“Heedfulness is the deathless state,”
Part 1. Birth and Youthful Career of Udena BG: Dhp-a 2.1 relates the circumstances of the birth and youthful career of Udena. The same story is related briefly by Buddhaghosa in his commentary on MN 85 (see Lacôte, p. 9251). A somewhat different version of the story is found in chapter ix of the Kathāsaritsāgara.
Once upon a time King Allakappa ruled over the kingdom of Allakappa and King Veṭhadīpaka ruled over the kingdom of Veṭhadīpaka. They had been intimate friends since their boyhood days and had received their education in the house of the same teacher. On the death of their fathers they raised the royal parasol and became rulers of kingdoms, each of which was ten leagues in extent.
As they met from time to time, and stood and sat and lay down to sleep together, and watched the multitudes being born into the world and dying again, they came to the conclusion: “When a man goes to the world beyond he can take nothing with him;
Accordingly they resigned their kingdoms to son and wife, went forth in the seers’ going forth, and took up their residence in the Himālayas. And they took counsel together, saying: “Although we have renounced our kingdoms and went forth, we shall encounter no difficulty in gaining a living; but if we reside together in the same place, our life will be quite unlike the life of ascetics; therefore let us live apart. You live on this mountain; I will live on that. Every fortnight, on the Observance Day, we will meet together.” Then this thought occurred to them: “Under this arrangement
After a time the ascetic Veṭhadīpaka died and was reborn as a Lord of Devas of mighty power. A fortnight later Allakappa saw no fire on the mountain and knew that his comrade was dead. As soon as ever Veṭhadīpaka was reborn, he surveyed his own heavenly glory, considered the deeds of his former existence, reviewed the austerities he had performed from the day when he went forth, and said to himself: “I will go see my comrade.” Accordingly he laid aside his form, disguised himself as a wayfarer, went to Allakappa, worshipped him, and stood respectfully on one side.
Allakappa said to him: “Whence have you come?”
Accordingly Veṭhadīpaka gave Allakappa a lute to charm elephants with and likewise taught him spells for charming elephants. Now as he presented the lute to him, he showed him three strings and taught him three spells. “Strike this string,” said he, “and utter this spell, and the elephants will turn and run away without so much as daring even to look at you; strike this string and utter this spell, and they will turn and run away, eyeing you at every step; strike this string and utter this spell, and the leader of the herd will come up and offer you his back. Now do as you like.” With these words
At this time Parantapa was king of Kosambī. One day he was sitting out in the open air basking himself in the rays of the newly risen sun, and beside him sat his queen, great with child. The queen was wearing the king’s cloak, a crimson blanket worth 100,000 coins; and as she sat there conversing with the king she removed from the king’s finger the royal signet, worth 100,000 coins, and slipped it on her own.
Just at that moment a monster bird with a bill as big as an elephant’s trunk came soaring through the air. Seeing the queen and mistaking her for a piece of meat, he spread his wings and swooped down. When the king heard the bird swoop down, he sprang to his feet and entered the royal palace. But the queen, because she was great with child and because she was of a timid nature, was unable to make haste. The bird pounced upon her, caught her up in the cage of his talons, and soared away with her into the air.
These birds are said to possess the strength of five elephants; they are therefore able to convey their victims through the air, settle wherever they wish, and devour their flesh.
As the queen was being carried away by the bird, terrified though she was with the fear of death, she preserved her presence of mind and thought to herself: “Animals stand in great fear of the human voice. Therefore if I cry out, this bird will drop me the instant he hears the sound of my voice. But in that case I should accomplish only my own destruction and that of my unborn child. If, however, I wait until he settles somewhere and begins to eat, then I can make a noise and frighten him away.” Through her own wisdom, therefore, she kept patience and endured.
Now there stood at that time in the Himālaya country a banyan tree which, although of brief growth, had attained great size
It is the nature of these birds, we are told, to watch the path leading to their tree. At that moment the queen, thinking to herself: “Now is the time to frighten him away,” raised both her hands, clapped them together and shouted, and frightened the bird away.
At sunset the pains of travail came upon her, and at the same time
Not far from that tree was the place of residence of the ascetic Allakappa. Now on rainy days it was the custom of the ascetic not to go into the forest for fruits and berries, for fear of the cold. Instead he used to go to the foot of the tree and gather up the bones from which the birds had picked the flesh; then he would pound the bones, make broth of them, and drink the broth. On that very day, therefore, he went there to get bones. As he was picking up bones at the foot of the tree,
Looking up, he saw the queen. “Who are you?” said he. “I am a woman.” – “How did you get there?” – “A monster bird brought me here.” – “Come down,” he said. “Your honor, I am afraid to come down on account of a difference of caste.” – “Of what caste are you?” – “Of the noble caste.” – “I am also of the noble caste.” – “Well then, give me the password of the noble caste.” He did so. “Well then, climb up and set down my boy.” Finding a way to climb the tree on one side, he climbed up and took the boy in his arms; obeying the queen’s behest not to touch her with his hand, he set the boy down; then the queen herself came down.
The ascetic conducted the queen along the path to his hermitage and cared for her tenderly without in any way violating his vow of chastity. He brought honey free from flies and gave it to her; he brought rice grown in his own field and prepared broth and gave it to her. Thus did he minister to her needs.
After a time she thought to herself: “For my part I know neither the way to come nor the way to go, nor can I repose absolute confidence even in this ascetic. Now if he were to leave us and go elsewhere, we should both perish right here. I must by some means seduce him to violate his vow of chastity, so that he will not abandon us. Accordingly she displayed herself before him with under and upper garments in disarray, and thus seduced him to violate his vow of chastity; thenceforth the two lived together.
One day, as the ascetic was observing a conjunction of a constellation with one of the lunar mansions, he saw the eclipse of
Now at that time many thousands of elephants came and sat at the foot of the banyan tree. So the ascetic said to the boy: “Climb the tree before the elephants come, and when they come, utter this spell and strike this string, and they will all turn and run away, without even so much as daring to look at you; then descend and come to me.” The boy did as he was told, and then went and told the ascetic.
On the second day the ascetic said to him: “Today utter this spell and strike this string, if you please, and they will turn and run away, eyeing you at every step.” On that day also the boy did as he was told, and then went
Then the ascetic addressed the mother, saying: “My lady, give your son his message and he will go hence and become king.” So she addressed her son, saying: “You must say: ‘I am the son of King Parantapa of Kosambī; a monster bird carried me off.’ Then you must utter the names of the commander-in-chief and the other generals. If they still refuse to believe you, you must show them this blanket which was your father’s cloak and this signet-ring which he wore on his finger.” With these words she dismissed him.
The boy said to the ascetic: “Now what shall I do?” The ascetic replied: “Seat yourself on the lowest branch of the tree, utter this spell and strike this string, and the leader of the elephants will approach and offer you his back. Seat yourself on his back, go to your kingdom, and take the sovereignty.” The boy did reverence to his parents, and following the instructions of the ascetic, seated himself on the back of the elephant and whispered in his ear: “I am the son of King
So the boy went forth, surrounded by many thousands of warrior-elephants, and reaching a village on the frontier, proclaimed: “I am the son of the king;
Thereupon the boy said: “I am her son.” So saying, he uttered the names of the commander-in-chief and the other generals, and when they still refused to believe him, showed the blanket and the ring. They recognized the blanket and the ring, opened the gates, and anointed him king.
Part 2. Birth and Youthful Career of Ghosaka BG: This story relates the seven marvelous escapes from death of the luck-child Ghosaka, and is preceded by an account of Ghosaka’s previous deeds. The same story is related in detail by Buddhaghosa in his commentary on AN-a 1.14.7.3-4. For a comparative study of the two versions, see E. Hardy, JRAS., 1898, pp. 741-794. Parallels occur in many Sanskrit collections, and in fact in almost all of the literatures of the world. For a comparative study of the Oriental versions, see J. Schick, Das Glückskind mit dam Todesbrief.
Once upon a time there was a famine in the kingdom of Ajita, and a man named Kotūhalaka, unable to get a living, took his young son Kāpi and his wife Kāḷi, and thinking: “I will go to Kosambī and get a living there,” set out with provisions for the journey. There are also those who say that he left his home because the people were dying of snake-wind disease. AJ: the never properly identified Ahivātaroga.
As they proceeded on their journey, their provisions gave out, and finally they were so overcome with hunger that they were not able to carry the boy. Thereupon the husband said to his wife: “Wife, if we live, we shall have another son. Let us cast this child away and continue our journey alone.”
A mother’s heart is known to be tender, therefore she said: “I could never cast away a living child.” – “Well, what shall we do?” – “Carry him by turns.” When the mother’s turn came, she would lift the child like a wreath of flowers,
Finally the child became so tired from being passed back and forth that he fell asleep in the arms of his father. When the father observed that he was asleep, allowing the mother to precede him, he went and laid the child on a couch of leaves under a bush, immediately resuming his journey. The mother turned, looked back, and not seeing the child, asked: “Husband, where is my son?” – “I laid him down under a certain bush.” – “Husband, do not kill me. Without my son I cannot live. Bring my son back to me.” And she smote upon her breast and wept. So the husband retraced his steps, recovered the child, and brought him back to her. In consequence of having cast away his child on this one occasion, Kotūhalaka was himself cast away seven times in a later existence. Let no one regard a wicked deed lightly, saying: “It is only a small matter.”
Continuing their journey, they came to the house of a certain herdsman. On that day, as it happened, one of the herdsman’s cows had calved, and the herdsman was about to hold the customary festival in honor of the event. Now a certain Paccekabuddha was accustomed to take his meals in the house of the hersdman. The herdsman, after providing the Paccekabuddha with food, celebrated the cow-festival with an abundant supply of rice-porridge. When the herdsman saw the visitors, he asked them: “Whence have you come?” They told him the whole story, whereupon the tender-hearted youth took pity on them and saw to it that they were given rice-porridge with a plentiful supply of ghee. The wife said to the husband: “Husband, if only you can live, I can live. For a long time you have not had sufficient food. Now eat to your heart’s content.” So saying, she set the ghee and curds before him, eating only a little of the ghee herself. The husband ate heartily; but so intense was the hunger from which he had suffered during the preceding seven or eight days that he was unable to satisfy it.
When the herdsman had seen to it that they were provided with rice-porridge,
His wife performed the funeral ceremonies over his body, and remaining in that very house, worked for hire. Receiving a pint-pot of rice, she cooked it and placed it in the bowl of the Paccekabuddha, saying: “May these grains of rice bring a reward to your servant.” And she thought to herself: “It would be well for me to remain right here. The Paccekabuddha comes here regularly; and whether there be alms or not, I shall have the privilege of paying obeisance to him each day and of ministering to him. By so doing I shall obtain peace of mind and earn much merit.” And she remained right there working for hire.
After six or seven months the bitch gave birth to a single pup. The herdsman reserved the milk of one cow for the pup, and in no long time he grew to be a fine big dog. When the Paccekabuddha ate his meal, he invariably gave him a portion of his rice; and because of this the dog became deeply attached to the Paccekabuddha.
Now the herdsman was accustomed to go regularly twice each day to wait upon the Paccekabuddha, and the dog always went with him. On the way was a lair of wild beasts, and the herdsman used to frighten the wild beasts away by striking bushes and ground with a stick and calling out three times: “Su! Su!” One day he said to the Paccekabuddha: “Venerable Sir, in case at any time I should be unable to come, I will send this dog for you. Therefore if I send him, please understand that I wish you to come.”
A few days later the herdsman found it inconvenient to go in person. He therefore sent the dog in his place, saying: “Dear, go bring the noble one.” At the mere word of the herdsman the dog started off. Where he had seen his master stop and strike bushes and ground, the dog also stopped and barked three times; and when he was sure that his barking had frightened away the wild beasts, he went on.
One day the Paccekabuddha took the wrong path, and when the dog tried to stop him, without turning back, he pushed away the dog with his foot and went on. The dog, perceiving that he did not intend to turn back, took the hem of his undergarment in his teeth and dragged him along until he brought him to the right path. Such was the strength of the affection of the dog for the Paccekabuddha.
Later on the Paccekabuddha’s robe wore out. When the herdsman provided him with materials for a new set of robes, the Paccekabuddha said to him: “Friend, it is difficult for a person all alone to make a robe. I will go to a convenient place and have it made for me.” – “Make it right here, venerable Sir.” – “No, friend, I cannot.” – “Well then, venerable Sir, do not take up your residence far from here.” The dog stood listening to every word they said. The Paccekabuddha said: “Wait a moment, friend.” Thereupon, leaving the herdsman behind, he flew up into the air and departed in the direction of Gandhamādana.
When the dog saw him flying through the air,
Animals, they say, are straightforward and not given to deceit; men, however, think one thing in their heart, but say another with their lips. Therefore the Fortunate One said to a bhikkhu: “The ways of men are past finding out, but the ways of the beasts are easy to discover.” AJ: see MN 51, Kandarakasutta.
So when the dog died, because of his straightforwardness and lack of deceit, he was reborn in the Realm of the Thirty-Three with a retinue of a thousand Accharās, and there he enjoyed glory and bliss unspeakable. When he but whispered, his voice carried a distance of sixteen leagues; when he spoke in an ordinary tone, he could be heard all over the city of the gods, a city ten thousand leagues in extent.
Do you ask: “Of what was this the consequence?” It was because he barked and howled for love of the Paccekabuddha. Remaining in the Realm of the Thirty-Three for no long time, he passed from that state of existence.
Devas pass from the Deva Realm through four causes: exhaustion of life, exhaustion of merit, exhaustion of food, and anger. He that has earned much merit is reborn in the Deva Realm, remains there during the term allotted to him, and is then reborn higher and higher. Thus he passes through “exhaustion of life.” He that has earned little merit
Story of the Present: Ghosaka Is Cast Away Seven Times
Ghosaka, while enjoying the pleasures of sense, became forgetful, passed, through exhaustion of food, from the Realm of the Thirty-Three, and was conceived in the womb of a courtesan of Kosambī. On the day when the courtesan gave birth to the child, she asked her slave-woman: “What is it?” – “A son, my lady.” – “Very well, put this boy into an old winnowing basket and cast him away on the dust-heap.” Thus she caused him to be cast away. Courtesans will bestow care on a daughter, but not on a son, for it is through a daughter that their line of business is maintained.
Crows and dogs surrounded the child and huddled about him; but in consequence of his barking and howling for love of the Paccekabuddha, not one dared to approach him.
At that moment a man came out and saw the crows and dogs all huddled together. “What does this mean?” thought he to himself, going nearer. When he saw the boy, he immediately took a fancy to him, and saying to himself: “I have gained a son,” he picked the boy up and took him home with him.
Now the rich man of Kosambī happened at that time to go to the royal palace. Seeing the Brahmin chaplain returning from the royal residence, he asked him: “Teacher, have you observed a conjunction of a constellation with one of the lunar mansions today?” – “Yes, rich man. What else have we to do?” – “What will happen to the country?” – “Only this: a boy has been born in this city today who will one day become the principal rich man.” As the rich man’s wife was at that time great with child, he immediately sent a messenger to his house, saying: “Go find out whether or not she has given birth to a child.”
He received the answer that she had not yet given birth to a child. Therefore, as soon as he had seen the king, he went home quickly, summoned a slave-woman named Kāḷī, gave her a thousand pieces of
The rich man gave him a home in his house, thinking to himself: “If a daughter is born to me, I will marry her to this boy and make him a rich man; but if a son is born to me, I will kill him.” After a few days his wife gave birth to a son. Thereupon the rich man thought to himself: “If only this foundling did not exist, my own son would obtain the post of rich man. I had best kill him immediately.” So he said to Kāḷī: “Carry this child to the cattle-pen, and when it is time for the cattle to come out, lay him across the doorway, and the cattle will trample him to death. Observe whether or not they trample him to death, and then come back and tell me.”
She carried the child to the cattle-pen, and as soon as the door was opened, laid him across the doorway. Now at other times the leader of the herd, the bull, came out last of all; but on this particular day he came out first, enclosed the boy with his four feet, and stood stock still. Several hundred cows came out on either side of the bull, rubbing against his flanks as they passed. The herdsman thought to himself: “Hitherto this bull has always come out last of all, but today he came out first and stood stock still in the doorway of the pen. What can this mean?” Going near, he saw the boy lying under the bull. Immediately taking a fancy to him, he said to himself: “I have gained a son,” and picking him up, he carried him home.
Kāḷī went back to the rich man and in answer to his question told him what had happened. Said the rich man: “Go to the herdsman, give him these thousand coins, and bring the child back to me again.” So she brought the child back again and gave him to the rich man.
She took the child and laid him down in the track of the wheels. The leader of the caravan came first; but when his oxen reached the
Kāḷī went back to the rich man and in answer to his question told him what had happened. Said the rich man: “Go to the caravan-leader, give him a thousand coins, and bring the child back to me again.” When she had so done, he said to her: “Now carry him to the charnel ground and lay him in the bushes. There he will either be eaten by dogs or attacked by Amanussa, and he will die. As soon as you know whether or not he is dead, return to me.”
She took the child, laid him in the bushes, and stood at one side. But neither dog nor crow nor Amanussa dared to approach him. Pray, if he had neither mother nor father nor brother nor other kinsman to protect him, what was it that did protect him? All that protected him was his howling for love of the Paccekabuddha in his former existence as a dog.
Just then a goatherd passed on one side of the charnel ground, leading several thousand goats to pasture. A certain she-goat made her way into the bushes eating leaves and grass, and seeing the boy, knelt down and gave him suck. The goatherd called: “He! He!” but she did not come out. Thereupon he said to himself: “I will beat her with my stick and bring her out.” So saying, he made his way into the bushes.
Kāḷī went back to the rich man and in answer to his question told him what had happened. Said the rich man: “Go to the goatherd, give him a thousand coins, and bring the child back to me again.”
When she had so done, he said to her: “Good Kāḷī, take this child with you, climb the mountain that is known as Robbers’ Cliff, and throw him down the precipice. He will strike against the sides of the ravine and be dashed to pieces when he reaches the bottom. As soon as you know whether or not he is dead, return to me.”
She carried the child to Robbers’ Cliff, and standing at the top of the mountain, threw him down. Now there grew along the mountain
Kāḷī went back to the rich man and in answer to his question told him what had happened. Said the rich man: “Go to the reed-maker, give him a thousand coins, and bring the child back to me again.” She did so. So in spite of the rich man’s attempts on his life, the child lived and thrived and grew to manhood. Ghosaka was his name. He was like a thorn in the eye of the rich man, who could not look him straight in the face.
Thinking of a way to kill him, the rich man went to a friend of his who was a potter and asked him: “When are you going to fire your bake-house?” – “Tomorrow.”
On the following day the rich man summoned Ghosaka and sent him to the potter, saying: “Yesterday I left an order with the potter to do a certain piece of work for me. Go say to him: ‘Finish the job my father gave you yesterday.’” – “Very well,” said Ghosaka, and set out.
As Ghosaka was on his way to the potter’s, the rich man’s other son, who was playing marbles with some boys, saw him. And calling to him, he asked: “Where are you going?” – “I am carrying a message to the potter for father.” – “Let me go there. These boys have won a big stake from me. You win it back and give it to me.” – “I am afraid of father.” – “Do not fear, brother; I will carry that message. I have lost a big stake. You play until I return again, and win the stake back for me.”
So Ghosaka consented to let his foster-brother go in his place, saying: “Well then, go to the potter and say to him: ‘Finish the job my father gave you yesterday.’” Thus it happened that the rich man’s own son carried the message to the potter. The potter killed him according to the letter of the directions he had received from the rich man and threw his body into the bake-house. Ghosaka played marbles all day and went home in the evening.
“Woe is me!” cried the rich man with a loud voice. He looked as though the blood had been drawn from his veins. He rushed to the potter, wringing his hands and wailing: “Oh, potter, do not kill me! Do not kill me!” The potter saw him approaching in this wise and said to him: “Master, make no noise; the job is done.” Thus was the rich man overwhelmed with sorrow as with a mountain. Thus did he suffer great grief, even as do all who offend against those that are without offense. Therefore said the Fortunate One: AJ: Dhp 137-140.
Dhp 137. Whoever offends with a stick
those who are inoffensive and
harmless will quickly fall into
one of the following ten states:
Dhp 138. Harsh feelings and loss of his wealth,
and the break up of the body,
or even heavy affliction,
or surely he will lose his mind.
Dhp 139. There may be danger from the king,
or slander that is terrible,
he may suffer from loss of kin,
or from the destruction of wealth.
Dhp 140. Also his houses may be consumed
by flames and fire, and at the death
of the body that foolish one
will arise in the underworld.
Now under these circumstances the rich man was unable to look Ghosaka straight in the face. “How can I manage to kill him?” he thought. Finally he thought of a way. “I will send him to the superintendent of my hundred villages and order him to kill him,” he said to himself. Accordingly he wrote the following letter to the superintendent: “This is my base-born son. Kill him and throw him into the cesspool. Let this be done, and I shall know how to reward my uncle properly.” Then he said to his foster-son: “Dear Ghosaka, there is a superintendent over our hundred villages. Take this letter and give it to him.” So saying, he fastened the letter to the hem of
Now Ghosaka did not know how to read and write, for ever since he was a boy the rich man had striven, although without success, to kill him. Why, therefore, should he have taught him to read and write? As Ghosaka set out with his own death-warrant fastened to the hem of his garment, he said to his father: “Father, I have no provisions for the journey.” – “You have no need of provisions for the journey. On the way, in such and such a village, lives a friend of mine who is a rich man. Obtain your breakfast at his house, and then continue your journey.” – “Very well,” said Ghosaka, and bowing to his father, set out on his journey.
When he arrived at the village, he enquired where the rich man’s house was, went there, and saw the rich man’s wife. “Whence have you come?” she enquired. “From the city,” he replied. “Whose son are you?” – “I am the son of your friend the rich man, my lady.” – “Then you are Ghosaka.” – “Yes, my lady.” She had affection as for a son for him at first sight. AJ: puttasineho uppajji; Burlingame: “She fell in love with him at first sight,” which gives a very wrong impression.
Now the rich man had a daughter about fifteen or sixteen years of age, and she was exceedingly beautiful and fair to look upon. In order to keep her safe and sound, her parents lodged her on the topmost floor of a seven-storied palace in an apartment of royal splendor, giving her a single slave-girl to run errands.
When she returned, the rich man’s daughter scolded her for her long absence. The slave-girl replied: “Be not angry with me. The rich man’s son Ghosaka has arrived, and I had to do this and that for him, besides going on an errand for you, before I returned.” When the rich man’s daughter heard the name “rich man’s son Ghosaka,” love suffused her body, cleaving her skin and penetrating the marrow of her bones.
For she had been his wife in his former existence as Kotūhalaka and had given a pint-pot of rice to the Paccekabuddha. And through his supernatural power she had been reborn in the household of the rich man. No wonder her old passion for him returned and overwhelmed her! Therefore said the Fortunate One: AJ: Ja 237.
Through former association,
or through a present benefit,
in such a way does love arise,
like a lotus in the waters.
The rich man’s daughter said to the slave-girl: “Girl, where is he?” – “He is lying asleep on the couch.” – “Has he anything in his hand?” – “There is a letter fastened to his garment.” – “What can be in this letter?” she thought. So while Ghosaka was asleep, and her mother and father were otherwise engaged, she came down without attracting their attention, detached the letter from his garment, took it with her, went into her room, closed the door, opened the window, and through her knowledge of writing read the letter. “Oh!” she exclaimed, “the fool is going about with his own death-warrant fastened to his garment.
So she tore up this letter and wrote another in the name of the rich man as follows: “This is my son Ghosaka. Procure presents for him from my hundred villages. Prepare a festival in honor of his marriage with the daughter of this district rich man. Build him a two-storied house in the center of the village wherein he resides. Surround his house with a wall and with a guard of men, and so provide him with ample protection. Then send me a message, saying: ‘I have done thus and so,’ and I shall know how to reward my uncle properly.” Having written the letter, she folded it up and fastened it to the hem of his garment.
After sleeping all day, Ghosaka arose, ate his meal, and went on his way. Early on the morning of the following day he arrived at that village and saw the superintendent performing his village duties. When the superintendent saw him, he asked him: “What is it, dear Ghosaka?” – “My father has sent you a letter.” – “What is it about, dear Ghosaka? Bring it to me.” He took the letter and read it, and then said with an exclamation of delight: “See, men, how my master loves me. He has sent me a message, saying: ‘Prepare a festival in honor of my oldest son.’ Bring wood and other building materials immediately.” Having thus given orders to the householders, he caused a house of the kind described in the letter to be erected in the center of the village, had presents brought from the hundred villages, conducted the daughter of the district rich man there, celebrated the marriage festival, and then sent word to the rich man, saying: “I have done thus and so.”
When the rich man received the message, he said: “What I would do, that I do not; what I would not do, that I do.” Disappointment over the failure of his latest plan, together with sorrow over the death of his own son, set him on fire within and produced dysentery.
The rich man’s daughter gave orders, saying: “Should anyone come here from the rich man, tell me before you tell the rich man’s son.”
When the rich man’s daughter heard that the servant had arrived and was standing at the door, she sent for him and asked him: “What is it, my man?” – “The rich man is sick and wishes to see his son, and has therefore sent for him, my lady.” – “My man, is he strong or weak?” – “He is still strong, my lady, and able to take nourishment.” Without letting the rich man’s son know, she ordered that the man should be given lodging and expenses and said to him: “You may go when I send you. Remain here for the present.”
Again the rich man addressed the official: “Uncle, did you not send a messenger to my son?” – “I did, master, but the man who went has not yet returned.” – “Well then, try again and send another.” So the official sent another man, and the rich man’s daughter treated him just as she had the first. The rich man’s condition grew worse; one chamber-pot went in and another came out. Again the rich man asked the official: “Uncle, did you not send a messenger to my son?” – “I did, master, but the man who went has not yet returned.” – “Well then, try again and send another.” So the official sent another man. When the third messenger arrived, the rich man’s daughter asked him the news. “The rich man is a very sick man, my lady. He refuses to eat and is confined to his bed. One chamber-pot comes out and another goes in.”
“Now it is time to go,” thought the rich man’s daughter. So she said to the rich man’s son: “I learn that your father is sick.” – “Wife, what say you?” – “It may be only a slight ailment, husband.” – “What is to be done now?”
At that moment the rich man was lying on his back and the official was rubbing his feet. The latter said to him: “Master, your son has arrived.” – “Where is he?” – “Here he is, standing at your feet.” When the rich man saw his son, he sent for the receiver of his revenues and asked him: “How much wealth is there in my house?” – “Master, of money alone there are four hundred millions; as for objects for employment and enjoyment, such as villages and fields and men and animals and wagons and carriages, such and such is the total.” It was the rich man’s intention to say: “All of this wealth I do not give to my son Ghosaka.” But instead of this he said: “I do give.”
When the rich man’s daughter heard this, she thought to herself: “However, if this man should speak again, he might say something very different.” Accordingly, pretending to be overcome with grief, she disheveled her hair, burst into tears, and said: “Dear father, do you really mean this? In spite of these words of yours, which we hear, we are indeed unfortunate.” So saying, she fell on him, struck the middle of his breast with the crown of her head, and in order that he might not be able to speak again, rubbed the middle of his breast with the crown of her head, displaying at the same time signs of profound grief. At that very moment the rich man died.
They went and informed King Udena of his death. The king had the funeral ceremonies performed over his body and asked: “Has he any son or daughter?” – “Your majesty, he has a son named Ghosaka; and, your majesty, he bestowed all his property on him before he died.” Some time afterwards, the king sent for the rich man’s son. Now that day it rained, and there were pools of water here and there in the palace court. The rich man’s son set out to see the king. The king opened his window and watched him as he approached, noticing that as he crossed the palace court he leaped over the pools of water that stood in the court. When he reached the palace and worshipped the king and stood before him, the king asked him: “Your name is Ghosaka?” – “Yes, your majesty.” The king comforted him, saying: “Do not grieve at the thought that your father is dead. I will give you alone your father’s post as rich man.” Then he dismissed him, saying: “Now, dear Ghosaka, you may go,” and stood and watched him as he left the palace.
Now whereas Ghosaka leaped over the water in approaching the palace, he walked through it on his return. The king sent orders for
The rich man’s daughter sat talking with the slave-woman Kāḷī.
Having performed his ceremonial circuit of the city, Ghosaka entered his house. Now when his wife saw him, she thought to herself: “It was through me that he obtained all this worldly glory,” and laughed. The rich man’s son asked her: “Why do you laugh?” – “For a certain reason.” – “Tell me the reason.” She refused to do so. He drew his sword and said: “If you do not tell me, I will cut you in twain.” Then she said: “I laughed to think that it was through me that you obtained all this worldly glory.” – “If what I possess was handed over to me by my father, where do you come in?” We are told that during all that time Ghosaka knew nothing about the designs against his life, and that that was why he refused to believe what she said.
So she told him the whole story, saying: “When your father sent you forth bearing your own death-warrant, I did this and that and protected you.”
“What you say is not true,” replied Ghosaka, refusing to believe her. “I will ask Mother Kāḷī.” So he asked the slave-woman: “Kāḷī,
When Ghosaka heard this, he thought to himself: “How great was my presumption! But since I have escaped from so terrible a death, I must no longer live the life of heedlessness. Henceforth, therefore, I will live the life of heedfulness.” Accordingly he established alms for the blind and the poor, and employing his friend the householder as steward of his alms, he dispensed a thousand coins daily.
Part 3. Birth and Youthful Career of Sāmāvatī BG: This story relates the circumstances under which Sāmāvatī became one of the queen-consorts of Udena. Similar in all respects is the story of Pradyota and Śāntā (Sāmāvatī) in the Kandjur. See A. Schiefner, Mahākātjājana und König Tshanḍa-Pradjota: v, Epidemie zu Udshdshajinī (pp. 14-17).
Now at this time there lived in the city of Bhaddavatī a rich man named Bhaddavatiya, and he was a friend of the rich man Ghosaka, although Ghosaka had never seen him. For the rich man Ghosaka heard, from traders who came from the city of Bhaddavatī, of the wealth and age of the rich man Bhaddavatiya, and desiring to be friends with him, sent him a present. Likewise the rich man Bhaddavatiya heard, from traders who came from the city of Kosambī, of the wealth and age of the rich man Ghosaka, and desiring to be friends with him, sent him a present. Thus, although neither had seen the other, they dwelt as friends.
After a time snake-wind disease broke out in the house of the rich man Bhaddavatiya. When this disease breaks out, the first to die are flies; afterwards, in regular order, insects, mice, domestic fowls, swine, cattle, slaves both female and male, and last of all the members of the household. Only those that break down the wall and flee, save their lives. Now at that time the rich man Bhaddavatiya and his wife and daughter fled in this manner, and intending to seek the rich man Ghosaka,
Then the rich man said to his wife: “Wife, those who travel in this
On the following day, when meal-time was announced and the blind, the poor, and other unfortunate persons went to obtain food, the mother and father sent forth their daughter, saying: “Daughter, go bring us food.” So the daughter of a wealthy house, pride overcome with misfortune, hid her shame, took a bowl, and went with poor folk to procure food. “How many portions will you have?” she was asked. “Three,” she replied. So they gave her three portions.
She carried the food back to her parents, and the three sat down to eat together. The mother and daughter said to the rich man: “Master, misfortune comes even to prominent families. Eat without regarding us and do not worry.” After a good deal of urging, they prevailed upon him to eat. But after he had eaten, he was unable to digest his food, and when the sun rose, he died. The mother and daughter wept and wailed and lamented.
On the following day the young girl went the second time to procure food. “How many portions will you have?”
The young girl, left alone to herself, wept and wailed and lamented over the misfortune that had come upon her. On the following day, suffering the pangs of hunger keenly, she went weeping in the company of beggars to procure food. “How many portions will you have, daughter?” – “One,” was her reply.
A householder named Mitta, remembering that she had received food for three days, said to her: “Perish, vile woman. Today, at last, you have come to know the capacity of your belly.” This daughter of a respectable family, modest and timid, felt as though she had received a sword-thrust in her bosom, or as though salt water had been sprinkled on a sore. She immediately replied: “What do you mean, sir?” – “Day before yesterday you took three portions, yesterday two, today you take but one. Today, then, you know the capacity of your belly.” – “Sir, do not think that I took these for myself.” – “Why then did you take them?” – “Sir, the day before yesterday we were
She then told him the whole story from the beginning. As he listened to her story, he was unable to control his tears, but was overcome by the power of the grief that arose within him. Finally he said to her: “My dear girl, if this is the case, do not worry. Hitherto you have been the daughter of the rich man Bhaddavatiya, but from this day forth you shall be my very own daughter.” And he kissed her on the head, conducted her to his own house, and adopted her as his own oldest daughter.
One day she heard loud and piercing screams in the refectory, whereupon she said to her foster-father: “Father, why do you not keep these people quiet when you dispense alms?” – “It is impossible to do it, dear daughter.” – “Father, it is quite possible.” – “How would you do it, dear daughter?” – “Father,
Now the rich man Ghosaka had long been accustomed to hear this noise in the refectory and rather liked to hear it; for it always made him think: “That is the noise in my refectory.” But after hearing no noise at all for two or three days, he asked the householder Mitta, who came one day to wait upon him: “Are alms being given to the blind, the poor, and other unfortunate persons?” – “Yes, sir.” – “How then does it happen that for two or three days past I have not heard a sound?” – “I have arranged matters so that the people now receive alms without making any noise.” – “Why didn’t you do so before?” – “I didn’t know how, sir.” – “How did you happen to find a way just now?” – “My daughter told me how to do it, sir.” – “Have you a daughter whom I have never seen?” Then the householder told him the whole story of the rich man Bhaddavatiya, beginning with the outbreak of the snake-wind disease and ending with his adoption of the young girl as his own oldest daughter.
Then said the rich man to him: “If this is the case, why did you
One day a festival was proclaimed in this city. Now at this festival daughters of respectable families, who do not ordinarily go out, go on foot with their own retinue
King Udena stood at his window and saw her. “Whose are those dancing girls?” he enquired. “Nobody’s dancing girls, your majesty.” – “Then whose daughters are they?” – “Your majesty, that is the daughter of the rich man Bhaddavatiya, and her name is Sāmāvatī.” Now the king fell in love with the girl the moment he saw her, and immediately sent word to the rich man Ghosaka: “Send me the maiden they say is your daughter.” – “I will not send her, your majesty.” – “Do not act thus. Do as I ask and send her.” – “Your majesty, we householders do not give young girls, for fear people will say they are abused and maltreated.” Angered by the rich man’s reply, the king caused the rich man’s house to be sealed and the rich man and his wife to be seized and turned out of doors.
When Sāmāvatī returned after her bath and found no way of entering the house, she asked: “What does this mean, dear father?” – “Dear daughter, the king sent for you; and when we refused to give you to him, he caused the house to be sealed and caused us to be turned out of doors.” – “Dear father, you made a great mistake. When one who is a king commands, you should not say: ‘We do not give.’ You should rather say: ‘If you will take our daughter with her retinue, we will give her to you.’” – “Very well, dear daughter. If that is your desire, I will do as you say.” Accordingly Ghosaka sent a message to that effect to the king, and the king accepted his offer, saying: “Very well.” Then the king conducted Sāmāvatī with her retinue to the royal palace, conferred the ceremonial sprinkling on her, and elevated her to the dignity of chief consort. The other women became her ladies-in-waiting.
Part 4. Winning of Vāsuladattā by Udena BG: This story relates the capture of Udena by Caṇḍapajjota and the winning of Vāsuladattā by Udena. Close parallels to this story occur in the Kathāsaritsāgara and Kandjur. See Kathāsaritsāgara, frame-story of chapters xi-xiv; and Schiefner, Mahākātjājana, xv, Udajana’s Gefangennehmung und Rettung (pp. 35-40). The same story is related very briefly by Buddhaghosa in his Commentary on MN 85 (see Lacôte, p. 251).
Yet another of Udena’s queen-consorts was Vāsuladattā,
So the king had a mechanical elephant made of wood, wrapped about with strips of cloth and deftly painted, and turned it loose on the bank of a certain lake near the country of his enemy. Within the belly of the elephant sixty men walked back and forth; every now and then they loaded their shovels with elephant dung and dumped it out. A certain woodman saw the elephant, and thinking to himself: “Just the thing for our king!” went and told the king: “Your majesty, I saw a noble elephant, pure white even as the peak of Kelasa, just the sort of elephant your majesty would like.”
Udena mounted his elephant and set out, taking the woodman along as a guide and accompanied by his retinue. His approach was
Caṇḍa Pajjota, having thus captured Udena alive, clapped him into prison behind closed doors and celebrated for three days. On the third day Udena asked his keepers: “Friends, where’s your king?” – “Carousing, for, says he: ‘I’ve landed my enemy.’” – “What does your king mean by acting like a woman? He has captured a royal adversary and surely he ought either to release him or to kill him. He has brought humiliation upon us and is ‘carousing’– indeed!” The keepers went and reported the incident to the king. The king came and asked: “Is it true that you said thus and thus?” – “Yes, your majesty.” – “Very well, I will release you. They say you have such and such a charm; will you give it to me?” – “Certainly I will give it to you; but when you receive it, will you pay me homage?” – “I pay you homage? I’ll not pay you homage.” – “Then I’ll not give it to you.”
When the king heard Udena’s defiant answer, he thought to himself: “How in the world can I get the charm? I have it. I’ll have my daughter learn it from him, and then I’ll learn it from her. It would never do to let anyone else learn a charm like this.” So he said to Udena: “Will you divulge the charm to another, if the other will pay you homage?” – “Yes, your majesty.” – “Well then, we have in our house a hunchbacked woman. She will sit behind a curtain; you remain outside and have her repeat the charm.” – “Be she hunchback or cripple, I will teach her the charm, provided she will pay me homage.”
Then the king went to his daughter Vāsuladattā and said: “Dear daughter, there is a certain leper who knows a priceless charm. You sit behind a curtain, and he will remain outside and repeat it to you. You get it from him, for it would never do to let anyone else learn it, and then I will get it from you.” After this sort, for fear of their making love, did Caṇḍa Pajjota feign that his daughter was a hunchback and Udena a leper. So Vāsuladattā seated herself behind a curtain, and Udena remained outside and caused her to repeat the charm.
One day Udena repeated the words of the charm over and over again to Vāsuladattā, but the latter was unable to reproduce it correctly. Thereupon Udena cried out: “Dunce of a hunchback, your lips are too
Now one day Udena said to Vāsuladattā: “My dear, a husband can do that which neither father nor mother nor brothers nor sisters can do. If you will save my life, I will give you a retinue of five hundred women and make you my chief consort.” – “If you will carry out your promise without fail, I will save your life.” – “My dear, I will do so without fail.” – “Very well, husband.”
So she went to her father, saluted him, and stood respectfully on one side. Her father asked her: “Daughter, is your task completed?” – “Not quite completed, father.” – “What do you require, daughter?” – “We must have at our disposal a door and a mount, father.” – “Why this request?” – “Father, this is what my teacher says: ‘In order to work the charm, a certain medicinal herb is necessary, and this must be obtained at night at a time indicated by the stars.’
Now the king was possessed of the five conveyances: a female elephant named Bhaddavatī, which could travel fifty leagues a day; a slave named Kāka, who could travel sixty leagues a day; two mares, Celakaṇṭhī and Muñjakesī, which could travel a hundred leagues a day; and an elephant named Nālāgiri, which could travel 120 leagues a day.
Story of the Past: Caṇḍa Pajjota Wins the Five Conveyances
It seems that before the appearance in the world of the present Buddha, the king had been the servitor of a certain ruler. Now one
Now when this ruler
At the mere word of his master the servitor set out, obtained the bowl, and brought it back. The ruler filled the bowl with his own food and said: “Convey this to his reverence with all speed. I make over to you the merit of this action.” The servitor went quickly, gave the bowl to the Paccekabuddha, saluted him with the five limbs, and said to him: “Venerable Sir, the time is short. I went and returned with the greatest possible speed. As the fruit of this speed, may I obtain the five conveyances able to travel fifty, sixty, a hundred, and a hundred and twenty leagues a day respectively. As I returned and went, my body was heated by the rays of the sun. As the fruit of this, in the various places where I shall be reborn, may I possess authority equal to the power of the rays of the sun. My master has
May you succeed in all that you
desire and wish for; may all your
intentions be fulfilled,
like the moon on the fifteenth day.
May you succeed quickly in what
you desire and wish for; may all
your intentions be fulfilled, like
a wish-fulfilling gem.
This was the king’s deed in a previous state of existence. He was now Caṇḍa Pajjota, and in consequence of this deed he came to possess these five conveyances.
Now one day the king went out to amuse himself in the garden. “Now’s the time to flee,” thought Udena. So he filled several big leather sacks with gold and silver coins, placed the sacks on the back of the female elephant, assisted Vāsuladattā to mount, and away they went. The harem guards saw what was happening and went and told the king. The king sent out a force in pursuit. “Go quickly,” he said. When Udena perceived that a force had set out in pursuit, he opened a sack of gold and scattered the coins along the way. His pursuers stopped to pick up the coins and then hurried along. Then he opened a sack of silver and scattered the coins along the way. While his pursuers delayed because of their greed for silver,
Part 5. Rejection of Māgandiyā by the Buddha This story (cf. Dhp-a 14.1) relates the Buddha’s rejection of Māgandiyā’s offer of his daughter in marriage. The source of this story is Snp 4.9, or some derivative thereof. A close parallel is Divyāvadāna, xxxvi, part 1, pp. 515-529. For a Sanskrit parallel from Eastern Turkestan, see A. F. R. Hoernle, JRAS., 1916, pp. 709 ff.
Still another maiden who gained the dignity of chief consort of the king was Māgandiyā. She, we are told, was the daughter of the Brahmin Māgandiya, who lived in the Kuru country, her mother also bore the name Māgandiyā and her father’s younger brother likewise bore the name Māgandiya. She was as beautiful as an Accharā. Now her father was unable to find a husband who was worthy of her; and although scions of all the great families in the country asked for her hand, her father sent them all away, reviling them and saying: “You are not worthy of my daughter.”
Now one day, as the Teacher surveyed the world at early dawn, he perceived that the Brahmin Māgandiya and his wife possessed the supporting conditions for the attainment of the fruition of Non-returning.
The Brahmin went home quickly and said to his wife: “Wife! Wife! I saw a man who is worthy of our daughter. Hurry! Hurry! Dress her in her beautiful garments.” So the Brahmin had his daughter dressed in her beautiful garments, and taking daughter and wife with him, went to the Teacher. The whole city was agitated. “All this time,” said the people, “this man has said of every suitor: ‘He is not suitable for my daughter,’ and has refused to give her to anyone. But it is reported that he has said: ‘Today I saw a man who is suitable for my daughter.’ What manner of man can he be? Let us go see him.” So a great throng of people went out of the city with him.
Now when the Brahmin set out with his daughter, the Teacher, instead of remaining in the place mentioned by the Brahmin, moved away from that place and took his stand in another place, leaving a footprint.
When the Buddhas establish a footprint, it appears only in a trodden place and not elsewhere, and only those for whom it is established can see it. Let elephants or other wild animals tread upon a footprint of the Buddhas to render it invisible, or let a violent storm pour forth rain upon it, or let the roaring winds beat upon it, yet not one of them can obliterate it.
Now the Brahmin’s wife said to the Brahmin: “Where is this man?” The Brahmin replied: “I said to him: ‘Remain in this place.’ Where can he possibly have gone?” He looked all about, and seeing his footprint, said: “Here is his
The foot of a lustful man will be on tip-toes,
of a hateful man it is severly pressed down,
the foot of the deluded man is dragged along,
this is the foot of one who has rolled back the veil.
Then the Brahmin said to her: “Wife, you are always seeing crocodiles in the water-vessel and thieves hiding in the house. Be still.” – “Brahmin, you may say what you like, but this is no footprint of one who follows the five lusts.”
Just then the Brahmin looked around and saw the Teacher. “There is the man!” he said. Thereupon the Brahmin went to him and said: “Ascetic, I give you my daughter to cherish and support.” The Teacher, instead of saying: “I have need of your daughter,” or “I have no need of your daughter,” said to him: “Brahmin, I have something to say to you.” – “Say it, ascetic,” replied the Brahmin. Thereupon the Teacher told him how Māra had pursued him from the time of the Great Renunciation to the time of the session under the Goatherd’s Banyan tree, and how, when Māra seated himself under the Goatherd’s Banyan tree, overcome with sorrow at the thought: “Now this man has escaped from my power,” Māra’s daughters came to assuage their father’s sorrow and endeavored to seduce him by appearing before him in the forms of women both young and old.
Having seen Taṇhā and Aratī and Ragā, AJ: these are the personified names of Māra’s daughters, they mean Craving, Discontent, and Passion.
I had no desire for sexual intercourse.
What is this, so full of urine and exrement?
I do not want to touch it even with my foot!
At the conclusion of the verse the Brahmin and his wife were established in the fruition of Non-returning.
As for Māgandiyā, she said to herself: “If this man has no need of me, it is perfectly proper for him to say so, but he declares me to be full of urine and exrement. Very well! By virtue of the fact that I possess birth, lineage, social position, wealth, and the charm of youth, I shall obtain a husband who is my equal, and then I shall know what ought to be done to the ascetic Gotama.” And then and there she conceived hatred towards the Teacher.
Did the Teacher know, or did he not know, that she had conceived hatred towards him? He knew. If he knew, why did he pronounce the verse? For the sake of the other two. For the Buddhas take no account of hatred directed against them, but teach the Dhamma solely for the sake of those who are worthy to attain the paths and the fruitions.
Her mother and father took her and committed her to the charge of her uncle Culla Māgandiya, and then went forth and attained Arahatship. Culla Māgandiya thought to himself:
Thus the king had three chief consorts with a retinue of fifteen hundred dancing girls.
The Rich Men, Bhikkhus, and a Tree Devatā
Now at this time there were living in Kosambī three rich men, Ghosaka, Kukkuṭa, and Pāvāriya. As the beginning of the rainy season drew near, these men saw five hundred ascetics who had returned from the Himālaya country going the round of the city for alms. With joyful hearts they provided them with seats, offered them food, and obtaining from them a promise to reside with them, they provided them with lodging in their own homes during the four months of the rains. Then, having obtained from them a promise to return and spend the following rainy season with them, they let them go. From that time forth, after the ascetics had resided for eight months in the Himālayas, they kept residence during the four months of the rains with the three rich men.
On a later occasion, as the ascetics were on their way back from the Himālayas, they saw a certain great banyan tree in a forest retreat and went and sat down at the foot of it. The oldest ascetic thought to himself: “The Devatā who resides in this tree cannot be mundane. There must be a Deva-king of great power here.
Then this thought occurred to the ascetic: “This Deva-king gives
The Tree Devatā’s Former Deed
The Tree Devatā, it appears, was once a poor man who sought and obtained work for hire from Anāthapiṇḍika and through him made a living. Now one Observance Day Anāthapiṇḍika asked on his return from the monastery: “Has anyone told this laborer that today is the Observance Day?” – “He has not been told, master.” – “Well then, cook him his supper.” So they cooked him a measure of rice. Now the laborer had worked all day in the forest, and when he returned in the evening, he said: “I am hungry.” But when the rice had been prepared and given to him, all of a sudden he refused to eat. “On other days,” he thought to himself, “there is a great uproar in this house: ‘Give me rice, give me sauce, give me curry,’ but today all have lain down without making a sound, and they have prepared food for me alone. What can this mean?”
So he asked them: “Have the rest eaten?” – “They have not eaten.” – “Why?” – “In this house people eat no supper on the Observance Days;
Now the laborer had worked all day long and was hungry, and the result was that the humors of his body became disordered. He bound a girth about his body, and holding the end of the girth in his hand,
Therefore the tree Devatā explained the matter as follows: “The rich man was devoted to the Buddha, devoted to the Dhamma, devoted to the Saṅgha; and it was through him, and in consequence of the merit I earned by keeping half of the Observance Day, that I obtained this power.” When the five hundred ascetics heard the name “Buddha,” they arose and stretched out their hands in an attitude of reverent supplication to the Devatā and said: “Say ‘Buddha.’” Three times they caused the Devatā to confess his faith by repeating the formula: “I say ‘Buddha.’” Then they breathed forth the solemn utterance: “This is an utterance difficult to obtain in this world,” and said in conclusion: “Devatā, you have permitted us to hear a sound we have not heard for many 100,000 aeons of time.”
Then the pupils addressed their teacher as follows: “Well then, let us go to the Teacher.” – “Friends, we have three rich men who are generous benefactors of ours. Tomorrow we will receive food in their residence, tell them also what we have heard, and go. Give your consent, friends.” Thereupon they gave their consent. On the following day the rich men caused rice-porridge to be prepared and seats to be provided. And knowing that the ascetics would arrive on that day, they went forth and met them, escorted them to their residence, provided them with seats, and gave them food. When the ascetics had finished their meal, they said: “Rich men, we are going away.” – “Venerable Sirs,
“In the world the Buddha has appeared, the Dhamma has appeared, the Saṅgha has appeared. We are therefore going to see the Teacher.”
So they went on ahead, and seeing the Sambuddha, praised him, worshipped him, and sat down respectfully on one side. Then the Teacher taught the Dhamma to them in orderly sequence, and at the conclusion of his discourse all of them attained Arahatship, together with the analytic knowledges. Thereupon they asked to be given the going forth. “Come, bhikkhus!” said the Teacher. As soon as he spoke the word, they became full-fledged bhikkhus, possessed of bowls and robes created by psychic power.
Those three rich men procured the requisites for alms, consisting of garments, coverlets, ghee, honey, molasses, and so forth, and conveying five hundred cartloads apiece, proceeded to Sāvatthī. On reaching Sāvatthī, they worshipped the Teacher, listened to a discourse on the Dhamma, and at the conclusion of the discourse were established in Stream-entry. For a fortnight they resided with the Teacher, bestowing alms, and then invited the Teacher to come to Kosambī. As the Teacher gave his promise,
When the rich men had erected these three monasteries, they sent word to the Teacher to come and visit them. The Teacher, receiving their message, went there; whereupon they came forth to meet him, escorted him to the monasteries, and waited upon him by turns. The Teacher resided one day in each monastery and always went to receive alms at the door of the house of the particular rich man in whose monastery he resided. Now these three rich men had a servitor named Sumana, and he was a gardener. He said to the rich men: “I have been a servitor of yours for a long time, and I should like to entertain the Teacher. Let me have the Teacher all to myself for just one day.” – “Well then,” said they, “entertain him tomorrow.” – “Very well, masters,” he replied, invited the Teacher, and made ready the usual honors.
Conversion of Sāmāvatī by Khujjuttarā
Now at that time King Udena was in the habit of giving Queen Sāmāvatī eight coins every day to buy flowers with. A maidservant of the queen named Khujjuttarā went regularly every day to the gardener Sumana and procured the flowers. When she came on that particular day, the gardener said to her: “I have invited the Teacher to be my guest and shall use my flowers today to honor the Teacher. You just wait, join with me in attendance on the Buddha, and listen to the Dhamma. Then you may take with you the flowers that remain.”
On previous days she had been in the habit of appropriating to her own use four coins and of buying flowers with the other four; but on that day, spending all eight to buy flowers with, she returned with them. Sāmāvatī said to her: “My good woman, did the king give us twice as much money today to buy flowers with?” – “No, my lady.” – “Then why so many flowers?” – “On previous days I kept four coins for myself and brought you only so many flowers as I could buy for four coins.” – “Why didn’t you take the money today?” – “Because I heard the Sambuddha’s discourse on the Dhamma and acquired understanding of the Dhamma.”
The queen did not revile her and say: “You wretched slave, give me back the coins you have stolen during all this time.” Instead she said to her: “My good woman, you have drunk the Deathless. Give me thereof to drink also.” – “Well then,” replied Khujjuttarā, “order that a bath be prepared for me.” So the queen had her bathed with sixteen bowls of scented water and presented her with garments of fine cloth. One of these garments she caused her to put on as an undergarment, the other she caused to be thrown over her shoulder; then she had a seat prepared for her. Khujjuttarā thereupon sat down, took in her hand a painted fan, and addressing the five hundred women, taught the Dhamma to them just as the Teacher had taught it. Then all of them worshipped Khujjuttarā
Now those five hundred women said to her: “Woman, we should like to see the Teacher. Show him to us, that we may honor him with perfumes, garlands, and so forth.” – “My lady, it is a serious matter to live in a king’s house. You have obtained access to it, but it is impossible for you to leave it.” – “Woman, do not destroy us. Let us see the Teacher.” – “Well then, make holes in the walls of your rooms large enough to look through. Then bring perfumes and garlands, and when the Teacher goes to the door of the house of the three rich men, stand in your several places and look out and stretch forth your hands and worship him and honor him.” They followed her directions, and when the Teacher went and returned, they looked out and worshipped him and honored him.
Part 6. Death of Sāmāvatī and of Māgandiyā BG: This story relates the compassing of Sāmāvatī’s death by Māgandiyā. A close parallel to this story is Divyāvadāna, xxxvi, part 2, pp. 529-544. Brief outlines of the story occur in Buddhaghosa’s Visuddhimagga, xii. 169., and in Schiefner, Lehensbeschreibung Śākjamunis (from the Kandjur), p. 47 (247). The burning of Sāmāvatī and her five hundred women is the subject of Ud 8.10. Dhp-a quotes the Udāna passage word for word.
Now one day Māgandiyā came forth from her own mansion and walked along until she came to the place where those women lived. Seeing a hole in a room, she asked: “What is this?” The women, not knowing of the hatred she had conceived towards the Teacher, said:
Unable to do anything to them, Māgandiyā thought to herself: “At any rate I will do to the ascetic Gotama what ought to be done.” So she bribed the citizens and said to them: “When the ascetic Gotama comes into the city and walks about, instigate slaves to revile him and abuse him and drive him out of the city.” So sectarians who did not believe in the Three Jewels followed the Teacher about when he entered the city and shouted at him: “You are a thief,
Venerable Ānanda heard this and said to the Teacher: “Venerable Sir, these citizens are reviling and abusing us. Let us go elsewhere.” – “Where shall we go, Ānanda?” – “To some other city, venerable Sir.” – “If men revile us there, where shall we go then, Ānanda?” – “To yet another city, venerable Sir.” – “If men revile us there, where shall we go then?” – “To still another city, venerable Sir.” – “Ānanda, one should not speak thus. Where a difficulty arises, right there it should be settled. Only under those circumstances is it permissible to go elsewhere. But who are reviling you, Ānanda?” – “Venerable Sir, everyone is reviling us, slaves and all.” – “Ānanda, I am like an elephant that has entered the fray. Even as it is the duty of an elephant that has entered the fray to withstand the arrows which come from the four quarters, precisely so it is my duty to endure with patience the words spoken by many wicked men.” So saying, he taught the Dhamma with reference to himself by pronouncing the following three verses in the Chapter about the Elephant: BG: Dhp 320-322.
Dhp 320. Like an elephant in battle
endures an arrow shot from bow,
so will I endure abuse, for
many people are unvirtuous.
Dhp 321. They lead one trained into a crowd,
a king mounts one who has been trained,
amongst humans one trained is best,
the one who can endure abuse.
Dhp 322. Noble are the well-trained horses,
the well-bred horses from Sindh,
and the great tusker elephants,
and even more noble than that
is the one who has trained himself.
This discourse benefited the assembled multitude. When the Teacher had thus taught the Dhamma, he said: “Ānanda, be not disturbed. These men will revile you for only seven days, and on the
When Māgandiyā had failed in her attempt to drive the Teacher out of the city by abusing him, she thought to herself: “Pray what can I do now?” Then the thought occurred to her: “These women are his supporters. I will destroy them.” Accordingly one day, while King Udena was drinking strong drink and she was waiting upon him, she sent the following message to her uncle: “Let my uncle come with eight dead cocks and eight live cocks. Having arrived, let him stand at the top of the stairs and announce his arrival. When he hears the word ‘Enter’, let him not enter, but send in first the eight live cocks and afterwards the others.” And she gave a bribe to the page, saying: “Be sure to carry out my orders.”
Māgandiya came and announced himself to the king. When, however, he heard the word ‘Enter’, he said: “I will not enter the king’s drinking-place.”
Māgandiyā said: “You see, great king? Now you shall find out whether or not they really take the life of living creatures. Your majesty, send word to them: ‘Cook them and send them to the ascetic Gotama.’” So the king sent this message to them. But the page, while pretending to carry the live cocks to the women, in reality went and gave those cocks to the Brahmin chaplain and carried the eight dead cocks to the women, saying: “Cook these cocks and send them to the Teacher.” – “This, to be sure, is our duty,” said the women in reply, and going to meet him, they received the cocks. When the page returned to the king and the latter asked him: “What was the result, boy?” he gave the king the following report: “The moment I
Now at this time the king was accustomed to divide his time equally among his three consorts, Sāmāvatī, Vāsuladattā, and Māgandiyā, spending seven days by turns in the apartment of each. Māgandiyā, knowing that he would go on the morrow or on the day after to the apartment of Sāmāvatī, sent word to her uncle: “Send me a snake, first washing its fangs with a poisonous drug.” He did as she told him to and sent her a snake. Now wherever the king went, he was accustomed to take with him his lute for charming elephants, and in the shell of this lute was a hole. Māgandiyā inserted the snake in the hole and stopped the hole with a bunch of flowers; for two or three days the snake remained within the lute.
On the day when the king was to go to Sāmāvatī’s apartment, Māgandiyā asked him: “To whose apartment will you go today, your majesty?” – “To Sāmāvatī’s apartment.” Said Māgandiyā: “Your majesty, today I had a bad dream; you must not go there.” – “I am going all the same.” Three times she tried to dissuade him from going and failed. Finally she said: “In that case I will go too.” In spite of the king’s protests she went with him, saying: “Your majesty, I do not know what will happen to you.”
The king, wearing garments, flowers, perfumes, and ornaments given him by Sāmāvatī and her followers, ate heartily, and then placed his lute by his pillow and lay down on the bed. Māgandiyā, pretending to be merely walking back and forth, removed the bunch of flowers from the opening in the lute; whereupon the snake, which had been without food for two or three days, glided from the opening, hissed, raised his hood, and coiled himself up on the top of the bed.
When the king saw the snake, he was terrified with the fear of death, the fire of anger was kindled within him, and he said: “So this is the sort of thing they are capable of doing! What criminals they are! Yet I would not believe Māgandiyā when she told me of their wicked nature. First they made holes in the walls of their own rooms and sat there; again, when I sent the cocks to them, they sent them back; today they have let a snake loose in my bed.”
Sāmāvatī delivered the following admonition to her five hundred women: “Friends, we have no other refuge. Cherish precisely the same feelings towards the king and the queen as you do towards yourselves. Be not angry with anyone.” The king took his horn-bow, which required a thousand men to string, twanged the bowstring, fitted a poisoned arrow to the string, and placing Sāmāvatī in front
The king thought to himself: “The arrow I shot is capable of piercing even a rock, and there was nothing in the air to make it turn back. But it turned and came back by the same path it went. Indeed this senseless, lifeless arrow knows her goodness, but I, who am a human being, know it not.” And throwing the bow away and stretching forth his hands in an attitude of reverent supplication, he knelt before Sāmāvatī’s feet and pronounced the following verse:
I am bewildered, befuddled,
all the quarters bewilder me,
Sāmāvatī, please protect me,
you must be a refuge to me.
Sāmāvatī, hearing his words, instead of saying: “Very well, your majesty, seek refuge in me,” said: “Great king, in whom I have sought refuge, in him do you also seek refuge.”
Having thus spoken, Sāmāvatī, disciple of the Sambuddha, said:
Do not go for refuge to me,
to whom I have gone for refuge,
he is the Buddha, O Great King,
he is the Buddha unsurpassed,
go for refuge to the Buddha,
and be a refuge unto me!
The king said: “Now I am the more afraid,” and pronounced the following verse:
This is even more befuddling,
all the quarters bewilder me,
Sāmāvatī, please protect me,
you must be a refuge to me.
But she refused him precisely as before. Finally he said: “Well then, I seek refuge in you and in the Teacher, and I grant you a boon.” – “I accept the boon, great king,” she replied.
The king approached the Teacher, sought refuge in him, invited him to accept his hospitality, and for seven days gave generous alms. Then, addressing Sāmāvatī, he said: “Rise and take your choice.” Sāmāvatī replied: “Great king, I have no need of gold and silver, but grant me this boon. Arrange matters so that the Teacher may come here regularly with his five hundred bhikkhus, so that I may hear the Dhamma.”
So the king worshipped the Teacher and said: “Venerable Sir, come here regularly with your five hundred bhikkhus. Sāmāvatī and her attendants say they wish to hear the Dhamma.” The Teacher replied: “Great king, the Buddhas may not always go to one place; many desire their presence.” – “Well then, direct one bhikkhu to come.” The Teacher directed the Elder Ānanda to go. So Ānanda went every day to the royal palace with five hundred bhikkhus, and those women every day provided the elder with food and listened to the Dhamma.
One day, after they had listened to the elder’s discourse on the Dhamma, their hearts were filled with joy, and they rendered honor to the elder by presenting him with five hundred yellow upper robes,
“Venerable Sir, although all these are given to your reverences, nothing is lost.” – “Quite so, great king.” The king was so pleased that he caused five hundred more robes to be brought and placed at the elder’s feet.
We are told that robes worth five hundred coins
Burning of Sāmāvatī and Punishment of Māgandiyā
Māgandiyā thought to herself: “Whatever I do turns out otherwise than I expect. What shall I do now?” Finally she decided on a plan. On her way to the garden to amuse herself, she sent the following message to her uncle: “Go to Sāmāvatī’s palace, open the linen-closets and the oil-closets, soak pieces of cloth in the jars of oil, and wrap these cloths about the pillars. Then assemble all the women within the house, close the door, bar it from without, set fire to the house with torches, and then descend and go your way.”
Māgandiya went up into the palace,
Sāmāvatī delivered the following admonition to her followers: “It
Therefore it is said: BG: Ud 7.10.
Now a large number of bhikkhus, returning from their almsround after breakfast, drew near to where the Fortunate One was, and having drawn near, worshipped the Fortunate One and sat down reverently on one side. And as they sat there on one side, those bhikkhus said this to the Fortunate One: “Here, venerable Sir, while King Udena was in his pleasure-garden, the quarters of his women were consumed with fire, and five hundred women led by Sāmāvatī lost their lives. Venerable Sir, what will be the end, what will be the future state of these female lay disciples?”
“Bhikkhus, some of these female lay disciples
The world, bonded to delusion,
is seen as being beautiful,
the fool, in bondage to cleaving,
is surrounded by darkness.
it seems like it is eternal,
for one who sees, there is nothing.
So saying, he taught the Dhamma, saying: “Bhikkhus, as living beings pass through the round of existences, they are not always heedful, and sometimes they commit wrong. Therefore as they pass through the round of existences, they experience both pleasure and pain.”
When the king heard the cry: “Sāmāvatī’s house is on fire!” he went there quickly, but the house was burned before he could reach it. “Having extinguished the flames, he sat down surrounded by his retinue of courtiers, overwhelmed with profound grief, and recalled to his mind the virtues of Sāmāvatī. “Who could have done this deed?” he thought. Coming to the conclusion that Māgandiyā was the author of the crime, he thought to himself: “If I frighten her by my questions, she will not tell me. Therefore I will employ craft and question her gently.”
Accordingly he said to his ministers: “Well, until this moment, no matter what I was engaged in or occupied with, I was apprehensive and suspicious; Sāmāvatī was ever seeking occasion to slay me. But now my mind will rest in peace, and I shall be able to lie down to sleep in security.” – “Who was it that did this deed, your majesty?” – “Someone who really loved me must have done it.” Now Māgandiyā happened to be standing near, and when she heard the king say this, she said: “None other than I could have done this. I alone did it. I sent word to my uncle and ordered him to do it.” – “Except you, there is not a living being who really loves me. I am delighted. I grant you a boon. Send for all of your relatives.”
So Māgandiyā sent the following message to her relatives: “The king is pleased with me and has granted me a boon. Come immediately.” The king rendered high honor to all those who came, insomuch that even persons who were in no way related to Māgandiyā, hearing about it, gave bribes and came and said: “We are relatives of Māgandiyā.” When the king had them all in his hands, he caused pits to be dug waist-deep in the palace-court, set them therein, filled up the pits with earth, spread straw on top, and set the straw on fire. When the skin had been burned to a crisp, he caused the bodies to be plowed with an iron plow
In the Dhamma Hall the bhikkhus began to discuss matters, saying: “It is not right that a female lay disciple endowed with such faith should suffer such a death.” The Teacher came in and asked them: “Bhikkhus, what is it you are sitting here now talking about?” When they told him, he said: “Bhikkhus, if you regard this existence alone, it is indeed highly improper and unjust that the five hundred women led by Sāmāvatī should suffer such a death. What they received, however, was in every way proper, considering the wrong they committed in a previous existence.” – “Venerable Sir, what was the wrong they committed in a previous existence? Pray tell us.” Responding to their request, the Teacher related the following
Story of the Past: Sāmāvatī’s Attempt to Burn a Paccekabuddha
Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta reigned in Bārāṇasī, there were eight Paccekabuddhas who regularly took their meals in the
Now one day, after the Paccekabuddhas had departed, the king took those women
Now in the beginning their act was a thoughtless one, and they were not bound thereby. But afterwards they committed a deliberate wrong and were bound to suffer the consequences thereof. While the Paccekabuddha was in absorption, they might have brought 100,000 cartloads of firewood and poured oil thereon, and they could not even have caused him to feel the heat. So on the seventh day the Paccekabuddha arose and went where he pleased.
Because they committed this wrong, those women were boiled for many hundreds of thousands of years in Niraya Hell, and because the fruit of that same wicked deed was not yet exhausted, their houses were burned, and they were burned in their houses in a hundred successive states of existence in this very manner. This is the wrong they committed in a previous state of existence.
When the Teacher had related this story, the bhikkhus asked him: “But, venerable Sir, how did Khujjuttarā come to be a hunchback? How did she become so wise? How did she obtain the fruition of Stream-entry? How
Story of the Past: Khujjuttarā’s Former Deeds
Bhikkhus, while that same king was ruling in Bārāṇasī, there was a Paccekabuddha who was slightly hunchbacked. Now a certain serving-woman, throwing a blanket over her shoulder and taking a golden vessel in her hand, bent over so that she looked like a hunchback, and saying: “This is the way our Paccekabuddha walks,” imitated his manner of walking. It was in consequence of this that she came to be a hunchback.
But on the first day she provided those Paccekabuddhas with seats in the royal palace, took their bowls, filled them with rice-porridge, and presented them to them. The Paccekabuddhas took the bowls of porridge, but they were so hot that they were obliged to shift them from one hand to the other. That woman, seeing what they were doing, presented to them eight ivory bracelets of her own, saying: “Use these bracelets as stands for your bowls.” When they had so done, they looked at her, whereupon she said: “Venerable Sirs, we have no use for these bracelets. Accept them as a present from us before you go.” The Paccekabuddhas took them with them to Nandamūla mountain-cave, and those bracelets are preserved there unimpaired to this day. As the result of this act of hers, she now knows the Three Baskets by heart and possesses profound wisdom. Likewise it was through waiting upon the Paccekabuddhas that she obtained the fruition of Stream-entry. These were her deeds in the interval between two Buddhas.
In the dispensation of Kassapa, the Sambuddha, a certain rich man’s daughter of Bārāṇasī took her mirror one day, as the shades of evening drew on, and sat down to adorn herself. Now a certain intimate friend of hers,
Again one day in the Dhamma Hall the bhikkhus started a discussion. “Sāmāvatī and her five hundred women were burned with fire in their house; as for Māgandiyā and her kinswomen, a fire of straw was built over their bodies, and their bodies were torn asunder with iron plows, and Māgandiyā was boiled in boiling oil. Which of these are alive and which are dead?”
The Teacher came in and asked: “Bhikkhus, what are you sitting here now talking about?” When they told him, he said to them: “Bhikkhus, they that are heedless, though they live a hundred years, yet are they dead. They that are heedful, be they dead or alive, yet are they alive. Māgandiyā, while she yet lived, was dead already. Sāmāvatī and her followers, though they be dead, yet are they alive. For, bhikkhus, the heedful never die.” So saying, he pronounced the following verses:
21. Appamādo amatapadaṁ, pamādo maccuno padaṁ,
appamattā na mīyanti, ye pamattā yathā matā.
Heedfulness is the deathless state,
heedlessness the state of the dead,
the heedful do not die, but those
who are heedless are as if dead.
22. Etaṁ visesato ñatvā appamādamhi paṇḍitā,
appamāde pamodanti, Ariyānaṁ gocare ratā.
The wise, fully understanding
this in regard to heedfulness,
rejoice in heedfulness, delight
in the domain of Noble Ones.
23. Te jhāyino sātatikā, niccaṁ daḷhaparakkamā,
phusanti dhīrā Nibbānaṁ, yogakkhemaṁ anuttaraṁ.
Those who meditate all the time
constant and firm in their effort,
those wise ones will reach Nibbāna,
the unsurpassed release from bonds.
At the conclusion of the teaching many became Stream-enterers and so on, and benefit arose to many people from the teaching.
