A Demon Visits the Heavens...
Friday September 30, 2005
Phew! All that thinking about Foucault and Seneca and stuff makes the head hurt after a while. I could do with a story.
So here goes. The story concerns a demon who had the most peculiar of diets. This particular demon, a yaksha, a kind of toothy and rather vicious forest-sprite, fed on the anger of human beings. Living in this world, he was never short of food. Indeed, even if he came to a village and saw harmony prevailing, he only had to slip unseen into one of the houses – any one, it did not matter which – and whisper malicious words into the ear of one of those present. Then he could stand back and watch gleefully as the fruits of anger grew and blossomed. He became fat and very contented with his life. He particularly enjoyed the anger of monks and he liked to creep up on a group of them (or nuns, if he could find any, it did not matter which), and whisper into their ears about the attainments or the transgressions of their companions. They soon became angry, and the yaksha would feast on their bile, spiced as it was with the pungent herb of piety. Delicious!
One day, however, the demon became tired of this food, and thought that he would like a change. What, he wondered, would it be like to taste the anger of the gods? So our yaksha, hidden in a cloud of invisibility, headed up to the heaven of the thirty three deities where Sakka ruled. There he sat upon the King’s throne, the ruler being absent at that moment, called away on urgent business, and once thus installed the demon showed himself to all the gods.
The gods were horrified at the ugly beast sitting on their King’s throne. They asked him to leave, mildly, as is the way of gods. Mildly, the yaksha refused. The gods became firm, tried to reason with him. ‘We ask you to depart,’ they said, ‘you have no right to the throne.’
‘And you,’ replied the yaksha, ‘are a shower of good-for-nothing lackeys who sit on your arses all day doing nothing whatsoever.’
A note of irritation crept into the gods’ voices. ‘Leave,’ they said. ‘Or we will call the heavenly police.’
The demon stuck out his tongue and seemed to grow in size. One of the senior gods stepped forward, shaking now with fury. ‘Get out of the throne, you worthless piece of…’
But his voice faded away as the demon grew even further, and made a rude gesture which was so unambiguous that it would be understood even today.
The gods became more angry. ‘Get out of the throne or we will cast you down into the depths of hell, you vile worm!’ The feasted on their wrath, grinning madly as he expanded ever further. He started exude a dull red mist from his pores, and he still sat on the throne, huge and leering.
Then, at the far end of the feasting hall, there appeared a bright glow. Sakka, king of the gods, had returned. Immaculately polite, he walked up to the throne, bowed in front of the demon and smiled. ‘Welcome, friend!’ he said. ‘Do please remain seated. I will find myself another chair. May I offer you some nectar to drink? Or could I get you something else…’
He needed to say no more. The demon that had been so terrible and fearsome shrunk away to nothing and was gone in a puff of smoke.
