The Royal Song of Saraha
I bow down to noble Manjusri,
I bow down to him who has Conquered the finite.
As calm water lashed by wind
Turns into waves and rollers,
So the king thinks of Saraha
In many ways, although one man.
To a fool who squints,
One lamp is as two,
Where seen and seer are not two, Ah! the mind works
On the thingness of them both.
Though the house lamps have been lit,
The blind live on in the dark.
Is all-encompassing and close,
To the deluded it remains Always far away.
Though there may be many rivers, They are one in the sea.
Though there may be many lies, One truth will conquer all.
When one sun appears,
The dark, however deep,
Gautama the Buddha is the greatest master who has ever walked on the earth. Christ is a great master, so is Krishna, so is Mahavira, so is Mohammed, and many more, but Buddha still remains the greatest master. Not that his achievement of enlightenment is greater than anybody else’s – enlightenment is neither less nor more – he has attained to the same quality of consciousness as Mahavira, as Christ, as Zarathustra, as Lao Tzu. There is no question of any enlightened man being more enlightened than anybody else. But as far as his being a master is concerned Buddha is incomparable, because through him thousands of people have attained to enlightenment.
It has never happened with any other master. His line has been the most fruitful line, his family has been the most creative family up to now. He is like a big tree with so many branches – and each branch has been fruitful, each branch is loaded with many fruits. Mahavira remained a local phenomenon. Krishna fell into the hands of scholars and was lost. Christ was completely destroyed by the priests. Much could have happened, but it didn’t happen; Buddha has been tremendously fortunate in this. Not that the priests have not tried, not that the scholars have not tried; they have done all that they can do – but somehow Buddha’s teaching was devised in such a way that it could not be destroyed. It is still alive. Even after twenty-five centuries a few flowers come on his tree, it still blooms. Spring comes, and still it releases fragrance, it still bears fruit.