The Shadow That Follows

In the Jetavana monastery, the air grew thick with tension. A group of monks stood in a circle, their faces flushed with anger, pointing directly at an elder seated silently beneath a bodhi tree. This elder was named Kundaana. He was thin and frail, his eyes cast downward, refusing to speak a single word. Behind him, just two steps away, stood a faint shadow of a woman. She had long hair and wore white robes, but no one could see her face clearly. Everyone who passed by saw this figure, yet only Kundaana remained unaware of its presence.

This strange occurrence had persisted for an entire year. Since the day Kundaana entered the monastery, the shadow followed him everywhere. It trailed him during his alms rounds, sat beside him while he practiced meditative concentration under the trees, and even accompanied him when he went into the bushes for relief. The other monks witnessed this and were deeply dissatisfied. They believed he had broken the precepts by leading a woman around after having renounced worldly life. They spoke to him, advised him, and rebuked him, but he remained silent, gazing into the distance without offering any defense. He thought to himself, "This is my karma; I must endure it with patience." However, his silence only fueled their anger further. They whispered among themselves, "He is too stubborn! We have spoken endlessly, yet he does not listen. Wherever he goes, he brings a woman along. What kind of dignity is that?"

The pressure mounted daily. The monks began urging lay supporters to stop making offerings to Kundaana. They argued, "One who breaks the precepts should not receive the generosity of devotees." Yet respected laypeople like Anathapindika and Visakha shook their heads. They said, "This matter belongs to the Sangha. As lay followers, we dare not interfere." Although they clearly saw the shadow of the woman, they feared jumping to wrong conclusions. Rumors spread throughout the city of Shravasti. Some claimed the monk secretly loved a certain girl, while others insisted he had violated the precepts long ago. Eventually, the story reached King Pasenadi. The king was devoted to the Dharma but had not yet attained any stage of enlightenment. Upon hearing the rumors, he summoned the monk to the palace.

When Kundaana entered the hall, before the majestic power of the king, the shadow of the woman suddenly vanished. The king asked a few questions, then turned away. Immediately, the shadow reappeared. The king observed closely and nodded slowly. He declared, "This is a ghost, not a real person." Turning to the monks standing nearby, he said, "You are mistaken. The shadow following Elder Kundaana is merely a spirit. Let us present this matter to the World-Honored One so we may understand the truth."

Hearing the king’s words, Kundaana suddenly stood up. His face turned red, and his eyes blazed with fury. He pointed at the monks and spat out each word harshly. "You are the evil ones! You are the ones who break the precepts! For a whole year, I have endured patiently as taught by the Buddha, but you gave me no room to live. Only now, with the wise king present, is the truth seen clearly. You are fools!" He cursed them severely, releasing all the frustration he had suppressed for a year. The monks stood frozen, their faces pale with shock.

The matter reached the ears of the Buddha. He called everyone together and spoke gently to Kundaana. "Do not use harsh words against these monks," the Buddha said. "They speak what they clearly see: they see a woman’s shadow following you. But you speak what you do not know: you call them rule-breakers and fools—things you cannot be certain of. Hurtful speech is like a sharp sword; it kills people in such a way. You suffer from karma, which caused this situation. You should have endured patiently until it passed. But because the king supported you, you lost your self-control."

The assembly then asked the Buddha, "World-Honored One, what karma did this monk commit? Why is there always a ghost following him?" The Buddha recounted a past life. During the time of Buddha Kashyapa, two monks were very close friends. They went everywhere together. A celestial maiden looked down from heaven, felt annoyed by their closeness, and decided to play a mischievous trick to divide them. She descended and waited for one monk to enter the bushes for relief. In those days, toilets were located in the bushes, and even close friends could not accompany each other at such times. The celestial maiden appeared and followed him into the bushes. When the monk emerged, she also came out, mimicking the motion of adjusting her clothes. The other monk, watching from afar, became furious. He shouted, "Why did you do that?" The first monk replied, "I did nothing!" The second insisted, "I saw it with my own eyes!" Consequently, the two separated. They stopped living together, stopped performing duties together, and stopped reciting the precepts together. The celestial maiden later felt remorse and confessed, "I was the one causing trouble; he remained pure." But the friendship between the two monks was already broken and never recovered. The celestial maiden fell into lower realms due to this action. After many lifetimes, during the time of Shakyamuni Buddha, she was reborn as the monk Kundaana. Her karma returned: once, she had disrupted others briefly, but now she was haunted for years and months. A woman’s shadow always followed her, yet she could not explain herself to anyone.

The Buddha concluded, "Even if others speak harshly to you, do not retaliate. This is the nature of karma. Words are no different from sharp swords; they strike the soul, causing pain, just as wielding a blade cuts flesh."

From that day on, no monk in the monastery dared accuse Kundaana again. They understood that what the eyes see is not necessarily the truth. As for Kundaana, he continued his practice, enduring patiently to repay his karma. Gradually, the shadow of the woman faded, serving as a reminder that cause and effect (karmic law) never errs.

The Meaning of the Story

This tale teaches us that cruel speech is like a sharp sword, capable of deeply wounding others. When falsely accused, one should endure patiently to repay karma rather than reacting impulsively. Simultaneously, we must not hastily trust what our eyes see or ears hear, for the truth often lies hidden behind appearances. Finally, jealousy and the desire to divide others—even if done merely as mischief—can generate heavy karmic consequences.

Compiled from a dharma talk by Venerable Thich Chan Quang