The four horses

Today I learned something.
From watching a TV show called the Body of Proof. I won’t get into what the show is about, except that I like it.

But at the end of this one episode, there was this quote from the Buddha.

“There are 4 horses.
The excellent horse moves before the whip touches its back.
The good horse runs at the lightest touch.
The poor horse doesn’t move till it feels pain.
And then there is the very bad horse. It stays still until the whip penetrates its marrow. “

In the running of our lives, we too are like these horses. 

Some of us see the ‘reflection of our own Self’ before any prompting. We know that we are destined to be pure and great and good and whole. We need no goad to change. We are already running, running free towards the light.
I see some of us like this: the lovely young man with a endearing European accent who has dedicated his life to save gibbons in a tropical south Asian forest. I see his humility and feel his love for things that cannot help themselves but when they swing free from tree to tall tree , their grace makes his eyes swell with tears at the sheer wonder of creation. 
he has found his calling without prompting, just his heart calling to the giant beating soul of the forest.

then there are some of us whose life is changed by a chance meeting with a walking inspiration who seems to have ‘manifested’ just for us, a reading of wisdom from a book written by our own minds but by someone else’s hands, a song of utter purity from a blind singer in a gurudwara before sunrise that asks us to bow and weep, or just the simplicity of the smile of a beggar who asks not for alms but for our eyes to meet hers with love.  We feel the breath of Grace and nothing but nothing is the same again: not the flight of an eagle in the clear blue sky, or the roil of thunderclouds at deep sunset or the laughter of a child swinging in his mother’s arms. We are molten.
I see some of us like this: The award winning molecular biologist who doffs his white lab coat for faded saffron robes and who lives as a Tibetan Buddhist monk near the Himalayas. It seems like he is walking not just in thin air but on it it  as he addresses a world conference of scientists and thinkers and doers on the substance of happiness: effulgence shining through.

And some of us are too busy to notice that the visitor at the door might be one of these messengers. Our lives are busy and we have things to do, and to-do lists to complete.  We ask the silent mirror to tell us that we are the fairest in the land, and we answer the question ourselves with a toss of the head, a spay of perfume and a dash of mouthwash. And one day we find the mirror speaking, asking us questions in turn: what use have we made of the gifts we have been bestowed, why do we feel  empty inside in spite of filling ourselves with things and why are we alone? We feel the hurt of people who have used us and discarded us, we feel the emptiness of homes  that are not laughing with children anymore, we feel the need for meaning.  We begin to search. We ask for help sometimes from friends, sometimes from paid professionals, sometimes from self help books, sometimes from spiritual teachers,  sometimes we return to the fold of the church, we go on pilgrimages , we  seek and seek and seek, because we now feel the pain. 
And here is the lovely reward: in just  making the search, we are changed. We are filled with purpose and one day, one shining moment when we realise there is no end but just the journey, we can begin to gallop,  the wind shouting hosannas in our ears.

I see some of us like this: the merchant banker who, on the wings of an epiphany,     funds his own charitable foundation to help create meaningful change in poor urban society . When he speaks now, he has the unmistakable certainty of a missionary and the contentment of a fakir. He is rooted and free. He is rock in the river.


The fourth one is probably the most interesting. It is the one that pays back pain with pain, inflicts suffering on others because it is screaming with agony inside. It knows no mercy because it gets none in return. It asks not to be loved , just to be feared. It feeds off hate. It presumes its greatness because it feels so inadequate in itself. There is no light here, not even the one at the end of the tunnel, just the deadness of darkness. Do not ask this person to feel joy. This person can feel glee though, the evil cackle of victory. And morality has left this abode a long time ago, purposeless end not just justifying but dictating the means.
This is the substance of nightmares.

The Buddha meets one such person. This is his story:

There was a notorious murderer whose back story about he became one is in itself a tale unto itself. But when the Buddha met him he was feared and dreaded  and known as Angulimala, one who wears fingers as a garland. He had 999 fingers collected as his gruesome trophies.

“When the Buddha heard about Angulimala, he quietly left the Jetavana and set out for the Jalani forest, some forty kilometres away. As the Buddha walked along the road, groups of travellers passed him and as they did, they warned him not to continue alone because of the danger. He simply smiled and continued on his way. When Angulimala saw the Buddha, he was most surprised. “This is wonderful indeed. Usually only travellers in groups of twenty, thirty or forty come along this road and here is an ascetic travelling alone. I will kill him.”

Seizing his sword and shield, Angulimala emerged from the jungle and began to chase the Buddha, but although he ran as fast as he could, he could not catch up with the Buddha, who only walked. He put on a burst of speed but still could not get near the Buddha. Utterly bewildered, he shouted out: “Stand still, ascetic!”
The Buddha turned around and looked at him, and replied: “I am still. Why don’t you be still also?” Even more bewildered Angulimala asked: “What do you mean, ascetic?”
“I am still in that I harm no living being. You kill and therefore you are not still,” replied the Buddha.

The terrible things that he had done and the wretchedness of his life dawned on Angulimala and he broke down and sobbed. He threw down his weapons, bowed at the Buddha’s feet and asked to become a monk. The Buddha ordained him and together they set out for Savatthi. “

In time, it is said, Angulimala became one of the Buddha’s most respected disciples.

What does it take to achieve transformation? Does one have to be swamped in mire and then rise like the lotus?  Does one have to undergo the tribulations of Job to understand the nature of , as Dostoevsky says, the benevolent indifference of the universe? Or can we rise and take up arms against a sea of troubles and by opposing end them? Can we win the greater Jihad, the inner struggle against our own demons? What does it take to recognize where the fight lies? Will only suffering reveal the true nature of Man, his inner perfect Self?

Asoka the Great,considered by  many historians to be the first unifier of India had to see the destruction he wrought on his own people when he waged merciless and ambitious war,before he saw the light. The suffering he caused on countless men women and children in the pursuit of power was so monstrous that  when he could finally see what he had done,  he became  Budhha’s greatest servant forsaking violence and trying to create a equitable society based on the principles of Dharma enunciated by the Buddha. 
The whip had to cut to the marrow.  The unspeakable horror of man’s cruelty to  his fellow man led to one of the most renowned transformations in human history.

And why is this important to us?

Consider this: India is the fourth horse. 

And maybe one day the whip will cut to the marrow. We  will  begin to stir when the agony of inflicted poverty, the torture of corruption,  the abyss of amorality, the absence of conscience  and the  sheer impossibility  of our lives will make us begin to reclaim our humanity.

the stuttering of the Lok Pal Bill  gives me pause. It by no means is a panacea for what ails us. We will need to accost the Buddha on the road  as well. But the fact that the ‘fors’ and the ‘againsts’  have run the bill aground  on the shoals of political expediency makes me less than optimistic that we not feeling the pain.


I can only hope. The Buddha in his infinite loving kindness believed that everyone and everything is worthy of redemption given time.

India , I hope, has enough time for redemption.


Postscript:  Asoka ‘s seal,the three headed lion, is the official seal of India.

written: 2011