THE JĀTAKA
OR
STORIES OF THE BUDDHA'S FORMER BIRTHS
No. 461.
DASARATHA-JĀTAKA. 1
"Let Lakkhaṇa," etc.—This story the Master told in Jetavana about a landowner whose father was dead. This man on his father's death was overwhelmed with sorrow: leaving all his duties undone, he gave himself up to his sorrow wholly. The Master at dawn of day looking out upon mankind, perceived that he was ripe for attaining the fruit of the First Path. Next day, after going his rounds for alms in Sāvatthi, his meal done, he dismissed the Brethren, and taking with him a junior Brother, [124] went to this man's house, and gave him greeting, and addressed him as he sat there in words of honey sweetness. "You are in sorrow, lay Brother?" said he. "Yes, Sir, afflicted with sorrow for my father's sake." Said the Master, "Lay Brother, wise men of old who exactly knew the eight conditions of this world 2, felt at a father's death no grief, not even a little." Then at his request he told a story of the past.the elder son was named Rama-paṇḍita, or Rama the Wise, the second was named Prince Lakkhaṇa, or Lucky, and the daughter's name was the Lady Sītā 1.
In course of time, the queen-consort died. At her death the king was for a long time crushed by sorrow, but urged by his courtiers he performed her obsequies, and set another in her place as queen-consort. She was dear to the king and beloved. In time she also conceived, and all due attention having been given her, she brought forth a son, and they named him Prince Bharata.
The king loved his son much, and said to the queen, "Lady, I offer you a boon: choose." She accepted the offer, but put it off for the time. When the lad was seven years old, she went to the king, and said to him, "My lord, you promised a boon for my son. Will you give it me now?" "Choose, lady," said he. "My lord," quoth she, "give my son the kingdom." The king snapt his fingers at her; "Out, vile jade!" said he angrily, "my other two sons shine like blazing fires; would you kill them, and ask the kingdom for a son of yours?" She fled in terror to her magnificent chamber, and on other days again and again asked the king for this. The king would not give her this gift. He thought within himself: "Women are ungrateful and treacherous. This woman might use a forged letter or a treacherous bribe to get my sons murdered." So he sent for his sons, and told them all about it, saying: "My sons, if you live here some mischief may befall you. Go to some neighbouring kingdom, or to the woodland, and when my body is burnt, then return and inherit the kingdom which belongs to your family." Then he summoned soothsayers, and asked them the limits of his own life. They told him he would live yet twelve years longer. [125] Then he said, "Now, my sons, after twelve years you must return, and uplift the umbrella of royalty." They promised, and after taking leave of their father, went forth from the palace weeping. The Lady Sītā said, "I too will go with my brothers:" she bade her father farewell, and went forth weeping.
These three departed amidst a great company of people. They sent the people back, and proceeded until at last they came to Himalaya. There in a spot well-watered, and convenient for the getting of wild fruits, they built a hermitage, and there lived, feeding upon the wild fruits.
Lakkhaṇa-paṇḍita and Sītā said to Rāma-paṇḍita, "You are in place of a father to us; remain then in the hut, and we will bring wild fruit, and feed you." He agreed: thenceforward Rāma-paṇḍita stayed where he was, the others brought the wild fruit and fed him with it.
Thus they lived there, feeding upon the wild fruit; but King Dasaratha pined after his sons, and died in the ninth year. When his obsequies were performed, the queen gave orders that the umbrella should be raised over her son, Prince Bharata. But the courtiers said, "The lords of the umbrella are dwelling in the forest," and they would not allow it. Said Prince Bharata, "I will fetch back my brother Rāmapaṇḍita from the forest, and raise the royal umbrella over him." Taking the five emblems of royalty 1, he proceeded with a complete host of the four arms 2 to their dwelling-place. Not far away he caused camp to be pitched, and then with a few courtiers he visited the hermitage, at the time when Lakkhaṇa-paṇḍita and Sītā were away in the woods. At the door of the hermitage sat Rama-paṇḍita, undismayed and at ease, like a figure of fine gold firmly set. The prince approached him with a greeting, and standing on one side, told him of all that had happened in the kingdom, and falling at his feet along with the courtiers, burst into weeping. Rama-paṇḍita neither sorrowed nor wept; emotion in his mind was none. When Bharata had finished weeping, and sat down, towards evening the other two returned with wild fruits. Rama-paṇḍita thought—"These two are young: all-comprehending wisdom like mine is not theirs. [126] If they are told on a sudden that our father is dead, the pain will be greater than they can bear, and who knows but their hearts may break. I will persuade them to go down into the water, and find a means of disclosing the truth." Then pointing out to them a place in front where there was water, he said, "You have been out too long: let this be your penance—go into that water, and stand there." Then he repeated a half-stanza:
"Let Lakkhaṇa
and Sītā both into that pond descend."
One word sufficed, into the water they went, and stood there. Then
he told them the news by repeating the other half-stanza:
"Bharata says, king Dasaratha's
life is at an end."
When they heard the news of their father's death, they fainted.
Again he repeated it, again they fainted, and when even a third time they
fainted away, the courtiers raised them and brought them out of the water, and
set them upon dry ground. When they had been comforted, they all sat weeping
and wailing together. Then Prince Bharata thought: "My brother Prince
Lakkhaṇa, and my sister the Lady Sītā, cannot
restrain their grief to hear of our father's death; but Rama-paṇḍita
neither wails nor weeps. I wonder what can the reason be that hegrieves not? I will ask." Then he repeated the second stanza, asking the question:
"Say by what power thou grievest
not, Rāma, when grief should be?
Though it is said thy sire is dead grief overwhelms not thee!"
Then Rāma-paṇḍita explained the
reason of his feeling no grief by saying,Though it is said thy sire is dead grief overwhelms not thee!"
"When man can never keep a thing,
though loudly he may cry,
Why should a wise intelligence torment itself thereby?
[127] "The young in years, the older grown, the fool, and eke
the wise,Why should a wise intelligence torment itself thereby?
For rich, for poor one end is sure: each man among them dies.
As sure as for the ripened fruit there comes the fear of fall,
So surely comes the fear of death to mortals one and all.
"Who in the morning light are seen by evening oft are gone,
And seen at evening time, is gone by morning many a one.
"If to a fool infatuate a blessing could accrue
When he torments himself with tears, the wise this same would do.
"By this tormenting of himself he waxes thin and pale;
This cannot bring the dead to life, and nothing tears avail.
"Even as a blazing house may be put out with water, so
The strong, the wise, the intelligent, who well the scriptures know,
Scatter their grief like cotton when the stormy winds do blow.
"One mortal dies—to kindred ties born is another straight:
Each creature's bliss dependent is on ties associate.
"The strong man therefore, skilled in sacred text,
Keen-contemplating this world and the next,
Knowing their nature, not by any grief,
However great, in mind and heart is vext.
"So to my kindred I will give, them will I keep and feed,
All that remain I will maintain: such is the wise man's deed 1."
In these stanzas he explained the Impermanence of things.
[129] When the company heard this discourse of Rāma-paṇḍita, illustrating the doctrine of Impermanence, they lost all their grief. Then Prince Bharata saluted Rāma-paṇḍita, begging him to receive the kingdom of Benares. "Brother," said Rāma, "take Lakkhaṇa and Sītā with you, and administer the kingdom yourselves." "No, my lord, you take it." "Brother, my father commanded me to receive the kingdom at the end of twelve years. If I go now, I shall not carry out his bidding. After three more years I will come." "Who will carry on the government all that time?" "You do it." "I will not." "Then until I come, these slippers shall do it," said Rāma, and doffing his slippers of straw he gave them to his brother. So these three persons took the slippers, and bidding the wise man farewell, went to Benares with their great crowd of followers.
For three years the slippers ruled the kingdom. The courtiers placed these straw slippers upon the royal throne, when they judged a cause. If the cause were decided wrongly, [130] the slippers beat upon each other 1, and at that sign it was examined again; when the decision was right, the slippers lay quiet.
When the three years were over, the wise man came out of the forest, and came to Benares, and entered the park. The princes hearing of his arrival proceeded with a great company to the park, and making Sītā the queen consort, gave to them both the ceremonial sprinkling. The sprinkling thus performed, the Great Being standing in a magnificent chariot, and surrounded by a vast company, entered the city, making a solemn circuit right-wise; then mounting to the great terrace of his splendid palace Sucandaka, he reigned there in righteousness for sixteen thousand years, and then went to swell the hosts of heaven.
"Years sixty times a hundred, and
ten thousand more, all told,
Reigned strong-armed Rāma, on his neck the lucky triple fold."
The Master having ended this discourse, declared the Truths, and
identified the Birth: (now at the conclusion of the Truths, the land-owner was
established in the fruit of the First Path:) "At that time the king
Suddhodana 3 was king Dasaratha, Mahāmāyā 3 was the mother, Rāhulā's mother 4 was Sītā, Ānanda was Bharata, and I myself was Rāma-paṇḍita."Reigned strong-armed Rāma, on his neck the lucky triple fold."
Footnotes
78:1 Edited and translated by V. Fausbøl, The Dasaratha Jātaka, Copenhagen, 1871. The story is like that of the Rāmāyana, except that here Sītā is the hero's sister, not his wife.78:2 Gain and loss, fame and dishonour, praise and blame, bliss and woe.
79:1 "Cool," which has in India the same pleasant associations as warm has for us.
80:1 Sword, umbrella, diadem, slippers, and fan.
80:2 Elephants, cavalry, chariots, infantry.
81:1 The scholiast quotes on p. 129 a stanza which occurred in the Kālabāhu Birth, No. 329 (vol. iii. p. 66 of this translation), beginning "Gain and loss".
No. 462.
SAṀVARA-JĀTAKA.
"Your nature, mighty monarch," etc. This story the Master told while dwelling in Jetavana, about a Brother who had ceased to strive. This, we learn, was a young man of family, who lived in Sāvatthi. Having heard the Master's discoursing, he renounced the world. Fulfilling the tasks imposed by his teachers and preceptors, he learnt by heart both divisions of the Pātimokkha.When five years were past, he said, "When I have been instructed in the mode of attaining the mystic trance, I will go dwell in the forest." Then he took leave of his teachers and preceptors, and proceeded to a frontier village in the kingdom of Kosala. The people were pleased with his deportment, [131] and he made a hut of leaves and there was attended to. Entering upon the rainy season, zealous, eager, striving in strenuous endeavour he strove after the mystic trance for the space of three months: but of this not a trace could he produce. Then he thought: "Verily I am the most devoted to worldly conditions 1 among the four classes of men taught by the Master! What have I to do with living in the forest?" Then he said to himself, "I will return to Jetavana 2, and there in beholding the beauty of the Tathāgata, and hearing his discourse sweet as honey, I will pass my days." So he relaxed his striving; and setting forth he came in course of time to Jetavana. His preceptors and teachers, his friends and acquaintances asked him the cause of his coming. He informed them, and they reproved him for it, asking him why he had so done. Then they led him into the Master's presence. "Why, Brethren," said the Master, "do you lead hither a Brother against his will?" They replied, "This Brother has come hither because he has relaxed his striving." "Is this true, as they tell me?" asked the Master. "Yes, Sir," said the man. Said the Master, "Why have you ceased to strive, Brother? For a weak and slothful man there is in this religion no high fruition, no sainthood: they only who make strenuous effort accomplish this. In days long gone by you were full of strength, easy to teach: and in this way, though the youngest of all the hundred sons of the king of Benares, by holding fast to the admonition of wise men you obtained the White Umbrella." So saying, he told a story of the past.
When the Prince Saṁvara had been perfected in all learning, he asked the Bodhisatta, "Dear father, if my father sends me to a province, what am I to do?" He replied, "My son, when a province is offered you, you should refuse it, and say, My lord, I am the youngest of all: if I go too, there will be no one about your feet: I will remain where I am, at your feet." Then one day, when Prince Saṁvara had saluted him, and was standing on one side, the king asked him, "Well, my son, have you finished your learning?" "Yes, my lord." "Choose a province." "My lord, [132] there will be emptiness about your feet: let me remain here at your feet, and in no other place!" The king was pleased, and consented.
After that he remained there at the king's feet; and again asked the Bodhisatta, "What else am I to do, father?" "Ask the king," said he, "for some old park." The prince complied, and asked for a park: with the fruits and flowers that there grew he made friends with the powerful men in the city. Again he asked what he was to do. "Ask the king's leave, my son," said the Bodhisatta, "to distribute the food-money within the city." So he did, and without the least neglect of any person he distributed the food-money within the city. Again he asked the Bodhisatta's advice, and after soliciting the king's consent, distributed food within the palace to the servitors and the horses and to the army, without any omission: to messengers come from foreign countries he assigned their lodging and so forth, for merchants he fixed the taxes, all that had to be arranged he did alone. Thus following the advice of the Great Being, he made friends with every body, those in the household and those without, all in the city, the subjects of the kingdom, strangers, by his winsomeness binding them to him as it were by a band of iron: to all of them he was dear and beloved.
When in due time the king lay on his deathbed, the courtiers asked him, "When you are dead, my lord, to whom shall we give the White Umbrella?" "Friends," said he, "all my sons have a right to the White Umbrella. But you may give it to him that pleases your mind." So after his death, and when the obsequies had been performed, on the seventh day they gathered together, and said: "Our king bade us give the Umbrella to him that pleases our mind. He that our mind desires is Prince Saṁvara." Over him therefore they uplifted the White Umbrella with its festoons of gold, escorted by his kinsmen.
The Great King Saṁvara cleaving to the advice of the Bodhisatta reigned in righteousness.
The other ninety and nine princes heard that their father was dead, and that the Umbrella had been uplifted over Saṁvara. [133] "But he is the youngest of all," said they; "the Umbrella does not belong to him. Let us uplift the Umbrella over the eldest of us all." They all joined forces, and sent a letter to Saṁvara, bidding him resign the Umbrella or fight; then they surrounded the city. The king told this news to the Bodhisatta, and asked what he was to do now. He answered: "Great King, you must not fight with your brothers. Divide the treasure belonging to your father into a hundred portions, and to your brothers send ninety-nine of them, with this message, "Accept this share of your father's treasure, for fight with you I will not." So he did.
Then the eldest of all the brothers, Prince Uposatha by name, summoned the rest together, and said to them, "Friends, there is no one able to overcome the king; and this our youngest brother, though he has been our enemy, does not remain so: but he sends us his wealth, and refuses to
fight with us. Now we cannot all uplift the Umbrella at the same moment; let us uplift it over one only, and let him alone be king; so when we see him, we will hand over the royal treasure to him, and return to our own provinces." Then all these princes raised the siege of the city, and entered it, foes no longer. And the king told his courtiers to welcome them, and sent them to meet the princes. The princes with a great following entered on foot, and mounting the steps of the palace, and using all humility towards the great king Saṁvara, sat down in a lowly place. King Saṁvara was seated under the White Umbrella upon a throne: great magnificence was his, and great pomp; what place soever he looked upon, trembled and quaked. Prince Uposatha seeing the magnificence of the mighty king Saṁvara, thought to himself, "Our father, methinks, knew that Prince Saṁvara would be king after his decease, and therefore gave us provinces and gave him none;" then addressing him, repeated three stanzas:
[134]
"Your nature, mighty monarch, sure
the lord of men well knew:
The other princes honoured he, but nothing gave to you.
"While the king lived was it, or when a god to heaven he
went,The other princes honoured he, but nothing gave to you.
That seeing their own benefit, your kinsmen gave consent?
"Say by what power, O Saṁvara, you stand above your kin:
Why do your brethren not unite from you the place to win?"
On hearing this, King Saṁvara repeated six stanzas to explain his own character:
"Because, O prince, I never grudge
great sages what is meet:
Ready to pay them honour due, I fall before their feet.
"Me envying none, and apt to learn all conduct meet and
right,Ready to pay them honour due, I fall before their feet.
Wise sages each good precept teach in which they take delight.
"I listen to the bidding of these sages great and wise:
My heart is bent to good intent, no counsel I despise.
"Elephant troops and chariotmen, guard royal, infantry—
I took no toll of daily dole, but paid them all their fee.
"Great nobles and wise counsellors waiting on me are found;
With food, wine, water (so they boast) Benares doth abound.
[135] "Thus merchants prosper, and from many a realm they come and go,
And I protect them. Now the truth, Uposatha, you know."
Prince Uposatha listened to this account of his character, and then repeated two stanzas:
"Then be above your kith and kin,
and rule in righteousness,
So wise and prudent, Saṁvara, your brethren you shall bless.
"Your treasure-heaps your brethren will defend, and you shall
beSo wise and prudent, Saṁvara, your brethren you shall bless.
Safe from your foes as Indra's self from his arch enemy 1."
[136] King Saṁvara gave great honour to all his brothers. They remained with him a month and half a month; then they said to him, "Great King, we would go and see if there be any brigands afoot in our provinces; all happiness to your rule!" They departed each to his province. And the king abode by the admonition of the Bodhisatta, and at the end of his days went to swell the hosts of heaven.
Footnotes
82:1 This last incident is an addition to the narrative in the Rāmāyana, ii. 115, nor is it found in Tulsī Dās’ Hindi version.82:2 Kambugīvo: three folds on the neck, like shell-spirals, were a token of luck.
82:3 Gotama Buddha's father and mother.
82:4 Gotama Buddha's wife.
83:1 An arhat is called apado, sc. devoid of conditions for rebirth, such as human passion, desire, karma, kleça, &c. (Childers, p. 313); padaparamo seems to mean the opposite.
83:2 The quotation should include Jetavanaṁ. gantvā, as is shown by line 7.
85:1 The King of the Asuras or Titans.
No. 463.
SUPPĀRAKA-JĀTAKA. 1
"Men with razor pointed," etc. This story the Master told while dwelling at Jetavana, about the Perfection of Knowledge. One day, we are told, at evening, the Brethren were awaiting the coming of the Tathāgata to preach to them, and as they sat in the Hall of Truth, they were saying one to another, "Verily, Brother, the Master has great wisdom! wide wisdom! ready wisdom! swift wisdom! sharp wisdom! penetrating wisdom! His wisdom hits on the right plan for the right moment; wide as the world, like a mighty ocean unfathomable, as the heavens spread abroad: in all India no wise man exists who can match the Dasabala. As a billow that rises upon the great sea cannot reach the shore, or if it reaches the shore it breaks; [137] so no man can reach the Dasabala in wisdom, or if he comes to the Master's feet he is broken." In these words they sang the praises of the Dasabala's Perfect Wisdom. The Master came in, and asked, "What are you talking of, Brethren, as you sit here?" They told him. He said, "Not now only is the Tathāgata full of wisdom. In former days, even when his knowledge was immature, he was wise. Blind though he was, he knew by the signs of the ocean that in the ocean such and such a jewel was hid." Then he told a story of the past.mariner there; amiable he was, and of complexion a golden brown. They gave him the name of Suppāraka-kumāra. He grew up with great distinction; and even when he was no more than sixteen years old, he had gained a complete mastery over the art of seamanship. Afterwards when his father died he became the head of the mariners and plied the mariner's calling: wise he was, and full of intelligence; with him aboard, no ship came ever to harm.
In time it so happened that injured by the salt water both his eyes lost their sight. After which, head of the mariners though he was, he plied no more the mariner's trade; but resolved to live in the king's service, he approached the king to that end. And the king appointed him to the office of valuer and assessor. From that time he assessed the worth of valuable elephants, valuable horses, choice pearls and gems.
One day an elephant was brought to the king, of the colour of a black rock, that he might be the state elephant. The king gave him a glance, and commanded that he be shown to the wise man. They led the creature before him. The man passed his hand over the elephant's body, and said, "This elephant is not fit to be the elephant of state. This has the qualities of an elephant that is deformed behind. When his dam brought him forth, she could not take him on her shoulder; so she let him fall on the ground, and thus he became deformed in his hind feet." They questioned those who had brought the elephant; and they replied that the wise man spoke the truth. [138] When the king heard of this, he was pleased, and ordered eight pieces of money to be given him.
On another day, a horse was brought for the king's horse of state. This too was sent to the wise man. He felt it all over with his hand, and then said, "This is not fit to be the king's state charger. On the day this horse was born, his dam died, and so for lack of the mare's milk he did not grow properly." This saying of his was true also. When the king heard of it, he was pleased, and caused him to be presented with eight pieces more.
Another day, a chariot was brought, to be the king's state chariot. This too the king sent to him. He felt it over with his hand and said, "This chariot was made out of a hollow tree, and therefore it is not fit for the king." This saying of his was true like the others. The king was pleased again when he heard of it, and gave him other eight pieces.
Then again they brought him a precious rug of great price, which the king sent to the man as before. He felt it all over, and said, "There is one place here where a rat has bitten a hole." They examined and found the place, and then told the king. Pleased was the king, and ordered eight pieces to be given him again.
Now the man thought, "Only eight pieces of money, with such marvels as these to see! This is a barber's gift; this king must be a barber's
brat. Why should I serve such a king? I will return to my own home." So back he went to the seaport of Bharukaccha, and there he lived.
It happened that some merchants had got ready a ship, and were casting about for a skipper. "That clever Suppāraka," thought they, "is a wise and skilful man; with him aboard no ship comes to harm. Blind though he be, the wise Suppāraka is the best." So to him they repaired, and asked him to be their skipper. "Blind am I, friends," he replied, "and how can I sail your ship?" "Blind you may be, master," said the merchants, "but you are the best." As they pressed him unceasingly, he at length consented: "As you put it to me," says he, "I will be your skipper." [139] Then he went aboard their vessel.
They sailed in their ship upon the high seas. For seven days the ship sailed without mishap: then an unseasonable wind arose. Four months the vessel tost about on a primeval ocean, until she arrived at what is called the Khuramāla Sea 1. Here fish with bodies like men, and sharp razor-like snouts, dive in and out of the water. The merchants observing these asked the Great Being what that sea was named, repeating the first stanza:
"Men with razor-pointed noses
rising up and diving down!
Speak, Suppāraka, and tell us by what name this sea is known?"
The Great Being, at this question, conning over in mind his
mariner's lore, answered by repeating the second stanza:Speak, Suppāraka, and tell us by what name this sea is known?"
"Merchants come from Bharukaccha,
seeking riches to purvey,
This is Khuramāli 2 ocean where your ship has gone astray."
Now it happens that in this ocean diamonds are to be found. The
Great Being reflected, that if he told them this was a diamond sea, they would
sink the ship in their greed by collecting the diamonds. So he told them
nothing; but having brought the ship to, he got a rope, and lowered a net as if
to catch fish. With this he brought in a haul of diamonds, and stored them in
the ship; then he caused the wares of little value to be cast overboard.This is Khuramāli 2 ocean where your ship has gone astray."
The ship past over this sea, and came to another called Aggimāla. This sea sent forth a radiance like a blazing bonfire, like the sun at midday. The merchants questioned him in this stanza:
"Lo! an ocean like a bonfire
blazing, like the sun, we see!
Speak, Suppāraka, and tell us what the name of this may be?"
The Great Being replied to them in the stanza next following:Speak, Suppāraka, and tell us what the name of this may be?"
[140]
"Merchants come from Bharukaccha,
seeking riches to purvey,
This is Aggimāli 2 ocean where your ship has gone astray."
This is Aggimāli 2 ocean where your ship has gone astray."
Now in this sea was abundance of gold. In the same manner as before, he got a haul of gold from it, and laid it aboard. Passing over this sea, the ship next came to an ocean called Dadhimāla, gleaming like milk or curds. The merchants enquired its same in a stanza:
"Lo! an ocean white and milky,
white as curds we seem to see!
Speak, Suppāraka, and tell us what the name of this may be?"
The Great Being answered them by the stanza next following:Speak, Suppāraka, and tell us what the name of this may be?"
"Merchants come from Bharukaccha,
seeking riches to purvey,
This is Dadhimāli 1 ocean where your ship has gone astray."
In this sea there was abundance of silver. He procured it in the
same way as before, and laid it aboard. Over this sea the ship sailed, and came
to an ocean called Nīlavaṇṇakusa-māla,
which had the appearance of a stretch of dark kusa-grass 2, or a field of corn. The merchants enquired its name in a
stanza:This is Dadhimāli 1 ocean where your ship has gone astray."
"Lo! an ocean green and grassy,
like young corn we seem to see!
Speak, Suppāraka, and tell us what the name of this may be?"
He replied in the words of the stanza next following:Speak, Suppāraka, and tell us what the name of this may be?"
"Merchants come from Bharukaccha,
seeking riches to purvey,
This is Kusamāli ocean where your ship has gone astray."
Now in this ocean was a great quantity of precious emeralds. As
before, he made a haul of them, and stored them on board. Passing over this
sea, the ship came to a sea called Nalamāla, which had the aspect of an expanse
of reeds or a grove of bamboos 3. [141] The merchants asked its name in a stanza:This is Kusamāli ocean where your ship has gone astray."
"Lo! an ocean like a reed-bed, like
a bamboo-grove we see!
Speak, Suppāraka, and tell us what the name of this may be?"
The Great Being replied by the following stanza:Speak, Suppāraka, and tell us what the name of this may be?"
"Merchants come from Bharukaccha,
seeking riches to purvey,
This is Nalamāli 1 ocean where your ship has gone astray."
Now this ocean was full of coral of the colour of bamboos 3. He made a haul of this also and got it aboard.This is Nalamāli 1 ocean where your ship has gone astray."
After passing the Nalamāli Sea, the merchants came to a sea named Vaḷabhāmukha 4. Here the water is sucked away and rises on every
side; and the water thus sucked away on all sides rises in sheer precipices leaving what looks like a great pit. A wave rises on one side like a wall: a terrific roar is heard, which seems as it would burst the ear and break the heart. On sight of this the merchants were terrified, and asked its name in a stanza:
"Hear the awful sound terrific of
a huge unearthly sea!
Lo a pit, and to the waters in a steep declivity!
Speak, Suppāraka, and tell us what the name of this may be?"
The Bodhisatta replied in this following stanza,
"Merchants," etc., ending—"This Valabhāmukhi ocean," etc.Lo a pit, and to the waters in a steep declivity!
Speak, Suppāraka, and tell us what the name of this may be?"
He went on, [142] "Friends, once a ship has got into the Valabhāmukha Sea there is no returning. If this ship gets there, she will sink and go to destruction." Now there were seven hundred souls aboard this ship, and they were in fear of death; with one voice they uttered a very bitter cry, like the cry of those who are burning in the lowest hell 1. The Great Being thought, "Except me, no other can save those; I will save them by an Act of Truth." Then he said aloud, "Friends, bathe me speedily in scented water, and put new garments upon me, prepare a full bowl, and set me in front of the ship." They quickly did so. The Great Being took the full bowl in both hands, and standing in the front of the ship, performed an Act of Truth, repeating the final stanza:
"Since I can myself remember,
since intelligence first grew,
Not one life of living creature have I taken, that I knew:
May this ship return to safety if my solemn words are true!"
Four months the vessel had been voyaging in far distant regions;
and now as though endued with supernatural power, it returned in one single day
to the seaport town of Bharukaccha, and even upon the dry land it went, till it
rested before the mariner's door, having sprung over a space of eleven hundred
cubits. The Great Being divided amongst the merchants all the gold and silver,
jewels, coral, and diamonds, saying, [143] "This treasure is enough for
you: voyage on the sea no more." Then he discoursed to them; and after
giving gifts and doing good his life long, he went to swell the hosts of
heaven.Not one life of living creature have I taken, that I knew:
May this ship return to safety if my solemn words are true!"
Footnotes
86:1 Hardy, Manual of Buddhism, p. 13.88:1 There is an account of the mythological seas which follow in Hardy, Manual of Buddhism, pp. 12 ff.
88:2 Sic.
89:1 Sic.
89:2 Poa Cynosuroides.
89:3 The scholiast explains that the sea was red, like the reeds called "scorpion-reed" or "crab-reed," which are red in colour: the word translated "bamboo" (velu) he says may also mean "coral." He adds that the haul was coral, which is also the word used at the end of the story (pavāḷo). The word so translated here is veluriyaṁ, which Childers renders "a kind of precious stone, perhaps lapis lazuli".
89:4 See Hardy, Manual, p. 13. It was a kind of hollow like a saucer.
90:1 Avici.
BOOK XII.—DVĀDASA-NIPĀTA.
No. 464.
CULLA-KUṆĀLA-JĀTAKA.
[144] "Small of wit," etc.—This birth will be given under the Kuṇāla Birth. 1No. 465.
BHADDA-SĀLA-JĀTAKA. 2
"Who art thou," etc. This story the Master told while dwelling in Jetavana about doing good to one's kith and kin. At Sāvatthi in the house of Anāthapiṇḍika there was always unfailing food for five hundred Brethren, and the same with Visākhā 3 and the king of Kosala. But in the king's palace, various and fine as was the fare given, no one was friendly to the Brethren. The result was that the Brethren never ate in the palace, but they took their food and went off to eat it at the house of Anāthapiṇḍika or Visākhā or some other of their trusted friends.One day the king said, "A present has been brought: take this to the Brethren," and sent it to the refectory. An answer was brought that no Brethren were there in the refectory. "Where are they gone?" he asked. They were sitting in their friends' houses to eat, was the reply. So the king after his morning meal came into the Master's presence, and asked him, "Good Sir, what is the best kind of food?" "The food of friendship is the best, great king," said he; "even sour rice-gruel given by a friend becomes sweet." "Well, Sir, and with whom do the Brethren find friendship?" "With their kindred, great king, or with the Sakya families." Then the king thought, what if he were to make a Sakya girl his queen-consort: then the Brethren would be his friends, as it were with their own kindred.
[145] So rising from his seat, he returned to the palace, and sent a message
to Kapilavatthu 1 to this effect: "Please give me one of your daughters in marriage, for I wish to become connected with your family." On receipt of this message the Sakyas gathered together and deliberated. "We live in a place subject to the authority of the king of Kosala; if we refuse a daughter, he will be very angry, and if we give her, the custom of our clan will be broken. What are we to do?" Then Mahānāma 2 said to them, "Do not trouble about it. I have a daughter, named Vāsabhakhattiyā. Her mother is a slave woman, Nāgamuṇḍā by name; she is some sixteen years of age, of great beauty and auspicious prospects, and by her father's side noble 3. We will send her, as a girl nobly born." The Sakyas agreed, and sent for the messengers, and said they were willing to give a daughter of the clan, and that they might take her with them at once. But the messengers reflected, "These Sakyas are desperately proud, in matters of birth. Suppose they should send a girl who was not of them, and say that she was so? We will take none but one who eats along with them." So they replied, "Well, we will take her, but we will take one who eats along with you."
The Sakyas assigned a lodging for the messengers, and then wondered what to do. Mahānāma said: "Now do not trouble about it; I will find a way. At my mealtime bring in Vāsabhakhattiyā drest up in her finery; then just as I have taken one mouthful, produce a letter, and say, My lord, such a king has sent you a letter; be pleased to hear his message at once."
They agreed; and as he was taking his meal they drest and adorned the maid. "Bring my daughter," said Mahānāma, "and let her take food with me." "In a moment," said they, "as soon as she is properly adorned," and after a short delay they brought her in. Expecting to take food with her father, she dipt her hand into the same dish. Mahānāma had taken one mouthful with her, and put it in his mouth; but just as he stretched out his hand for another, they brought him a letter, saying, "My lord, such a king has sent a letter to you: be pleased to hear his message at once." Said Mahānāma, "Go on with your meal, my dear," [146] and holding his right hand in the dish, with his left took the letter and looked at it. As he examined the message the maiden went on eating. When she had eaten, he washed his hand and rinsed out his mouth. The messengers were firmly convinced that she was his daughter, for they did not divine the secret.
So Mahānāma sent away his daughter in great pomp. The messengers brought her to Sāvatthi, and said that this maiden was the true-born daughter of Mahānāma. The king was pleased, and caused the whole city to be decorated, and placed her upon a pile of treasure, and by a ceremonial sprinkling made her his chief queen. She was dear to the king, and beloved.
In a short time the queen conceived, and the king caused the proper treatment to be used; and at the end of ten months, she brought forth a son whose colour was a golden brown. On the day of his naming, the king sent a message to his grandmother, saying, "A son has been born to Vāsabhakhattiyā, daughter of the Sakya king; what shall his name be?" Now the courtier who was charged with this message was slightly deaf; but he went and told the king's grandmother. When she heard it, she said, "Even when Vāsabhakhattiyā had never borne a son, she was more than all the world; and now she will be the king's darling 4." The deaf man did not hear the word "darling" aright, but thought she said "Viḍūḍabha; "so back he went to the king, and told him that he was to name the prince Viḍūḍabha. This, the king thought, must be some ancient family name, and so named him Viḍūḍabha.
After this the prince grew up treated as a prince should be.
When he was at the age of seven years, having observed how the other princes received presents of toy elephants and horses and other toys from the family of their mothers' fathers, the lad said to his mother, "Mother, the
rest of them get presents from their mothers' family, but no one sends me anything. Are you an orphan?" Then she replied, "My boy, your grandsires are the Sakya kings, but they live a long way off, and that is why they send you nothing." Again when he was sixteen, he said, "Mother, I want to see your father's family." "Don't speak of it, child," she said. "What will you do when you get there?" But though she put him off, he asked her again and again. At last his mother said, [147] "Well, go then." So the lad got his father's consent, and set out with a number of followers. Vāsabhakhattiyā sent on a letter before him to this effect: "I am living here happily; let not my masters tell him anything of the secret." But the Sakyas, on hearing of the coming of Viḍūḍabha, sent off all their young children into the country. "It is impossible," said they, "to receive him with respect."
When the Prince arrived at Kapilavatthu, the Sakyas had assembled in the royal rest-house. The Prince approached the rest-house, and waited. Then they said to him, "This is your mother's father, this is her brother," pointing them out. He walked from one to the other, saluting them. But although he bowed to them till his back ached, not one of them vouchsafed a greeting; so he asked, "Why is it that none of you greet me?" The Sakyas replied, "My dear, the youngest princes are all in the country;" then they entertained him grandly.
After a few days' stay, he set out for home with all his retinue. Just then a slave woman washed the seat which he had used in the rest-house with milk-water, saying insultingly, "Here's the seat where sat the son of Vāsabhakhattiyā, the slave girl!" A man who had left his spear behind was just fetching it, when he overheard the abuse of Prince Viḍūḍabha. He asked what it meant. He was told that Vāsabhakhattiyā was born of a slave to Mahānāma the Sakya. This he told to the soldiers: a great uproar arose, all shouting—"Vāsabhakhattiyā is a slave woman's daughter, so they say!" The Prince heard it. "Yes," thought he, "let them pour milk-water over the seat I sat in, to wash it! When I am king, I will wash the place with their hearts' blood!"
When he returned to Sāvatthi, the courtiers told the whole matter to the king. The king was enraged against the Sakyas for giving him a slave's daughter to wife. He cut off all allowances made to Vāsabhakhattiyā and her son, and gave them only what is proper to be given to slave men and women.
Some few days later the Master came to the palace, and took a seat. The king approached him, and with a greeting said, "Sir, I am told that your clansmen gave me a slave's daughter to wife. I have cut off their allowances, mother and son, and grant them only what slaves would get." Said the Master, "The Sakyas have done wrong, O great king! [148] If they gave any one, they ought to have given a girl of their own blood. But, O king, this I say: Vāsabhakhattiyā is a king's daughter, and in the house of a noble king she has received the ceremonial sprinkling; Viḍūḍabha too was begotten by a noble king. Wise men of old have said, what matters the mother's birth? The birth of the father is the measure: and to a poor wife, a picker of sticks, they gave the position of queen consort; and the son born of her obtained the sovereignty of Benares, twelve leagues in extent, and became King Kaṭṭha-vāhana, the Wood-carrier:" whereupon he told him the story of the Kaṭṭhahāri Birth 1.
When the king heard this speech he was pleased; and saying to himself, "The father's birth is the measure of the man," he again gave mother and son the treatment suited to them.
Now the king's commander-in-chief was a man named Bandhula. His wife, Mallikā, was barren, and he sent her away to Kusināra, telling her to return to her own family. "I will go," said she, "when I have saluted the Master." She went to Jetavana, and greeting the Tathāgata stood waiting on one side. "Where are you going?" he asked. She replied, "My husband has sent me home, Sir." "Why?" asked the Master. "I am barren, Sir, I have no son." "If that is all," said he, "there is no reason why you should go. Return." She was much pleased, and saluting the Master went home again. Her husband
asked her why she had come back. She answered, "The Dasabala sent me back, my lord." "Then," said the commander-in-chief, "the Tathāgata must have seen good reason." The woman soon after conceived, and when her cravings began, told him of it. "What is it you want?" he asked. "My lord," said she, "I desire to go and, bathe and drink the water of the tank in Vesāli City where the families of the kings get water for the ceremonial sprinkling." The commander-in-chief promised to try. Seizing his bow, strong as a thousand bows, he put his wife in a chariot, and left Sāvatthi, and drove his chariot to Vesālī.
Now at this time there lived close to the gate a Licchavi named Mahāli 1, who had been educated by the same teacher as the king of Kosala's general, Bandhula. This man was blind, and used to advise the Licchavis on all matters temporal and spiritual. Hearing the clatter of the chariot as it went over the threshold, he said, "The noise of the chariot of Bandhula the Mallian! [149] This day there will be fear for the Licchavis!" By the tank there was set a strong guard, within and without; above it was spread an iron net; not even a bird could find room to get through. But the general, dismounting from his car, put the guards to flight with the blows of his sword, and burst through the iron network, and in the tank bathed his wife and gave her to drink of the water; then after bathing himself, he set Mallikā in the chariot, and left the town, and went back by the way he came.
The guards went and told all to the Licchavis. Then were the kings of the Licchavis angry; and five hundred of them, mounted in five hundred chariots, departed to capture Bandhula the Mallian. They informed Mahāli of it, and he said, "Go not! for he will slay you all." But they said, "Nay, but we will go." "Then if you come to a place where a wheel has sunk up to the nave, you must return. If you return not then, return back from that place when you hear the noise of a thunderbolt. If then you turn not, turn back from that place where you shall see a hole in front of your chariots. Go no further!" But they did not turn back according to his word, but pursued on and on. Mallikā espied them and said, "There are chariots in sight, my lord." "Then tell me," said he, "when they all look like one chariot." When they all in a line looked like one, she said, "My lord, I see as it were the head of one chariot." "Take the reins, then," said he, and gave the reins into her hand: he stood upright in the chariot, and strung his bow. The chariot-wheel sank into the earth nave-deep. The Licchavis came to the place, and saw it, but turned not back. The other went on a little further, and twanged the bow string; then came a noise as the noise of a thunderbolt, yet even then they turned not, but pursued on and on. Bandhula stood up in the chariot and sped a shaft, and it cleft the heads of all the five hundred chariots, and passed right through the five hundred kings in the place where the girdle is fastened, and then buried itself in the earth. They not perceiving that they were wounded pursued still, shouting, "Stop, holloa, stop!" Bandhula stopt his chariot, and said, "You are dead men, and I cannot fight with the dead." "What!" said they, "dead, such as we now are?" "Loose the girdle of the first man," said Bandhula.
[150] They loosed his girdle, and at the instant the girdle was loosed, he fell dead. Then he said to them, "You are all of you in the same condition: go to your homes, and set in order what should be ordered, and give your directions to your wives and families, and then doff your armour." They did so, and then all of them gave up the ghost 2.
And Bandhula conveyed Mallikā to Sāvatthi. She bore twin sons sixteen times in succession, and they were all mighty men and heroes, and became perfected in all manner of accomplishments. Each one of them had a thousand
men to attend him, and when they went with their father to wait on the king, they alone filled the courtyard of the palace to overflowing.
One day some men who had been defeated in court on a false charge, seeing Bandhula approach, raised a great outcry, and informed him that the judges of the court had supported a false charge. So Bandhula went into the court, and judged the case, and gave each man his own. The crowd uttered loud shouts of applause. The king asked what it meant, and on hearing was much pleased; all those officers he sent away, and gave Bandhula charge of the judgement court, and thenceforward he judged aright. Then the former judges became poor, because they no longer received bribes, and they slandered Bandhula in the king's ear, accusing him of aiming at the kingdom himself. The king listened to their words, and could not control his suspicions. "But," he reflected, "if he be slain here, I shall be blamed." He suborned certain men to harry the frontier districts; then sending for Bandhula, he said, "The borders are in a blaze; go with your sons and capture the brigands." With him he also sent other men sufficient, mighty men of war, with instructions to kill him and his two-and-thirty sons, and cut off their heads, and bring them back.
While he was yet on the way, the hired brigands got wind of the general's coming, and took to flight. He settled the people of that district in their homes, and quieted the province, and set out for home. Then when he was not far from the city, those warriors cut off his head and the heads of his sons.
On that day Mallikā had sent an invitation to the two chief disciples along with five hundred of the Brethren. Early in the forenoon a letter was brought to her, with news that her husband and sons had lost their heads. [151] When she heard this, without a word to a soul, she tucked the letter in her dress, and waited upon the company of the Brethren. Her attendants had given rice to the Brethren, when bringing in a bowl of ghee they happened to break the bowl just in front of the Elders. Then the Captain of the Faith said, "Pots are made to be broken; do not trouble about it." The lady produced her letter from the fold of her dress, saying, "Here I have a letter informing me that my husband and his two-and-thirty sons have been beheaded. If I do not trouble about that, am I likely to trouble when a bowl is broken?" The Captain of the Faith now began, "Unseen, unknown 1," and so forth, then rising from his seat uttered a discourse, and went home. She summoned her two-and-thirty daughters-in-law, and to them said, "Your husbands, though innocent, have reaped the fruit of their former deeds. Do not you grieve, nor commit a sin of the soul worse even than the king's." This was her advice. The king's spies hearing this speech brought word to him that they were not angry. Then the king was distrest, and went to her dwelling, and craving pardon of Mallikā and her sons' wives, offered a boon. She replied, "Be it accepted." She set out the funeral feast, and bathed, and then went before the king. "My lord," said she, "you granted me a boon. I want nothing but this, that you permit my two-and-thirty daughters-in-law and me to go back to our own homes." The king consented. Each of her two-and-thirty sons' wives she sent away to her home, and herself returned to the home of her family in the city of Kusināra. And the king gave the post of commander-in-chief to one Dīgha-kārāyana, sister's son to the general Bandhula. But he went about picking faults in the king and saying, "He murdered my uncle."
Ever after the murder of the innocent Bandhula the king was devoured by remorse, and had no peace of mind, felt no joy in being king. At that time the Master dwelt near a country town of the Sakyas, named Uḷumpa. Thither went the king, pitched a camp not far from the park, and with a few attendants went to the monastery to salute the Master. The five symbols of royalty 2 he handed to Kārāyana, and alone entered the Perfumed Chamber. All that followed must be described as in the Dhammacetiya Sutta. When he
entered the Perfumed Chamber, Kārāyana took those symbols of royalty, [152] and made Viḍūḍabha king; and leaving behind for the king one horse and a serving woman, he went to Sāvatthi.
After a pleasant conversation with the Master, the king on his return saw no army. He enquired of the woman, and learnt what had been done. Then set out for the city of Rājagaha, resolved to take his nephew with him 1, and capture Viḍūḍabha. It was late when he came to the city, and the gates were shut: and lying down in a shed, exhausted by exposure to wind and sun, he died there.
When the night began to grow brighter, the woman began to wail, "My lord, the king of Kosala is past help!" The sound was heard, and news came to the king. He performed the obsequies of his uncle with great magnificence.
Viḍūḍabha once firmly established on the throne remembered that grudge of his, and determined to destroy the Sakyas one and all; to which end he set out with a large army. That day at dawn the Master, looking forth over the world, saw destruction threatening his kin. "I must help my kindred," thought he. In the forenoon he went in search of alms, then after returning from his meal lay down lion-like in his Perfumed Chamber, and in the evening-time, having past through the air to a spot near Kapilavatthu, sat beneath a tree that gave scanty shade. Hard by that place, a huge and shady banyan tree stood on the boundary of Viḍūḍabha's realms. Viḍūḍabha seeing the Master approached and saluting him, said, "Why, Sir, are sitting under so thin a tree in all this heat? Sit beneath this shady banyan, Sir." He replied, "Let be, O king! the shade of my kindred keeps me cool."—"The Master," thought the other, "must have come here to protect his clansmen." So he saluted the Master, and returned again to Sāvatthi. And the Master rising went to Jetavana. A second time the king called to mind his grudge against the Sakyas, a second time he set forth, and again saw the Master seated in the same place, then again returned. A fourth time he set out; and the Master, scanning the former deeds of the Sakyas, perceived that nothing could do away with the effect of their evildoing, in casting poison into the river; so he did not go thither the fourth time. Then king Viḍūḍabha slew all the Sakyas, beginning with babes at the breast, and with their hearts' blood washed the bench, and returned.
On the day after the Master had gone out for the third time and returned, he, [153] having gone his rounds for alms, and his meal over, was resting in his Perfumed Chamber, the Brethren gathered from all directions into the Hall of Truth, and seating themselves, began to tell of the virtues of the Great Being:."Sirs, the Master but showed himself, and turned the king back, and set free his kinsmen from fear of death. A helpful friend is the Master to his clan!" The Master entered, and asked what they talked of as they sat there. They told him. Then he said, "Not now only, Brethren, does the Tathāgata act for the benefit of his kinsmen; he did the same long ago." With these words, he told a story of the past.
There they beheld many a tree, straight and great, worthy to be the
single column of such a palace."Here are these trees," said they, "but the road is rough, and we can never transport them; we will go ask the king about it." When they did so, the king said, "By hook or by crook you must bring them, and that quickly." But they answered, "Neither by hook nor by crook can the thing be done." "Then," said the king, "search for a tree in my park."
The builders went to the park, and there they espied a lordly sal tree, straight and well grown, worshipt by village and town, and to it the royal family also were wont to pay tribute and worship; and they told the king. Said the king, "In my park ye have found me a tree: good—go and cut it down." "So be it," said they, and repaired to the park, with their hands full of perfumed garlands and the like; then hanging upon it a five-spray garland 1, and encircling it with a string, fastening to it a nosegay of flowers, and kindling a lamp, they did worship, explaining, [154] "On the seventh day from now we shall cut down this tree: it is the king's command so to cut it down. Let the deities who dwell in this tree go elsewhither, and not unto us be the blame."
The god who dwelt in the tree bearing this, thought to himself: "These builders are determined to cut down this tree, and to destroy my place of dwelling. Now my life only lasts as long as this my abiding place. And all the young sal trees that stand around this, where dwell the deities my kinsfolk, and they are many, will be destroyed. My own destruction does not touch me so near as the destruction of my children: therefore I must protect their lives." Accordingly at the hour of midnight, adorned in divine splendour, he entered into the magnificent chamber of the king, and filling the whole chamber with a bright radiance, stood weeping beside the king's pillow. At sight of him the king, overcome by terror, uttered the first stanza:
"Who art thou, standing high in
air, with heavenly vesture swathed:
Whence come thy fears, why flow the tears in which thine eyes are bathed?"
On hearing which the king of the gods repeated two stanzas:Whence come thy fears, why flow the tears in which thine eyes are bathed?"
"Within thy realm, O King, they
know me as the Lucky Tree:
For sixty thousand years I stood, and all have worshipt me.
For sixty thousand years I stood, and all have worshipt me.
"Though many a town and house they
made, and many a king's dwelling,
Yet me they never did molest, to me no harm did bring:
Then even as they did worship pay, so worship thou, O King!"
[155] Then the king repeated two stanzas:Yet me they never did molest, to me no harm did bring:
Then even as they did worship pay, so worship thou, O King!"
"But such another mighty trunk I
never yet did see,
So fine a kind in girth and height, so thick and strong a tree.
So fine a kind in girth and height, so thick and strong a tree.
"A lovely palace I will build, one
column for support:
There I will place thee to abide—thy life shall not be short."
There I will place thee to abide—thy life shall not be short."
On hearing this the king of the gods repeated two stanzas:
"Since thou art bent to tear my
body from me, cut me small,
And cut me piecemeal limb from limb, O King, or not at all.
[156] And cut me piecemeal limb from limb, O King, or not at all.
"Cut first the top, the middle
next, then last the root of me:
And if thou cut me so, O King, death will not painful be."
Then the king repeated two stanzas:And if thou cut me so, O King, death will not painful be."
"First hands and feet, then nose
and ears, while yet the victim lives,
And last of all the head let fall—a painful death this gives.
And last of all the head let fall—a painful death this gives.
"O Lucky Tree! O woodland king!
what pleasure couldst thou feel,
Why, for what reason dost thou wish to be cut up piecemeal?"
Then the Lucky Tree answered by repeating two stanzas:Why, for what reason dost thou wish to be cut up piecemeal?"
"The reason (and a reason ’tis
full noble) why piecemeal
I would be cut, O mighty king! come listen while I tell.
"My kith and kin all prospering round me well-sheltered grow:I would be cut, O mighty king! come listen while I tell.
These I should crush by one huge fall,—and great would be their woe."
[157] The king, hearing this, was much pleased:"’Tis a worthy god this," thought he, "he does not wish that his kinsfolk should lose their dwelling-place because he loses his; he acts for his kinsfolk's good." And he repeated the remaining stanza:
"O Lucky Tree! O woodland king!
thy thoughts must noble be:
Thou wouldst befriend thy kindred, so from fear I set thee free."
The king of the gods, having discoursed to this king, then
departed. And the king being established according to his admonition, gave
gifts and did other good deeds, till he went to fill the hosts of heaven.Thou wouldst befriend thy kindred, so from fear I set thee free."
Footnotes
91:1 No. 536.91:2 For the Introductory story see Dhammapada (commentary), pp. 216 ff.
91:3 A famous female disciple, for whose history see Hardy, Manual, 220 ff.
92:1 Headquarters of the Sakya clan, and Buddha's birthplace.
92:2 A Sakya prince: see Hardy, Manual, 227.
92:3 Khattiya.
92:4 Vallabhā.
93:1 No. 7.
94:1 Called Mahā-licchavi in Dhammapada (p. 219).
94:2 This is a variation of a well-known incident. A headsman slices off a man's head so skilfully, that the victim does not know it is done. The victim then takes a pinch of snuff, sneezes, and his head falls off. Another form is: Two men dispute, and one swings his sword round. They go on talking, and by and bye the other gets up to depart, and falls in two parts.
95:1 Sutta-Nipāta 574: "Unseen, unknown, is the life of men here below:" and so forth, for twenty stanzas. This is the Sallasutta.
95:2 See above, p. 80 note.
96:1 The quotation should begin at bhāgineyyām, since the king was alone.
97:1 See note in vol. ii. p. 72.
No. 466.
SAMUDDA-VĀṆIJA-JĀTAKA. 1
[158] "Others sow," etc.—This story the Master told while dwelling at Jetavana, about Devadatta, when he had gone down into Hell, taking with him five hundred families.Now Devadatta, when the Chief Disciples 1 had gone away, taking his followers with them 2, being unable to swallow his pain, spat up hot blood from his mouth, and departed; then tormented by great agony, as he remembered the virtues of the Tathāgata, he said to himself, "I for nine months have thought evil of the Tathāgata, but in the Master's heart is never a sinful thought for me; in the eighty chief elders is no malice towards me; by my own deeds that I have done I am become all forlorn, and I am renounced by the Master, by the great Elders, by Elder Rāhula chief of my family 3, and by all the royal clans of the Sakyas. I will go to the Master, and reconcile myself with him." So beckoning to his followers, he caused himself to be carried in a litter, and travelling always by night made his way to the city of Kosala.
Ānanda the Elder told the Master, saying, "Devadatta is coming, they say, to make his peace with you."—"Ānanda, Devadatta shall not see me." Again when he had arrived at the city of Sāvatthi, the Elder told it to the Master; and the Blessed One replied as before. When he was at the gate of Jetavana, and moving towards the Jetavana lake, his sin came to a head: a fever arose in his body, and desiring to bathe and drink, he commanded them to let him out of the litter, that he might drink. No sooner had he alighted, and stood upon the ground, than before he could refresh himself the great earth gaped, a flame arose from the nethermost hell of Avīci and surrounded him. Then he knew that his deeds of sin had come to a head, and remembering the virtues of the Tathāgata, he repeated this stanza 4:
"With these my bones to that
supremest Being,
Marked with an hundred lucky marks, all-seeing,
God, more than God, who man's bull-spirit tames,
With all my soul to Buddha I am fleeing!"
But in the very act of taking refuge, he was
doomed to the Hell Avīci. And there were five hundred families of his
attendants, which families following him reviled the Dasabala, and abused him,
and in the Avici hell were born, they also. Thus he went to Avīci, taking with
him five hundred families.Marked with an hundred lucky marks, all-seeing,
God, more than God, who man's bull-spirit tames,
With all my soul to Buddha I am fleeing!"
So one day they were talking in the Hall of Truth: "Brother, the sinful Devadatta, [159] through greed of gain, set his anger causelessly against the Supreme Buddha, and with no regard for the terrors of the future, with five hundred families was doomed to hell." The Master entering asked of what they were speaking: they told him. Said he, "Brethren, Devadatta being greedy of gain and honour had no eye for the terrors of the future; and in former times, as now, regarding not the terrors of the future, he with his followers through greed of present happiness came to utter ruin." So saying, he told them a story of the past.
with them. So those debtors were so much harassed that they could live there no longer. "Let us go into some foreign land," said they, "and find some place or other to dwell in;" so to the forest they went. They cut down trees, they built a mighty ship, and launched her in the river, and took her away from that town, and at a distance of some three-quarters of a league 1 they laid her up. Then in the middle of the night they returned to the town to fetch their families, whom they conveyed on board ship, and then proceeded in due course to the ocean. There they sailed at the wind's will, until they reached an island that lay in the midst of the sea. Now in that island grew wild all manner of plants and wild fruit-trees, rice, sugar-cane, banana, mango, rose-apple, jack, cocoanut, and what not. There was another man who had been shipwrecked and had taken possession of that island before them, and lived therein, eating the rice and enjoying the sugar-cane and all the rest, by which he had grown stout and sturdy; naked he went, and his hair and beard were grown long. The carpenters thought, "If yonder island is haunted of demons, we shall all perish; so we will explore it." Then seven brave men [160] and strong, arming them with the five kinds of weapons 2, disembarked and explored that island.
At that moment the castaway had just broken his fast, and drunk of the juice of the sugar-cane, and in high contentment was lying on his back in a lovely spot, cool in the shade on some sand which glistered like silver plate; and he was thinking, "No such happiness as this have they who dwell in India, that plough and sow; better to me is this island than India!" He sang for joy, and was at the height of bliss.
"Others sow and others plough,
Living by the sweat o’ the brow;
In my realm they have no share:
India? this is better far!"
Living by the sweat o’ the brow;
In my realm they have no share:
India? this is better far!"
life!"—"What!" said they, "do men go all naked and defenceless like you?" and asked him again and again, only to receive the same answer, that he was a man. At last they approached him, and all began to talk pleasantly together, and the new-comers asked how he came thither. The other told them the truth of it. "As a reward for your good deeds you have come hither," said he, "this is a first-rate island. No need here to work with your hands for a living; of rice and sugar-cane, and all the rest, there is no end here, and all growing wild; you may live here without anxiety." "Is there nothing else," they asked, [161] "to hinder our living here?" "No fear is there but this: the isle is haunted by demons, and the demons would be incensed to see the excretions of your bodies; so when you would relieve yourselves, dig a hole in the sand and hide it there. That is the only danger; there is no other; only always be careful on this point."
Then they took up their abode in the place.
But among these thousand families there were two master workmen, one at the head of each five hundred of them; and one of these was foolish and greedy of the best food, the other wise and not bent on getting the best of everything.
In course of time as they continued to dwell there, all grew stout and sturdy. Then they thought, "We have not been merry men this long time 1: we will make some toddy from the juice of the sugar-cane." So they caused the strong drink to be made, and being drunken, sang, danced, sported, then in thoughtlessness relieved themselves here, there, and everywhere without hiding it, so that they made the island foul and disgusting. The deities were incensed because these men made their playing-place all foul. "Shall we bring the sea over it," they deliberated, "and cleanse the island?—This is the dark fortnight: now our gathering is broken up. Well, on the fifteenth day from now, at the first of the full moon, at the time of the moon's rising, we will bring up the sea and make an end of them all." Thus they fixed the day. At this a righteous deity who was one of them thought, "I would not that these should perish before my eyes." So in his compassion, at the time when the men were sitting at their doors in pleasant converse, after their evening meal, he made the whole island one blaze of light, and adorned in all splendour stayed poised in the air towards the north, and spoke to them thus: "O ye carpenters! the deities are wroth with you. Dwell no longer in this place, for in half a month from this time, the
deities will bring up the sea, [162] and destroy you one and all. Therefore flee from this place." And he repeated the second stanza:
"In thrice five days the moon will
rise to view:
Then from the sea a mighty flood is due
This mighty island to o’erwhelm: then haste,
Elsewhere take shelter, that it hurt not you."
With this advice, he returned to his own place. He gone, another
comrade of his, a cruel god, thought, "Perhaps they will follow his advice
and escape; I will prevent their going, and bring them all to utter
destruction." So adorned in divine splendour, he made a great blaze of
light over the whole place, and approaching them, remained poised in the air
towards the south, as he asked, "Has there been a god here?"
"There has," was the reply. "What did he tell you?" They
answered, "Thus and thus, my lord." He then said, "This god does
not wish you to live here, and in anger speaks. Go not elsewhither, but stay
even here." And with these words, he repeated two stanzas:Then from the sea a mighty flood is due
This mighty island to o’erwhelm: then haste,
Elsewhere take shelter, that it hurt not you."
"To me by many signs it is made
clear,
That mighty ocean flood of which you hear
Shall never this great island overwhelm:
Then take your pleasure, grieve not, never fear.
"Here you have lit upon a wide abode,That mighty ocean flood of which you hear
Shall never this great island overwhelm:
Then take your pleasure, grieve not, never fear.
Full of all things to eat, of drink and food;
I see no danger for you: come, enjoy
Unto all generations this your good."
[163] Having thus in these two stanzas offered to relieve their anxiety, he departed. When he was gone, the foolish carpenter lifted up his voice, and paying no heed to the saying of the righteous deity, he cried, "Let your honours listen to me!" and addressed all the carpenters in the fifth stanza:
"That god, who from the southern
quarter clear
Cries out, All safe! from him the truth we hear;
Fear or fear not, the northern knows no whit:
Why grieve, then? take your pleasure—never fear!"
On hearing him, the five hundred carpenters who were greedy of
good things inclined to the counsel of the foolish carpenter. But then the wise
carpenter refused to hearken to his saying, and addressing the carpenters
repeated four stanzas:Cries out, All safe! from him the truth we hear;
Fear or fear not, the northern knows no whit:
Why grieve, then? take your pleasure—never fear!"
"While these two goblins gainst
each other cry,
One calling fear, and one security,
Come hear my rede, lest soon and out of hand
Ye all together perish utterly.
"Let us join all to build a mighty bark,One calling fear, and one security,
Come hear my rede, lest soon and out of hand
Ye all together perish utterly.
A vessel stout, and place within this ark
All fittings: if this southern spoke the truth,
And the other said but folly, off the mark
"This vessel for us good at need
shall be;
Nor will we leave this isle incontinent;
But if the northern god spake truthfully,
The southern did but foolishness present—
[164] Then in the ship we all embark together,
And where our safety lies, all hie us thither.
"Take not for best or worst what first you hear;Nor will we leave this isle incontinent;
But if the northern god spake truthfully,
The southern did but foolishness present—
[164] Then in the ship we all embark together,
And where our safety lies, all hie us thither.
But whoso lets all pass within the ear,
And then deliberating takes the mean,
That man to safest harbourage will steer 1."
After this, he again said: "Come now, let us follow the words of both the deities. Let us build a ship, and then if the words of the first be true, into that ship we will climb and depart; but if the words of the other be true, we will put the ship out of the way, and dwell here." When he had thus spoken, said the foolish carpenter: [165] "Go to! you see a crocodile in a teacup! you are too-too slow! The first god spake in anger against us, the second in affection. If we leave this choicest of isles, whither shall we go? But if you needs must go, take your tail with you, and make your ship: we want no ship, we!"
The wise man with those that followed him, built a ship, and put all the fittings aboard, and he and the whole company stood in the ship. Then on the day of the full moon, at the time of moon-rising, up front the ocean a wave arose, and knee-deep it swept over the whole island. The wise man, when he observed the rising of the wave, cast loose the ship. Those of the foolish carpenter's party, five hundred families they were, sat still, saying to one another, "A wave has arisen, to sweep over the island, but it will be no deeper." Then the ocean-wave rose waist-deep, man-deep, deep as a palm-tree, as seven palm-trees, and over the whole island it rolled. The wise man, fertile in resource, not snared by greed of good things, departed in safety; but the foolish carpenter, greedy of good things, not regarding the fear of the future, with five hundred families was destroyed.
As through mid-ocean, by the deeds they
did,
The traders scaped away in happiness:
So wise men, comprehending what lies hid
Within the future, will no jot transgress.
"Fools in their folly, eaten up with greedThe traders scaped away in happiness:
So wise men, comprehending what lies hid
Within the future, will no jot transgress.
Who future dangers do not comprehend,
Sink overwhelmed, in face of present need,
As these in middest-ocean found their end.
[166]
"Accomplish then the deed before
the need,
Let not lack hurt me of the needful thing.
Who timely do the necessary deed
Come time, come never into suffering."
When the Master had ended this discourse, he said: "Not now
for the first time, Brethren, but formerly also, has Devadatta been ensnared by
pleasures of the present, and without a look to the future, has come to
destruction with all his companions." So saying, he identified the Birth:
"At that time, Devadatta was the foolish carpenter, Kokālika was the
unrighteous deity that stood in the southern region, Sāriputta was the deity
who stood in the northern part, and I was myself the wise carpenter."Let not lack hurt me of the needful thing.
Who timely do the necessary deed
Come time, come never into suffering."
Footnotes
98:1 The introductory story is given in Dhammapada, p. 147 ff.99:1 Sāriputta and Moggallāna.
99:2 Cf. Hardy, Buddhism, p. 328.
99:3 Devadatta was brother-in-law of the Buddha.
99:4 Dhammapada, p. 148.
100:1 See vol. ii. p. 147, note.
100:2 Sword, spear, bow, shield, axe.
101:1 There seems to be something wrong with the text: as it stands, the meaning is: "For a long time these have not been heroes." But the word sūro is used idiomatically, sūro hutvā "as bold as brass," i. 262. 30, ii. 119. 22. It might well be used of "Dutch courage."—Or perhaps surā (brandy) in some form may lurk here.
103:1 This metaphor is not in the Pali.
No. 467.
KĀMA-JĀTAKA. 1
[167] "He that desires," etc. This story the Master told while dwelling at Jetavana, about a certain brahmin.A brahmin, so they say, who dwelt at Sāvatthi, was felling trees on the bank of the Aciravatī, in order to cultivate the land. The Master perceiving his destiny 2, when he visited Sāvatthi for alms, went out of his road to talk sweetly with him. "What are you doing, brahmin?" he asked."O Gotama," said the man, "I am cutting a space free for cultivation." "Very good," he replied, "go on with your work, brahmin." In the same manner the Master came and talked with him when the felled trunks were all away, and the man was clearing his acre, and again at plowing time, and at making the little embanked squares for water 3. Now on the day of sowing, the brahmin said, "To-day, O Gotama, is my plowing festival 4. When this corn is ripe, I will give alms in plenty to the Order, with the Buddha at their head." The Master accepted his offer, and went away. On another day he came, and saw the brahmin watching the corn. "What are you doing, brahmin?" asked he. "Watching the corn, O Gotama!" "Very good, brahmin," said the Master, and away he went. Then the brahmin thought, "How often Gotama the ascetic comes this way! Without doubt he wants food. Well, food I will give him." On the day when this thought came into his mind, when he went home, there he found the Master come also. Thereat arose in the brahmin a wondrous great confidence.
By and bye, when ripe was the corn, the brahmin resolved, to-morrow he would reap the field. But while he lay in bed, in the upper reaches of the Aciravatī the rain poured in bucketsful: down came a flood, and carried the whole crop away to the sea, so that not one stalk was left. When the flood
subsided, and the Brahmin beheld the destruction of his crops, he had not the strength to stand: pressing his hand to his heart (for he was overcome with great sorrow) he went weeping home, and lay down lamenting. In the morning the Master saw this brahmin overwhelmed with his woe, and thought he, "I will be the brahmin's support." So next day, after his alms-round in Sāvatthi, on his return from receipt of food he sent the Brethren back to their monastery, and himself with the junior who attended him visited the man's house. [168] When the brahmin heard of his coming, he took heart, thinking—"My friend must be come for a kindly talk." He offered him a seat; the Master entering sat upon the seat indicated, and asked, "Why are you downhearted, brahmin? what has happened to displease you?" "O Gotama!" said the man, "from the time that I cut down the trees on the bank of the Aciravatī, you know what I have been doing. I have been going about, and promising gifts to you when that crop should be ripe: now a flood has carried off the whole crop, away to the sea, nothing is left at all! Grain has been destroyed to the amount of a hundred waggon-loads, and so I am deep in grief!"—"Why, will what is lost come back for grieving?"—"No, Gotama, that will it not."—"If that is so, why grieve? The wealth of beings in this world, or their corn, when they have it, they have it, and when it is gone, why, gone it is. No composite thing but is subject to destruction; do not brood over it." Thus comforting him, the Master repeated the Kama 1 Scripture as appropriate to his case. At the conclusion of the Kama, the mourning brahmin was established in the Fruit of the First Path. The Master having eased him of his pain, arose from his seat, and returned to the monastery.
All the town heard how the Master had found such a brahmin pierced with the pangs of grief, had consoled him and established him in the Fruit of the First Path. The Brethren talked of it in the Hall of Truth: "Hear, Sirs! The Dasabala made friends with a brahmin, grew intimate, took his opportunity to declare the Law to him, when pierced with the pangs of grief, eased him of pain, established him in the Fruit of the First Path!" The Master came in, and asked, "What speak ye of, Brethren, as ye sit here together?" They told him. He replied, "This is not the first time, Brethren, I have cured his grief, but I did the same long, long ago:" and with these words he told a story of the past.
Now after a time the king's officers came to that village, for taking a survey of the fields. Then the merchant came to the prince, and said,
"My lord, we support you; will you send a letter to your younger brother, and procure for us remission of taxes?" To this he agreed, and wrote as follows: "I am living with the family of such a merchant; I pray you remit their taxes for my sake." The king consented, and so did. Thereupon all the villagers, and the people of the country side, came to him, and said, "Get our taxes remitted, and we will pay taxes to you." For them too he sent his petition, and got the taxes remitted. After that the people paid their taxes to him. Then his receipts and honour were great; and with this greatness grew his covetousness also. So by degrees he asked for all the district, he asked for the office of viceroy, and the younger brother gave it all. Then as his greed kept growing, he was not content even with viceroyalty, and determined to seize the kingdom; to which end he set out with a host of people, and taking up a position outside the city, sent a letter to his younger brother—"Give me the kingdom, or fight for it."
The younger brother thought: "This fool refused once kingdom, and viceroyalty, and all; and now says he, I will take it by battle! If I slay him in battle, it will be my shame; what care I for being king?" So he sent a message, "I have no wish to fight: you may have the kingdom." The other accepted it, and made his younger brother viceroy.
Thenceforward he ruled the kingdom. But so greedy was he, that one kingdom could not content him, but he craved for two kingdoms, then for three, [170] and yet saw no end to his greed.
At that time Sakka, king of the Gods, looked abroad: "Who are they," thought he, "carefully tend their parents? who give alms and do good? who are in the power of greed?" He perceived that this man was subject to greed: "Yon fool," thought he, "is not satisfied with being king of Benares. Well, I will teach him a lesson." So in the guise of a young brahmin, he stood at the door of the palace, and sent in word, that at the door stood a clever young man. He was admitted, and wished victory to the king; then the king said, "Why have you come?" "Mighty King!" he answered, "I have a thing to say to you, but I desire privacy." By power of Sakka, at that very instant the people retired. Then said the young man, "O great king! I know three cities, prosperous, thronged with men, strong in troops and horses: of these by my own power I will obtain the lordship, and deliver it to you. But you must make no delaying, and go at once." The king being full of covetise gave his consent. (But by Sakka's power he was prevented from asking, "Who are you? whence come? and what are you to receive?") So much Sakka said, and then returned to the abode of the Thirty-three.
Then the king summoned his courtiers, and thus addressed them 1.
"A youth has been here, promising to capture and give me the lordship of three kingdoms! Go, look for him! Send the drum a-beating about the city, assemble the army, make no delay, for I am about to take three kingdoms!" "O great king!" they said, "did you offer hospitality to the young man, or did you ask where he dwelt?" "No, no, I offered him no hospitality, I did not ask where he dwelt: go, and look for him!" They searched, but found him not; they informed the king, they could not in the whole city find the young man. On hearing this the king became gloomy. "The lordship over three cities is lost," he thought again and again: "I am shorn of great glory. Doubtless the young man went away angry with me, that I gave him no money for his expenses, nor a place to dwell in." [171] Then in his body, full of greed, a burning arose; as the body burnt, his bowels were moved to a bloody flux; as the food went in, so it came out; physicians could not cure him, the king was exhausted. His illness was bruited abroad all through the city.
At that time, the Bodhisatta had returned to his parents in Benares from Takkasilā, after mastering all branches of learning. He hearing the news about the king, proceeded to the palace door, with intent to cure him, and sent in a message, that a young man was there ready to cure the king. The king said, "Great and most renowned physicians, known far and near, are not able to cure me: what can a young lad do? Pay his expenses, and let him depart." The young man made answer, "I want no fee for my physic, but I will cure him; let him simply and solely pay me the price of my remedy." When the king heard this, he agreed, and admitted him. The young man saluted the king, "Fear nothing, O king!" said he; "I will cure you; do but tell me the origin of your disorder." The king answered in wrath, "What is that to you? make up your medicine." "O great king," quoth he, "it is the way of physicians, first to learn whence the disease arises, then to make a remedy to suit." "Well, well, my son," said the king, and proceeded to tell the origin of the disease, beginning where that young man had come, and made his promise, that he would take and give to him the lordship over three cities. "Thus, my son, the disease arose from greed; now cure it if you can." "What, O king!" quoth he," can you capture those cities by grieving?"—"Why no, my son."—"Since that is so, why grieve, O great king? Every thing, animate or inanimate, must pass away, and leave all behind, even its own body. [172] Even should you obtain, rule over four cities, you could not at one time eat four plates of food, recline on four couches, wear four sets of robes. You ought not to be the slave of desire; for desire, when it increases, allows no release from the four states of suffering." Thus having admonished him, the Great Being declared the Law in the following stanzas:
"He that desires a thing, and then
this his desire fulfilment blesses,
Sure a glad-hearted man is he, because his wish he now possesses. 1
"He that desires a thing, and then this his desire fulfilment
blesses,Sure a glad-hearted man is he, because his wish he now possesses. 1
Desires throng on him more and more, as thirst in time of heat oppresses.
"As in the hornéd kine, the horn with their growth larger grows:
So, in a foolish undiscerning man, that nothing knows,
While grows the man, the more and more grows thirst, and craving grows
"Give all the rice and corn on earth, slave-men, and kine, and horse,
’Tis not enough for one: this know, and keep a righteous course.
"A king that should subdue the whole world wide,
The whole wide world up to the ocean bound,
With this side of the sea unsatisfied
Would crave what might beyond the sea be found.
"Brood on desires within the heart—content will ne’er arise.
Who turns from these, and the true cure descries,
He is content, whom wisdom satisfies.
"Best to be full of wisdom: these no lust can set afire;
Never the man with wisdom filled is slave unto desire.
"Crush your desires, and little want, not greedy all to win:
He that is like the sea is not burnt by desire within,
But like a cobbler, cuts the shoe according to the skin.
[173]"For each desire that is let go a happiness is won:
He that all happiness would have, must with all lust have done."
[174] But as the Bodhisatta was repeating these stanzas, his mind being concentrated on the king's white sunshade, there arose in him the mystic rapture attained through white light 2. The king on his part became whole and well; he arose in joy from his seat, and addressed him thus: "When all those physicians could not heal me, a wise youth has made me whole by the medicine of his wisdom!" And he then repeated the tenth stanza:
[175]
"Eight 3 verses have you uttered, worth a thousand pieces each:
Take, O great brahmin! take the sum, for sweet is this your speech."
At which the Great Being repeated the eleventh:Take, O great brahmin! take the sum, for sweet is this your speech."
"For thousands, hundreds, million
times a million 4, nought care I:
As the last verse I uttered, in my heart desire did die."
More and yet more delighted, the king recited the last stanza in
praise of the Great Being:As the last verse I uttered, in my heart desire did die."
"Wise and good is indeed this
youth, all the lore of all worlds knowing:
All desire in very truth is mother of misery by his showing."
All desire in very truth is mother of misery by his showing."
"Great king!"said the Bodhisatta, "be circumspect, and walk in righteousness." Thus admonishing the king, he passed through the air to Himalaya, and living the life of a recluse, while life lasted, cultivated the Excellences, and became destined for the world of Brahma.
Footnotes
104:1 See No. 228 (ii. p. 149 of this translation).104:2 I.e. his capacity in the spiritual life.
104:3 Refer to the following passage in Vedāntaparibhāshā: "yathā taḍāgodakaṃ kulyātmanā kedārān praviçya tadvadeva catuṣkoṇādyākāraṃ bhavati." (For this note I am indebted to Prof. Cowell.) See also Sleeman, Rambles &c. ii. 178.
104:4 There was a great yearly ceremony of this kind, at which the King held the plough; see Hardy's Manual of Buddhism, p. 150.
105:1 Kāmasuttaṁ: in Sutta-Nipāta, IV. i. (p. 146). See first stanza below.
106:1 The quotation of the youth's words begins at tīni.
108:1 Sutta-Nipāta, IV. 1 (p. 146), verse 766.
108:2 This is one of the ten kinds of Kasiṇa, or ways in which the devotee may fall into the mystic trance. See Childers, s.v.
108:3 "Beginning with the second, those which explain the misery of desire are eight," quoth the Scholiast. The first stanza, it will be remembered, is a quotation from Sutta-Nipāta, and possibly may have been added later.
108:4 The number nahutaṁ is 1 followed by 28 ciphers.
Om Tat Sat
(Continued...)
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