11.7 The Story about the Elder Lāḷudāyi
Lāḷudāyittheravatthu
Dhp 152
Burlingame: The Monk Who Always Said the Wrong Thing
Compare: Ja 211; Dhp-a 18.4
The bhikkhu Lāḷudāyi was always reciting the wrong verses – dirges at weddings, and joyful verses at funerals, and so on; the Buddha explained that he did the very same in a past life and spoke a verse.
Cast: Lāḷudāyi, Aggidatta, Somadatta
Keywords: Recitation, Past Lives, Bodhisatta, Kings
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“The person of little learning,”
It seems that Elder Lāḷudāyi used to go to a house where people were making holiday and recite verses appropriate to a funeral, such as: “They stand outside the walls.” AJ: Khp 7. Likewise he would go to a house where a funeral was in progress, and instead of saying the appropriate words: “They stand outside the walls,” he would recite such auspicious verses as: “Giving, and living by the Dhamma …” BG: From the Maṅgala-sutta, vs 6. Or else he would recite the Discourse on the Treasures, BG: Khp 6. containing such verses as: “Whatever riches there are - here or hereafter …” BG: vs 3.
In fact, no matter where he went, even though he set out with the intention of saying one thing, he would invariably say something entirely different. Nor was he in the least aware that he ever said anything different from what he intended to say.
Bhikkhus who heard him talk reported the matter to the Teacher, saying: “Venerable Sir, what is the use of Lāḷudāyi’s going either to places where festivities are in progress or to places where funerals are in progress? Where the right thing should be said, he always says the wrong thing.”
The Teacher replied: “Bhikkhus, this is not the first time he has so spoken; in a previous existence also he always said the wrong thing instead of the right thing.” So saying, he told the following
7a Story of the Past: Aggidatta, Somadatta, and the King
It seems that in times long gone by, there was a Brahmin named Aggidatta who lived in Bārāṇasī. The Brahmin had a son named Somadatta Kumāra who waited upon the king, and Somadatta was the king’s darling and delight. Now the Brahmin gained his livelihood by tilling the soil, and he had two oxen, and only two. One day one of his two oxen died. Thereupon the Brahmin said to his son: “Dear Somadatta, ask the king for a single ox and fetch him back to me.” Somadatta thought to himself: “If I make such
Somadatta thought to himself: “This Brahmin is of slow wit. He knows neither the proper words to use in approaching, nor the proper words to use in retiring; when the right thing should be said he says the wrong thing; I will give him some instruction before I take him with me.”
So Somadatta led his father to a charnel ground named the Fragrant Bush. Having so done, he gathered some grass, tied the grass in bundles, set the bundles on end, and pointing them out to his father one after another, said: “This is the king, this is the viceroy, this is the commander-in-chief of the army. When you go to the king’s palace, you must advance in this manner and you must withdraw in this manner. Thus you must address the king and thus you must address the viceroy. When you approach the king, you must say: ‘Long live his gracious majesty the king!’ And standing thus,
I had two oxen, mighty king,
with which I plowed my field;
but one of the two is dead; pray
give me another, noble sir.
The Brahmin spent a year perfecting himself in this verse. When he had finally learned it by heart, he told his son. “Very well, father,’ replied Somadatta, “take some present or other and follow after me. I will go ahead and stand in my accustomed place beside the king.” – “Very well, dear son,” replied the Brahmin.
So as soon as Somadatta had taken his accustomed place beside the king, the Brahmin summoned all his resources, and taking a present with him, went to the royal palace. The king was delighted to see him and greeted him in a cordial manner, saying: “Dear friend, you have come a long way. Seat yourself on this couch and tell me what you have need of.” Thereupon the Brahmin pronounced the following verse:
I had two oxen, mighty king,
with which I plowed my field;
but one of the two is dead; pray
take the other one, noble sir.
The king said: “What say you, dear friend? Say it again.” So the Brahmin repeated the verse once more exactly as before. The king, perceiving that by a slip of the tongue the Brahmin had said the exact opposite of what he intended to say, smiled and said: “Somadatta, you have a great many oxen at home, I presume.” – “Your
The king, pleased with the answer given by the Bodhisatta, presented the Brahmin with sixteen oxen, and in addition thereto, jewels and household wares and a village wherein to dwell. Thus did the king present the Brahmin with gifts appropriate to his station. Having so done, he dismissed the Brahmin with high honor.
When the Teacher had completed this story, he identified the births as follows: “At that time the king was Ānanda, the Brahmin was Lāḷudāyi, and Somadatta was I myself.”
Then he added: “Bhikkhus, this is not the first time he failed, because of his own stupidity, to say the right thing at the right time. Indeed a man who has learned but little resembles nothing so much as he does an ox.” So saying, he pronounced the following verse:
152. Appassutāyaṁ puriso balivaddo va jīrati,
maṁsāni tassa vaḍḍhanti, paññā tassa na vaḍḍhati.
The person of little learning
increases in age like an ox,
for although his flesh does increase,
his wisdom does not increase.
At the end of the teaching many people reached the fruition of Stream-entry and so on.