The Hagiography of Mahasiddha Sarvaripa

Accounts of the 84 Mahasiddhas according to the gTérma of Jomo Pema ’ö-Zér as related to Ngakma Mé-tsal Wangmo by Zértsal Lingpa (གཏེར་སྟོན་ཟེར་རྩལ་གླིང་པ་). These remarkable hagiographic narratives are unprecedented in there length and detail. They could be considered to be ‘short stories’ which would engage the interest of even those who are new to Vajrayana.

Sarvaripa was a deer hunter. He was of the Sabara tribe of hunter-gatherers from the Vindhya Hills and the Deccan. One day whilst ranging the hills in search of game, Sarvaripa met Saraha.

Saraha greeted him with surprising hauteur “Hey! What sort of hunter are you, my fine feathered friend?”

The Sabaras wore peacock feathers woven into their clothing – and Saraha appeared as if he was making fun of Sarvaripa.

“I am probably the greatest hunter of this age.” sneered Sarvaripa.

“You don’t say” laughed Saraha. “Of course, you know that is impossible.”

“And why would that be? I warn you: I like a joke as much as the next man – but I’ll brook no impertinence.”

“Far be it from me to be impertinent – but I speak as I do because my bowmanship has no rival in any land.”

“Those are hollow words, my friend . . .” replied Sarvaripa “ . . . and a man who uses hollow words is safe to speak as he chooses – as long as he knows he is merely a fool.“

“Really?” smiled Saraha “And why would that be?”

“Because I do not make a practice of taking the words of a fool as an insult.”

“Then I would suggest that you may consider yourself insulted.”

“You are a brave man, at least . . . ” Sarvaripa laughed “ . . . because unless I now see you demonstrate your skill; your life will not extend beyond the next few minutes.”

“Then we must have a contest of skill.” smiled Saraha.

“Tell me what you can do and I will better it.”

“Certainly!” grinned Saraha “ But first tell me how many deer you can shoot with one arrow?”

“That question makes no sense. With one arrow I can shoot one deer – do you presume to tell me you can shoot more than one deer?”

“Without a doubt. I can shoot a hundred deer with one arrow.”

At this Sarvaripa laughed “You are a jester—and you are impertinent—so I shall certainly end your life if you cannot prove yourself.”

“We shall travel further into the hills together, then – and I will be happy to show you as soon as we find some deer.”

With that they walked on together into the distant hills in silence – and finally they came upon a large herd of deer—over a hundred—and Sarvaripa said “Yours is the more outrageous boast – so you must begin. I could shoot any of these deer, even those standing furthest from us. If you can shoot one, I will be surprised.”

At that Saraha fitted his arrow to the string of his bow and let fly an arrow – directly into the zenith. All but three of the deer fell to the ground.

Sarvaripa stood and stared for a moment, incapable of speech. Finally, he asked “Why did you leave three standing?”

“Because you need to show me that you can shoot the furthest deer. There were one hundred and eleven deer on that hillside and I have shot one hundred and eight. I would now like to see you shoot the furthest deer of the three remaining. Unless you think you can take them all down?”

Sarvaripa fitted his arrow to the string of his bow and let fly. The furthest deer fell to the ground and the other two ran away. Sarvaripa had done what he claimed he could do — but he was completely in awe of Saraha. “I see that impertinence is not your only skill – but you are a man of your word and I respect that.”

“Well . . . you are a man of your word too Sarvaripa, you shot the furthest deer – and I respect that. Anyhow, now we must carry our deer home. I will bring my catch back and you will bring yours. Is this possible?”

“Certainly . . . ” replied Sarvaripa “ . . . but it is not possible, even for such a remarkable bowman as yourself, to bring all your catch home – you could carry two at the most and they would be a heavy burden even for the strongest man.”

“What will you wager that I cannot bring all these deer back to your home tonight?”

“I have no money to speak of – but I will accept any challenge you set me.” replied Sarvaripa as proudly as he could—having been defeated as an archer in his contest with Saraha.

With that, Saraha and Sarvaripa strode off to the hillside where the deer lay. “That is your deer.” remarked Saraha “Let me see you shoulder that deer.”

Without a word Sarvaripa went to pick up the deer – but it proved too heavy for him to lift, no matter how hard he tried. In the end he sat on the ground exhausted by the effort.

“Well . . . I have failed – but now I must see how you keep your side of the wager. I shall try again to shoulder this deer – and as I do so, I shall see how you fare.”

At that Saraha snapped his fingers and all the deer he had shot sprang to their feet and began to follow him down the hill – along with the two who had run away.

Whilst still visible to the Sabara deer hunter, Saraha shouted back “Follow me!” then snapped his fingers. As soon as he snapped his fingers the deer which Sarvaripa had shot sprang to her feet. Sarvaripa—suddenly feeling full of life again—also jumped up and accompanied by the deer ran toward Saraha.

When Sarvaripa caught up, Saraha smiled “Now we can send these deer away. We have no need of them.”

“But what shall we eat this evening if we bring back no game?”

“Have no fears for that!” laughed Saraha “I shall provide food sufficient for you and your wife this evening. I promise you the most excellent dining you have experienced in a good many years. I have a considerable array of ingredients for the preparation of a fine feast! It’s all in this bag that I carry over my shoulder!”

“So now . . . ” grinned Sarvaripa rather wanly “ . . . you are telling me that you carry food for three hungry people in your haversack?”

“Yes.”

“Well . . . I have a feeling that it is unwise to doubt you. Any man who can fell one hundred and eight deer with one arrow and then bring them all back to life again could probably feed the same number of people from one haversack – and our party shall consist only of three.”

“I see you are a man of intelligence and wit.” smiled Saraha “We shall make a fine evening of it.”

In spite of his apprehension of this archer who was obviously a sorcerer, Sarvaripa asked “But . . . what of the wager – what challenge will you set me?”

“Ah yes . . . ” smiled Saraha “It is honourable of you to remember our wager. I shall tell you after we have shared a feast together this evening with your wife.”

The deer Sarvaripa had shot turned and ran into the distance. Saraha and Sarvaripa went on their way. When Saradha—Sarvaripa’s wife—heard what had occurred she became nervous – but Saraha put her at her ease. “I am not a sorcerer as you and your good husband imagine. I am a Buddhist yogi and the siddhis I have shown your husband are the least of my capacity. We shall eat together first – and then I shall tell your husband of his challenge.”

Saraha opened his bag and brought out a substantial feast which Sarvaripa and Saradha heartily enjoyed. After the feast was over Saraha sang a song of realisation and both Sarvaripa and Saradha were astonished. They were astonished both by the profundity of the teaching and by the fact that they had no difficulty in understanding. “And now for your challenge, Sarvaripa.”

Saradha made to leave the room in order for her husband to hear his challenge – but Saraha bade her stop with a motion of his hand, saying “This challenge is for both of you.”

Overawed though he was, Sarvaripa revolted at this proposition “The challenge was for me because I lost the wager. The challenge is not for my wife – because she made no agreement with you.”

“That is true Sarvaripa – but maybe you should wait until you hear the nature of the challenge.”

“We will hear your challenge . . .” replied Saradha “ . . . but Saradha,” insisted Sarvaripa “must be free to accept it or reject it as she pleases.”

“As you please. You are an honourable man and a brave one to insist – when you know me as you do. I have power enough to impel you if I wished – but it would never be my wish to impel anyone. To impel is not the way of Dharma – because one must learn directly from one’s own experience. One who was impelled would lack the courage and independence to follow through.”

Then Saraha began giving the couple instructions of how to practise. “Whether you return to hunting after you have fulfilled my instruction is up to you—but unless you can make a connection with the deer you shoot – which will lead to their liberation—you should no longer shoot deer. You may not be able to bring the deer you shoot back to life as I have done – but you must be able to establish a connection. First however, you must both retire to Danti Mountain and practise for three years according to the instructions I shall give you.”

Both Sarvaripa and Saradha agreed – and were surprised that the challenge seemed so convenient “We are used to living in these hills so what you ask is no problem to us – but how shall we eat?”

“I will provide what food you need just as I have provided it this evening. For your part you must simply practise.”

Saraha then gave them pith instructions of the nondual nature of wisdom and method – the primordial bodhicitta.

“Disparate rivers are no longer diverse when their waters unify with the water of the ocean Yet the rivers remain rivers fed by the rain which is drawn from the sea.

The darkness of a great web of lies is dispelled by a solitary fact and vanishes in the light of the sun.

Recognising that which is ineffable, it is neither pleasure nor pain When there is nothing upon which to meditate – that in itself is the wisdom of bliss.

Form and emptiness: neither is established – yet there is nothing aside from emptiness and form.

There is no place to remain in the commencement, meridian, or culmination.

For those obscured by concepts, emptiness and form are merely words or images appearing on the mirror’s surface, Analyse appearances without the necessity of concept – seeing neither singularity nor multiplicity But do not become attached to the mirror’s reflection - even though appearances are unborn and clear by nature.

All appearances in their diversity are of the nature of the mirror.

All the varieties of the seer and the seen are of this very nature.

Aversion, indifference, and attraction—united in bodhicitta—also have this very nature.

There is no negating, no constructing, and no apprehending. It is inconceivable.”

Then he taught them as Khandira had taught him – concerning the way one shoots an arrow. They were both skilled hunters with excellent marksmanship – and so he presented them with the ideal teaching:

“To realise the nondual state – contemplate the instant at which the arrow is let loose.

If you release the arrow with deliberation – emptiness and form remain as if they were separated.

Where there is no calculation – the point in time at which the arrow is released cannot be determined.

There is the form of retaining the arrow and the emptiness of having let it fly – But the point-instant of release cannot be ascertained as either.

That point-instant cannot be located by pursuing it with conceptual mind Because all scrutiny is form, and that which is scrutinised is empty.”

They both understood and the next day they left for the mountain hermitage at Danti.

Within three years they had both gained experience of the nondual state.

They later met Mahasiddha Nagarjuna, from whom they received Mahamudra instruction.

Sarvaripa and Saradha then passed these instructions on to their disciple Maitripa, who passed them on to the Tibetan translator Marpa. They spent their lives practising and passing on the teachings that Saraha and Nagarjuna had given them.