The Castle Awaiting Its Owner and the Betrayal Behind the Wooden Door

A gusty afternoon wind swept through the rows of sal trees near Varanasi, carrying the scent of wild grass and the faint sound of bells from the Deer Park monastery. In a spacious limber-wood house of over ten rooms, Nandiya — the only son of one of the region’s wealthiest households — stood by the doorway, his fingers gently smoothing a string of prayer beads. The pale golden sunlight fell upon his serene face. He had just returned from making offerings to the monks, his heart light, yet a lingering sadness touched his eyes.

“Mother, I do not wish to marry. I want to dedicate my life to revering the Three Jewels and creating blessings for the world,” he said, his voice deep yet firm.

His elderly mother sat cross-legged on the mat, her gaunt hands clutching the edge of her robe. She let out a soft sigh, her gaze filled with yearning.

“Ah, my child, worldly conditions cannot be avoided. I have found Revati, a gentle and virtuous girl. Only one thing… she is also devout. If you want her to agree, tell her she must be as faithful as you.”

And so from that day forward, Revati — the daughter-in-law brought home by the mother-in-law — began to follow the advice. Each morning, instead of tending to fine silks, she would don a simple blue robe and light incense to pay respect to the Buddha. She joined her husband on alms rounds, opened the family granaries to make offerings to the monks, and helped the poor in the region. Seeing his wife as devout as himself, Nandiya felt as though a knot in his heart had come undone. He smiled and agreed to the marriage. For many long years, the couple devoted themselves tirelessly to charitable works: he made offerings to the monks, she supported him in everything, and their vast wealth could not diminish their compassionate generosity.

Yet deep within, Revati harbored no reverence for the Buddha. She did everything solely because of her mother-in-law’s persuasion and the lure of the immense fortune. At night, when her husband slept, she would stare at the wooden ceiling, her lips pressed tightly together. She told herself: “I pretend to go to the temple, pretend to make offerings, but my heart does not believe. I am just waiting for the day…” Her struggle was not between good and evil, but between the role she played and her ambition to secure the inheritance. She dared not speak openly, only hinting occasionally:

“My dear, if one day you go far away, how will I know how to keep this house?”

Nandiya would hold her shoulder, smiling gently:

“Just keep your heart devoted as it is now, and the Three Jewels will protect you.”

The merit of the couple, especially from Nandiya, was so great that it resonated in the heavenly realms. One day, Venerable Moggallana flew up and saw a radiant castle with no owner. He asked, and a celestial maiden replied:

“Venerable sir, the owner of this castle is Nandiya, still in the human world. When he passes, he will come here to be its master. We are waiting to attend him.”

He returned and reported to the Buddha, who smiled and praised this: merit is like kinsmen welcoming a traveler returning home. Not long after, Nandiya fell ill and died young. To ordinary eyes, it was an early death. Yet in truth, his blessings for the heavenly realm were complete; the human world was no longer worthy of his presence. He left his body and ascended directly to that luminous celestial castle.

The funeral had barely concluded when the limber-wood door shut firmly. Revati stood in the center of the house, looking around at the granaries and chests of gold, her face cold as stone. She turned to a servant, her voice sharp as a blade:

“From now on, no one is to mention the Three Jewels in this house. The Buddha’s teachings are a fraud. Drive away all those beggars at the gate—don’t let them come near!”

A passing bhikkhu stopped and spoke gently:

“Lay disciple, remember the blessings your husband created…”

She cut him off, her eyes flashing:

“Silence! This fortune is mine. I have no need for your path!”

And so she grew harsh, slandering the monks, not a single wholesome thought remaining. When she died later, her evil karma dragged her down into the darkness of the lower realms. As for Nandiya, in the heavenly world, he dwelt in the light of his sincerely created blessings.

**The Meaning of the Story**

Devotion must arise from sincere heart, not from a false scheme to gain advantage. True blessings, born from reverence for the Three Jewels and helping others, are lasting; the false kind, when conditions change, causes the spiritual heart to collapse and leads to suffering. Practice to keep your mind steady, and do not let wrong views or ambition uproot your wholesome foundation.

*Compiled from a dharma talk by Venerable Thich Chan Quang*