The Buddha and the Musashi: Two Ways In The World
The passage that follows was written by me as an Author’s Note to the Japanese edition of Prince of Ayodhya. It’s unedited as yet, and of course, when published it will appear in Japanese, translated by the esteemable Yutaka Ohshima, who is almost single-handedly responsible for the Japanese editions of my Ramayana series. Thank you, Yutaka-san, for undertaking the labour of love, translating the Ramayana, as well as for constantly compelling me to work to a higher standard. This short note, barely a sketch of a few random thoughts, is also the result of your encouragement.
Author’s Note To The Japanese Edition
Two books are upon my desk as I write these words: One is a collection of the teachings of the Buddha. The other is The Book of Five Rings by Miyamoto Musashi.
One was an Indian prince who lived two thousand five hundred years ago, and grew to loathe his life of wealth and prosperity and sensual pleasure, giving it all up to go upon a journey of self-realization that gave us the single most important moral creed of all humankind: the way of Absolute Peace. The other was a young samurai who lived in the 16th century, and was gifted with a great and terrible skill for mortal combat, as well as a deep understanding of the philosophy of violence that he distilled into his masterful book on Kendo, Go Rin No Sho (The Book of Five Rings). One, a master of peace and non-violence. The other, a master of the art of killing.
I feel that both these men, separated by a great divide of time, culture and philosophy, had a great and powerful link. Perhaps some day I hope to attempt a story that shows this bond, and shows how violence and non-violence are eternally interlinked, two sides of the hastily minted coin of humanity. This bond, this eternal dilemma between the way of the warrior and the way of the void, is the question at the heart of the Ramayana, the oldest and one of the two greatest epics of India.
It is no coincidence that the Buddha was born not far from the place where Rama Chandra, the hero of the Ramayana, was born. Or that Rama’s tale is one filled with great exploits of combat and violence, and was followed historically by the other great epic of India, the Mahabharata, which told the story of a war so terrible, it is believed to be the greatest war that was ever waged upon Earth.
For the Buddha was the product of an age that followed the time of Ramayana and Mahabharata, and his quest for Peace began because of this terrible history of violence that had preceded his time. Remember that the holy sages who composed both these great epics were men sworn to uphold the values of peace in much the same fashion as Buddhist monks would do a few years later, and continue to do even today, Buddha be praised.
But it begs the question: Why would holy men compose tales of violence and adventure? For the same reason that a deeply spiritual man ranks as perhaps the greatest killing machine that lived. Despite his brutal, violence-spattered life, Miyamoto Musashi’s philosophy of Kendo is no less beautiful than the teachings of the Buddha, or the tenets of dharma that Rama adhered to so diligently. In the end, it is the same mystery that both the Musashis of this world as well as the Buddhas seek to explore, the Ramas as well as the holy brahmins: The way of the warrior, and the way of the void. Which is the best way? How should one choose? Must one choose at all?
All great stories ask great questions. The Ramayana asks the greatest question of all: How should we live? It is the story of a man who possessed the beauty of the Buddha in mind, as well as the mastery of combat of a Musashi. Yet his choices were not his alone to make: he played a part in a tale of which his own life was only a sub-plot. In time, his deeds were acknowledged as so great, that to Indians everywhere he is considered the greatest human that ever lived. His life, the perfect life. He, the perfect son, brother, husband, warrior, clansman, king. He used his gifts for violence in service of others, and in doing so, embodied dharma, and is now regarded as a god. As a mortal avatar of the great Hindu god Vishnu, remaining unaware of his own divinity till the very end of his days. His story is considered the apocryphal story of good versus evil.
Yet, I often wonder. Was not Rama seeking the very same thing that the Buddha sought when he left his wife and son, his palace, his silks and gold, and walked out into the dark night of the forest? Was it not the same question that haunted Musashi in his cave during those last years of his life, when he composed Go Rin No Sho? Is not that same question echoing in our minds even today, linking us all together in one vast family of humankind? How should we live? How?
The Ramayana shows us one possible answer to that question. It was uniquely Rama’s answer. But I like to think that in some afterlife, the Buddha, Musashi, and all the other great men and women of history, look down at the epic tale of Rama’s struggle as it unfolds, and nod approvingly. For this is a good answer. Yes, a very good one. Read it yourself and see.
This entry was posted on Thursday, October 27th, 2005 at 10:53 am. It is filed under Ashok.
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