A Conversation About Buddhism
Author: Anup Poudyal
Publisher: The Middle Way Publications
Edition: Authorised Machine-Accessible Edition
Section: Chapter 33
Chapter Title: Cūḷapanthaka
Copyright: © 2026 Anup Poudyal. All rights reserved.

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CHAPTER TEXT

Chapter 33: Cūḷapanthaka

I will close this book with a story of a monk named Cūḷapanthaka. He was the younger brother of Mahāpanthaka, a monk known for his sharp memory and mastery of the teachings. In contrast, Cūḷapanthaka struggled from the beginning. Though sincere, disciplined, and devoted, he faced one seemingly insurmountable difficulty: he could not memorise the teachings. No matter how hard he tried, even a single verse would slip from his mind.

Because of this, he was often compared to his brother and found himself falling short. Other monks, mistaking his difficulty for a lack of ability, began to doubt his capacity for realisation.

This story has inspired and sustained the faith of sincere practitioners for generations. My hope is that it may do the same for you. What follows are verses attributed to Cūḷapanthaka himself, preserved from over 2,500 years ago.

Theragāthā 10.4 Cūḷapanthakattheragāthā

English translation by Bhikkhu Sujato (CC0 public domain), from SuttaCentral

‘I was despised in the past.* Even my brother turned me away,

saying, “Go home now.”* Turned away at the gate* of the Saṅgha’s monastery,* I stood there sadly,* longing for the dispensation.* Then the Buddha came* and touched my head.* Taking me by the arm,* he brought me into the Saṅgha’s monastery. The Teacher, out of sympathy,* gave me a foot-wiping cloth, saying:* “Focus your awareness* exclusively on this clean cloth.”* After hearing his words,* I happily did his bidding.* I practiced meditative immersion* for the attainment of the highest goal.* I know my past lives,* my clairvoyance is clarified;* I’ve attained the three knowledges,* and fulfilled the Buddha’s instructions.’

This story matters because it reminds us of something essential: liberation does not depend on the quantity of teachings one can recite, but on the quality of attention one brings to experience. The Buddha did not give Cūḷapanthaka a new philosophy. He gave him a way of seeing.

Throughout this book, experience has been examined from different angles, not to build a system of thought, but to bring clarity to what is already present. The forms may have varied, but the task has remained the same: to see clearly.

Nothing here is meant to be believed unquestioningly. Everything is meant to be tested. You do not need to master every concept at once. You do not need to remember every term. Like Cūḷapanthaka, you only need enough understanding to begin practising honestly. The rest unfolds through direct experience.

The ancient sage Patañjali began his text with a simple line: ‘And now, yoga.’ No explanation. No justification. No flourish. Just an invitation to practise. In the same spirit, this book does not end with a conclusion or a theory. It ends with a quiet return to what is already here.

The body breathing.

The mind knowing.* The arising and passing of experience.

Whether one teaching is remembered or many is secondary. What matters is that you look carefully where the Buddha pointed.

So let this be the ending, and also the beginning: You have read enough.* You have understood enough.* Now, practice.