The Hammer in the Mouth and the Tragedy of the Monk Cocalika

The atmosphere in the monastery was heavy with silence, yet the ears of those practicing there still rang with pitiful groaning from one corner of a room. It was the sound coming from the decaying body of the monk Cocalika. A foul, overwhelming stench assailed the nostrils, so that anyone passing by covered their nose and hurried away. No one dared approach to care for him, for that smell was not merely physical—it was the manifestation of a heavy force of karma that had fully ripened.

This story begins with something far more troubling than the gentle Dhammapada verse we so often hear: "The bhikkhu who restrains his mouth, speaking words that are pure, gentle and humble." The truth behind this teaching arises from the tragedy of a practitioner who carried within him an extremely dangerous illness of the mind/heart: the habit of speaking ill of others.

The monk Cocalika had long harbored a deep aversion toward the two senior leaders of the Sangha, the Venerable Sariputta and the Venerable Moggallana. The original cause may have been nothing more than the occasions when they scolded him and corrected his faults. Instead of recognizing this as compassion helping him improve, Cocalika nurtured resentment. He could not see his own faults, and instead he blamed those who were trying to save him. From the discontent in his mind/heart, he turned it into words. Wherever he went, whoever he met, he would speak ill of the Buddha's two great disciples.

At first, people still tried to advise him. But when the advice proved ineffective, they spoke up and reported the matter to the Buddha. The Buddha summoned Cocalika and, with a tone that was stern yet full of compassion, said: "Cocalika, do not think this way. The good person, the virtuous person, the person of wisdom is none other than Sariputta and Moggallana."

But instead of bowing his head in repentance, Cocalika stood with his back straight and his eyes hard, and talked back right in front of the World-Honored One: "Even though the World-Honored One says so, to me those two are wicked, greedy men."

The Buddha patiently corrected him a second time, and then a third. He asked Cocalika to turn his mind/heart toward goodness and to praise the two Venerable Ones. But Cocalika's stubbornness had reached its peak. Three times the Buddha admonished him, three times the Buddha corrected him, and all three times he resolved to argue back. In the end, he rose to his feet and walked away, carrying with him a mind/heart darker than ever before.

The moment his steps left the place where the Buddha dwelt, his evil karma reached its utmost limit. Insulting the Arahants—those whose merit toward the Sangha is boundless—burned up all the blessings from merit he had planted over lifetimes. From that moment, his body reacted violently. Boils erupted all over his skin, resembling the cancer of our own time. At first they were only tiny lumps, then they grew as large as oranges, and larger still. They burst open, oozing blood and pus and giving off a horrific stench.

Cocalika lay there, writhing in agony. Herbal medicine could not cure him. He was faint with hunger and parched with thirst, yet no one dared come near, because the stench was beyond all endurance. He died in loneliness, in the revulsion of everyone around him, and fell into hell. To this very day, as this story is told, he is still wailing down there.

To explain to the bewildered monks, the Buddha used a metaphorical image: Cocalika was one who was born with a hammer in his mouth. That mouth was not used to build, but to destroy. He then told the parable of the tortoise and the two geese. The tortoise wished to fly high and gaze upon sky and earth, so it asked two geese to hold the two ends of a stick, while it clamped the middle of the stick in its mouth. As it floated in mid-air, hearing the birds singing and people chattering below, the tortoise's mouth itched to argue, to speak. The moment it opened its mouth to criticize or retort, it plunged freely to the ground, its shell shattered, and died.

The lesson of this parable is a quiet hint: the human mouth can harm a person in the most dangerous way. As Cocalika lay dying, a former teacher of his, the Brahma deity Tudu—who had attained the fruit of the Non-Returner—descended from the heavenly realm in one final attempt to save him. He hoped that the bond between teacher and disciple would move Cocalika to turn his mind/heart around: "Cocalika, repent! Make repentance for the evil thoughts, evil intentions, and evil words with which you slandered the Venerable Sariputta and the Venerable Moggallana."

But instead of weeping in remorse, Cocalika interrogated and taunted him: "Who are you? They say you attained the fruit of the Non-Returner, that you will never return again—so why have you come down here?"

The Brahma deity was left helpless. He understood that Cocalika was like someone who had fallen into a pit of filth, with not one clean spot remaining to grasp in order to pull him out. Evil had covered his entire body and mind/heart, leaving no chance of salvation. The Brahma deity vanished, leaving Cocalika to sink deep into hell.

The Meaning of the Story

The story of the monk Cocalika is a resounding warning about verbal karma. The habit of criticizing others may at first be nothing more than a way of taking in information or seeking attention, but left unchecked, it becomes a kind of spiritual drug, demanding ever higher doses. When we speak ill of others, especially the good and noble ones, we are burning up our own blessings from merit and sowing division and hatred into the world. The inevitable result is loneliness, being shunned by everyone, and downfall. The essential lesson is this: before speaking, consider whether your words will draw people together in love or drive them apart in hatred. Use gentle, humble speech to carry the truth, rather than the "hammer" in the mouth to destroy yourself and your community.

Compiled from a dharma talk by the Venerable Thich Chan Quang