The Trap of Love for the Handsome Monk Sundara

The sun had just slipped through the gaps in the leaves, casting golden rays upon the dirt path leading from Veluvana Monastery toward Rajagaha. The clear calls of birds mingled with the rustle of robes as a young bhikkhu walked on his alms round. Sundara Samudda, once known as the most beautiful youth in the land, now had a shaved head and carried a bowl, yet his face still radiated a gentle charm that was hard to resist. A light breeze carried the faint scent of wild flowers, but his mind remained uneasy. Since arriving in this region to practice, he had not spent a single day without feeling that some pair of eyes was watching him.

“Venerable sir, why do you go on alms round alone? Why not let your attendants accompany you?” asked a lay follower when they met that morning.

He only smiled and did not answer. In truth, he remembered the months at Jetavana, when his extremely wealthy parents kept sending servants to the monastery—one day bringing socks, another delivering towels, and sometimes even personal items. He felt a lump in his throat and deep discomfort. Having gone forth, he found it unbearable that his family continued to hover around him, as if he had never left home.

Born into a profoundly rich family, he had been indulged by his parents, receiving whatever he desired. One day, after listening to the Buddha’s teachings at Jetavana with friends, he awakened and requested ordination. His parents refused, so he fasted, lying still in hunger. Fearing for his life, they finally relented. Yet, they remained resentful, continuing to send people back and forth to serve him at the monastery. Unable to find peace in his practice, he asked the Buddha to transfer him to Veluvana Monastery in Rajagaha—hundreds of miles from home, under the guidance of Moggallana—to escape the entanglement of familial affection. He thought he would practice in tranquility. Little did he know that since setting foot there, the shadow of a woman had begun weaving a plan that nearly caused him to stumble.

His parents at home were sorrowful and missed their son. One day, an exceptionally beautiful courtesan, hearing of their distress, came to inquire. The grieving relatives wept and recounted their troubles. Her eyes lit up when she heard the promise: if she could lure him to abandon his monastic life and return, she would receive half of their vast fortune. Driven by greed, she immediately devised a plan like a spy organization.

“I will buy a house right on the path he takes for alms,” she told herself, her hands trembling slightly as she held the bag of gold prepared for expenses. “I will play the role of a devout female follower, then gradually lead him from the courtyard into the house, and up to the upper floor.”

She purchased a front-facing house that was not too conspicuous but lay directly on his route, shaded by trees with a cool courtyard. Initially, she visited the monastery to listen to the dharma talk and made offerings to the Sangha properly every month. Then one day, as he passed by on his alms round, she pretended to encounter him accidentally, kneeling to invite him:

“Venerable sir, my home is nearby. Please step into my courtyard so I may make offerings.”

Finding this reasonable, he entered the courtyard. After she offered food into his bowl, he departed. The next time, she intercepted him again:

“Venerable sir, the sun is hot today. Please step into my courtyard to offer your bowl in the shade.”

He stopped again. Then she arranged for street vendors to crowd the courtyard, shouting and arguing loudly. She said:

“Teacher, it is too noisy out here. Please step inside the house for quiet.”

Thinking, “It is indeed noisy; going inside is harmless,” he crossed the threshold. After making offerings, she added:

“Please eat here. It is troublesome to walk elsewhere.”

He ate and returned home. On another occasion, instead of inviting him to the courtyard, she said:

“Venerable sir, please come into my house. Last time, there was nothing substantial.”

Trusting her, he entered. She then arranged for neighborhood children to run into the yard, screaming and throwing things. With a distressed look, she said:

“Oh, Teacher, please go upstairs to avoid the noise.”

Hearing the real cries of children, he climbed the stairs. Upon reaching a private room, she closed the door and suddenly stripped off her clothes, standing naked before him. He was stunned, his entire body rigid, his heart seeming to stop. Panic seized him: “I have fallen into a trap. No one will believe me if I explain. What will my parents say? How will the Dharma be disgraced?”

At that very moment, a brilliant aura shone forth, and the Buddha appeared in the center of the room. Like a drowning man grasping a branch, tears streamed down his face. The Buddha smiled and recited a verse: “Here, having cut off desire, leaving home, living the ascetic life—if sensual existence is completely severed, I call such a person a Brahmin.” In that instant, his mind opened, and he attained the fruit of sainthood. Using supernatural powers, he flew back to Jetavana to pay homage to the Buddha in the blink of an eye, escaping the terrifying room.

Later, when other bhikkhus asked why he had suddenly flown back to Jetavana, he recounted the entire story. The Buddha added that in a past life, he had been a beautiful antelope lured into the king’s zoo, saved by the Buddha’s previous incarnation as a high minister. Due to good karmic conditions across many lifetimes, he escaped danger this time.

From that day on, Venerable Sundara practiced steadfastly, no longer pulled by family or lust. His story became a lesson for the Sangha: practicing near home is difficult due to the bonds of clan affection, and the traps of Mara often wear very reasonable disguises. When recounting this later, listeners shuddered at the sophistication of the plot, silently reminding themselves to remain vigilant.

The Meaning of the Story

This tale illustrates that familial love is a hard-to-sever instinct. For laypeople, it is moral duty, but for those who have gone forth, it is an obstacle that must be abandoned to attain sainthood. Furthermore, the schemes of Mara often disguise themselves as natural and logical, leading practitioners step by step into traps. Those who practice must maintain mindfulness, avoiding carelessness that leads to loss of vigilance, in order to preserve the purity of the ascetic life.

Compiled from the dharma talk by Most Venerable Thich Chan Quang