The Ordinary Eye Fails to Recognize Manjushri Bodhisattva

There was once a man named Kalavinka, who had set his heart on meeting Manjushri Bodhisattva, yet his wish never came to pass.

Eventually, he hit upon a plan. He would practice generous almsgiving, host a grand feast for the shramanas, and set out a tall, raised seat at the very center of the gathering. This way, he hoped Manjushri Bodhisattva would descend and fulfill his heartfelt wish.

Many shramanas came to receive the offering. Amid them was a wretched old man, so foul-looking he was hard to look upon. Tears thick with filth streamed from his eyes, snot hung from his nostrils, and saliva dripped from his mouth. Still, the old man pushed his way through the crowd of shramanas, walked straight to the center, and sat himself down brazenly on the tall seat of honor.

No matter how Kalavinka looked at him, the man grated on his nerves. Indignant, he thought: —Today I gave generously in alms for this very purpose. That seat of honor especially—even if Manjushri Bodhisattva does not descend to sit in it himself, only a shramana of noble virtue and dignified, stately presence deserves to occupy it. —Hmph! Who is this wretched old man? What right does he have to…?

The more he brooded, the angrier he grew. Kalavinka strode forward, and without a shred of courtesy, dragged the old man off the seat. But before the old man had even made it to the gate, he yanked himself free from Kalavinka’s grasp, turned around, and climbed back into the high seat of honor. Kalavinka had to turn back and drag him down again. This happened several times over.

Once the almsgiving for the shramanas was finished, Kalavinka went straight to the local Buddhist temple. He lit oil lamps, burned incense, and prayed: —Your disciple gave generously in alms today. Through this merit, I hope to receive a reward in this very life, that I may see Manjushri Bodhisattva with my own eyes. Please grant my wish.

Worn out from the day’s exertions, Kalavinka went home and was asleep the second he lay down.

As he slept, a voice suddenly spoke to him: You longed to meet Manjushri Bodhisattva, and when he stood right before you, you did not even know him.

Kalavinka jolted with alarm, about to ask a question, when the voice went on: The old man sitting in the high seat of honor before you—was that not Manjushri Bodhisattva himself? And did you not drag him down seven times? Have you already forgotten?

As the Diamond Sutra teaches: Those who seek me in form, who look for me in sound, walk a deluded path and cannot see the Tathagata.

Caught up in his own judgments of high and low, Kalavinka had long been walking the deluded path. Even with the Bodhisattva standing right in front of him, how could he ever have seen?