3: The Renunciation of the Prince

Visiting the Royal Garden

In this manner, Prince Siddhattha became a reigning prince in Kapilavatthu at the age of sixteen. When he attained the age of 29, after having enjoyed the comfort and luxury of a Universal Monarch, attended upon by a retinue of 40,000 princesses headed by the chief Princess Yasodharā, one day, he became desirous, of visiting the Royal Garden. And so he sent for the charioteer and ordered him: “Charioteer, have the chariot ready! I will visit the royal garden.” – “Very well,” replied the charioteer and had the royal chariot, which was excellent and fit only for noble personages, adorned with ornaments and to it were harnessed four thoroughbred horses which were pure white like the full moon or the white lotus flower and as fast as the wind or Garuḍa, the king of birds. When informed by the charioteer that the chariot was ready, the prince rode in the chariot which was gorgeous like a celestial mansion and headed for the royal garden in a grand procession.

1. The Omen of an Old Man

When the prince had travelled some distance on his way to the royal garden, the Devas conferred: “The time for Prince Siddhattha to become a Buddha is drawing near. Let us show him omens which will cause him to renounce the world and become a recluse.” They asked a Deva to assume the appearance of an aged man, having grey hair, no teeth, stooping back, and trembling with a walking stick in his hand. This omen of an old man created by the Deva could be seen by no one but the prince and the charioteer.

On seeing the old man, the prince asked the charioteer: “Charioteer, the hair of that man is not like that of others; his hair is totally white. His body is also not like that of others; the teeth are all gone; there is little flesh on his body; with a stooping back, he is trembling all over. By what name is he known?” The charioteer replied: “Your majesty, he is called an old man.”

The prince, who had never even heard before the word “old man,” much less seen one, again asked the charioteer: “Charioteer, never before have I seen any one of such a nature; whose hair is white, who has no teeth, who is emaciated and trembling, with a stooping back. What is meant by an old man?” The charioteer replied: “Your majesty, one who cannot live for very much longer is known as an old man.”

He then asked: “Charioteer, how is it? Am I also subject to old age? Am I also one who cannot overcome the nature of ageing?” When the charioteer replied: “Your majesty, all of us, including you as well as I, are subject to old age; there is no one who can overcome the nature of ageing,” the prince said: “Charioteer, if all human beings, each and every one of them, including me, cannot overcome the nature of old age, please go no more to the royal garden and enjoy the pleasures therein. Turn back now, from this place where the old man is seen and drive me back to the palace.” – “Very, well, your majesty,” replied the charioteer who, instead of proceeding to the royal garden, turned the chariot around at the very place where the old man was seen and drove back to the golden palace.

It is the nature of lions, when shot by an arrow, not to seek primarily to remove the arrow which is the effect, but to seek the hostile hunter who has shot the arrow and who is the prime cause of the flight of the arrow. Of the two phenomena of cause and effect, Buddhas also do not seek to eliminate the effect, which is like the arrow, but they seek and find out through intelligence the cause, which is like the enemy hunter who shoots the arrow. Therefore, the Buddhas are like lions.

The charioteer had merely explained the [262] worldly nature of decay and old age (jarā) as far as he understood it, but the prince, as befitting one who desires to become a Buddha, knew distinctly on reflection that birth (jāti) was the prime cause of the process of ageing (jarā). After returning to the golden palace, he reflected with penetrative urgency (saṁvega): “Oh, birth is detestable indeed. To whoever birth is evident, to him ageing is also evident.” Having reflected thus, he became cheerless and morose; he remained gloomy and dejected.

King Suddhodana sent for the charioteer and asked him: “Charioteer, why did my son return in a hurry without proceeding to the garden?” The charioteer replied: “Your majesty, your son saw an old man, so he came back in haste.” King Suddhodana mused: “My son should become a ruler over the country. He must not renounce the world and become a recluse. The prediction of the court Brahmins that he would renounce the world and become a recluse must be proven wrong. O courtiers, why did you spoil my plans? Arrange quickly more palace attendants than before; then with more female attendants and dancing girls surrounding him, my son, while enjoying the five sensual pleasures, will no longer think of becoming a recluse.” So saying, he ordered an increase in the number of guards in the surrounding places at every couple of miles in all the four directions.

When the prince went to the royal garden for enjoyment, he was accompanied by a contingent of troops half a league in extent; as the chariot reached a place where it forged ahead, leaving the forces behind in the procession, the great Arahat Brahmas of the Suddhāvāsa abode, by dint of supernatural power, created the form of an old man in front of the chariot, to be visible only to the prince and the charioteer. The Arahat Brahmas of the Suddhāvāsa abode, considering: “The Bodhisatta Prince is now being mired in the slough of the five sensual pleasures like the bull elephant getting swamped in a quagmire. We should let him regain a sense of mindfulness,” showed him the form of an old man. The other omens which would appear later should also be understood in the same manner. This account is from the commentary on the Great Discourse about the Traditions (Mahāpadāna-sutta, DN 14).

2. The Omen of a Sick Man

Deceived and distracted by the five pleasures of the senses, increasingly provided and arranged for by his father to deter him from renouncing the world and becoming a recluse, Prince Siddhattha spent his time enjoying the pleasures and luxuries of the palace life. His sense of spiritual urgency, generated by the detestation of the nature of birth and old age, became somewhat diminished.

When four months had passed, after living such a life of luxury, the prince again rode to the royal garden in the chariot drawn by the thoroughbred horses, as before. On the way, the prince saw the form of a sick man, also created by Devas. The sick man was in great pain being oppressed by disease, and only when helped by others could he sit up or lie down. He was helplessly lying in a bed covered with his own filth.

Thereupon, the prince asked the charioteer: “Charioteer, the eyes of that man are not like the eyes of others; they are weak and unsteady. His voice is also unlike that of others; he keeps on crying with an unbearable lament. His body is also not like the bodies of others. It appears much worn out and exhausted. By what name is he known?” The charioteer replied: “Your majesty, he is known by the name of a sick man.”

The prince, who had never before seen a sick man or even heard of a “sick man” asked the charioteer again: “Charioteer, I have never come across such a person, who sits up and lies down only with the help of others, who sleeps mired in his own filth and keeps on shrieking unbearably. What is meant by a sick man? Explain the nature of this sick man to me.” The charioteer replied: “Your majesty, a sick man is one who knows not whether he will or will not recover from the illness afflicting him now.”

He then asked: “Charioteer, how is it? Am I also subject to illness? Am I also one who cannot avoid the nature of sickness?” When the charioteer replied: “Your majesty, [263] all of us, including you as well as I, are subject to illness. There is no one who can avoid the nature of sickness.” The prince said: “Charioteer, if all human beings, each and every one of them, including me, cannot avoid the nature of ailments, we shall go no more to the royal garden and enjoy the pleasures therein. Turn back now, from this place where the sick man is seen and drive me back to the palace.” – “Very well, your majesty,” replied the charioteer who, instead of proceeding to the royal garden, turned the chariot around at the very place where the sick man was seen and drove it back to the golden palace.

As has been said above, although the charioteer merely explained the painful, unbearable, oppressive worldly nature of illness (vyādhi), as far as he understood it, the prince, like the lion king and befitting one who desires to become a Buddha, knew distinctly on reflection that birth was the prime cause of illness, and of old age. Back at the golden palace, he reflected with penetrative urgency: “Oh, birth is detestable indeed! To whoever birth has become evident, to him old age is bound to become evident; illness is bound to become evident.” Having reflected thus, he became cheerless and morose; he remained gloomy and dejected.

King Suddhodana sent for the charioteer and questioned him as before. When the charioteer replied: “Your majesty, your son came back in a hurry because he had seen a sick man,” King Suddhodana thought to himself as before and ordered a further increase of guards to be placed every three miles in the four directions. He also arranged to appoint more palace attendants and dancing girls.

3. The Omen of a Dead Man

Deceived and distracted by the five pleasures of the senses, increasingly provided and arranged by his father, King Suddhodana, to deter him from renouncing the world and becoming a recluse, Prince Siddhattha spent his time enjoying the pleasures and luxuries of the palace life, and his sense of spiritual urgency generated by the detestation of the nature of birth, old age and illness became somewhat diminished.

When four months had passed after living such a life of luxury, the prince again rode into the royal garden in the chariot drawn by the thoroughbred horses, as before. On the way, he saw an omen created and shown by the Devas for the third time, namely, a crowd of people and a bier decorated with multi-coloured cloth. Thereupon, he asked the charioteer: “Charioteer, why are all these people gathering around? Why are they preparing a stretcher decorated with multi-coloured cloth?” The charioteer replied: “Your majesty, the people are gathering around and preparing the bier because someone has died.” He had never seen a bier before; he had seen only a stretcher. He asked, therefore: “Why are all these people gathering around and preparing a stretcher?”

The prince, who had never seen a dead person before or even heard of the dead, commanded the charioteer: “Charioteer, if they are assembled and engaged in making a stretcher, drive me to where the dead man lies.” The charioteer said: “Very well, your majesty,” and drove the chariot to where the dead man was lying. When the prince saw the dead man, he asked: “Charioteer, of what nature is this dead man?” The charioteer replied: “Your majesty, when a man dies, his relatives will never see him again nor will he see his relatives any more.”

Thereupon, the prince asked further: “Charioteer, how is it? Am I also subject to death like that man? Am I also one who cannot avoid the nature of death? Will my father, mother and relatives not see me again one day? Will I also not see them again one day?” The charioteer replied: “Your majesty, all of us, including you as well as myself, are subject to death. There is no one who can avoid death. It is certain that one day your royal father, mother and relatives will not see you anymore and it is equally certain that one day you will no longer see them.” The royal mother in this context refers to Mahāpajāpati Gotamī, the aunt and step-mother. [264]

Thereupon, the prince said: “Charioteer, if all human beings, each and every one of them, including me, cannot overcome the nature of dying, please let us go no more to the royal garden and enjoy the pleasures therein. Turn back now, from this place where the dead man is seen and drive me back to the royal palace.” – “Very well, your majesty,” replied the charioteer who, instead of proceeding to the royal garden, turned the chariot around at the very place where the dead man was seen and drove it back to the golden palace.

As has been said above, although the charioteer merely explained the worldly nature of death (maraṇa) as far as he understood, that when a man died, the relatives who were left behind would never see him again, and nor would the man who passed away see again the relatives he had left behind, the prince, like the lion king and befitting one who desires to become a Buddha, knew distinctly on reflection that birth was the prime cause of the three phenomena: death, old age, and illness, which he had seen previously.

After his return to the golden palace, he reflected with penetrative urgency: “Oh, birth is detestable indeed! To whoever birth has become evident, to him old age is bound to become evident, illness is bound to become evident, death is bound to become evident.” Having reflected thus, he became cheerless and morose; he remained gloomy and dejected.

King Suddhodana sent for the charioteer and questioned him as before. When the charioteer replied: “Your majesty, the royal son came back in a hurry because he has seen somebody dead,” King Suddhodana thought to himself as before and said in the same manner and ordered a further strengthening of guards to be placed at every league in the four directions; he also arranged to appoint more palace attendants and dancing girls.

4. The Omen of a Recluse

Deceived and distracted by the five pleasures of the senses, increasingly provided and arranged by his father to deter him from renouncing the world and becoming a recluse, Prince Siddhattha spent his time enjoying the pleasures and luxuries of the palace and the sense of spiritual urgency generated by the detestation of the nature of birth, old age, illness and death became somewhat diminished.

When four months had passed living such a life of luxury, the prince again rode to the royal garden in the chariot drawn by the thoroughbred horses as before. On the way, he saw the omen created by the Devas for a fourth time, a man, who had embraced the life of a recluse, with a clean shaven head and beard, wearing a bark-dyed robe. “Charioteer,” said the prince, “this man’s head is not like the heads of others; it is a clean-shaven head and also he has his beard shaved. His clothes are also not like those of others and are bark-dyed. By what name is he known?” The charioteer replied: “Your majesty, he is known as a recluse.”

The prince asked the charioteer again: “Charioteer, what is meant by a recluse? Explain the nature of a recluse to me.” The charioteer replied: “Your majesty, a recluse is a person who, bearing in mind that it is good to practise the ten courses of wholesome actions (kusala-kamma-patha), beginning with generosity (dāna), has gone forth from worldly life and put on the bark-dyed clothes. He is a man who, bearing in mind that it is good to practise the ten courses of wholesome actions which are in accord with righteousness, which are free from blemish, which are clean and pure, has gone forth from the worldly life and put on the bark-dyed clothes. He is one who, bearing in mind that it is good to refrain from ill-treating sentient beings, to work for the promotion of their welfare, has gone forth from the worldly life and put on the bark-dyed clothes.”

Here, although the charioteer had no knowledge of a recluse or his virtues since it was a time prior to the appearance of a Buddha and his teaching, he said through the supernormal powers of the Devas, that the man was a recluse, and explained the [265] virtues of a recluse. This account is taken from the Chronicles of the Buddhas (Buddha-vaṁsa) commentary and the Ornaments of the Victor (Jinālaṅkāra).

Those Bodhisattas with a much longer lifespan saw the four great omens, one after another, with the lapse of 100 years between each other. In the case of our Bodhisatta, however, appearing during a far shorter span of life, the intervening period between two subsequent omens was four months. According to the Collection of the Long Discourses (Dīgha-nikāya) reciters, however, the Bodhisatta saw all the four great omens in one day. This note is based on the Chronicles of the Buddhas (Buddha-vaṁsa) commentary.

Thereupon, the prince said to the charioteer: “This man is truly admirable and noble for having gone forth from the world, bearing in mind that it is good to practise the ten courses of wholesome actions, which are in accord with righteousness, which are free from blemish, and which are clean and pure. That man is admirable and noble for having gone forth from the world bearing in mind that it is good to refrain from ill-treating sentient beings and to work for the promotion of their welfare. Just because he is admirable and noble, charioteer, drive the chariot to the place where that recluse is.

Saying: “Very well, your majesty,” the charioteer drove the chariot to where the recluse was. On reaching him, the prince asked the recluse, actually a supernormal form created by the Devas (iddhi-rūpa): “Man, what is that you are doing? Your head is not like the heads of others; your clothes are also not like those of others.” When he got a reply from the recluse, saying: “Your majesty, I am known as a recluse,” he asked him further: “What do you mean by a recluse?” The recluse, replied: “Your majesty, I am one who has gone forth from the household life, having shaved my hair and beard and wearing bark-dyed clothes, and bearing in mind that it is good to practise the ten courses of wholesome actions, beginning with generosity, which are also known by these four special epithets: for being righteous (dhamma), congruent (sama) for being in accordance with righteousness, skilful (kusala) for being blemish-free and meritorious (puñña) for being pure and clean both as to cause and effect; and also bearing in mind that it is good to refrain from ill-treating sentient beings and to work for the promotion of their welfare.”

Thereupon, the prince said in acknowledgement and approval: “You are indeed admirable and noble. You have gone forth from the household life, having shaved the hair and beard, and wearing the bark-dyed clothes, and bearing in mind that it is good to practise the ten courses of wholesome actions, which have the special epithets of righteous, congruent, skilful and meritorious, and also bearing in mind that it is good to refrain from ill-treating sentient beings and to work for the promotion of their welfare.”

The Date of the Renunciation

Before he renounced the world by going forth from the household life, the prince made four visits to the royal gardens. On his visit to the royal garden riding on the chariot drawn by thoroughbred horses on the full moon of July (Āsāḷha) in the year 535 BCE, he saw, on the way, the first omen, that of an old man. On seeing this omen, he discarded the pride arising from the exuberance of youthfulness (yobbana-māna).

Then, when the prince proceeded again to the royal garden as before on the full moon of November (Kattikā), he saw, on the way, the second omen, that of a sick man. On seeing this second omen, he discarded the pride arising from the exuberance of sound health (ārogya-māna).

On proceeding again to the royal garden, as before, on the full moon of March (Phagguṇa), he saw, on the way, the third omen, that of a dead man. On seeing the third omen, the prince discarded the pride arising from the exuberance of being alive (jīvita-māna).

Then again, on the full moon of July (Āsāḷha), in the year 534 BCE, the prince went out to the royal garden, as before. He saw, on the way, the omen of the recluse. The sight of this omen awakened in him a liking for the life of a recluse; and, making the resolution: “I shall become a recluse this very day,” he proceeded on his journey to reach the garden the same day.

The Enumeration of Phenonema (Dhamma-saṅgaṇī, PTS 234) gives an exposition about spiritual urgency (saṁvega) [266] as follows: The fear of birth (jāti) or the knowledge that birth is a big fearsome danger is called the danger of birth (jāti-bhaya); the fear of old age (jarā) or the knowledge that old age is a big fearsome danger is called the danger of ageing (jarā-bhaya); the fear of sickness (vyādhi) or the knowledge that sickness is a big fearsome danger is called the danger of sickness (vyādhi-bhaya); and the fear of death (maraṇa) or the knowledge that death is a big fearsome danger is called the danger of death (maraṇa-bhaya). The group of these four kinds of knowledge is known as religious urgency (saṁvega).

Of the four kinds of great omens already described, the first three are known as omens which give rise to a sense of spiritual urgency (saṁvega-nimitta), because, if birth takes place, there is an unavoidable certainty of the manifestation of ageing, sickness and death. Because of the arising of birth, there is bound to be the arising of ageing, sickness and death. There is no escape from ageing, sickness and death for one who has been born. To one who looks upon these phenomenal dangers as fearsome, harsh and dreadful, they cause the arising of terrible fright and alarm in them.

The last omen, that of a recluse, is a manifestation to encourage the practice of the Dhamma, as a way to escape from the said dangers of ageing, sickness and death. Hence it is called the omen which gives rise to sense of meditational exertion (padhāna-nimitta).

Vissakamma Helps the Prince Dress

The prince spent the whole day in the royal garden, playing and enjoying himself. After taking a bath, as the sun began to set, he sat elegantly on the auspicious stone slab. At that moment, he felt inclined to dress up. Sakka, becoming aware of his wish, dispatched Vissakamma, who, taking the guise of a barber in the service of the prince, went to him and dressed him with celestial attire and adornments.

Just while the musicians were entertaining him with the five kinds of musical instruments, and others were singing and dancing, and even while the Brahmins were extolling him in sweet words of praise: “May your majesty be crowned with success, free from all forms of danger and hostility; may you be blessed with glory and happiness,” the prince, thus dressed in five celestial adornments, ascended the royal chariot, decorated with precious ornaments, to return to the royal palace.

The Birth of Rāhula

At that moment, King Suddhodana, the royal father received the information that the prince’s Chief Queen, Yasodharā, had given birth to a son. So he sent royal messengers to the prince with the glad tidings: “Go convey this good news to my son.” When Prince Siddhattha heard the news that a son had been born, he remarked, as befitting one who kept in mind the sense of spiritual urgency (saṁvega): “The Asura Rāhu, Rāhu is the name of the Asura who is supposed to be responsible for the eclipse of the moon by swallowing it. who will seize and keep me captive, has been born; a great bondage has come into existence!”

When asked by King Suddhodana: “What has my son said?” the messengers related to him the remarks made by the prince. Thereupon, King Suddhodana announced the name and title of his grandson thus: “From now on, my grandson shall be known by the name of Prince Rāhula.”

The prince entered the royal capital of Kapilavatthu riding the chariot accompanied by a large retinue with majestic elegance at its height. As he was thus entering the royal city by chariot, a Sakyan Princess by the name of Kisā Gotamī, who was possessed of charm and beauty, and who was not of lowly birth but of high noble lineage, on seeing the physique (rūpa-kāya) of the prince from where she was, on the outer terrace of her mansion, and feeling delighted, uttered her feeling of joy as follow: [267]

Nibbutā nūna sā mātā, nibbutā nūna so pitā,
nibbutā nūna sā nārī, yassāyaṁ īdiso patī.

Peaceful and happy will be the mind of the fortunate mother who has given birth to such a son possessing splendour like the rising sun, an extraordinary son of noble birth: first in beauty, superb in grace, foremost in intelligence. Reflecting meticulously on the twin attributes of her son’s talent and beauty, her joyful satisfaction, day after day, will result in peace of mind.

Peaceful and happy will be the mind of the fortunate father who has given rise to such a son possessing splendour like the rising sun, an extraordinary son of noble birth: first in beauty, superb in grace, foremost in intelligence. Reflecting meticulously on the twin attributes of his son’s talent and beauty, his joyful satisfaction, day after day, will result in peace of mind.

Peaceful and happy will be the mind of the fortunate woman who has become the wife of such a husband possessing splendour like the rising sun, an extraordinary husband filled with virility: first in beauty, superb in grace, foremost in intelligence. Reflecting meticulously on the twin attributes of her husband’s talent and beauty, her joyful satisfaction, day after day, will result in peace of mind.

When oil is poured into a pot and when it is filled to the brim, oil overflows. In the same way, when someone feels intensely joyful and satisfied for some reason or the other, the said feeling of joy and satisfaction (pīti-somanassa) becomes, as if it were full in the stomach and spills out. The outburst of such feeling of joy and satisfaction expressed in the form of a verse (gāthā) or in the form of prose (cuṇṇa) is called an exalted saying (udāna), an expression of an intense feeling of joy.

Hearing the joyful utterance by the Sakyan Princess Kisā Gotamī, the prince reflected: “This cousin-sister of mine, the Sakyan Princess Kisā Gotamī, has made the joyful utterance that the sight of such an individual (atta-bhāva) will give delight and serenity to the mother, the father and the wife. Now, what is that which, when extinguished, will bring true peace of mind?” It then occurred to the prince, whose mind was already detached from defilements (kilesa), thus: “There is true peace only when the fire of passion (rāga) is extinguished; there is true peace only when the fire of hatred (dosa) is extinguished; there is true peace only when the fire of delusion (moha) is extinguished; there is true peace only when the heat of defilements, such as conceit (māna), wrong views (diṭṭhi), etc., subside. This Princess Kisā Gotamī has spoken pleasant words about the element of peace. And, I am one who is searching for Nibbāna, the Ultimate Reality, which is the true extinction of all suffering. Even as of today, I should renounce the world by going forth and become a recluse in the forest, to seek Nibbāna.”

With this thought of renunciation occurring to him, the prince, saying: “Let this pearl necklace be the teacher’s fee for the Princess Kisā Gotamī for reminding me to go in search of the element of extinction (nibbuta),” and he took off the pearl necklace, which was worth 100,000 from his neck and had it sent to Kisā Gotamī. The princess was overjoyed with the thought: “This cousin of mine, Prince Siddhattha, has sent me the present because his mind is inclined towards me.”

The prince ascended the residential palace, which was dignified, elegant, marvellous encouraging delight in living, and reclined on the royal couch. The moment he reclined thus, all the female palace attendants and dancing girls who possessed a celestial beauty of form and complexion and who were adept in the art of singing, dancing and making music, gathered round him with five kinds of musical instruments in their hands and started playing them, dancing and singing so he could enjoy the five kinds of sensual pleasure. But being disgusted [268] with and wearied of activities which would kindle the fire of the defilements, he found no pleasure in such entertainments and fell asleep in a moment.

As the prince had fallen asleep instantly, the female palace attendants and dancing girls thought to themselves thus: “We dance, sing and play music for the prince but he has fallen asleep. Why should we now exhaust ourselves?” and they too fell asleep with their musical instruments pressed around and underneath them. The fragrant oil lamps kept alight inside the golden palace continued to illuminate the scene brilliantly.

The Resolve of the Prince

On waking up, the prince sat cross-legged on the couch and looked around. He saw the dancing girls asleep, some with their musical instruments pressed around and underneath them, and with saliva flowing out from their mouths, soiling their cheeks and bodies, some grinding their teeth, some snoring, some jabbering, some with their mouths open, some with no clothes on but with bodies bare, some with their hair loose and in confusion, they looked like a heap of loathsome dead bodies in a cemetery. Seeing the said detestable changes and transformations in the dancing girls, the prince became all the more detached from objects of sensual pleasures.

[A section here on the frightful nature of sensual desires has been moved to the Further Explanations.]

This royal palace of pomp and grandeur comparable to Vejayanta Palace, the residence of Sakka, is indeed like a cemetery where the dead are disposed of. The three planes of existences, namely, the sensual realm (kāmāvacara), the form realms (rūpāvacara) and the formless realms (arūpāvacara), are indeed like a big house burning in deep red, blazing flames. These sentient beings, humans, Devas and Brahmas, are bound to take conception, to grow old, to become sick and then to die; after death, they have to take conception again; then, to grow old, to become sick and to die again. Subjected to the repeated process of taking conception, growing old, becoming sick and dying, they undergo great suffering. And yet, they do not know the way to escape from birth, ageing, sickness and death. When will they know it?

Thus contemplating and realising the frightfulness of birth, old age, sickness and death, and the fact that the objects of, and desire for, sensual pleasures as well as the three realms of existences of the sensual realm, the form realms and the formless realms are less of happiness and pleasure, and more of pain, suffering and defects, he became entirely divested of delight in and attachment for the five objects of sensual pleasure, the prince then expressed his intense feeling by uttering: “How distressing it is! How oppressive it is!” (Upaddutaṁ vata bho, upassaṭṭhaṁ vata bho), and he became inclined to renounce the world and become a recluse.

Thinking to himself: “It is time for me, even today, to go forth from the household life,” the prince rose from the royal couch, approached the door and asked: “Who is here?” The charioteer Channa, who was sleeping with his head resting on the threshold of the door, replied: “Your majesty, I am, it is Channa.” The prince commanded him, saying: “I wish to renounce the world today, without letting anyone know. Go now quickly and saddle a thoroughbred Sindhhorse which possesses great speed.” The charioteer Channa gave his assent, saying: “Very well, your majesty,” and carrying with him the necessary equipment for saddling the horse, he went to the royal stable. In the brilliant illumination of the fragrant oil lamps, he saw the royal steed Kanthaka, a victor over all foes, standing on the delightful ground of the stable under a canopy decked with jasmine flowers. Thinking: “I should prepare this auspicious steed Kanthaka for the prince to go forth tonight,” he proceeded to saddle Kanthaka with the complete equipment. [273]

While he was being saddled thus, Kanthaka came to realise: “I am being saddled rather tightly this time. On previous occasions, when going out to the royal garden, saddling was done differently. No doubt, the prince is going forth tonight riding on me to become a recluse.” Being greatly overjoyed, he neighed vehemently. The neighing of Kanthaka in his fit of great delight could have reverberated throughout the whole of Kapilavatthu but the Devas let nobody hear the neighing sound.

While his coeval mate, the charioteer Channa, was thus gone to prepare and fetch the royal steed Kanthaka, the prince, with intent to have a look at the royal baby before renunciation, went to the royal chamber of Rāhula’s mother, Princess Yasodharā, and opened the door of the chamber. At that time, the chamber was brilliantly lit with scented oil lamps; and Rāhula’s mother, Princess Yasodharā, was lying asleep on the bed strewn with jasmine flowers, with her hand resting on the head of her baby.

The prince stood at the door sill and, while looking, reflected: “If I remove the queen’s hand and nestle my son in my arms, I will surely awaken the queen. If the queen wakes up, that will endanger my plan of renunciation which I am set on. So be it for now, I will not see him yet. Only after I have become a Buddha, will I come back and see my son.” Having contemplated thus, he descended from the royal palace and approached the royal steed to whom he said: “Kanthaka, my coeval , assist me for this one night. After attaining Buddhahood through your help, I will rescue the world of sentient beings including Devas, from the stream of Saṁsāra and convey them to the high ground of Nibbāna.” Then the prince jumped onto the back of the royal steed Kanthaka.

Kanthaka measured eighteen cubits from the neck and was of proportionate height. He possessed great power and speed as well. His whole body was snowy white; his physical appearance was as delightful and graceful as a newly polished conch. Sitting on the middle of Kanthaka’s back, with his coeval charioteer Channa clutching the tail of the horse, the Bodhisatta rode out of the palace in the middle watch of the night on Monday, the full-moon day of July (Āsāḷha) in the year 534 BCE, and arrived at the main gate of the royal city. As the Bodhisatta was departing from the palace riding the royal steed Kanthaka, Devas placed their hands under the steed’s hoofs at every trot so that the sound of the hoofs could not be heard by anyone.

The prince, charioteer Channa, and the royal horse Kanthaka, each had their own plan. It was the time when the royal father, King Suddhodana, had taken precautions to prevent the prince from going forth by strengthening both sides of the main gate of the royal city so that each side could be opened only with the strength of 1,000 troops. He considered: “If it is so arranged, my son will not be able to go out unnoticed at any time through the main gate of the city.”

The prince was endowed with great strength; he had the strength of one billion Kāḷāvaka elephants; he had the strength equivalent of ten billion middle-sized male persons (majjhima-purisa). Accordingly, he thought to himself: “If the main gate will not open, I will escape today by making use of my own strength. Remaining seated on the back of the royal steed Kanthaka, I will clasp charioteer Channa who accompanies me by holding the horse’s tail and the royal horse Kanthaka in between my two thighs and jump over the 18-cubit high city wall.”

Charioteer Channa also thought to himself: “If the main gate of the city will not open, I will keep my lord’s son seated on my shoulder, clasp Kanthaka under my right armpit, and hugging him with my right hand, I will jump over the 18-cubit high wall of Kapilavatthu city and escape.”

The royal horse Kanthaka also thought to himself: “If the main gate of the royal city will not open, I will keep the royal son seated on my back as he is and along with the coeval charioteer Channa holding on to my tail, I will jump over the 18-cubit high wall of Kapilavatthu city and escape.” [274]

According to the commentary on AN 10.21 one elephant of Kāḷāvaka pedigree has the combined strength of 10 men of medium strength (majjhima-purisa); one Gaṅgeyya elephant has the combined strength of 10 Kāḷāvaka elephants, or 100 men of medium strength; one Paṇḍara elephant has the combined strength of 10 Gaṅgeyya elephants, or 1,000 men of medium strength; one Tamba elephant has the combined strength of 10 Paṇḍara elephants, or 10,000 men of medium strength; one Piṅgala elephant has the combined strength of 10 Tamba elephants, or 100,000 men of medium strength; one Gandha elephant has the combined strength of 10 Piṅgala elephants, or 1,000,000 men of medium strength; one Maṅgala elephant has the combined strength of 10 Gandha elephants, or 10,000,000 men of medium strength, one Hema elephant has the combined strength of 10 Maṅgala elephants, or 100,000,000 men of medium strength; one Uposatha elephant has the combined strength of 10 Hema elephants, or one billion men of medium strength; one Chaddanta elephant has the combined strength of 10 Uposatha elephants, or ten billion men of medium strength. The Bodhisatta has the combined strength of 10 Chaddanta elephants, or 100 billion men of medium strength.

The Deterrence by Vasavattī Māra

In this manner, the three of them were having similar intentions. Even if the main gate of the city would not open, any one of them would certainly act in fulfilment of his plan. Nevertheless, by virtue of the accumulated merits and glory of the prince, the Devas guarding the gates of the royal city were very glad to keep the main gate readily open for him to go out. Just as he rode out from the main gate of the royal city on the back of Kanthaka accompanied by his coeval charioteer Channa, Vasavattī Māra, who did not like, and had always opposed and obstructed the emancipation of sentient beings from the round of rebirths, went to the human world from his abode in the Paranimmitavasavattī world in a moment, as quickly as a strong man might stretch out his folded arm or fold his out-stretched arm back in, and appeared in front of the prince. His purpose was to deter him from renouncing the world by tricking him into believing that the deterrence was for his own good. Standing in the sky, he uttered (BvA, PTS 282):

Mā nikkhama Mahā-vīra ito te sattame dine,
dibbaṁ tu cakka-ratanaṁ, addhā pātu bhavissati.

O very energetic Bodhisatta Prince, do not go forth and become a recluse. On the seventh day from today, the celestial Wheel Treasure will certainly make its appearance to you.

He discouraged the prince also by telling him: “You will become a Universal Monarch, ruling over the four great continents surrounded by 2,000 small islands. Do turn back, your majesty.” Thereupon, the prince asked: “Who are you, speaking to me and discouraging me now?” Māra replied: “Your Highness, I am Vasavattī Māra.” Then the prince made this bold reply:

Jānāmahaṁ Mahā-rāja, mayhaṁ cakkassa sambhavaṁ,
anatthikoham rajjena, gaccha tvaṁ Māra mā idha.

O powerful Māra, before you told me I already knew that the divine Wheel Treasure will certainly arise for me. As for myself, I do not have the least desire to become a Universal Monarch, ruling over the four continents. Go away from here now, O Māra; do not stand in my way.

Sakalaṁ dasa-sahassam-pi, loka-dhātum-ahaṁ pana,
unnādetvā bhavissāmi, Buddho 1oke vināyako. [275]

As for me, I will strive to become a Buddha to help and convey all sentient beings who are ready to listen to the Dhamma (veneyya) to the victorious land of Nibbāna, making the 10,000 world-element revolve and resound like the potter’s wheel.

Thereupon, Māra threatened the prince with these words: “Friend Prince Siddhattha, keep your words constantly in mind. From this time on, I will make you know what I am, whenever your mind is filled with thoughts of sensual desires (kāma-vitakka), thoughts of malice (vyāpāda-vitakka), or thoughts of cruelty (vihiṁsā-vitakka).”

Thenceforward, he was constantly on the lookout for the occasion when the mental defilements (kilesa) would perchance arise in the mental continuum of the prince, following him closely like a shadow for a total period of seven years.

He followed closely behind the prince for a total period of seven years with intent to kill him outright at that very place if defilements would perchance arise in the mind continuum of the prince.

The Escort to the Bank of the River Anomā

At the age of 29 years, when he was about to acquire the glory and powers of a Universal Monarch, he forewent and spurned them as if they were spittle. At midnight, on the full moon day of July (Āsāḷha) when the constellation Āsāḷha and the moon were in conjunction, in the year 534 BCE, he left the royal palace which was comparable to the magnificent palace of the Universal Monarch. But while he was thus leaving, the desire to turn round and take in a view of the royal city of Kapilavatthu arose in his mind.

Immediately after that thought had arisen in the mind of the prince, the very locality where the thought occurred revolved round like a potter’s wheel as if the earth was addressing him: “Noble Bodhisatta, your deeds of merit were such that you need not turn round to look at anything, the object you want to see will present itself in front of you.” The prince thus viewed the royal city of Kapilavatthu from where he was, without having to turn around. The site where the royal horse Kanthaka halted was marked for the erection of a relic shrine (stūpa) to be named Kanthakanivattana, or the turning of Kanthaka. He then proceeded on his journey in a majestic manner on the back of the royal horse Kanthaka. Along the route taken by the prince, all the Devas and Brahmas marched along in front and rear, and on the left and right, some holding 60,000 lighted torches; 600 lighted torches according to the Chronicles of the Buddhas (Buddha-vaṁsa) commentary. others came along honouring him with festoons of fragrant flowers, sandalwood powder, yak-tail fly-flaps, banners and streamers. They came along singing celestial songs and playing all kinds of celestial musical instruments.

The prince, who, as described above, had gone forth in such magnificence, passed through the three kingdoms of Sākiya, Koliya and Malla in one single night, covering a distance of 30 leagues, eventually arriving on the bank of the River Anomā.

The royal horse Kanthaka possessed the power of speed which enabled him to run around the mountains at the edge of the world-element in the early morning and arrive back in time for the morning meal, which was readily prepared for him. Nevertheless, it should be especially noted that at that time the garlands of scented flowers strewn by the Devas and Brahmas, Nāgas and Garuḷas, etc., from the sky were covering the ground up to the height of the horse’s navel and so he had trudged along, struggling through the mass of garlands of flowers as though making his way through marshy ground and thus he was able to cover only 30 leagues in one whole night. [276]