The Secret of the Other Shore

The setting sun dyed the surface of the Ganges River gold. Rushing waves slapped against the sandy banks, creating an endless murmur. In the stillness of a forest on the city’s outskirts, a figure appeared. He was strikingly handsome, with a radiant face and noble aura that commanded admiration from all who saw him. He walked slowly, his sharp eyes hiding a mysterious smile as he approached the place where the World-Honored One sat in meditation.

This man was Mara, the tempter who constantly sought to challenge and disturb the mind of the enlightened one. He knew that the Buddha often used the image of "crossing to the other shore" to signify liberation and the completion of spiritual practice. Today, he decided to use this very linguistic trap to catch the Buddha.

The Buddha opened his eyes. His gaze was calm yet penetrating, seeing through the glamorous disguise immediately. He recognized the true nature of the stranger without waiting for him to speak. With a voice that was deep, warm, yet firm, the Buddha said:

"Mara, do not pretend any longer."

The handsome figure froze, and the smile vanished from his lips. Mara showed surprise, which quickly turned into provocation. He asked with a calculating tone:

"World-Honored One, you often teach your disciples to cross to the other shore. But in reality, these two riverbanks are identical. This side is muddy with reeds and grass; the other side is no different. So what exactly does 'the other shore' mean? Is it merely an illusion?"

Mara had prepared a tight logical argument. If the Buddha claimed the other shore was a specific physical location, Mara would point out the meaninglessness of such geographical division. If the Buddha remained silent, Mara would claim his teachings lacked foundation. It was a subtle intellectual trap designed to exploit attachment to names and concepts.

The Buddha smiled gently, unshaken by this intellectual attack. He understood that Mara was trying to bind truth within the categories of language and form. He replied, each word ringing like a bell in the quiet space:

"Mara, there is no this shore, nor is there an other shore. Both shores do not exist in the way you think."

Mara frowned, but before he could retort, the Buddha continued, his voice becoming more serious and profound:

"Only when you have left behind suffering, cut off all bindings of afflictions (kleshas), delusion, and craving, will I call you a Brahmin—that is, a holy and pure being."

The Buddha’s answer was like a sharp sword, severing all of Mara’s traps. He did not deny the existence of the river or its banks. Instead, he elevated the issue to a higher level of awareness. Liberation does not lie in moving from point A to point B physically or conceptually. It lies in inner transformation. When the mind clings to "this shore" or "that shore," it falls into duality and remains bound by illusions.

Mara stood stunned, feeling a chill run through his body. He realized he had lost. It was not because his logic was weak, but because he was still trapped in the game of ego and debate. The Buddha had transcended all concepts. The handsome form gradually dissolved into emptiness, leaving absolute silence beside the Ganges River.

### The Meaning of the Story

This story illustrates Verse Eighty of the Dhammapada: "No this shore, no other shore, neither shore exists. Free from suffering and all bonds, I call him a Brahmin." The core lesson is that enlightenment does not depend on concepts, names, or dualistic divisions like this shore versus that shore. Language is only a tool for suggestion. If we cling to language, we become trapped. Truth lies in freedom from suffering and internal bondage. Practitioners must move beyond attachment to forms, classes, or titles, aiming for true purity and liberation within the mind.

Compiled from a dharma talk by Venerable Thich Chan Quang