The Mother of Sariputta

The pale golden light of late afternoon filtered through the carved wooden window frame, falling upon the wrinkled face of a woman in her seventies. She sat on the veranda, her eyes swollen from weeping, gazing out at the empty courtyard. That feeling of emptiness had clung to her for many years, ever since her eldest son had decided to leave the family to follow a teacher of another path into religious life.

But that sorrow was nothing compared to the tidal wave of emotion that came crashing down later. One after another, the elder brother, three younger brothers, and two younger sisters of that eldest son all packed their belongings and followed their cousin into the forest to become monastics. And something miraculous happened: all of them attained the fruit of Arhatship, becoming noble ones. The mother, standing in the middle of the silent house, felt as though her own children had abandoned her. Resentment rose up in her heart: "Because of the Buddha, I have lost all my children."

She resolved not to lose another one. Her youngest son, Revata, had just come of age, and she hurried to arrange a marriage for him, hoping that a grand wedding and a warm family home would hold the young man back.

On the wedding day, the beautiful bride stood beside the young groom. The celebration was lively, yet the mother's eyes kept searching upward, as if fearing some invisible wind might sweep her child away. Suddenly, an elderly relative stepped forward before the gathered guests and raised a cup of wine in congratulation. His voice was slow and gruff: "Now that you have married a beautiful wife, I wish you both long life, just like this great-grandmother here." He pointed toward an old woman sitting in the corner of the hall — dim-eyed, wrinkled skin, a hunched back, her toothless mouth turned down in a grimace.

The crowd burst into laughter. But Revata's gaze lingered on that image. He saw it clearly: half of his wife's life lay ahead of her, and she too would become like that. A wave of terror rose within him, and his head began to spin. He realized he could not stay. In that very moment, while everyone was loudly offering their blessings, Revata turned, walked swiftly to the door, and vanished into the night without looking back. He went to find the Buddha, to seek the path of renunciation.

Later, when the Buddha led a company of monks into that forest to visit Revata — who was then only a young novice — Revata used his supernatural powers to transform the entire wilderness into a magnificent city, paved with marble, like a palace in the heavens, to welcome the Buddha.

And what of the mother? She spent her final years in utter desolation, loving her children and resenting them all at once. Then one day, when Sariputta knew that his time was drawing near, he returned home one last time to liberate his mother.

Seeing her son return, she was overjoyed and full of tenderness. Yet her mouth remained stubborn, and her arguments were as sharp as ever. That night, she carried a bowl of porridge to his room and suddenly froze. The entire room was radiant with light. Streams of white, golden, and blue light came rushing down from the sky, filling the room and then flying away again, endlessly, without pause.

Standing dazed in that mystical radiance, she even forgot to set down the bowl of porridge. Only as dawn drew near did the last of the luminous forms rise high and disappear into the sky.

She stepped inside and asked her son in a trembling voice: "All through the night, I saw streams of brilliant light descending from the heavens around you. Who were those beings?"

Sariputta answered, his voice calm yet full of weight: "Those were the Brahma deities from the highest heavenly realms. They came down to pay homage and to learn from me."

She stood frozen. Brahma — the supreme deity she had worshipped all her life — now coming to bow before her own son? She was frightened and astonished, yet the truth before her eyes could not be denied. Her heart melted, and all her long-held resentment suddenly drained away. She knelt down and begged to take refuge in the Three Jewels.

That night, he taught the Dharma to his mother. When morning came, he bid her farewell, returned to the monastery, and peacefully passed into final nirvana. Only at the very end of her life did she find the light.