A Name for the Parts
If there is no lasting self, it seems that no one is reborn and no one answers for yesterday's deeds. The king presses exactly that, and the monk replies with a string of everyday comparisons.
Nāgasena's answer to the king's first question sets the terms for the whole book: a person is like a chariot, real enough to ride in, but nothing over and above its parts and the name they share. Rebirth works the same way. Nothing passes from one life to the next, as nothing passes when one lamp lights another, yet the new life is no stranger to the old, as curds are no stranger to milk. That is why deeds still count: the later life inherits what the earlier one did.
- rebirth
- karma
- causation
- moral responsibility
- impermanence
- death
- analogy
Enter a dialogue
- You make King Milinda admit his chariot is only a name for pole, axle and wheels together. Why does the same go for your own name?
- The one reborn is neither the same person nor another, you tell the king, as milk turns to curds, then butter, then ghee. What carries over?
- Lighting one lamp from another moves nothing from wick to wick. How can rebirth work like that, with nothing passing from one life to the next?
- A mango thief pleads that the fruit he took is not the one its owner planted. If no self passes on, why is he still guilty?
- A man who grabs glowing iron without knowing it is hot burns worse than one who knows. Why should a wrong done unknowingly weigh heavier?