Piya Vagga — The Chapter on the Dear
The Dhammapada · Chapter 16 · 12 verses with translation and commentary
Verse 209
อโยเค ยุญฺชมตฺตานํ โยคสฺมิญฺจ อโยชยํ อตฺถํ หิตฺวา ปิยคฺคาหี ปิเหตตฺตานุโยคินํ ฯ
One who applies himself to what should not be pursued and does not apply himself to what should be pursued, who abandons his own good and clings to what is dear, envies those who devote themselves to what is right.
This verse was spoken concerning three renunciants who had strayed from the path they ought to have followed.
The Buddha pointed out that some people immerse themselves in what ought not to be pursued — wandering about in unsuitable haunts and objects improper for a recluse — while they pay no heed to the tasks that truly matter, casting aside what is beneficial, namely the Threefold Training (tisikkhā): the training of oneself in virtue, concentration, and wisdom. They let their minds cling to objects that are dear, the delightful and alluring objects of the five strands of sense pleasure. And when they see those who are earnest in practice, they merely crave to be like them, without ever setting to work themselves.
The lesson is that progress does not come from admiring others and then standing idle, but from ordering one's priorities rightly, throwing oneself into the tasks that ought to be done, and not squandering time on matters without substance.
Verse 210
มา ปิเยหิ สมาคญฺฉิ อปฺปิเยหิ กุทาจนํ ปิยานํ อทสฺสนํ ทุกฺขํ อปฺปิยานญฺจ ทสฺสนํ
At no time should one become attached to the dear or the not-dear, for not to see the dear is suffering, and to see the not-dear is suffering too.
This verse was spoken to the three renunciants, just as the previous one was.
The Buddha taught that one should not bind one's heart to either the dear or the not-dear, for both bring suffering. Separation from what one loves is suffering, for one is left forever yearning; and having to meet what one dislikes is suffering again, for one must endure what goes against the heart. Clinging to these two poles is therefore the source of endless distress.
The lesson is that a heart which can remain balanced in equanimity — neither delighting to the point of infatuation nor resenting to the point of aversion — has a place of peace, not dragged this way and that by the moods of both love and hate.
Verse 211
ตสฺมา ปิยํ น กยิราถ ปิยาปาโย หิ ปาปโก คนฺถา เตสํ น วิชฺชนฺติ เยสํ นตฺถิ ปิยาปฺปิยํ ฯ
Therefore one should hold nothing dear, for separation from the dear is grievous. For those who have neither the dear nor the not-dear, no bonds of defilement are found.
Spoken to the three renunciants, continuing from the two previous verses, this is a summing-up of the same principle.
Since separation from what one loves is a grievous suffering, the Buddha therefore pointed out the way: one should not make anything dear beyond due measure, for the more one loves, the more one suffers when parting comes. Whoever trains the heart to the point of having neither the dear nor the hated — that person has no bonds of defilement, no knotted attachments to keep the heart circling round in suffering.
The lesson is that this is not a teaching to make the heart hard and unkind, but a teaching to love with wisdom, not clinging until one becomes a slave to one's own love.
Verse 212
ปิยโต ชายตี โสโก ปิยโต ชายตี ภยํ ปิยโต วิปฺปมุตฺตสฺส นตฺถิ โสโก กุโต ภยํ ฯ
From the dear is born grief, from the dear is born fear. For one wholly freed from the dear, there is no grief — whence, then, fear?
This verse was spoken to a certain householder (a man of wealth).
The Buddha pointed to an important principle: grief and fear both arise from what is dear. As long as the heart still clings and jealously guards anything, so long must it keep dreading loss and grieving when that thing departs. But whoever is wholly freed from clinging to what is dear has no grief — and from where, then, would fear come?
The lesson is that the root of suffering does not lie in external things, but in the clinging within our own hearts. When that clinging is loosened, the trembling of the heart grows lighter along with it.
Verse 213
เปมโต ชายตี โสโก เปมโต ชายตี ภยํ เปมโต วิปฺปมุตฺตสฺส นตฺถิ โสโก กุโต ภยํ ฯ
From affection is born grief, from affection is born fear. For one wholly freed from affection, there is no grief — whence, then, fear?
This verse was spoken to Visākhā Migāramātā, who was grieving over the loss of her granddaughter.
The Buddha consoled her and showed her the truth that affection is the source of both grief and fear. However deep the bond of love, so much the heavier the sorrow when parting comes. Whoever is wholly freed from clinging affection has no grief, and no fear can encroach upon them.
The lesson is that in times when the heart is sunk in loss, recalling that suffering is ever the shadow that follows love helps us gradually to ease the heart, understanding the ordinary nature of a world where all things must one day depart.
Verse 214
รติยา ชายตี โสโก รติยา ชายตี ภยํ รติยา วิปฺปมุตฺตสฺส นตฺถิ โสโก กุโต ภยํ ฯ
From delight is born grief, from delight is born fear. For one wholly freed from delight, there is no grief — whence, then, fear?
This verse was spoken concerning the Licchavi princes.
The Buddha pointed out that delight is the cause of grief and fear. Delight here means the pleasure and infatuation with the five strands of sense pleasure. As long as the heart is still entangled in such enjoyments, so long must it keep worrying that they will fade, and grieving when they depart. Whoever is wholly freed from clinging delight has no grief and no fear from any quarter.
The lesson is that happiness founded upon clinging is fragile, for there is always a fear of loss hidden behind it.
Verse 215
กามโต ชายตี โสโก กามโต ชายตี ภยํ กามโต วิปฺปมุตฺตสฺส นตฺถิ โสโก กุโต ภยํ ฯ
From sensual craving is born grief, from sensual craving is born fear. For one wholly freed from sensual craving, there is no grief — whence, then, fear?
This verse was spoken to Aniṭṭhigandhakumāra.
The Buddha pointed out that sensual craving (kāma) is the source of grief and fear. The word kāma here covers both objective sensuality (vatthu-kāma) — the desirable things that are longed for — and defiling sensuality (kilesa-kāma) — the craving in the heart that keeps goading it on. When the heart falls under the power of sensuality, it must strive to seek, live in dread, and suffer when it is disappointed or when the thing itself changes. Whoever is wholly freed from sensuality has no grief and no fear from any quarter.
The lesson is that training the heart not to be a slave to craving is to unlock the chain that binds us to both hope and dread.
Verse 216
ตณฺหาย ชายตี โสโก ตณฺหาย ชายตี ภยํ ตณฺหาย วิปฺปมุตฺตสฺส นตฺถิ โสโก กุโต ภยํ ฯ
From craving is born grief, from craving is born fear. For one wholly freed from craving, there is no grief — whence, then, fear?
This verse was spoken to a certain brahmin.
The Buddha pointed out that craving (taṇhā) — the thirst of desire — is the root of grief and fear. Craving is the driving force that keeps the heart never satisfied, wanting without end, so that it must struggle to grasp and suffer in mind when it does not get what it hoped for, or, having got it, fears that it will decline. Whoever utterly extinguishes craving has no grief and no fear from any quarter.
The lesson is that craving is the deep root of all suffering. The more we are diligent to see through the desire within our own hearts and learn contentment, the nearer draws a cool and peaceful calm.
Verse 217
สีลทสฺสนสมฺปนฺนํ ธมฺมฏฺฐํ สจฺจวาทินํ อตฺตโน กมฺมกุพฺพานํ ตญฺชโน กุรุเต ปิยํ ฯ
One accomplished in virtue and vision, established in the Dhamma, speaking the truth, who does his own duty — such a person is held dear by the people.
This verse was spoken concerning five hundred children.
The Buddha described the qualities of a person dear to the multitude: one accomplished in virtue (sīla), that is, of pure conduct; endowed with vision (dassana), that is, right and true view; established in the Dhamma, never straying from what is right; speaking the truth, honest and never treacherous; and fulfilling his own duty completely. Such a person naturally becomes beloved and respected by everyone.
The lesson is that true belovedness does not come from ingratiating oneself with others or from flattery, but grows from inner virtue — from being possessed of moral discipline, sincerity, and responsibility in one's duty.
Verse 218
ฉนฺทชาโต อนกฺขาเต มนสา จ ผุโฐ สิยา กาเม จ อปฏิพทฺธจิตฺโต อุทฺธํโสโตติ วุจฺจติ ฯ
A monk in whom has arisen a zeal for the Dhamma that cannot be told, whose mind has been touched by it, and whose mind is unattached to sensual pleasures — he is called "one bound upstream."
This verse was spoken to the monks who were the pupils of a certain Elder, with reference to a non-returner Elder.
The Buddha pointed out the mark of one bound upstream: the one in whom has arisen a zeal for the sublime Dhamma, namely Nibbāna, which is so profound that it cannot be reached by conveying it in words. Such a person has touched with his mind the lower path and fruit, and by the strength of the path of the non-returner (anāgāmi-magga) his mind is unattached to sensual pleasures. He aims ever higher toward liberation, stage by stage.
The lesson is that one whose heart is inclined toward the higher Dhamma and released from sensuality has a direction of life that goes against the stream of the world and rises to what is high, not flowing down low in the wake of craving.
Verse 219
จิรปฺปวาสึ ปุริสํ ทูรโต โสตฺถิมาคตํ ญาตี มิตฺตา สุหชฺชา จ อภินนฺทนฺติ อาคตํ
When a man long absent from home returns safely from afar, kinsmen, friends, and well-wishers rejoice at his coming.
This verse was spoken to Mahā Moggallāna, with reference to Nandiya, who had made much merit.
The Buddha gave a simile to make the picture vivid: when one who has long been away from home returns safely, his kinsmen, friends, and well-wishers all rejoice and come out to welcome him with gladness. This is a truth that everyone can see, according to the ordinary way of the world.
This verse is set up to lead into the simile of the next verse. Its initial lesson is that a bond of goodwill makes the return of someone dear always a matter that gladdens the heart.
Verse 220
ตเถว กตปุญฺญมฺปิ อสฺมา โลกา ปรํ คตํ ปุญฺญานิ ปฏิคณฺหนฺติ ปิยํ ญาตีว อาคตํ ฯ
Just so, the merits of one who has made merit welcome him who has gone from this world to the next, as kinsmen welcome a dear relative who has come home.
This verse continues from the previous one, spoken to Mahā Moggallāna with reference to Nandiya.
The Buddha pointed out the simile: just as kinsmen and friends come out to welcome a traveller returning from afar with gladness, so too the merit a person has accumulated welcomes the one who made it when he departs from this world for the next. The merit stands ready to receive him and bring him happiness, like loving kinsmen coming out to welcome a relative who has returned home.
The lesson is that wealth and riches cannot follow us into the next existence — only merit is the provision that goes along with us. One should therefore be diligent in doing good from this very day, so that it may be a true friend waiting to welcome us in the life to come.