A youthful crown prince, married to a devoted, beautiful princess, and father to a newborn son; The definite promise of ascension to the throne of a prestigious empire, to be followed by his becoming a wheel-turning monarch; Three magnificent palaces surrounded by lush gardens, ponds, and pavilions, adorned with gold, silver, jewels, and exquisite fabrics, complete with an army of servants to tend to his every need; Entertainers, musicians and dancers to keep the prince so thoroughly amused so that he would never experience a moment of dissatisfaction; Living a life of luxury and elegance, wearing the finest clothes and jewellery and eating the most delicious food; A prodigy above par with not only his peers but also his teachers in every discipline of study, and excelling in the art of war and governance, as was required of a king in the making; His fame for his skill in archery, swordsmanship, wrestling and chariot racing unparalleled, but so was his glory as a benevolent and compassionate soul; Deeply admired by his peers and highly respected by his elders, doted on by his family and revered by his subjects; Once upon a time lived this man, who to this day, inspires awe in every mortal who comes to hear this legendary tale, in equal proportions to the shock it triggered in those who cherished his company, for he managed to do the inconceivable, the unfathomable, the incredible and the unbelievable.

He let go!

And so it would be that just about anyone who learns Buddhism at some point in their lives, particularly if this learning begins with the life of the young Prince Siddhartha, who renounced his worldly life and embarked on a quest for a life without suffering, presumes the notion that Buddhist teaching is about letting go. As the renunciation of his lay life was a monumental step and a deeply emotional one in the young prince’s quest for freedom from suffering, this event features prominently in the Boddhisatva narrative. Particularly as this is one of the stories most related to us in our formative years as we take our first steps in learning and understanding our identity as a Buddhist, this idea of having to let go of everything one holds near and dear if one is to achieve spiritual enlightenment can leave a rather sour taste of resentment in the mouth. So much so that even the most enthusiastic and budding young Buddhist inspired to understand the essence of their religion (even if inherited by ancestry) could be discouraged from even considering making a serious commitment to this aspect of their personality. 

Naturally, letting go of something or someone we like, love or cherish is undeniably the most challenging thing to do. Then, to be told that a good Buddhist ought to let go of their material possessions and the people they treasure the most to embark on their practice can, in all fairness, seem a tormenting act of self-oppression. It begs the question, does it not, that if physically letting go of things which are seemingly a source of physical and mental pleasure must be done by one right at the beginning of their Buddhist practice, even if one were capable of it, then what is the purpose of the Dhamma in the first place? Is the Dhamma not the remedy to suffering? If one must painfully or at least reluctantly give something up, then what is the role of the Dhamma? Is that not what the Dhamma is supposed to do for me so that giving up is not such an agonising experience? If we presume that letting go is what we are supposed to do (as opposed to what the Dhamma is supposed to do for us) as Buddhists, we end up, even if inadvertently, inferring that the Dhamma is futile. If one questions, ‘What is the point of Buddhism if, with a moderate measure of patience, resolve and courage, I can let go of things myself?’ do we have a reasonable and rational answer to offer? The impression one gets if it seems to them that Buddhism involves letting go of the fun and pleasurable things in life is akin to what a child might feel if his toys were confiscated when he is yet to grow out of them. In fact, if our readers have had this experience in their own childhood or with another child, this would seem the perfect analogy to describe this predicament. 

I wish to share with our readers a personal anecdote from when I was a layman. Allow me to vindicate myself for being deliberately elaborate in relating this story to you, but I have done this purposefully. Admittedly, it is somewhat of an amusing tale indeed; however, I invite you to take an analytical view of the events below and examine them from the perspective of a curious researcher looking to establish whether or not Buddhism is about letting go.
Some years ago, my wife and I were visiting a friend of hers during one of our annual holidays to Sri Lanka. Her friend was a mother of a young boy who was about three. As all good friends do, we wanted to get something special for the child, something we had hoped he would enjoy. A boy, three years of age, what could he like more? It had to be a toy car, of course! But then again, why gamble when you can make an informed choice – a lesson my many years working in investment banking had taught me and one I was keen to remind my wife of. So, to be on the safe side, my wife rang her friend, explained what we had in mind, and our choice of gift received an affirmative response. We pulled into the car park and walked into the biggest children’s toy store in the mall. After walking down many colourful aisles laden with a vivid assortment of toys for children of all ages, we stopped by a few which caught our attention. After some toing and froing, we settled on a very smart-looking remote-controlled toy car, modelled in the style of Lightning McQueen, the anthropomorphic car from the movie “Cars” which was a big hit among children at the time. The toy was a spectacularly beautiful red, very stylish with elaborate detail and made to an exceptionally high standard. It was not some cheap knockoff merchandise, and it was somewhat expensive for what it was. However, as it was a gift for someone we cared about, that did not matter much. We picked it up and walked up to the cashier, who, for a small charge, offered to wrap it up for us. The wrapped-up gift looked a treat, and I was sure its recipient would not only be thrilled to receive a gift from us but also would be over the moon when he saw what it was. We were as excited at the prospect of giving this well-thought-out gift to the child and seeing him enjoy his new toy as much as we hoped he would be to have it and play with it. Well, at least that is what we thought. 

Aiming to please, soon after we were received by our host, my wife and I called the child over and presented the gift. At this point, it would have been a tough call to figure out whether the child or we were more on edge with expectations. We were blissfully relieved when the child, with a gleaming smile across his face, took the gift and walked over to his play area in a manner which resembled a treasure hunter having discovered a treasure chest. 

The waiting was over; the moment of truth had arrived. The boy sat down, and within a couple of minutes, he managed to rip open the wrapping paper, triumphing over the relentless grip of the sticky tape which stubbornly held on to the box it was wrapped around and retrieved its contents. In one hand, he held Lightning McQueen still in its box, waiting to be cherished by its new owner, and the last bit of sticky tape he had to defeat to conquer his rightful prize in the other. For a moment, I thought we were being pranked on, but then I soon remembered this was a 3-year-old; the boy put the toy, still in its box, aside with blatant disregard as if it was the most insignificant thing he had ever encountered in his life, and focussed his attention – entirely – on the bit of sticky tape that hung stuck to his little thumb. Completely ignoring a new toy worth more than a few thousand rupees as if it were a mere piece of junk, the boy was acutely engrossed, consumed and captivated by a bit of… tape! No, not a whole reel of it, but a piece no longer than a couple of inches and worth… nothing! 

“There must be some mistake here,” was the sentiment written all over our faces as my wife, her friend, and I shared several perplexed glances at each other, still trying to rationalise the ludicrousness of the events unfolding in front of us. We soon sensed that the whole situation was far more embarrassing for the child’s mother than it was for either one of us, as she must have felt obliged to display through her child a sense of gratitude toward us. She surely thought that if not a word of appreciation, at least an acknowledgement of the gift we had so thoughtfully brought him would have been courteous. To say it was an awkward moment for all except one in the room – he on whose account the whole situation had developed, would be an understatement. In an effort to recover from this rather embarrassing situation, the mother walked up to her child and, having sat down by his side, attempted to interest and enthuse the child in the toy and discourage and deter him from playing with the sticky tape. But the child remained unfazed, fixated on the sticky tape. Fascinated by what seemed a miracle to him, he kept shifting the piece of tape between his fingers, utterly thrilled by the discovery of the phenomenon of adhesion. However, the mother was not going to give up either. In a last-ditch effort to distract the child’s attention from the sticky tape and divert it where the mother and the adults in the room wanted, she snatched the sticky tape from the child’s hand. Unfortunately, this only made matters worse. A once distracted child, now turned into a disgruntled one. No sooner had the mother plucked the piece of tape from the child’s hand than he started crying. She hid the sticky tape behind her and continued to make determined attempts to appease her son by taking the toy car out of the box and pretending to play with it. However, there was only one thing on the boy’s mind, and he wanted it to be in his hand. But as it was nowhere to be seen, by this point, his cry had worked up into a scream. Throwing himself around erratically on the floor, it was clear he was not going to yield. The boy was on the verge of a tantrum.

Before things got any worse, my wife, going by her intuition as a teacher of young children and in no doubt as to who was winning this tug of war, promptly reassured the boy’s mother and requested her to return the sticky tape to her son. As they say, some things must be seen to be believed! The very moment the sticky tape was returned to the child, the crying, the screaming, the tantrums… they all stopped, and the child, having regained his trophy, was delighted. A triumphant smile gleamed across his face, and with an air of nonchalance towards what had happened moments ago and the effect the events had on everyone else, he just continued to play with it. An expensive, delightful and elegant gift lay neglected, unloved and abandoned. A worthless and useless piece of trash had become the centre of this boy’s universe. It had become his precious and priced possession. Reminding us of the old proverb, “One man’s treasure is another man’s trash,” he continued to play with his newfound treasure, which amused him no end. For about a quarter of an hour, as you would expect, this was the topic of our conversation. But then…

Out of the blue, the child dropped the piece of sticky tape with no hesitation whatsoever and picked up the toy car that lain dormant by his side. This surprise twist had us in utter disbelief. What the boy’s mother had struggled painstakingly and yet unsuccessfully to accomplish, some mysterious force of nature had done effortlessly. He no longer had any interest in the sticky tape and was now, much to our delight, enthralled by the toy car. The child had let go.
The mother, sceptical about her child’s unexpected transformation, seized this opportunity to quickly retrieve the sticky tape which lay on the floor. However, she was not quick enough, and the child saw this, but he chose to turn a blind eye. He showed absolute indifference to this object, which was once the apple of his eye, but now he could not care less what happened to it. The mother could now freely throw the piece of tape away, cut it up to smithereens, shred it, or even burn it if she wished, and the child would not bat an eyelid. Yes, the child had well and truly let go. 

End of story.

Dear reader, what is your take on the sequence of events in this story? How would you explain the series of events, particularly the dramatic twist at the end? Initially, why did the child not see the value of the toy car as the adults did? Why did the adults not see any value in the piece of sticky tape as the child did? Why did the adults, particularly the mother, feel embarrassed when the child seemed uninterested in the gift? How did the mother attempt to interest the child in the toy? How did the child eventually lose all interest in the sticky tape without any external influence? How did the child manage to let go of something so precious to him? Most of all, what part did Buddhism play in all this? Evidently, there did not appear to be a sermon of any sort. So if no Dhamma was preached to the child and still the child managed to let go on his own accord, then what does Buddhism have to do with letting go? Let us continue this discussion in the next issue.