Thariputra rightly understood that the moment had come to preach the law to his mother. He said to her, “Woman, at the time my great teacher was born, when he obtained the supreme intelligence, and preached the most excellent law, a great earthquake was felt throughout ten thousand worlds. No one has ever equalled him in the practice of virtue, in understanding, wisdom, and in the knowledge of and affection for the transcendent excellencies of the state of Arahat.” He then went on explaining to her the law, and many particulars relating to the person of Buddha. “Beloved son,” said his mother, delighted with all that she heard, “why have you been so late in acquainting me with such a perfect law?” At the conclusion of the instruction, she attained the state of Thautapan. Thariputra replied, “Now, woman, I have repaid you for all the labours you have bestowed on me in bearing, nursing, and educating me; depart from me and leave me alone.”[5]
Thariputra inquired of the devoted Tsanda whether the moment had come. Having been informed that it was nearly daylight, he requested to be set up. By his order all the Rahans were called to his presence, and he said to them, “For the last forty-four years you have ever been with me; if I have offended any one of you during all that time, I beg to be pardoned.” The Rahans answered him: “Great teacher, we have lived with you during the last forty-four years, and have been your inseparable attendants, following you everywhere, as the shadow follows the body. We have never experienced the least dissatisfaction with you, but we have to request your forbearance with us and pardon for ourselves.”
It was on the evening of the full moon Tatsaongmon (November), when Thariputra went to his mother’s place, and lay down in the room wherein he had been born. During the night he was attacked with the most distressing distemper. In the morning, at daylight, he was habited with his tsiwaran and made to lie on his right side. He entered into a sort of ecstasy, passed successively from the first state of Dzan to the second, third, and fourth, and thence dived into the bottomless state of Neibban, which is the complete exemption from the influence of passions and matter.
Noopathari, bathed in her tears, gave full vent to her grief and desolation. “Alas!” exclaimed she, looking on the lifeless body, “is this my beloved son? His mouth can no more utter a sound.” Rising up, she flung herself at his feet, and with a voice ever interrupted by sobs and lamentations, said, “Alas! beloved son, too late have I known the treasure of perfections and excellencies that was in you. Had I been aware of it, I would have invited to my house more than ten thousand Rahans, fed them, and made a present of three suits of dresses to each of them. I would have built a hundred monasteries to receive them.” Day[6] having dawned, she sent for the most skilful goldsmiths, opened her chests, and gave them a great quantity of gold. By her command, five hundred small piathats and as many dzedis were prepared: the outsides were all covered with gold leaves. The great Thagia sent down on the spot a number of Nats, who made also the same number of religious ornaments. In the middle of the city a high square tower was erected; from its centre a tall spire rose to an immense height. This principal one was surrounded by a great number of smaller ones. Men and Nats mingled together, uniting in their endeavours to do honour to the deceased. The whole place was lined with countless beings, vieing with each other in their efforts to show the utmost respect, joy, and exultation on this extraordinary occasion.
The nurse of Thariputra, named Rewati, came and deposited round the mortal remains three golden flowers. At that very moment the great Thagia made his appearance, surrounded with myriads of Nats. As soon as the multitudes perceived him, they withdrew hastily to make room for him. In the midst of the confusion, Rewati fell down, was trampled upon, and died. She migrated to the fortunate seat of Tawadeintha, became a daughter of Nats, and inhabited a niche made with the most consummate skill, and adorned with the richest materials. Her body shone like a beautiful statue of gold, and was three gawoots tall. Her dress exceeded in richness, variety, and beauty all that had ever been hitherto seen.
On the following day, Rewati came from her glorious seat to the spot where crowds of people surrounded the body of the deceased. She approached with the dignified countenance and majestic bearing of a queen of Nats. No one recognised her, though the eyes of all were riveted on her person, encompassed with the splendour of Nats. While all the spectators, overawed by the presence of that celestial being, remained motionless with a silent admiration, Rewati said to them, “How is it that none of you recognise me? I am Rewati, the nurse of the great Thariputra. To the offering of the three golden flowers made by me and placed at the feet of the mortal remains of the great Rahan, I am indebted for the glory and splendour of my present position.” She explained at great length the advantages procured by doing meritorious actions. Having stood for awhile above the cenotaph, whereupon they had deposited the body of the deceased, she came down, turned three times round it, bowing down each time, and then returned to the blissful seat of Tawadeintha.
During seven consecutive days, rejoicings, dancings, and amusements of every description were uninterruptedly kept up in honour of the illustrious deceased. The funeral pile was made of scented wood; upon it they scattered profusely the most rare and fragrant perfumes. The pile was ninety-nine cubits high. The corpse having been placed upon it, fire was set to it by means of strings made of flowers and combustibles. During the whole night that the ceremony lasted, there was a constant preaching of the law. Anoorouda extinguished the fire with perfumed water. Tsanda carefully and piously collected the remaining relics, which were placed in a filter. “Now,” said he, “I will go to Buddha with these relics, and lay them in his presence.” With his companion Anoorouda, he took, together with the relics, the patta and tsiwaran of the deceased, and returned to Buddha to relate to him all the particulars concerning the last moments of his great disciple.
Tsanda was the younger brother of the great Thariputra. It was to him that the honour belonged of being the person selected to convey to Buddha the precious relics. When, however, he had come to the monastery, he was unwilling to go alone into Buddha’s presence. He went first to Ananda, his intimate friend, and said to him, “My brother Thariputra has obtained the state of Neibban. Here are the patta, tsiwaran, and relics,” exhibiting before him, one after the other, those precious articles. Both went together to Buddha’s place, and laid at his feet the patta, tsiwaran, and relics of the great disciple. Buddha, placing the relics on the palm of his right hand, called all the Rahans and said to them, “Beloved Rahans, this is all that remains of one who, a few days ago, was performing wonders in your presence, and has now reached the state of Neibban, something resembling a pure white shell. During an a thingie and hundred thousands of worlds, he has perfected himself by the practice of virtue. Beloved children, he could preach the law like another Buddha. He knew how to gain friends; crowds of people followed him to hear his instructions. Excepting me, no one in ten thousand worlds was equal to him. His wisdom was at once great and cheerful, his mind quick and penetrating. He knew how to restrain his desires, and to be easily satisfied with little. He loved retirement. He severely rebuked evil-doers. Beloved children, Thariputra renounced all pleasures and gratifications to become a Rahan; he always shunned strifes and contentions, as well as long and idle conversations. His patient zeal for the diffusion of my religion equalled the thickness of the globe. He was like a bull, the horns of which have been broken. My beloved Rahans, look once more at the relics of my wise son, Thariputra.” Buddha in this manner eulogised the virtues of the illustrious deceased in five hundred stanzas.[7]