The Immortal Plowman

The story of the meeting between the Buddha and the Brahmin Casi Baradva, when he was denied alms and insulted, but through wisdom, the situation was transformed into a dharma talk about spiritual plowing.

That morning, the first light of dawn broke over the newly sown rice paddies of the Brahmin village. In the fresh air of the Magadha countryside, the lively laughter of hundreds of farmers at work echoed across the fields. They were hired hands for the Brahmin Casi Baradva, a wealthy landowner with as many as five hundred plows ready for the new season.

Casi Baradva stood amidst the crowd of workers, holding a large bowl full of fragrant milk porridge, distributing breakfast to each person. Sweat beaded on his forehead, but a satisfied smile clearly showed on his proud face. He was a Brahmin, the highest class in Indian society, both a priest and a wealthy householder—a status he had diligently built over many years.

Suddenly, a figure appeared at the edge of the field. It was a ascetic with a serene and deliberate gait, carrying an alms bowl, his eyes compassionate yet radiant. The Buddha—the Awakened One—was on his alms round in the early morning. He approached where Casi Baradva stood, then stopped, standing to one side, waiting silently.

The Brahmin looked up at the ascetic. A feeling of annoyance arose in his heart. He had heard of Gotama's fame, but in his eyes, this was merely a beggar, a person who refused to work, living off the kindness of others. He frowned and spoke with a sarcastic tone:

"Ascetic, I plow and I sow. After plowing, after sowing, I have food to eat. So you, ascetic, should be the same! Go plow and sow, then you will have food, instead of begging like this!"

His voice rang out with contempt, causing a few nearby workers to turn and look. They saw the ascetic standing still, showing no anger or shame. On the contrary, a gentle smile briefly touched his lips.

"Brahmin," the Buddha replied gently, "I also plow and sow. After plowing and sowing, I also have food to eat."

The Brahmin was stunned. He looked the ascetic up and down, seeing no yoke, plow, plowshare, or ox. He let out a derisive laugh:

"You claim to be a plowman, but I see no plowing at all. Answer me: how do you plow your field? I want to know precisely!"

Then, without waiting for the Buddha's reply, he recited a verse, as a challenge:

"You claim to be a plowman, I see no plowman here. Please answer our question, About the plowman who is dear?"

The Buddha looked directly into the Brahmin's eyes, his gaze compassionate yet powerful. He slowly responded with a verse, his deep, resonant voice carrying across the field:

"Faith is the seed, Austerities are the rain. Wisdom is the plowshare, Shame is the plow-handle. The mind is the binding rope, Mindfulness is the goad. The body is well-guarded, Speech is well-guarded, Eating in moderation, I cultivate truthfulness. Clearing away the weeds, I achieve gentle liberation. Diligence is my yoke, I bear responsibility. I bring about my own peace, And all suffering vanishes. Plowing in this way, Yields the deathless fruit. After such plowing, From all suffering, release."

The Brahmin stood as if rooted to the ground. The Buddha's words were like lightning bolts tearing apart the dark veil of ignorance in his mind. He realized this ascetic was no ordinary beggar, but a great spiritual teacher who had found the way to plow the spiritual field to reap the deathless fruit. Tears began to roll down his cheeks. He hurriedly took a copper bowl, filled it with hot milk porridge, and knelt before the Buddha:

"Venerable Gotama, please accept this milk porridge. You are truly the plowman, the immortal plowman!"

But the Buddha gently shook his head:

"I do not partake of goods obtained through reciting verses. This is not the way for one with right view. All Buddhas reject receiving offerings through singing verses. O Brahmin, you should offer this to someone else."

The Brahmin was perplexed: "Then, Venerable, to whom shall I give this porridge?"

The Buddha replied: "Brahmin, I do not see anyone in this world, among devas, maras, brahmas, or humans, who could digest this milk porridge, apart from the Tathagata or a disciple of the Tathagata. Therefore, you should pour this milk porridge on ground without green grass, or immerse it in water where there are no living beings."

The Brahmin obeyed, taking the porridge to a clean spot in the water, where there were no living things, and poured it out. Wonderfully, when the porridge touched the water, it began to boil violently, spewing smoke and steaming fiercely, just like a plowshare left under the scorching sun all day would do when plunged into water.

The Brahmin was horrified, his hair standing on end. He rushed to the Buddha, knelt, and bowed his head in prostration: "Venerable Gotama, I take refuge in you, take refuge in the Dharma, take refuge in the Sangha of monks. Please allow me to be ordained by you, to receive the full precepts!"

The Buddha looked at him with compassion and nodded in acceptance.

Not long after, the Venerable Casi Baradva lived in seclusion, diligent and heedful. And then, in this very life, with his own direct knowledge, he realized, attained, and dwelt in the ultimate goal of the spiritual life. He knew clearly: "Birth is destroyed, the spiritual life has been lived, what had to be done is done, there is no more returning to this state." The Venerable Casi Baradva became an Arahant.

**Meaning of the Story**

The story teaches us that when facing adversity, when insulted or rejected by others, we should learn from the Buddha: be accommodating, do not resist, and then use wisdom to transform the situation into an opportunity to teach. At the same time, the dharma talk on "spiritual plowing" reminds each of us to cultivate faith, wisdom, and diligence in the field of our own mind to reap the deathless fruit—liberation from all suffering.

Compiled from a dharma talk by Ven. Thich Chan Quang