Purview celestial, have I clarified;
    Clear too the inward life that others lead;
    Clear too I hear the sounds ineffable;
    Powers supernormal have I made mine own;
    And won immunity from deadly Drugs.
    These, the six higher knowledges are mine.
    Accomplished is the bidding of the Lord.

    pubbenivāsaṃ jānāmi dibbacakkhuṃ visodhitaṃ
    ceto paricca ñāṇañ ca sotadhātu visodhitā.
    iddhi pi me sacchikatā patto me āsavakkhayo
    cha me abhiññā sacchikatā kataṃ buddhassa sāsanaṃ.
    (Thī 227–28)

    For useful background information on this issue here treated, see D.J. Kalupahana, The Principles of Buddhist Psychology, Albany, N.Y. 1967, Ch. 10, “Analytic Yoga.” [Back]

  75. Some characteristic contexts in which these ideas are brought to the fore have already been identified in the course of the concluding part of our discussions on feminism, Section II above. In this connection, Mettikā’s and Sīhā’s references to cittaṃ vimucci me (Thī 30, 81) and Mittakālī’s vimuttacittā uṭṭhāsiṃ (ibid., 96) are especially pertinent. [Back]
  76. This position is clearly stressed, for instance, in the verses of Jentī and Soṇā (PsS, pp. 24, 63); those of the latter also suggest that, unlike the flux of Saṃsāra, the liberated in Nibbāna are stable or “immovable.” [Back]
  77. Cf. PsS, pp. 19, 20, 21, 23, 30, 61. It is perhaps noteworthy that overpowering inner feelings experienced in solitude tend to be tersely captured in this latter phraseology in other traditions too. For example, in Les réveries du promeneur solitaire (Paris 1973, p. 49) Rousseau employs “le calme ravissant” to describe a particular subjective feeling that effected him greatly. And “cool” in turn seems to have been put to use to protect a philosophically valued attitude of detachment in Hume, cf. The Natural History of Religion, London 1956, p. 76; Wittgenstein (Culture and Value, Oxford 1984, p. 2c) identifies a “certain coolness” as an ideal. In any event, “cool” is a figure of speech which can be given specific meaning in relation to Buddhism’s penchant to regard passion as fire, and Nibbāna as the state where it is finally extinguished. Cf. Lily de Silva, Ṅibbāna as Experience” Sri Lanka Journal of Buddhist Studies 1, 1987. Others like “void” (suññā, cf. PsS, pp. 37, 153), as Mrs. Rhys Davids herself has suggested, are short and neat characterizations of aspects of the Buddhist perceptions of reality. It is well to remark here that recent investigators have drawn attention to the existence of a non-literalist, symbolic “twilight language” (saṃdhyā-bhāsā) in which Buddhist meditational-salvific experiences and understandings are apt to be conveyed; cf. R. Bucknell and M. Stuart Fox, The Twilight Language, Explorations in Buddhist Meditation and Symbolism, London 1986. This is something that might usefully be borne in mind when probing the meaning of the imprecise phraseology in which the condition of the arahant is finally projected in our text. It is instructive to observe that certain reflective considerations on thought and experience developed in the philosophy of William James serve to complement the preceding conclusions. For in remarking that it is not possible to be “articulate” about the “inarticulate,” this American pragmatist tends to argue for the need to give legitimacy to the “vague” in religious discourse, in particular when reason and language have been pushed to their limits and there is still a “left over” which can only be “pointed at” or “acted on.” Cf. W.J. Gavin, William James and the Reinstatement of the Vague, Philadelphia, 199 . Current inquires into the logical and semantic issues surrounding vague objects and vague identities (cf. Vagueness, A Reader, ed. By R. Keefe and P. Smith, Cambridge, Mass., 1997) indeed provide many useful insights for a possible advanced interpretative justification of textual representations of the arahant’s unique experience of nibbāna. [Back]
  78. Uttamā (PsS, p. 36) is a striking case in point. A parallel experience is again recorded in the verses of an anonymous therī, cf. ibid., p. 51. [Back]
  79. pāde pakkhālayitvāna udake su karom”ahaṃ pādodakañ ca disvāna thalato ninnam āgataṃ tato cittaṃ samādhemi assaṃ bhadraṃ va jāniyaṃ tato dīpaṃ gahetvāna vihāraṃ pāvisim ahaṃ seyyaṃ olokayitvāna mañcakamhi upavisiṃ tato sūciṃ gahetvāna vaṭṭiṃ okassayām”ahaṃ padīpasseva nibbānaṃ vimokkho ahu cetaso. (Thī 114–16)

    Given the noted role which the idea of “sudden enlightenment” plays in Mahāyānist traditions (notably Zen, cf. DṬ. Susuki, Zen Buddhism, New York 1956; see also S. Park, Buddhist Faith and Sudden Enlightenment, Albany, N.Y. 1984), the above evidences that point to its anticipation in Thī merit particular notice. Though it has not been viewed from this angle, contemporary esoteric religiosity associated with the Theravāda tradition itself seems to have generated patterns of illuminative understanding which dawns in a sudden fashion; cf. R. Gombrich and G. Obeyesekere Buddhism Transformed, Religious Change in Sri Lanka, Princeton 1988, pp. 353 ff., and also the present writer’s review of this book in The Journal of the International Association of Buddhist Studies 13, 1990, pp. 149–50. [Back]

  80. See A I 173; M I 477. Cf. Lily de Silva, “Cetovimutti, Paññāvimutti, Ubhatobhāgavimutti,” Pali Buddhist Review 3, 1978. [Back]
  81. In this connection I would like to draw attention to KṆ. Jayatilleke, Early Buddhist Theory of Knowledge (London 1963, Delhi 1989) and S. Tilak, Religion and Aging in the Indian Tradition (Albany, N.Y. 1988). I find the non-use of Thī (and Thag) a definite desideratum in Jayatilleke’s discussion of supernormal knowledge as admitted within early Buddhist frames. However, given his apparent lack of interest in probing the practical basis of the quintessential Buddhist claim that meditational self-culture generates supernormal knowledge, the neglect of this text—where such culture plays a major informing role—is of course not surprising. Tilak’s disregarding of the latter, while equally striking, is perhaps even more blameworthy. For it is possible to argue that had he paid some attention to the drift of Ambapālīs reflections, it would have been difficult to support his thesis that early Buddhism’s attitude to old age is one of fear and that the Buddha’s message generally sustains a “gerontophobia.” A consideration of this same context in Thī also provides grounds for challenging Tilak’s tendency to see interest in the “semiotics of aging” purely with in Hindu texts. [Back]
  82. In taking account of this feature, which of course relates to its essential religiosity, I am tempted to say that what Wittgenstein held about his famous Tractatus is perhaps applicable to Thī as well: his book, Wittgenstein insisted, is one that “will be understood only by someone who has himself already had thoughts that are expressed in it—or at least similar thoughts” (Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus, tr. D.F. Pears and B.F. McGuinness, London 1961, p. 3). For viewed overall, Thī not only reveals, but also conceals—conceals because its core articulations of religious import point beyond themselves to a “more” in experience acquired through spiritual self-culture, which, it bears repeating, is unlikely to mean much to a reader without some insight into that self-culture itself. [Back]