 
# Jātaka Tales

Folk Tales of the Buddha's Previous Lives

Volume 5

as told and illustrated by Eric K. Van Horn

originally translated by William Henry Denham Rouse, Cambridge University

originally edited by Professor Edward Byles Cowell, Cambridge University

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Smashwords Publishing

eBook ISBN: 9780463729762

First Edition 2020

_Dedicated to my children,_

_Without whom I might never have discovered_

_this wonderful literature._

Also by this author:

_The Travel Guide to the Buddha's Path_

The Little Books on Buddhism series:

Book 1: _The Little Book of Buddhist Meditation: Establishing a daily meditation practice_

Book 2: _The Little Book on Buddhist Virtue: The Buddha's teachings on happiness through skillful conduct_

Book 3: _The Little Book of the Life of the Buddha_

Book 4: _The Little Book of Buddhist Wisdom: The Buddha's teachings on the Four Noble Truths, the three marks of existence, causality, and karma_

Book 5: _The Little Book of Buddhist Mindfulness & Concentration_

Book 6: _The Little Book of Buddhist Daily Living: The Discipline for Lay People_

Book 7: _The Little Book of Buddhist Rebirth_

Book 8: _The Little Book of Buddhist Awakening: The Buddha's instructions on attaining enlightenment_

The Jātaka Tales series:

_Jātaka Tales: Volume 1_

_Jātaka Tales: Volume 2_

_Jātaka Tales: Volume 3_

_Jātaka Tales: Volume 4_

Table of Contents

Introduction to Volume 5

201: Bandhanāgāra Jātaka, The Prison

202: Keḷisīla Jātaka, The Prankster

203: Khandha-vatta Jātaka, The Duty to Snakes

204: Vīraka Jātaka, Vīraka the Strong

205: Gaṇgeyya Jātaka, Belonging to the Ganges

206: Kuruṇga Miga Jātaka, Belonging to the Ganges

207: Assaka Jātaka, The Story of Assaka

208: Suṃsumāra Jātaka, The Crocodile and the Monkey

209: Kakkara Jātaka, The Jungle Cock

210: Kandagalaka Jātaka, The Story of Kandagalaka

211: Somadatta Jātaka, The Story of Somadatta

212: Ucchiṭṭha Bhatta Jātaka, The Leftover Rice

213: Bharu Jātaka, The Story of Bharu

214: Puṇṇa Nadī Jātaka, Rivers at Flood

215: Kaccapa Jātaka, The Tortoise

216: Maccha Jātaka, The Fish Story

217: Seggu Jātaka, The Greengrocer's Daughter

218: Kuṭa Vāṇija Jātaka, The Dishonest Trader

219: Garahita Jātaka, The Story of Blaming

220: Dhammaddhaja Jātaka, The Story of Dhammaddhaja

221: Kāsāva Jātaka, The Yellow Robe

222: Cūla Nandiya Jātaka, Little Nandiya

223: Puṭa Bhatta Jātaka, A Bowl of Rice

224: Kumbhīla Jātaka, The Virtuous Ape

225: Khanti Vaṇṇana Jātaka, Praising Forgiveness

226: Kosiya Jātaka, Kosiya's Story

227: Gūtha Pāṇa Jātaka, The Dung Beetle

228: Kāmanīta Jātaka, The Brahmin Kāmanīta

229: Palāyi Jātaka, The Debater

230: Dutiya Palāyi Jātaka, The Second Debater

231: Upāhana Jātaka, The Pair of Shoes

232: Vīṇā Thūṇa Jātaka, The Lute with Broken Strings

233: Vikiṇṇaka Jātaka, The Barbed Harpoon

234: Asitābhū Jātaka, The Story of Asitābhū

235: Vacchanakha Jātaka, The Story of Vacchanakha

236: Baka Jātaka, The Crane

237: Sāketa Jātaka, The Story of Sākata

238: Ekapada Jātaka, One Foundation

239: Harita Māta Jātaka, The Green Frog

240: Mahāpiṇgala Jātaka, The Great Yellow King

241: Sabbadāṭha Jātaka, All-tusk

242: Sunakha Jātaka, The Dog

243: Guttila Jātaka, Guttila the Musician

244: Vīticcha Jātaka, Free from Desire

245: Mūlapariyāya Jātaka, The Root of All Things

246: Telovāda Jātaka, The Lesson

247: Pādañjali Jātaka, The Story of Pādañjali

248: Kiṃsukopama Jātaka, The Riddle Tree

249: Sālaka Jātaka, Brother in the Tree

250: Kapi Jātaka, The Monkey

## Abbreviations Used for Pāli Text References

* * *

**AN** : _Aṇguttara Nikāya_ , _The Numerical Discourses of the Buddha_

**Bv** : _Buddhavaṃsa_ , _Chronicle of Buddhas_

**BvA** : _Buddhavaṃsatthakathā_ , commentary to the _Buddhavaṃsa_

**Cv** : _Cullavagga_ , _the "smaller book,"_ the second volume in the _Khandhaka_ , which is the second book of the monastic code (the Vinaya)

**Dhp** : _Dhammapada_ , _The Path of Dhamma_ , a collection of 423 verses

**DhpA** : _Dhammapada-aṭṭhakathā_ , commentary to the _Dhammapada_

**DN** : _Digha Nikāya_ , _The Long Discourses of the Buddha_

**Iti** : _Itivuttaka_ , _This Was Said_ (by the Buddha), a.k.a., Sayings of the Buddha

**Ja** : _Jātaka Tales_ , previous life stories of the Buddha

**JaA** : _Jātaka-aṭṭhakathā_ , commentary on the _Jātaka Tales_

**Khp** : _Khuddakapāṭha_ , _Short Passages_

**MA** : _Majjhima Nikāya Aṭṭhakathā_ , commentary on the _Middle Length Discourses of the Buddha_ (by Buddhaghosa)

**MN** : _Majjhima Nikāya_ , _The Middle Length Discourses of the Buddha_

**Mv** : _Mahāvagga_ , the first volume in the _Khandhaka_ , which is the second book of the monastic code (the Vinaya)

**Pm** : _Pātimokkha, The Code of Monastic Discipline_ , the first book of the monastic code (the Vinaya)

**SN** : _Saṃyutta Nikāya_ , _The Connected Discourses of the Buddha_

**S Nip** : _Sutta Nipāta, The Sutta Collection_ , literally, "suttas falling down," a sutta collection in the _Khuddaka Nikāya_ consisting mostly of verse

**Sv** : _Sutta-vibhaṇga: Classification of the Suttas_ , the "origin stories" for the Pātimokkha rules

**Thag** : _Theragāthā: Verses of the Elder Monks_

**ThagA** : _Theragāthā-aṭṭhakathā_ , Commentary to the _Theragāthā_

**Thig** : _Therīgāthā: Verses of the Elder Nuns_

**ThigA** : _Therīgāthā-aṭṭhakathā_ , Commentary to the _Therīgāthā_

**Ud** : _Udana_ , _Exclamations_ , the third book of the _Khuddaka Nikāya_

**Vin** : _Vinaya Pitaka_ , _Basket of Discipline_ , the monastic rules for monks and nuns.

* * *

# Introduction to Volume 5

I was writing a friend of mine recently about this project, and I wrote this:

It is probably because of my work with the Jātaka Tales that I have come to think of the suttas more as stories than as didactic teachings. I mean, I know they are teachings, but the discourses always give a context. We know where the Buddha was, who was there, and so on. And we learn so much about the characters of the people. These were real people and real events. We are just so blessed to have had them preserved for 2500 years by the Saṇgha. It gives me a great deal of humility to think that I am the beneficiary of generation after generation of such loving care.

One of these stories is one that I revisited recently because of Vesak, the annual celebration of the Buddha's birth, his enlightenment, and his passing away. By tradition these all happened on the same day, which is the full moon day in May.

Several months before the Buddha passed away, one of his two chief disciples – Sāriputta – also passed away. Sāriputta is one of the giants of Buddhism. Some of the most complex discourses in the Pāli Canon were given by Sāriputta. He was the great intellect of Dhamma.

To give you some idea of what the Buddha thought of Sāriputta – as well as his other chief disciple Moggallana - see this passage from the Ukkacala Sutta [SN 47.14]. It is the Buddha's praise for his chief disciples after they passed away. (They died very close to each other):

> "This assembly, oh bhikkhus, appears indeed empty to me, now that Sāriputta and Maha Moggallana have passed away. Not empty, for me, is an assembly, nor need I have concern for a place where Sāriputta and Maha Moggallana dwell.
> 
> "Those who in the past have been Holy Ones. Fully enlightened Ones, those Blessed Ones, too, had such excellent pairs of disciples as I had in Sāriputta and Maha Moggallana. Those who in the future will be Holy Ones, fully Enlightened Ones, those Blessed Ones too will have such excellent pairs of disciples as I had in Sāriputta and Maha Moggallana.
> 
> "Marvelous it is, most wonderful it is, bhikkhus, concerning those disciples, that they will act in accordance with the Master's Dispensation, will act in according to his advice; that they will be dear to the four Assemblies (monks, nuns, laymen and laywomen), will be loved, respected and honored by them.

This is high praise indeed, from the Buddha himself.

Sāriputta had a particularly close relationship with Ānanda. Ānanda is one of the most endearing people from the Buddha's time. He was the Buddha's cousin, although Ānanda was 15 years younger than the Buddha. Ānanda at one point became the Buddha's personal attendant, but that does not begin to do justice to the role he played. He was the CEO of the Saṇgha. He controlled access to the Buddha, like a chief of staff. You can imagine that a lot of people wanted access to the Buddha, and Ānanda is the one who guarded and protected his time.

But unlike all of the other important disciples during the Buddha's time, Ānanda was not "perfectly enlightened." That did not happen to Ānanda until after the Buddha passed away. So one of his endearing qualities is that he is still flawed. In the Buddhist texts he often acts as our surrogate. He asks the kinds of questions that we would ask.

And yet, despite his "flaws," he was enormously important in the Saṇgha. And he and Sāriputta often resolve problems in the Saṇgha together. There is the famous dispute at the monastery in Kosambi (Kosambiya Sutta [MN 48]) which was finally resolved by the intervention of Sāriputta and Ānanda. As a result of these sorts of situations, Ānanda had a close relationship with Sāriputta, and he was very fond of him.

So when Sāriputta passed away, Ānanda – not being fully enlightened – was quite distraught:

> "Venerable sir, since I heard that the Venerable Sāriputta has attained final Nibbāna, my body seems as if it has been drugged, I have become disoriented, the teachings are no longer clear to me."
> 
> The Buddha compassionately but firmly reminds Ānanda of what the Dhamma teaches us:
> 
> "Why, Ānanda, when Sāriputta attained final Nibbāna, did he take away your aggregate of virtue, or your aggregate of concentration, or your aggregate of wisdom, or your aggregate of liberation, or your aggregate of the knowledge and vision of liberation?"
> 
> "No, he did not, venerable sir. But for me the Venerable Sāriputta was an advisor and counsellor, one who instructed, exhorted, inspired, and gladdened me. He was tireless in teaching the Dhamma; he was helpful to his brothers in the holy life. We recollect the nourishment of Dhamma, the wealth of Dhamma, the help of Dhamma given by the Venerable Sāriputta."
> 
> "But have I not already declared, Ānanda, that we must be parted, separated, and severed from all who are dear and agreeable to us? How, Ānanda, is it to be obtained here: 'May what is born, come to be, conditioned, and subject to disintegration not disintegrate!'? That is impossible. It is just as if the largest branch would break off a great tree standing possessed of heartwood: so too, Ānanda, in the great Bhikkhu Saṅgha standing possessed of heartwood, Sāriputta has attained final Nibbāna. How, Ānanda, is it to be obtained here: 'May what is born, come to be, conditioned, and subject to disintegration not disintegrate!'? That is impossible.
> 
> "Therefore, Ānanda, dwell with yourselves as your own island, with yourselves as your own refuge, with no other refuge; dwell with the Dhamma as your island, with the Dhamma as your refuge, with no other refuge.
> 
> Those bhikkhus, Ānanda, either now or after I am gone, who dwell with themselves as their own island, with themselves as their own refuge, with no other refuge; who dwell with the Dhamma as their island, with the Dhamma as their refuge, with no other refuge — it is these bhikkhus, Ānanda, who will be for me topmost of those keen on the training."

So of course the Buddha is teaching a lesson here. And it is a lovely, poetic, and iconic passage: "dwell with yourselves as your own island."

But it is also a powerful story. It can easily stand alone as one without the Dhamma teaching.

I know that a lot of people find the language and the idioms of the Pāli Canon difficult. And I understand that. It took me a year to work my way through the Majjhima Nikāya the first time that I read it. But one way to make the discourses more accessible is read them as stories. Ask yourself basic questions. What is going on here? Rephrase the passages into story elements. Remember that these are real people These are real events. And as I have said so many times before, we find that in the 2500 years since the Buddha passed away, the human mind and the human condition has not changed one bit.

I hope you find these stories enjoyable and useful.

Eric K. Van Horn

Rio Rancho, NM

May 12, 2020

# 201: Bandhanāgāra Jātaka,  
The Prison

* * *

This is a story whose basic message is lost beneath not-so-veiled misogyny. The basic metaphor is fine. It says that chains and ropes and manacles are nothing compared to the fetters of sense desires. But these stories have obviously been doctored to represent women in a negative way. The Buddha's decision to ordain women was greatly resented by the monks, and that feeling continues to this day. Fortunately, that attitude is slowly changing.

* * *

" _Not iron fetters._ " The Master told this story while he was staying at Jetavana. It is about a prison.

At the time of this story we hear that a gang of burglars, highwaymen, and murderers had been caught and brought before the King of Kosala. The King ordered them to be bound with chains, ropes, and manacles.

Thirty country monks who wanted to see the Master paid him a visit and offered their salutations. On the next day, as they were seeking alms, they passed the prison and noticed these rascals. In the evening, after their return from the day's alms rounds, they approached the Buddha. "Sir," they said, "today as we were seeking alms, we saw a number of criminals bound fast in chains and manacles in the prison. They were in great misery. They could not break these fetters and run away. Is there any fetter stronger than these?"

The Master replied, "Monks, those are fetters, it is true. But the fetters that consist of a craving for wealth, food, sons, wives and children are stronger than they are a hundred-fold, nay a thousand-fold. Yet even those fetters, as hard as they are to break, have been broken by wise men of the past, those who went to Himalaya and became recluses." Then he told them this story of the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta ruled over Benares, the Bodhisatta was born into a poor man's family. When he grew up, his father died. He worked hard, earned wages, and supported his mother. His mother, much against his will, brought a wife home for him, and soon after his mother died. Then his wife became pregnant. Not knowing that she was pregnant, he said to her, "Wife, you must earn your own way. I will renounce the world and become a recluse."

Then said she, "You cannot leave me now for I am with child. Wait until the child is born, and then you can go and become a recluse." To this he agreed. So when the baby was born, he said, "Now, wife, you have safely delivered the baby, and I must become a recluse.'

"Wait," she said, "until the child is weaned." And after that she became pregnant again.

"If I agree to her request," the Bodhisatta thought, "I will never get away. I will leave without saying a word to her and become a recluse." So he told her nothing, but got up in the night and fled away.

When he tried to leave the city, the guards seized him. "I have a mother to support," he said. "Let me go!" In this way he made them let him go free, and after staying in a certain place, he passed out by the chief gate and made his way to the Himalayas. There he lived as a recluse. He developed the supernormal powers ( _1. Replicate and project bodily-images of oneself, 2. Make oneself invisible, 3. Pass through solid objects, 4. Sink into solid ground, 5. Walk on water, 6. Fly, 7. Touch the sun and moon with one's hand, 8. Ascend to the world of the god Brahmā in the highest heavens_ ) and the attainments ( _jhānas_ ) as he lived in the rapture of meditation. As he lived there, he exulted, saying, "The bond of wife and child and the bond of passion that so hard to break are broken!" and he uttered these lines:

"Not iron fetters — so the wise have told —

Not ropes, or bars of wood, so fast can hold.

As passion, and the love of child or wife,

Of precious gems and earrings of fine gold.

"These heavy fetters — who is there can find

Release from such? These are the ties that bind.

These if the wise can burst, then they are free,

Leaving all lust and all desire behind!"

Figure: Breaking the Bonds of Sense Desire

And the Bodhisatta, after uttering this aspiration, without breaking the charm of his ecstasy was reborn in Brahma's world.

* * *

When the Master had ended this discourse, he taught the Four Noble Truths, at the conclusion of which some entered the First Path ( _stream-entry_ ), some the Second ( _once-returner_ ), some the Third ( _non-returner_ ), and some the Fourth ( _arahant_ ). Then the Master identified the birth: "In the story, Mahāmāyā ( _the Buddha's biological mother_ ) was the mother, King Suddhōdana ( _the Buddha's father_ ) was the father, Rāhula's mother ( _Yasodarā_ ) was the wife, Rāhula ( _the Buddha's son_ ) himself the son, and I was the man who left his family and became a recluse."

# 202: Keḷisīla Jātaka,  
The Prankster

* * *

This is a lovely story about redemption and karma. It begins by telling us about a highly accomplished monk. But he is small in stature and looks like a boy novice because of his behavior in a previous life. He, in turn, is bullied by some unsuspecting monks. Thus we see both sides of karma. On one hand, no matter how egregious someone's behavior, it is always possible to awaken. On the other hand, you can't just run away and hide from it.

* * *

" _Geese, herons, elephants._ " The Master told this story while he was at Jetavana. It is about Lakuṇṭaka the venerable and good.

Now this venerable Lakuṇṭaka, we learn, was well known in the faith of the Buddha. He was a famous man, speaking sweet words, a honeyed preacher of keen discernment with his passions perfectly subdued. But in stature he was the smallest of all the eighty Elders. He was no bigger than a young novice, like a dwarf kept for amusement.

One day, he went to the gate of Jetavana to salute the Buddha, and thirty monks from the country arrived at the gate on their way to salute the Buddha as well. When they saw the Elder they thought he must be some young novice. They teased him by pulling the corner of his robe. They pinched his hands, held his head, tweaked his nose, got him by the ears and shook him and handled him very rudely. Then, after putting aside their bowl and robe, they visited the Master and saluted him.

They said to him, "Sir, we understand that you have an Elder who goes by the name of Lakuṇṭaka the Good, a honeyed preacher. Where is he?"

"Do you want to see him?" the Master asked.

"Yes, Sir."

"He is the man you saw by the gate. You yanked his robe and treated him rudely before you came here."

"Why, sir," they asked, "how is it that a man devoted to the Dharma, full of high aspirations, a true disciple, how is it he is so diminutive?"

"It is because of his unskillful past actions," the Master answered, and at their request he told them this story of the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, when King Brahmadatta reigned in Benares, the Bodhisatta was reborn as "Sakka," king of the gods. ( _Sakka is the ruler of the Tāvatiṃsa heaven, the "heaven of the thirty-three gods." Sakka is called "Indra" in the Vedic texts._ )

Now Brahmadatta could not stand looking at anything that was old or decrepit, whether it was an elephant, a horse, an ox, or what not. And he was a prankster, and whenever he saw any such being, he would chase them away. He even had old carts broken up. If he saw old women, he sent for them and beat them on the belly. Then he stood them up and frightened them. He forced old men to roll about and play on the ground like tumblers. If he did not see any old men but heard that there was a greybeard in some town, he sent for him and played his game with them.

Because of this the people - for very shame - sent their parents outside the boundaries of the kingdom. No longer could the people tend to or care for their parents. The King's friends were as vicious as he was. As these malicious men died, they filled up the four worlds of unhappiness ( _hell realm, animal realm, hungry ghost realm, birth among the asuras/titans/fallen spirits_ ). As a result the company of the gods grew fewer and fewer.

Sakka saw that there were no newcomers among the gods, and he thought about what to do. At last he hit upon a plan. "I will humble him," Sakka thought. So he took on the form of an old man, and placing two jars of buttermilk in a crazy old wagon, he yoked to it a pair of old oxen and set out on a feast day.

Now Brahmadatta was mounted on a beautifully adorned elephant. He was making a solemn procession about the richly decorated city. And Sakka, wearing nothing but rags, drove his cart and went off to meet the King.

When the King saw the old cart, he shouted, "Away with that cart, you!" But his people answered, "Where is it, my lord? We cannot see any cart!" for Sakka used his power so that no one but the King could see it. And going up to the King repeatedly, Sakka, still driving his cart, smashed one of the jars on the King's head. Sakka made him turn around, and then he smashed the other jar in the same way. The buttermilk trickled down on either side of his head. Thus the King was plagued and tormented and made miserable by Sakka's doings.

When Sakka saw his anguish, he made the cart disappear and took his proper form again. Poised in mid-air with a thunderbolt in hand, he rebuked him: "Oh wicked and unrighteous King! Won't you become old yourself? Will not age plague you as well? Yet you sport and mock and spite those who are old! It is through you alone and these actions of yours that men die every day and fill up the four worlds of unhappiness and that people cannot care for their parents! If you do not stop this, I will split your head open with my thunderbolt. Go, and do not do this anymore."

Figure: "You sport and mock and spite those who are old!"

With this rebuke he declared the worth of parents and the advantage of respecting old age. After this discourse he went off to his own realm. And from that time on the King never even thought of doing anything like he had done before.

* * *

This story ended, the Master, becoming perfectly serene, recited these two couplets:

"Geese, herons, elephants, and spotted deer

Though all unlike, alike the lion fear.

Even so, a child is great if he is clever,

Fools may be big, but great they can be never."

When this discourse ended, the Master declared the Four Noble Truths, at the conclusion of which some of those monks entered on the First Path ( _stream-entry_ ), some on the Second ( _once-returner_ ), and some on the Fourth ( _arahant_ ). Then the Master identified the birth: "The excellent Lakuṇṭaka was the King in the story, the one who made people the butt for his jests and then became a butt himself, while I was Sakka."

# 203: Khandha-vatta Jātaka,  
The Duty to Snakes

* * *

This is a story is about how dangerous snakes can be and how expressing loving-kindness to them can provide protection. This may sound like a tall tale, but I have actually heard a story about how this is put into action today. Ṭhānissaro Bhikkhu tells this story. When he first went to Thailand there were a lot of snakes. They were everywhere and they were all dangerous. There were a lot of cobras around, and he was a little freaked out by them. So he talked to his teacher about it, and his teacher taught him a "pirit" or protective chant for the snakes. Every time he saw a snake, he was told to repeat the chant. He did this, and as a result he lost his fear of the snakes, and most importantly, he was never bitten.

* * *

" _Virūpakkha snakes I love._ " ( _Virūpakkha is a type of nāga, a snake or serpent deity._ ) The Master told this story while he was at Jetavana. It is about a certain monk.

As he sat at the door of his living room chopping wood, we are told, a snake crept out of a rotten log and bit his toe. He died on the spot. The whole monastery soon learned how he had come to his sudden death. In the Dharma Hall they began talking about it, saying how the brother was sitting at his door chopping wood when a snake bit him, and how he died immediately from the bite.

The Master came in and wanted to know what they were discussing as they sat there together. They told him. He said, "Monks, if our brother had practiced loving-kindness towards the four royal races of serpents, that snake would not have bitten him. Wise recluses in by-gone days - before the Buddha was born - were released from the fear that sprang from these serpents by using loving-kindness to these four royal races." Then he told them this story from the past.

( _According to the Pāli Canon, there are four royal families of nāgas. They are the Virupakkhas, the Erāpatha, the Chabbyaputtas, and the Kanhagotamakas. For their own protection, monks are advised to fill their hearts with lovingkindness for all of these classes of nāgas. [AN 2.72]_ )

* * *

Once upon a time, during the reign of Brahmadatta as King of Benares, the Bodhisatta came into the world as a young brahmin from Kāsi. When he came of age, he abandoned his sense desires and took up the life of a recluse. He developed the supernormal powers ( _1. Replicate and project bodily-images of oneself, 2. Make oneself invisible, 3. Pass through solid objects, 4. Sink into solid ground, 5. Walk on water, 6. Fly, 7. Touch the sun and moon with one's hand, 8. Ascend to the world of the god Brahmā in the highest heavens_ ) and the Attainments ( _jhānas_ ). He built a hermitage by the bend of the Ganges River near the foot of the Himalaya Mountains, and there he lived surrounded by a band of recluses absorbed in the rapture of meditation.

At that time there were many kinds of snakes on the Ganges bank. They did mischief to the recluses, and many of them died from snake bites. The recluses told the Bodhisatta about the problem. He summoned all the recluses to meet him. He said, "If you showed goodwill to the four royal races of snakes, no serpents would bite you. Therefore from this time forward show goodwill to the four royal races." Then he added this verse:

"Virūpakkha snakes I love,

Erāpatha snakes I love,

Chabbyāputta snakes I love,

Kaṇhāgotamas I love."

After naming the four royal families of snakes, he added, "If you can cultivate goodwill towards these, no snake will bite you or do you harm." Then he repeated the second verse:

"Creatures all beneath the sun,

Two feet, four feet, more, or none—

How I love you, every one!"

Having declared the nature of the love within him, he uttered another verse by way of prayer:

"Creatures all, two feet or four,

You with none and you with more,

Do not hurt me, I implore!"

Then again, in general terms, he repeated one verse more:

"All you creatures that have birth,

Breathe and move upon the earth,

You be happy, one and all,

Never into mischief fall."

Figure: Smitten, Not Bitten

Thus he set forth how one must show love and goodwill to all creatures without distinction. Then he reminded his hearers of the virtues of the Three Treasures, saying, "Infinite is the Buddha, infinite the Dharma, and infinite the Saṇgha." He said, "Remember the quality of the Three Treasures." And having thus shown them the infinity of the Three Treasures and wishing to show them that all beings are finite, he added, "Finite and measurable are creeping things: snakes, scorpions, centipedes, spiders, lizards, mice." Then again, "As the passions and lusts in these creatures are the qualities that make them finite and limited, let us be protected night and day against these finite things by the power of the Three Treasures which are infinite. Always remember the value of the Three Treasures." Then he recited this stanza:

"Now I am guarded safe, and fenced around,

Now let all creatures leave me to my ground.

All honor to the Blessed One I pay,

And the seven Buddhas who have passed away."

( _The earliest Pāli Buddhist texts name seven Buddhas. They are sometimes called "The Seven Buddhas of Antiquity." They are Vipassī, Sikhī, Vessabhū, Kakasandha, Koṇāgamana, Kassapa, and Gautama._ )

And bidding them to also remember the seven Buddhas while they did honor, the Bodhisatta composed this guardian charm and delivered it to his band of sages. From then on the sages bore in mind the Bodhisatta's admonition. They cherished love and goodwill and remembered the Buddha's virtues. As they did this, all the snakes departed from them. And the Bodhisatta cultivated the Excellencies (brahma-vihāras) and was reborn in Brahma's heaven.

* * *

When the Master ended his discourse, he identified the birth: "The Buddha's followers were then the followers of the sage, and I was their teacher."

# 204: Vīraka Jātaka,  
Vīraka the Strong

* * *

This is another story about Devadatta. Just as the story says, Devadatta tried to represent himself as being on the same level as the Buddha. That did not work out very well.

* * *

" _Oh have you seen._ " The Master told this story while he was living at Jetavana. It is about impersonating the Buddha.

When the Elders had gone with their followers to visit Devadatta, the Master asked Sāriputta what Devadatta had done when he saw them. ( _Devadatta once convinced some of the Buddha's young monks to join him. Sāriputta and Moggallāna convinced them to return. [Cv vii]_ ) The reply was that he had impersonated the Buddha. The Master rejoined, "Not only now has Devadatta impersonated me and thereby come to ruin. He did just the same before." Then, at the Elder's request, he told this story from the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta reigned as King in Benares, the Bodhisatta became a marsh crow. He lived by a certain pool. His name was Vīraka the Strong.

A famine arose in Kāsi. Men could not spare food for the crows, nor could they make offerings to goblins and snakes. One by one the crows left the famine-stricken land, and they left for the woods.

A certain crow named Saviṭṭhaka who lived at Benares, took his lady crow with him and went to the place where Vīraka lived, making his home beside the same pool.

One day this crow was looking for food around the pool. He saw how Vīraka went down into it and made a meal of some fish. Afterwards he came up out of the water and stood drying his feathers. "Under the wing of that crow," he thought, "plenty of fish are to be gotten. I will become his servant." So he approached Vīraka.

"What is it, sir?" Vīraka asked.

"I want to be your servant, my lord!" was the reply.

Vīraka agreed and from that time on Saviṭṭhaka was his servant. And from that time Vīraka used to eat enough fish to keep him alive. The rest he gave to Saviṭṭhaka. And when Saviṭṭhaka had eaten enough to keep him alive, he gave what was left over to his wife.

After a while pride came into Saviṭṭhaka's heart. "This crow," he said, "is black and so am I. In eyes and beak and feet, too, there is no difference between us. I don't want his fish. I will catch my own!" So he told Vīraka that in the future he intended to go down to the water and catch fish himself. Then Vīraka said, "Good friend, you do not belong to a tribe of such crows that are born to go into water and catch fish. Don't destroy yourself!"

But in spite of this attempt to dissuade him, Saviṭṭhaka did not take the warning to heart. Down he went to the pool, down into the water, but he could not make his way through the weeds and come out again. There he was, entangled in the weeds, with only the tip of his beak appearing above the water. And not being able to breathe, he perished there beneath the water.

Figure: Not Much to Crow About

When his mate realized that he was missing, she went to Vīraka to ask about him. "My lord," she asked, "Saviṭṭhaka is nowhere to be seen. Where is he?" And as she asked him this, she repeated the first stanza:

"Oh have you seen Saviṭṭhaka, Oh Vīraka, have you seen

My sweet-voiced mate whose neck is like the peacock in its sheen?"

When Vīraka heard it, he replied, "Yes, I know where he is gone," and he recited the second stanza:

"He was not born to dive beneath the wave,

But what he could not do he needs must try.

So the poor bird has found a watery grave,

Entangled in the weeds and left to die."

When the lady crow heard it, weeping, she returned to Benares.

* * *

After this discourse was ended, the Master identified the birth: "Devadatta was Saviṭṭhaka, and I was Vīraka."

# 205: Gaṇgeyya Jātaka,  
Belonging to the Ganges

* * *

I think the meaning of the story-in-the-present is clear. The two vain, young monks are told by the elder that he is more beautiful than they. It is because of his good qualities. In the teaching of the Buddha, the only kind of beauty worth having is a good heart.

* * *

" _Fine are the fish._ " The Master told this story while he was living at Jetavana. It is about two young monks.

These two young fellows, we are told, belonged to a good family from Sāvatthi, and that they had embraced the Buddha's teachings. But they, not realizing the impurity of the body, sang the praises of their beauty and went about bragging about it.

One day they fell into a dispute about this. "You are handsome, but so am I," they said to each other. Then they saw an elder monk sitting not too far away, and they agreed that he was likely to know whether they were beautiful or not. So they approached him and asked, "Sir, which of us is beautiful?" The Elder replied, "Friends, I am more beautiful than either of you." At this the young men ridiculed him and went off, grumbling that he had told them something they did not ask, but he would not tell them what they did ask.

The Saṇgha became aware of what had happened. One day, when they were all together in the Dharma Hall, they began talking about it. "Friend, how the elder shamed those two young fellows whose heads were full of their own beauty!" The Master came in and asked what they were discussing. They told him. He replied, "This is not the only time, monks, that our friends were full of the praises of their own beauty. In past times they used to go about boasting of it as they do now." And then he told them this story from the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, during the reign of Brahmadatta, King of Benares, the Bodhisatta became a tree sprite on the bank of the Ganges. At the point where Ganges and Jumna (also called the "Yamuna River") meet, two fish met. One was from the Ganges and one was from the Jumna. "I am beautiful!" one of them said, and they started to argue about their beauty. Not far from the Ganges they saw a tortoise lying on the bank. "That fellow will decide who is beautiful!" they said, and they went up to him. "Which of us is beautiful, friend tortoise," they asked, "the Ganges fish or the Jumna fish?" The tortoise answered, "The Ganges fish is beautiful, and the Jumna fish is beautiful, but I am more beautiful than both of you." And to explain his meaning, he uttered the first verse:

"Fine is the fish of Jumna stream, the Ganges fish is fine,

But a four-footed creature, with a tapering neck like mine,

Round like a spreading banyan tree, must all of them outshine."

Figure: "I am more beautiful than you!"

When the fish heard this, they cried, "Ah, you rascally tortoise! You won't answer our question, but you answer another one!" and they repeated the second verse:

"We ask him this, he answers that, indeed a strange reply!

By his own tongue his praise is sung, I like it not, not I!"

* * *

When this discourse was concluded, the Master identified the birth: "In those days the young monks were the two fish, the elder was the tortoise, and I was the tree sprite who saw the whole thing from the bank of the Ganges."

# 206: Kuruṇga Miga Jātaka,  
The Antelope's Friends

* * *

This Jātaka is famous for being featured in a relief at the Bharhut Stupa in central India. The original stupa was (probably) built at the beginning of the reign of the famous Buddhist king, King Asoka, around 125-100 BCE. The stupa was subsequently lost to history, but was rediscovered by the British archeologist Arthur Cunningham in 1873. Most of the Bharhut Stupa is now in the Indian Museum in Kolkata (Calcutta).

This is another story about friendship. It is one of my favorite classes of Jātaka stories.

* * *

" _Come, Tortoise._ " The Master told this story while he was at Veḷuvana ( _the "Bamboo Grove" Monastery in Rajagraha, modern day Rajgir_ ). It is about Devadatta. News came to the Master that Devadatta was plotting his death. "Ah, monks," he said, "it was just the same long ago. Devadatta tried then to kill me, as he is trying to do so now." And he told them this story from the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was King of Benares, the Bodhisatta was reborn as an antelope. He lived in a forest, in a thicket near a certain lake. Not far from that lake a woodpecker sat at the top of a tree, and there was a tortoise who lived in the lake. The three of them became friends, and they lived together in harmony.

One day a hunter was wandering about in the woods, and he saw the Bodhisatta's footprint leading down into the water. He set a trap of leather, strong, like an iron chain, and then he went on his way. In the first watch of the night the Bodhisatta went down to the lake to drink, and he got caught in the noose. He cried loud and long. The woodpecker flew down from her tree top, and the tortoise came out of the water. When they saw the situation, they discussed what to do about it.

The woodpecker said to the tortoise, "Friend, you have teeth. Bite through the snare. Meanwhile, I will go and make sure that the hunter stays away. If we both do our best, our friend will not lose his life." To make this clear he uttered the first stanza:

"Come, tortoise, tear the leather snare, and bite it through and through,

And of the hunter I'll take care, and keep him off from you."

The tortoise began to gnaw the leather thong. The woodpecker made his way to the hunter's hut. At the dawn of day the hunter went out, knife in hand. As soon as the bird saw him, he uttered a cry, flapped his wings, and struck him in the face as he walked out the front door. "Some evil bird has struck me!" the hunter thought. He turned back and lay down for a little while. Then he got up and once again took his knife. The bird thought to himself, "The first time he went out by the front door so now he will leave by the back." So he sat down behind the house. The hunter, too, reasoned in the same way. "When I went out by the front door, I saw an evil bird. Now will I go out by the back!" And so he did. But the bird cried out and struck him in the face again. Finding that he was once again struck by an evil bird, the hunter exclaimed, "This creature will not let me go!" And he turned back and lay down until sunrise. And when the sun had risen, he took his knife and started out.

The woodpecker rushed back to his friends. "Here comes the hunter!" he cried. By this time the tortoise had gnawed through all the thongs except for an especially tough one. His teeth seemed as though they would fall out, and his mouth was all covered with blood. The Bodhisatta saw the young hunter coming on like lightning, knife in hand. He managed to burst the thong and fled into the woods. The woodpecker flew up to his tree top. But the tortoise was so weak that he just lay where he was. The hunter threw him into a bag and tied it to a tree.

The Bodhisatta saw that the tortoise had been taken, and he was determined to save his friend's life. So he let the hunter see him and acted as though he were weak. The hunter saw him and thinking him to be weak, he grabbed his knife and set out in pursuit. The Bodhisatta, keeping just out of his reach, led him into the forest. And when he saw that they had traveled a long way, he gave him the slip and returned as swiftly as the wind by a different way. He lifted the bag with his horns, threw it on the ground, ripped it open and let the tortoise out. Meanwhile the woodpecker flew down from the tree.

Then the Bodhisatta addressed them both: "My life has been saved by you, and you have been a good friend to me. Now the hunter will come to take you. So you, friend woodpecker, fly elsewhere with your brood, and you, friend tortoise, dive into the water." And so they did.

Figure: Living Together in Harmony

* * *

The Master, becoming perfectly serene, uttered the second stanza:

"The tortoise went into the pond, the deer into the wood,

And from the tree the woodpecker carried away his brood."

The hunter returned and did not see any of them. He found his bag torn. He picked it up and went home sorrowful. And the three friends lived all their lives in unbroken harmony, and then passed away to fare according to their karma.

* * *

When the Master had ended this discourse, he identified the birth: "Devadatta was the huntsman, Sāriputta was the woodpecker, Moggallāna the tortoise, and I was the antelope."

Figure: The Relief of Kuruṇga Miga Jātaka from Bharhut Stupa

# 207: Assaka Jātaka,  
The Story of Assaka

* * *

This is a poignant - and funny story - about getting too attached. This story features a worm who is apparently unafraid to threaten the King!

* * *

" _Once with the great King Assaka._ " The Master told this story while he was staying at Jetavana. It is about someone who was distracted by the recollection of a former wife. He asked the monk whether he was really lovesick. The man said "Yes." "With whom are you in love?" The Master continued. "My former wife," was the reply. Then the Master said, "Not just now, brother, have you been full of desire for this woman. And in olden days her love brought you great misery." And he told this story from the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, there was a king named "Assaka." He reigned in Potali, which is a city in the kingdom of Kāsi. His queen consort, named Ubbarī, was very dear to him. She was charming and graceful and beautiful, surpassing the beauty of other women. She was as fair as a goddess.

She died, and the King plunged into grief. He became sad and miserable. He had the body laid in a coffin and embalmed with oil and ointments. He laid underneath his bed, and there he lay without food, weeping and wailing. His parents and kinsfolk, friends and courtiers, priests and laymen, implored him not to grieve since all things pass away. They could not move him. As he lay in sorrow, seven days passed by.

Now the Bodhisatta was at that time a recluse who had gained the Five Supernatural Faculties ( _1. walking on water or through walls, 2. ESP, 3. telepathy, 4. recollecting previous lives and 5. "the divine eye," which is seeing peoples' next rebirth_ ) and the Eight Attainments ( _jhānas_ ). He lived at the foot of the Himalaya Mountains. He possessed perfect supernatural insight, and as he looked around India with his heavenly vision, he saw this King lamenting. He decided to help him. By his miraculous power he rose up into the air. He landed in the King's park and sat down on the ceremonial stone like a golden image.

A young brahmin of the city of Potali entered the park. Seeing the Bodhisatta, he greeted him and sat down. The Bodhisatta began to talk pleasantly with him. "Is the King a just ruler?" he asked.

"Yes, sir, the King is just," the young man replied. "But his Queen just died. He has laid her body in a coffin and lies down lamenting her. Today is the seventh day since he began. Why don't you free the King from this great grief? Virtuous beings like you ought to be able to overcome the King's sorrow."

"I do not know the King, young man," the Bodhisatta said. "But if he were to come and ask me, I would tell him where she has been reborn and make her speak herself."

"Then, venerable sir, stay here and I will bring the King to you," the young man said. The Bodhisatta agreed, and the young brahmin hurried into the King's presence. "You should visit this being with the divine insight!" he told the King.

The King was overjoyed at the thought of seeing Ubbarī. He got into his chariot and drove to the park. Greeting the Bodhisatta, he sat down on one side and asked, "Is it true, as I am told, that you know where my Queen has been reborn?"

"Yes, I do, my lord King," he replied.

Then the King asked where it was.

The Bodhisatta replied, "Oh King, she was intoxicated with her own beauty. She fell into negligence and did not do fair and virtuous acts. So now she has become a little dung worm in this very park."

"I don't believe it!" said the King.

"Then I will show her to you and make her speak," answered the Bodhisatta.

"Please make her speak!" the King said.

The Bodhisatta commanded, "Let the two that are busy rolling a lump of cow dung come forth before the King." And by his power they came. The Bodhisatta pointed one out to the King, "There is your Queen Ubbarī, oh King! She has just come out of this lump following her dung worm husband. Look and see."

"What! My Queen Ubbarī a dung worm? I don't believe it!" cried the King.

I will make her speak, oh King!"

"Please make her speak, holy sir!" he said.

Using his power, the Bodhisatta gave her the ability to speak.

"Ubbarī!" he said.

"What is it, holy Sir?" she asked in a human voice.

"What was your name in your former life?" the Bodhisatta asked her.

"My name was Ubbarī, sir," she replied, "the consort of King Assaka."

"Tell me," the Bodhisatta went on, "who do you love best now, King Assaka or this dung worm?"

"Oh sir, that was my former birth," she said. "Then I lived with him in this park, enjoying shape and sound, scent, taste, and touch. But now that my memory is confused by rebirth, what is he? Why, now I would kill King Assaka and smear the feet of my husband the dung worm with the blood flowing from his throat!" and right there in the King's company, she uttered these verses in a human voice:

"Once with the great King Assaka, who was my husband dear,

Beloving and beloved, I walked about this garden here.

"But now new sorrows and new joys have made the old ones flee,

And dearer far than Assaka my worm is now to me."

Figure: "Who do you love best now?"

When King Assaka heard this, he repented on the spot. He saluted the Bodhisatta and went back into the city. He had the Queen's body removed. Then he married another Queen, and he ruled in righteousness. And the Bodhisatta, having instructed the King and set him free from sorrow, returned again to the Himalayas.

* * *

When the Master had ended this discourse, he declared the Four Noble Truths, at the conclusion of which the lovesick monk reached the Fruit of the First Path ( _stream-entry_ ). Then the Master identified the birth: "Your late wife was Ubbarī. You, lovesick brother, were King Assaka. Sāriputta was the young brahmin, and I was the recluse."

# 208: Suṃsumāra Jātaka,  
The Crocodile and the Monkey

* * *

In this story a clever monkey outwits a dimwitted crocodile. The crocodile is nonother than Buddhism's favorite punching bag, Devadatta.

* * *

" _Rose-apple, jack fruit._ " The Master told this story while he was at Jetavana. It is about Devadatta's attempts to murder him. ( _These attempts by Devadatta to murder the Buddha are described in the Cullavagga._ ) When he heard of these attempts, the Master said, "This is not the first time that Devadatta has tried to murder me. He did the same before, and yet he could not make me afraid." Then he told this story from the past.

* * *

Once upon a time when Brahmadatta was the King of Benares, the Bodhisatta came to life at the foot of the Himalayas as a monkey. He grew strong and sturdy, big of frame, well-to-do, and lived by a curve in the river Ganges in a forest haunt.

Now at that time there was a crocodile living in the Ganges. The crocodile's mate saw the strong frame of the monkey, and she developed a longing to eat his heart ( _thinking it would make her strong_ ). So she said to her lord, "Sir, I want to eat the heart of that great king of the monkeys!"

"Good wife," the crocodile said, "I live in the water and he lives on dry land. How can we catch him?"

"By hook or by crook," she replied, "he must be caught. If I don't get him, I will die."

"All right," answered the crocodile, consoling her, "don't trouble yourself. I have a plan. I will bring you his heart to eat."

So when the Bodhisatta was sitting on the bank of the Ganges, after taking a drink of water, the crocodile drew near, and said:

"Sir Monkey, why do you live on stale fruits in this old familiar place? On the other side of the Ganges there is no end to the mango trees, and lakoocha trees ( _Artocarpus Lacucha, a fruiting tree native to India_ ) with fruit sweet as honey! Is it not better to cross over the river and have all kinds of wild fruit to eat?"

"Lord crocodile," the monkey replied, "as deep and wide as the Ganges is how shall I get across?"

"If you want to go, I will mount you on my back and carry you over."

The monkey trusted him and agreed. "Come here, then," said the crocodile, "up on my back with you!" and up the monkey climbed. But when the crocodile had swum a little way, he plunged the monkey under the water.

"Good friend, you are letting me sink!" cried the monkey. "What are you doing?!"

The crocodile replied, "Do you think that I am carrying you out of pure good nature? Not one bit! My wife has a longing for your heart, and I want to give it to her to eat"

"Friend," the monkey said, "it is nice of you to tell me. Why, if my heart was inside me when I go jumping among the tree tops, it would be knocked to pieces."

"Well, where do you keep it then?" the crocodile asked.

The Bodhisatta pointed to a fig tree that was full of ripe fruit not too far off. "See," he said, "there is my heart hanging on that fig tree."

"If you will show me your heart," the crocodile said, "then I won't kill you."

"Take me to that tree, then, and I will show it to you."

The crocodile brought him to the tree. The monkey leaped off of his back, climbed up into the fig tree, and sat down on one of the branches. "Oh silly crocodile!" he cried, "you thought that there are creatures that keep their hearts in a tree top! You are a fool, and I have outwitted you! You may keep your fruit to yourself. Your body is powerful, but you have no sense." And then to explain this idea he uttered the following stanzas:

"Rose apple, jackfruit, mangoes, too, across the water there I see.

Enough of them, I want them not, my fig is good enough for me!

"Great is your body, verily, but how much smaller is your wit!

Now go your ways, Sir Crocodile, for I have had the best of it."

The crocodile, feeling as sad and miserable as if he had lost a thousand gold coins, went back, sorrowful, to the place where he lived.

Figure: The Monkey Wins!

* * *

When the Master had ended this discourse, he identified the birth: "In those days Devadatta was the crocodile, the lady Ciñcā was his mate, and I was the monkey."

( _There is a story in the Pāli Canon about an attractive woman named "Ciñcā Manavika." She was convinced by rivals of the Buddha to accuse him of impregnating her and being his lover._ )

# 209: Kakkara Jātaka,  
The Jungle Cock

* * *

This is one of those stories where it isn't clear what the relationship is between the story-in-the-present and the Jātaka. Still, it is a nice tale about a bird who outwits his hunter and even speaks to him in a human voice!

* * *

" _Trees a many have I seen._ " The Master told this story while he was at Jetavana. It about a monk who was a student of the Elder Sāriputta, Marshall of the Faith.

This fellow, we learn, was skilled at taking care of his body. He would not eat food that was very hot or very cold for fear it would hurt him. He never went out for fear of being hurt by cold or heat, and he would not eat rice that was either over-boiled or too hard.

The Saṇgha learned how much care he took of himself. They all discussed it in the Dharma Hall. "Friend, what a clever fellow monk he is to know what is good for him!" The Master came in and asked what they were discussing as they sat there together. They told him. Then he said, "Not only now is our young friend careful for his personal comfort. He was just the same in days gone by." And he told them this story from the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, during the reign of Brahmadatta, King of Benares, the Bodhisatta was reborn as a tree-sprite in a forest glade. A certain fowler, with a decoy bird, hair noose, and stick, went into the forest in search of birds. He began to follow one old bird who flew off into the woods trying to escape. The bird would not give him any opportunity to catch it in his snare, but kept rising and falling, rising and falling. So the fowler covered himself with twigs and branches and set his noose and stick again and again. But the bird, wishing to make him ashamed of himself, spoke in a human voice and repeated the first stanza:

"Trees a many have I seen

Growing in the woodland green,

But, oh tree, they could not do

Any such strange things as you!"

Figure: "Trees a many have I seen"

So saying, the bird flew off. When it had gone, the fowler repeated the second verse:

"This old bird, that knows the snare,

Off has flown into the air,

Forth from out his cage has broken,

And with human voice has spoken!"

So said the fowler. He went off to hunt in the woods, took what he could catch, and went home again.

* * *

When the Master had ended this discourse, he identified the birth: "Devadatta was the fowler then, the young dandy was the bird, and I was the tree-sprite that saw the whole thing."

# 210: Kandagalaka Jātaka,  
The Story of Kandagalaka

* * *

This story has the same theme as Jātaka 204 in which Devadatta tries to imitate the Buddha. At the time of the Buddha Devadatta tried to claim that he was on the same spiritual level as the Buddha. Devadatta even tried to embarrass the Buddha in front of the Saṇgha and the local community, and he conspired with the King – Ajātasattu – to take over leadership of the Saṇgha. An interesting personal note is that he was actually related to the Buddha. He was the Buddha's cousin and his brother-in-law. In this story they are friends, and according to the Buddhist tradition, for a time that was true during the Buddha's life as well.

* * *

" _Oh friend._ " The Master told this story during a stay in Veḷuvana ( _the Bamboo Forest Monastery in Rajagraha_ ). It is about Devadatta's attempts to imitate him. When he heard of these attempts to imitate him, the Master said, "This is not the first time Devadatta has destroyed himself by imitating me. The same thing happened before." Then he told this story of the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was King of Benares, the Bodhisatta was reborn as a woodpecker. He lived in a forest of acacia trees. His name was "Khadiravaniya, the Bird of the Acacia forest." He had a comrade named "Kandagalaka" or "Eatbulb," who got his food in a forest full of good fruit.

One day the friend went to visit Khadiravaniya. "My friend has come!" Khadiravaniya thought. He led him into the acacia forest where he pecked at the tree trunks until the insects came out, which he then gave to his friend. As each was given to him, the friend pecked it up and ate it as if it were a honey cake. As he ate, pride arose in his heart. "This bird is a woodpecker," he thought, "and so am I. Why do I need to be fed by him? I will get my own food in this acacia forest!" So he said to Khadiravaniya, "Friend, don't trouble yourself. I will get my own food in the acacia forest."

Then Khadiravaniya said, "You belong to a tribe of birds which finds its food in a forest of weak silk-cotton trees and trees that bear abundant fruit. But the acacia is strong and hard. Please do not do this!"

"What!" said Kandagalaka, "am I not a woodpecker?" He would not listen, and he pecked at an acacia trunk. In a moment his beak snapped off, his eyes fell out of his head, and his head split open. So not being able to hold on to the tree he fell to the ground repeating the first verse:

"Oh friend, what is this thorny, cool-leaved tree

Which at one blow has broke my beak for me?"

Figure: "[This tree] broke my beak for me!"

Having heard this, Khadiravaniya recited the second stanza:

"This bird was good for rotten wood

And soft, but once he tried,

By some ill hap, hard trees to tap,

And broke his skull, and died."

So said Khadiravaniya, and then he added, "Oh Kandagalaka, the tree where you broke your head is hard and strong!" But Khadiravaniya perished then and there.

* * *

When the Master had ended this discourse, he identified the birth: "Devadatta was Kandagalaka, and I was Khadiravaniya."

# 211: Somadatta Jātaka,  
The Story of Somadatta

* * *

This is a sweet story about a man who is terminally shy. The real hero is the King who is very understanding, kind, and compassionate to the poor man.

* * *

" _All the year long, never ceasing._ " The Master told this story while he was at Jetavana. It is about the Elder Lāḷudāyī, or "Udāyī the Simpleton."

This man, we learn, was unable to get out a single sound in the presence of two or three people. He was so nervous that he said one thing when he meant another. It happened that the monks were discussing this as they sat together in the Dharma Hall. The Master came in and asked what they were talking about as they sat there together. When they told him, he responded, "Monks, this is not the first time that Lāḷudāyī has been a very nervous man. It was just the same before." And he told this story from the past.

* * *

Once on a time, when Brahmadatta was the King of Benares, the Bodhisatta was born into a brahmin family in the kingdom of Kāsi. When he came of age, he went to study at Takkasilā University. When he returned he found that his family was poor. He said good-bye to his parents and set out to Benares, saying to himself, "I will set up my fallen family again!"

At Benares he became the King's attendant, and he grew to be very dear to the King and became a favorite of his.

Now his father lived by ploughing the land. But he had only one pair of oxen, and one of them died. He went to the Bodhisatta and said to him, "Son, one of my oxen is dead, and the ploughing cannot continue. Ask the King to give you an ox!"

"No, father," he replied, "I just saw the King. I should not ask him for oxen now. You ask him yourself."

"My son," his father said, "you do not know how bashful I am. If there are two or three people present I cannot get a word out. If I go to ask the King for an ox, I shall end by giving him this one!"

"Father," said the Bodhisatta, "what must be, must be. I cannot ask the King. But I will train you to do it." So he led his father to a cemetery where there were clumps of sweet grass. And tying up tufts of it, he scattered them here and there. He named them one by one, pointing them out to his father: "That is the King, that is the Viceroy, this is the Chief Captain. Now, Father, when you come before the King, you must first say, 'Long live the King!' Then repeat this verse, to ask for an ox." And this is the verse he taught him:

"I had two oxen to my plough, with which my work was done,

But one is dead! Oh mighty prince, please give me another one!"

For a whole year the man learned this couplet, and finally he said to his son, "Dear Somadatta, I have learned the lines! Now I can say it before anyone! Take me to the King."

So the Bodhisatta, taking a suitable present, led his father into the King's presence. "Long live the King!" cried the brahmin, offering his present.

"Who is this brahmin, Somadatta?" the King asked.

"Great King, it is my father," he answered.

"Why has he come here?" asked the King. Then the brahmin repeated his couplet to ask for the ox:

"I had two oxen to my plough, with which my work was done,

But one is dead! Oh mighty prince, please take the other one!"

The King saw that there was some mistake. "Somadatta," he said, smiling, "you have plenty of oxen at home, I suppose?"

"If so, great King, they are your gift!"

The King was pleased with this answer. He gave the man, for a brahmin's offering, 16 oxen with fine ornaments and a village to live in. Then he sent him away with great honor. The brahmin got into a chariot drawn by pure white Sindh horses and went to his home in great splendor.

As the Bodhisatta sat beside his father in the chariot, he said, "Father, I taught you the couplet the whole year long, and yet when the moment came you gave your ox to the King!" and he uttered the first stanza:

"All the year long never ceasing with unwearied diligence

Where the sweet grass grows in clusters day by day he practiced it.

When he came amid the courtiers all at once he changed the sense,

Practice truly nothing helps if a man has little wit."

Figure: "I taught you the couplet the whole year long!"

When he heard this, the brahmin uttered the second stanza:

"He that asks, dear Somadatta, takes his chance between the two,

He may get more, or may get less, when he asks. 'Tis ever so."

* * *

When the Master had shown in this story how Simpleton Udāyī had been just as bashful before as he was then, he identified the birth, "Lāḷudāyī was the father of Somadatta, and I was Somadatta."

# 212: Ucchiṭṭha Bhatta Jātaka,  
The Leftover Rice

* * *

This is another story about infidelity. One thing that I have always liked about the Buddhist literature is that it is quite grounded. It is very human. It reads like an inventory of human experience.

This story is partly about wanting, a core teaching of the Buddha. It is wanting that is at the root of our stress and suffering. There is something about the human mind that likes to want. It is addictive behavior. And the mind gets sucked into the wanting more than it does the actual object of our desire. Ṭhānnisaro Bhikkhu uses this example. He says, "If I told you that you can't have pizza today, that would not be much of a problem. If I told you that you can't think about pizza today, that would be much harder." And as is often the case, in this story a monk wants something that is actually bad for him.

* * *

" _Hot at top._ " This story was told by the Master while he was at Jetavana. It is about one who longed for a lost wife. The monk in question was asked by the Master if he really was lovesick. Yes, he said, so he was. "For whom?" was the next question. "For my late wife." "Brother," the Master said, "this same woman was wicked in former days and made you eat the leftovers of her lover." Then he told this story of the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was reigning in Benares, the Bodhisatta was born into a family of poor acrobats who lived by begging. So when he grew up, he was needy and squalid, and he lived by begging.

There was at the time in a certain village of Kāsi a brahmin whose wife was bad and wicked. And it so happened that the brahmin went abroad one day on some business, and her lover used this opportunity to visit the house. After she received him, he said, "I will eat something before I go." So she prepared the food, serving up hot rice with sauce and curry. She gave it him, bidding him to eat, while she stood at the door watching for the brahmin. And while the lover was eating, the Bodhisatta stood nearby hoping for a handout.

At just that moment the brahmin set about for home. His wife saw him drawing near and ran quickly into the house. "Up, my husband is coming!" and she made her lover go down into the storeroom. The husband arrived, and she gave him a seat and water for washing his hands. On top of the cold rice that was left by her lover she dished out some hot rice and set it down in front of him. He put his hand into the rice and felt that it was hot above and cold below. "This must be someone else's leftovers," he thought, and so he asked the woman about it in the words of the first stanza:

"Hot at top and cold at bottom, not alike it seems to be,

I would ask you for the reason, come, my lady, answer me!"

Figure: "Hot at top and cold at bottom!"

Again and again he asked, but she was afraid that her deed would be discovered, so she held her peace. Then a thought came into our tumbler's mind. "The man down in the storeroom must be a lover, and this is the master of the house. The wife says nothing for fear that her misdeed will be discovered. So! I will describe what is going on and show the brahmin that a man is hidden in his pantry!" And he told him the whole story, how that when he had gone out from his house, another man had arrived and had done evil, how he had eaten the first rice, that the wife had stood by the door to watch the road, and how the other man had been hidden in the storeroom. And in so saying, he repeated the second stanza:

"I am a tumbler, sir, I came on begging here intent.

He that you seek is hiding in the storeroom, where he went!"

The tumbler dragged the man out of the storeroom by his top-knot and told him not to do anything like that ever again, and then he departed. The brahmin rebuked and beat them both and gave them such a lesson that they were not likely to do this ever again. Afterwards he passed away to fare according to his karma.

* * *

When the Master had ended his discourse, he taught the Four Noble Truths at the conclusion of which the lovesick monk attained stream-entry. Then the Master identified the birth, "Your late wife was then the brahmin's lady. You, the lovesick monk, were the brahmin, and I was the tumbler."

# 213: Bharu Jātaka,  
The Story of Bharu

* * *

This story is about the rivalry between different spiritual sects of the time. It may be unseemly that the Buddha wants the rival sect's monastery torn down. But I think the idea is that the rivals were trying to actively interfere with the Buddha's monastery. As the story says, they were noisy and would have disturbed the Buddha's monastics and their meditation. Also, Jetavana was bought for the Buddha's Saṇgha by his great benefactor Anāthapiṇḍika and was rightfully theirs.

It is also interesting that the rival sects in the Jātaka ultimately decide that even though they were rivals, they should not quarrel.

* * *

" _The King of Bharu._ " The Master told this story while he was staying at Jetavana. It is about the King of Kosala ( _King Pasenadi_ ).

Now we read that magnificent presents were given to the Blessed One and his company. They were held in great respect. It was written, "At that time the Blessed One was honored and revered, respected, reverenced, highly esteemed, and received rich presents: robes, food, lodging, drugs and medicines and provisions. The Saṇgha was likewise honored. But the seekers from other schools were not honored."

Well, the members of these other sects, finding that honor and gifts diminished, convened a secret meeting. "Since the appearance of the Mendicant Gautama," they said, "honor and gifts are no longer given to us, but he has got the best of both. What can be the reason for his good fortune?" Then one of them said, "The Mendicant Gautama has the best and greatest place in all India in which to live, and that is the reason for his success." Then the others said, "If this is the reason, we will make a rival settlement above Jetavana, and then we shall receive gifts." This was the conclusion they came to.

"But," they thought, "if we hide our settlement from the King, the Buddha's Saṇgha will stop us. But if he accepts a large gift from us, he will be inclined to break up their settlement. So we had best bribe him to give us a place of our own."

So through the intervention of his courtiers, they offered 100,000 gold coins to the King with this message, "Great King, we want to make a rival settlement in Jetavana. If the Buddha's Saṇgha tells you they won't permit it, please do not give them any answer." To this the King agreed because he wanted the money.

After so, placating the King, the members of the rival sects got an architect and started the work at hand. They generated a great deal of noise.

"What is all this great noise and tumult, Ānanda?" the Master asked.

"The noise," he said, "is some members of another sect who are having a new settlement built."

"That is not a fit place," he responded, "for them to settle. Those people are fond of noise. There's no living with them."

Then he called the Saṇgha together and told them to go tell the King what was happening and to have the building stopped.

The Saṇgha went and stood by the palace door. The King, as soon as he heard they were coming, knew they had come to stop the new settlement. But since he had been bribed, he ordered his attendants to say that the King was not there. The Saṇgha went back and told the Master. The Master guessed that a bribe had been given, and so he sent his two chief disciples ( _Moggallāna and Sāriputta_ ). But the King, as soon as he heard of their arrival, gave the same order as before. So they, too, returned and told the Master. The Master said, "Undoubtedly the King is not home today. He must be out."

On the next day, he dressed himself, took his bowl and robe, and with 500 monks walked to the door of the palace. The King heard them arrive. He descended from the upper story and took the alms bowl of the Buddha. Then he gave rice and porridge to him and his followers, and with a salutation he sat down on one side.

The Master began an exposition for the King's benefit, in these words: "Great King, other kings in by-gone days have taken bribes. Then, by making virtuous people quarrel, they have lost their kingdom and been utterly destroyed." And then, at his request, the Master told this story from the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, King Bharu was reigning over the kingdom of Bharu. At the same time the Bodhisatta was the teacher of a group of monks. He was a recluse who had acquired the Five Supernatural Faculties ( _1. walking on water or through walls, 2. ESP, 3. telepathy, 4. recollecting previous lives and 5. "the divine eye," which is seeing peoples' next rebirth_ ) and the Eight Attainments (jhānas), and he lived for a long time in the region of the Himalaya.

He went down from Himalaya to buy salt and seasoning followed by 500 recluses. They went by stages to the city of Bharu. He went begging through the city, and then - coming out from it - he sat down by the northern gate at the root of a banyan tree. There he ate a meal, and there they made their residence.

Now when that band of recluses had lived there for half a month, along came another teacher with another 500 followers. They, too, went seeking alms in the city, and then they came out and sat underneath another banyan tree by the south gate. There they ate and likewise took up their residence there. And the two groups lived there as long as they wanted and then returned to the Himalaya.

Once they left, the tree by the south gate withered away. The next time the recluses went to the city, those who had lived under it arrived first. Seeing that their tree was withered, they first went on their rounds in the city, and then went out by the northern gate. There they ate and lived under the banyan tree that was by that gate. And the other group, coming later, went on their rounds in the city, and then headed for their banyan tree.

"This is not your tree, it is ours!" they cried, and they began to quarrel about the tree. The quarrel grew heated. One group said, "Do not take the place where we used to live!" And the other group said, "This time we got here first! Do not take it from us!" So each group shouted that they were the owners of it, and finally they all went to the King's palace.

The King ordered that those who had first lived there should have the rights to it. Then the others thought, "We will not allow ourselves to say that we have been beaten by them!" Using their divine sight, they saw the body of a chariot fit for an emperor to use. They took it and offered it as a gift to the King. They begged him to give them possession of the tree. He took their gift and ordered that both groups should live under the tree, and so they were to all live there together.

Then the other group got the jeweled wheels of the same chariot. They offered them to the King, praying to him, "Oh mighty King, give us possession of the tree alone!" And the King did so.

Then the recluses repented and said, "To think that we, who have overcome the love of riches and sense desire, and who have renounced the world, should quarrel because of a tree and offer bribes for it! This is unfitting." And they immediately went back to the Himalaya.

All the spirits ( _devas_ ) that lived in the kingdom of Bharu were angry with the King because the holy men had left. They caused a great tempest, and for the space of 1500 kilometers they flooded the kingdom of Bharu. And so because of the King of Bharu, all the inhabitants of the kingdom perished.

Figure: The Devas Were Not Happy!

* * *

When the Teacher had ended this story, in his perfect wisdom he uttered the following stanzas:

"The King of Bharu, as old stories say,

Made holy recluses quarrel on a day.

For this misdeed then he fell dead,

And with him all his kingdom shred.

"Whatever the wise don't approve at all

When sense desire into the heart doth fall.

He that is free from guile, whose heart is pure,

All that he says is ever true and sure."

When the Master had ended this story, he added, "Great King, one should not succumb to the power of desire. Two spiritual parties should not quarrel with one another." Then he identified the birth: "In those days, I was the leader of the recluses."

When the King had entertained the Buddha, and he had departed, the King sent some men to have the rival settlement destroyed, and those recluses became homeless.

# 214: Puṇṇa Nadī Jātaka,  
Rivers at Flood

* * *

This is a story that is steeped in ancient Indian sayings and lore. I have done my best to make sense of it. As in a number of stories, the Bodhisatta is an advisor to the King. But conspirators cause his good name to be sullied, and he is sent away. When the King realizes the error of his ways, he chooses to test the Bodhisatta by challenging him to solve a riddle. If he solves it this will reveal his true wisdom and also bring his advisor back to the King.

* * *

" _That which can drink._ " The Master told this story while he was staying at Jetavana. It is about perfect wisdom.

On one occasion, the monastics were gathered in the Dharma Hall They were discussing the Buddha's wisdom. "Friend," they said, "the Supreme Buddha's wisdom is great, wide, cutting, quick, sharp, penetrating, and resourceful." The Master came in and asked what they were discussing as they sat there together. They told him. "Not only now," he said, "is the Buddha wise and resourceful. He was likewise in days gone by." And then he told them this story from the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was the King of Benares, the Bodhisatta came into the world as the son of the court chaplain. When he grew up, he studied at Takkasilā University. When his father died he received the office of chaplain, and he was the King's advisor in all things worldly and spiritual.

At one time the King listened to agitators who conspired against the Bodhisatta. In anger he ordered the Bodhisatta to never show his face in court again and sent him away from Benares. So the Bodhisatta took his wife and family with him and went to a village in Kāsi.

Later, however, the King reflected on the Bodhisatta's goodness and regretted his actions. He wanted to make amends. But he wanted to test the Bodhisatta to see if he were truly wise. He said to himself, "It is not proper that I should simply send a messenger to fetch my teacher. I will compose a verse of poetry and write it on a leaf. Then I will have some crow's flesh cooked. After I have tied up the letter and meat in a white cloth, I will seal it with the King's seal and send it to him. If he is wise, when he reads the letter and sees the crow's meat, he will come. But if he is not wise, he will not come." And so he wrote this stanza on the leaf:

"That which can drink when rivers are in flood,

That which the corn will cover out of sight,

That which forebodes a traveler on the road—

Oh wise one, eat! My riddle read aright."

( _"That which can drink when rivers are in flood" references an Indian saying that says that when a river is in flood, the water is high enough that a crow can drink from it. "That which the corn can cover" likewise references corn that is tall enough to hide a crow. And the third line refers to an Indian saying that when a crow calls a traveler is coming._ )

Figure: Pondering the King's Riddle

The King wrote this verse on a leaf and sent it to the Bodhisatta. He read the letter and thought, "The King wants to see me," he repeated the second verse:

"The King does not forget to send me crow,

Geese, herons, peacocks... other birds there are,

If he gives one, he'll give the rest, I know,

If he sent none at all, would be worse by far."

( _"When the King gets crow's flesh he remembers to send some. Surely he will remember when he gets geese, etc." This passage is somewhat obscure, but the gist of it is that the Bodhisatta understands that the King wants him to return._ )

Then he ordered his chariot to be prepared. He went back to Benares and presented himself before the King. The King was pleased, and he restored him to his position as the King's chaplain.

* * *

This discourse ended, the Master identified the birth: "Ānanda was the King in those days, and I was his chaplain."

# 215: Kaccapa Jātaka,  
The Tortoise

* * *

In the Buddha's teaching, restraint is a quality to be developed. It is the antidote to passion, especially sense desire and craving. But it is not about suppressing emotions. It is about using mindfulness, wisdom, and calm to see into the dangers in sensual passion and using wisdom and insight to abandon it. In the Dhammapada the Buddha says:

Good is restraint in the body; good is restraint in speech; good is restraint in thought. Restraint everywhere is good. The monk restrained in every way is freed from all suffering. – [Dhp 361]

And in this story, the Buddha uses the example of a tortoise - whose inability to use restraint in speech leads to his demise - to teach this lesson to an overly talkative king.

* * *

" _The tortoise must speak._ " The Master told this story while he was staying in Jetavana. It is about Kokālika ( _a disciple of Devadatta_ ). The circumstances which gave rise to it will be set forth under the Mahātakkāri Birth ( _actually the "Takkāri Jātaka," which is number 481_ ). Here the Master said, "This is not the only time, monks, that Kokālika has brought about his ruin by talking. It was just the same before." And then he told this story from the past.

* * *

Once upon a time when Brahmadatta was the King of Benares, the Bodhisatta was born to a member of the King's court. When he grew up, he became the King's adviser in all things worldly and spiritual. But this King was very talkative. And when he talked there was no chance for anyone else to get in a word edgewise. Meanwhile the Bodhisatta, wishing to put a stop to his excessive talking, kept looking for an opportunity to do so.

Now in a certain pond in the region of the Himalaya Mountains there lived a tortoise. Two young wild geese who were searching for food struck up an acquaintance with him, and bye and bye they became close friends. One day the geese said to him, "Friend tortoise, we have a lovely home in the Himalaya Mountains. It is on a plateau of Mount Cittakūta in a cave of gold! Will you come with us?"

"Why," said he, "how will I get there?"

"Oh, we will take you, if only you can keep your mouth shut and say not a word about this to anyone."

"Yes, I can do that," he said. "Take me along!"

So they had the tortoise hold a stick between his teeth and they each took hold of one of the ends. Then they sprang up into the air.

The geese flew swiftly into the space above the palace of the King at Benares. The village children saw them and exclaimed, "There are two geese carrying a tortoise by a stick!"

The tortoise cried out, "Well, and if my friends do carry me, what is that to you, you wretches?" And in order to speak he had let go of the stick that was between his teeth. He fell into the open courtyard and split in two.

Figure: He Had to Let Go...

What an uproar there was! "A tortoise has fallen in the courtyard and broken in two!" they cried. The King, with the Bodhisatta and his entire court, came out into the courtyard. When they saw the tortoise the King asked the Bodhisatta, "Wise sir, what made this creature fall?"

"Now is my time!" the Bodhisatta thought. "For a long while I have been wishing to admonish the King, and I have waited for my opportunity. There can be no doubt that the tortoise and the geese became friends. The geese must have meant to carry him to the Himalaya Mountains. They made him hold a stick between his teeth and then lifted him into the air. Then he must have heard some remark and wanted to reply. And not being able to keep his mouth shut he must have let go. So he must have fallen from the sky and thus come to his death."

So he addressed the King, "Oh King, those who talk too much, those who put no restraint on their speaking, always come to misfortune like this," and he uttered the following verses:

"The tortoise needs must speak aloud,

Although between his teeth

A stick he bit, yet, spite of it,

He spoke, and fell beneath.

"And now, oh mighty master, mark it well.

See you speak wisely, see you speak in season.

To death the tortoise fell —

He talked too much — that was the reason."

"He is talking about me!" the King thought to himself, and he asked the Bodhisatta if that was so.

"Be it you, oh great King or be it someone else," he replied, "whoever talks too much comes by some misery of this kind." And so he made his meaning clear. And from then on the King used restraint in his speech and became a man of few words.

* * *

This discourse ended, the Master identified the birth: "Kokālika was the tortoise, the two famous elders ( _Sāriputta and Moggallāna_ ) were the wild geese, Ānanda was the King, and I was his wise adviser."

# 216: Maccha Jātaka,  
The Fish Story

* * *

The story-in-the-present here does not make any sense, but I have chosen to leave it as-is. It says that the fish's mate caused him some problem, but the actual Jātaka only says that the fish's lamenting for his wife was the cause of him being set free. I think the more important lesson here is the compassion of the Bodhisatta who convinces the fishermen to let him go.

Although it has come under criticism recently for possible damage to eco-systems, in Chinese Buddhism there is a tradition called "Fang Sheng" in which fish and tortoises are released into temple ponds out of compassion.

* * *

" _'Tis is not the fire._ " The Master told this story during a stay at Jetavana. It is about a monk who lusted after his late wife. The Master asked this monk, "Is it true, brother, what I hear, that you are lovesick?"

"Yes, sir."

"For whom?"

"For my late wife."

Then the Master said to him, "This wife, brother, has been the cause of great mischief to you. Long ago by her actions you came near to being spitted and roasted for food, but wise men saved your life." Then he told this story of the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was the King of Benares, the Bodhisatta was his chaplain. Some fishermen took a fish that they had caught in their net and threw it down on hot sand, saying, "We will cook it in the embers and eat." So they sharpened a spit and prepared to cook it.

But the fish started to cry over his mate and said these two verses:

"'Tis not the fire that burns me, nor the spit that hurts me sore,

But the thought my mate may call me a faithless paramour.

"'Tis the flame of love that burns me, and fills my heart with pain,

Not death is the due of loving, Oh fishers, free me again!"

Figure: The Fish Pleads His Case

At that moment the Bodhisatta approached the river bank, and hearing the fish's lament, he went up to the fishermen and made them set the fish free.

* * *

This discourse ended, the Master taught the Four Noble Truths, at the conclusion of which the lovesick monk attained stream-entry. Then he identified the birth: "The wife was in those days the fish's mate, the lovesick monk was the fish, and I was the chaplain."

Figure: Fang Sheng Garden Statue

# 217: Seggu Jātaka,  
The Greengrocer's Daughter

* * *

Some of these stories I find incredibly sordid. This one is essentially the same as Jātaka 102 in which a greengrocer tests his daughter's virtue – essentially her virginity – by making a pass at her. Crikey (!).

* * *

" _All the world is bent on pleasure._ " The Master told this story while he was at Jetavana. It is about a greengrocer who was a lay follower of the Buddha.

The circumstances have been already given in the Paṇṇa Jātaka ( _Jātaka 102_ ). Here again the Master asked him where he had been for so long. He replied, "My daughter, sir, is always smiling. After testing her, I gave her in marriage to a young gentleman. As this had to be done, I did not have time to pay you a visit." To this the Master answered, "Not only now is your daughter virtuous, but she was virtuous in days gone by. And just as you have tested her now, you tested her in those days." And at the man's request he told this story from the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was the King of Benares, the Bodhisatta was a tree spirit.

This same pious greengrocer took it into his head to test his daughter. He led her into the woods and seized her by the hand. He pretended to have passion for her. And as she cried out in woe, he addressed her in the words of the first stanza:

"All the world's on pleasure bent,

Ah, my baby innocent!

Now I've caught you, pray don't cry,

As the town does, so do I."

When she heard it, she answered, "Dear Father, I am an innocent maiden, and I know not the ways of sin." And weeping she uttered the second stanza:

"He that should keep me safe from all distress,

The same betrays me in my loneliness,

My father, who should be my sure defense,

Here in the forest offers violence."

Figure: "My father who should be my sure defense..."

And the greengrocer, after testing his daughter in this way, took her home and gave her in marriage to a young man. Afterwards he passed away according to his karma ( _which probably wasn't all that great!_ ).

* * *

When the Master had ended this discourse he taught the Four Noble Truths. When he finished his teaching the greengrocer attained stream-entry. The Master then identified the birth: "In those days the father and daughter were the same as now, and I was the tree spirit who saw it all."

# 218: Kuṭa Vāṇija Jātaka,  
The Dishonest Trader

* * *

This is a clever little story in which an honest merchant not only sniffs out the dishonesty of his partner, but finds a way to expose him in court.

* * *

" _Well planned indeed!_ " The Master told this story he was while staying at Jetavana. It is about a dishonest trader.

There were two traders from Sāvatthi. One was virtuous and the other was a cheat. These two joined in a partnership. They loaded 500 wagons full of merchandise and traveled from east to west for trade. They returned to Sāvatthi with a large profit.

The pious trader suggested to his partner that they should divide their stock. The rogue thought to himself, "This fellow has been roughing it for so long with bad food and lodging. Now that he is home again, he'll eat all sorts of delicacies and die of gluttony. Then I will have all the stock for myself."

So he responded by saying, "Neither the stars nor the day are favorable. Tomorrow or the next day we'll take care of it." So he kept putting it off.

However, the pious trader pressed him and the division was made. Then he went to see the Master with scents and garlands. And after a respectful salutation, he sat on one side. The Master asked when he had returned. "Just two weeks ago, sir," he said. "Then why have you taken so long to visit the Buddha?" The trader explained. Then the Master said, "It is not only now that your partner is a scoundrel. He was just the same before." And at his request he told him this story from the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was the King of Benares, the Bodhisatta came into this world as the son of a member of the King's court. When he grew up he was made the Lord Justice.

At that time, two traders, one from a village and one from the town, were friends together. The villager gave 500 plowshares (plow blades) to the townsman. The townsman sold these and kept the money, and in the place where they had been he scattered mouse dung. By and by the villager came by, and asked for his ploughshares.

"The mice have eaten them up!" said the cheat, and pointed out the mouse dung to him.

"Well, well, so be it," replied the villager. "What can be done with things that mice have eaten?" ( _In ancient India anything eaten by mice or rates was considered unlucky._ )

Now at bathing time the villager took the other trader's son and sent him to a friend's house. He put him in an inner chamber and told him not to go outside. And after washing himself he went to his friend's house.

"Where is my son?" asked the cheat.

"Dear friend," he replied, "I took him with me and left him on the river bank. And when I went down into the water, a hawk came down. He seized your son in his extended claws and flew up into the air. I beat on the water, shouted, and struggled, but I could not make him let go."

"Lies!" cried the rogue. "No hawk can carry off a boy!"

"Let it be, dear friend. If things happen that should not, how can I help it? Your son has been carried off by a hawk, I say."

The other reviled him. "Ah, you scoundrel! You murderer! Now I will go to the judge and have you dragged before him!" The villager said, "As you please." And then the scoundrel left and went to the court of justice. He addressed the Bodhisatta, saying, "My lord, this fellow took my son with him to bathe, and when I asked where he was, he answered that a hawk had carried him off. Judge my cause!"

"Tell the truth," the Bodhisatta said, asking the villager.

"Indeed, my lord," he answered, "I took him with me, and a hawk carried him off."

"But where in the world are there hawks that can carry off boys?"

"My lord," he answered, "I have a question to ask you. If hawks cannot carry off boys into the air, can mice eat iron ploughshares?"

"What do you mean by that?" the Bodhisatta asked.

"My lord, I left 500 ploughshares in this man's house. The man told me that the mice had eaten them, and he showed me the droppings of the mice that had done it. My lord, if mice can eat ploughshares, then hawks can carry off boys. But if mice cannot do this, then neither can hawks carry the boy. This man says the mice ate my ploughshares. Give sentence whether they have eaten them or not. Judge my cause!"

"He must have meant," the Bodhisatta thought, "to fight the trickster with his own weapons. Well devised!" he exclaimed, and then he uttered these two verses:

"Well planned indeed! The biter bit,

The trickster tricked - a pretty hit!

If mice eat ploughshares, hawks can fly

With boys away into the sky!

"A rogue out-rogued with tit for tat!

Give back the plough, and after that

Perhaps the man who lost the plough

May give your son back to you now!"

Figure: "Well Devised!"

Thus the townsman who had lost his son received him again, and the villager received the money from the sale of his ploughshares that he had lost. And afterwards both passed away to fare according to their karma.

* * *

When this discourse ended, the Master identified the birth: "The cheat in both cases was the same, and so was the clever man. I was the Lord Chief Justice."

# 219: Garahita Jātaka,  
The Story of Blaming

* * *

This story is reminiscent of the Christian saying, "It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle then for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven." [Mathew 19:24] Although in this case the unskillful behavior of the rich has more to do with not seeing the impermanent nature of all conditioned phenomena. But the idea is the same. It is the delusion of the importance of wealth and status.

(There is a hilarious episode of The Simpsons in which the ultra-wealthy Mr. Burns hires a team of scientists to get a camel to pass through the eye of a needle. They do everything from breed tiny camels and build large needles to pureeing a camel and pouring it through the eye of a needle.)

The reaction of the monkeys to all of this is that the place where they heard about such bad behavior becomes a place of shame. It is reminiscent of the three monkeys who "hear no evil, see no evil, and speak no evil." The three monkeys actually have their origins in Japanese Buddhism. The three monkeys are Mizaru, who covers his eyes, Kikazaru, who covers his ears, and Iwazaru, who covers his mouth. The meaning is that you should only associate yourself with good qualities of body, speech and mind.

* * *

" _The gold is mine._ " The Master told this story while he was at Jetavana. It is about a monk who was downcast and discontented.

This man could not concentrate his mind on any meditation object, and his life was full of discontent. This was reported to the Master. When asked by the Master if he really was discontented, he said "yes." When he was asked why, he replied that it was because of his passions. "Oh, brother!" the Master said, "passion is despised even by the lower animals, yet you, a monk of such a high doctrine, give in to discontent arising from the passion that even brutes despise?" Then he told him this story from the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta reigned over Benares, the Bodhisatta came into the world as a monkey in the region of the Himalaya Mountains. A park ranger caught him, took him home, and gave him to the King. For a long time he lived with the King, serving him faithfully, and he learned a great deal about the manners of the world of men.

The King was pleased with his faithfulness. He sent for the park ranger, and he told him to set the monkey free in the same place where he had been caught. And so he did.

The entire monkey tribe gathered together on the face of a huge rock to see the Bodhisatta now that he had come back to them. And they spoke pleasantly to him.

"Sir, where have you been living this whole time?"

"In the King's palace in Benares."

"Then how did you get free?"

"The King made me his pet monkey, and being pleased with my tricks, he let me go."

The monkeys went on, "You must know about the world of men. Tell us about it. We want to hear!"

"Don't ask me the manner of men's living," the Bodhisatta replied.

"Do tell. We want to hear!" they said again.

"Mankind," he said, "both princes and brahmins, cry out, 'Mine! mine!' They do not know about impermanence, by which things appear to be but are not. Hear now the way of these blind fools." And he spoke these verses:

"'The gold is mine, the precious gold!' so they cry, night and day.

These foolish folk never take a look upon the holy way.

"There are two masters in the house, one has no beard to wear,

But has long breasts, ears pierced with holes, and goes with braided hair.

His price is told in countless gold, he plagues all people there."

On hearing this, all the monkeys cried out, "Stop, stop! We have heard what it is painful to hear!" and with both hands they covered their ears tight. They did not like the place because they said, "In this place we heard something terrible." So they went elsewhere. And forever after this rock went by the name of Garahitapiṭṭhi Rock, or the Rock of Blaming.

Figure: Painful to Hear!

* * *

When the Master ended this discourse, he taught the Four Noble Truths, at the conclusion of which this monk attained stream-entry. The Master then identified the birth: "The Buddha's present followers were that troop of monkeys, and I was their chief."

# 220: Dhammaddhaja Jātaka,  
The Story of Dhammaddhaja

* * *

This Jātaka spins a nice little tale in which the Bodhisatta is tested over and over again to do "impossible" tasks. The mastermind behind these tests is our old friend Devadatta. But in this case the Bodhisatta is repeatedly bailed out by Sakka, the Lord of the devas.

This story gives us some insight into how Buddhism regards Sakka. Sakka is known in Hinduism as "Indra." In Buddhism, Sakka takes on the role of a benevolent protector of the Dharma. And in this story, he protects the Bodhisatta himself.

The punch line to this story is a lovely one. The Bodhisatta is given a task that Sakka cannot complete and that is to find a truly virtuous man. The Bodhisatta is able to do this with Sakka's help, and this ends the stream of tests that the Bodhisatta is ordered to complete.

* * *

" _You look as though..._ " The Master told this story while he was staying at the Bamboo Grove ( _Veluvana_ ). It is about the attempts to kill him. On this occasion, as before, the Master said, "This is not the first time Devadatta has tried to murder me, yet has not even frightened me. He did the same before." And he told this story from the past.

* * *

Once upon a time there reigned a King named "Yasapāṇi the Glorious" in Benares. His chief captain was named "Kāḷaka," or "Blackie." At that time the Bodhisatta was his chaplain. He had the name "Dhammaddhaja, the Banner of the Faith." There was also a man named "Chattapāṇi." He was the maker of ornaments for the King. The King was a good king. But his chief captain took bribes when judging cases. He was a backstabber. He took bribes and defrauded the rightful owners.

One day, someone who had lost his lawsuit was leaving the court. He was weeping and stretching out his arms when he saw the Bodhisatta who was on his way to pay his service to the King. Falling at his feet the man cried out, telling the Bodhisatta how he had lost his case. "Although people like you, my lord, instruct the King in the ways of this world and the next, the Commander-in-Chief takes bribes and defrauds rightful owners!"

The Bodhisatta felt compassion for him. "Come, my good fellow," he said, "I will judge your case for you," and he proceeded to the courthouse. A great many people gathered together. The Bodhisatta reversed the sentence and gave a judgment in his favor. The spectators applauded. The sound was deafening. The King heard it and asked, "What is all that noise that I hear?"

"My lord King," they answered, "it is a case wrongly judged that has been made right by the wise Dhammaddhaja. That is why there is this roar of applause."

The King was pleased and sent for the Bodhisatta. "They tell me," he began, "that you have judged a case?"

"Yes, great King. I have judged a case that Kāḷaka did not judge properly."

"You will be a judge from this day on," said the King. "It will be a joy for my ears and mean prosperity for the world!"

Dhammaddhaja was at first unwilling to do this, but the King begged him. "In mercy to all creatures, please sit in judgment!" And so the King was able to get him to agree.

From that time Kāḷaka received no gifts. Having lost his gains he slandered the Bodhisatta before the King, saying, "Oh mighty King, the wise Dhammaddhaja covets your kingdom!" But the King did not believe him and told him not to say such things.

"If you do not believe me," said Kāḷaka, "look out of the window when he arrives at the palace. Then you will see that he has got the whole city in his hands."

The King saw the great crowd of people who were gathered around him in his judgment hall. "There are his supporters," the King thought. He gave in to Kāḷaka. "What are we to do, Captain?" he asked.

"My lord, he must be put to death."

"How can we put him to death without having found him guilty of some crime?"

"There is a way," Kāḷaka said.

"How?"

"Tell him to do something that is impossible, and when he cannot do it, put him to death for that."

"But what is impossible to him?"

"My lord King," he replied, "it takes two to four years for a garden with good soil to bear fruit. Send for him and say, 'We want a pleasure garden planted tomorrow. Make us a garden!' He will not be able to this, and we will put him to death for that fault."

The King addressed the Bodhisatta. "Wise sir, we have enjoyed our old garden long enough. Now we want a new one. Make us a garden! If you cannot make it, you must die."

The Bodhisatta reasoned, "It must be that Kāḷaka has turned the King against me because he is no longer getting presents."

"If I can," he said, "Oh mighty King, I will see to it."

And he went home. After a good meal he lay on his bed thinking. Sakka's palace grew hot. ( _"Sakka" is the King of the Devas. In Indian mythology Sakka's palace grew hot when someone was in dire straits._ ) Sakka perceived the Bodhisatta's difficulty. He rushed to him, entered his chamber, and – poised in mid-air - asked him, "Wise sir, what are you thinking about?"

"Who are you?" the Bodhisatta asked.

"I am Sakka."

"The King has told me to make a garden. That is what I am thinking about."

Figure: Explaining the Dilemma to Sakka

"Wise sir, do not worry. I will make you a garden like the groves of Nandana ( _Sakka's own garden_ ) and Cittalatā ( _the garden in the Heaven of the Thirty-three_ )! Where should I put it?"

He told him where to put it. Sakka made the garden and then returned to the city of the gods.

On the next day, the Bodhisatta looked over the garden, and then he went to the King. "Oh King, the garden is ready. Go and enjoy it!"

The King went to the place, and saw a garden surrounded by a fence of eighteen cubits. It was the color of vermilion. It had gates and ponds, beautifully covered with all types of trees laden heavy with flowers and fruit! "The sage has done what I have asked," he said to Kāḷaka. "Now what are we going to do?"

"Oh mighty King!" he replied, "if he can make a garden in one night, can he not also seize your kingdom?"

"Well, what are we to do?"

"We will make him perform another impossible act."

"What is that?" asked the King.

"We will have him build a lake full of the seven precious jewels!" ( _gold, silver, pearl, coral, catseye, ruby, and diamond_ )

The King agreed and thus addressed the Bodhisatta:

"Teacher, you have made a garden. Now make a lake to match it, filled with the seven precious jewels. If you cannot make it, you shall not live!"

"Very well, great King," the Bodhisatta answered, "I will make it if I can."

Then Sakka made a lake of great splendor. It had a hundred landings, a thousand inlets. It was covered with lotus plants of five different colors, just like the lake in Nandana.

On the next clay, the Bodhisatta surveyed this. He told the King, "See, the lake has been made!" When the King saw it he asked Kāḷaka what was to be done.

"Tell him, my lord, to make a house to suit it," he said.

"Make a house, teacher," the King said to the Bodhisatta. "Make it of ivory to suit the park and the lake. If you do not make it, you must die!"

Then Sakka built the house. The Bodhisatta saw it on the next day, and then he reported to the King. When the King saw it, he asked Kāḷaka - again - what was to be done. Kāḷaka told him to order the Bodhisatta to make a jewel to suit the house. The King said to him, "Wise sir, make a jewel to suit this ivory house. I will look at the house by the light of this jewel. If you cannot make it, you must die!"

Then Sakka made him a jewel as well. On the next day the Bodhisatta saw it, and then he reported to the King. When the King saw it, he again asked Kāḷaka what was to be done.

"Mighty King!" he answered, "I think there is some spirit who does each task that the brahmin Dhammaddhaja wishes. Now tell him to make something which even a god cannot make. Not even a god can make a man with all four virtues. Therefore, tell him to make a park ranger with these four."

So the King said, "Teacher, you have made a park, a lake, and a palace, and a jewel to give light. Now make me a man with four virtues to watch the park. If you cannot, you must die."

"So be it," he answered, "if it is possible, I will do it."

He went home, had a good meal, and lay down. When he woke up in the morning, he sat on his bed and thought, "What the great King Sakka can make by his power, he has made. But he cannot make a park ranger with four virtues. This being the case, it is better for me to die forlorn in the woods than to die at the hand of other men."

So saying nothing to anyone, he left his home and went out of the city by the main gate. He went into the woods. There he sat him down underneath a tree and reflected upon the Dharma of the good. Sakka perceived it, and disguised as a forester he approached the Bodhisatta. He said, "Brahmin, you are young and tender. Why do you sit here in this wood in so much pain?" As he asked it, he repeated the first stanza:

"You look as though your life must happy be,

Yet to the wild woods you would homeless go,

Like some poor wretch whose life was misery,

And pine beneath this tree in lonely woe."

To this the Bodhisatta answered in the second stanza:

"I look as though my life must happy be,

Yet to the wild woods I would homeless go,

Like some poor wretch whose life was misery,

And pine beneath this tree in lonely woe,

Pondering the truth that all the saints do know."

Then Sakka said, "If so, then why, brahmin, are you sitting here?"

"The King," he replied, "requires a park ranger with four good qualities. There is no one like that, so I thought, 'Why perish by the hand of man? I will be off to the woods and die a lonely death. So here I came, and here I sit."

Then Sakka replied, "Brahmin, I am Sakka, King of the gods. I made your park and those other things. A park ranger who has the four virtues cannot be found here. But in your country there is a man named "Chattapāṇi." He makes ornaments for the head, and he is such a man. Go find him and make this man the park keeper." With these words Sakka departed to his heavenly city after consoling Dhammaddhaja and telling him to fear no more.

The Bodhisatta went home, and having broken his fast, he went to the palace gates. There he saw Chattapāṇi. He took him by the hand and asked him, "Is it true, as I hear, Chattapāṇi, that you are endowed with the four virtues?"

"Who told you so?" Chattapāṇi asked.

"Sakka, King of the gods."

"Why did he tell you?" He recounted it all.

Chattapāṇi said, "Yes, I am endowed with the four virtues."

The Bodhisatta took him by the hand and led him into the King's presence. "Here, mighty monarch, is Chattapāṇi. He is endowed with four virtues. If there is need of a keeper for the park, make him keeper."

"Is it true, as I hear," the King asked him, "that you have four virtues?"

"Yes, mighty King."

"What are they?" he asked.

"I do not envy, I do not drink alcohol, I have no lust, and I never get angry," he said.

"Why, Chattapāṇi," cried the King, "did you say you have no envy?"

"Yes, oh King, I have no envy."

"What are the things you do not envy?"

"Listen, my lord!" he said, and then he told him how he felt no envy in the following lines:

"A chaplain once in bonds I threw,

Which thing a woman made me do.

He built me up in holy lore,

Since when I never envied more."

( _This is a reference to Jātaka 120 in which Chattapāṇi became King because of his virtue._ )

Then the King said, "Dear Chattapāṇi, why do you abstain from liquor?" And he answered in the following verse:

"Once I was drunken, and I ate

My own son's flesh upon my plate,

Then, touched with sorrow and with pain,

Swore never to touch a drink again."

Then the King said, "But what, dear sir, makes you indifferent, without love?" The man explained it in these words:

"King Kitavāsa was my name,

A mighty King was I,

My boy the Buddha's basin broke

And so he had to die."

Then the King said, "What was it, good friend, that made you to be without anger?" And he made the matter clear in these lines:

"As 'Araka' for seven years

I practiced charity,

And then for seven ages dwelt

In Brahma's realm on high."

When Chattapāṇi had explained his four virtues, the King signaled to his attendants. And in an instant the entire court - priests and laymen and everyone - rose up and cried out to Kāḷaka, "You bribe-swallowing thief and scoundrel! You couldn't get your bribes, and so you conspired to murder the wise man by slandering him!" They seized him by his hands and feet. They tied him up and carried him out of the palace, and picking up whatever they could get their hands on, stones and sticks and the like, they smashed his head until he died. Then they dragged him by the feet and threw his body on a pile of manure.

From then on the King ruled in righteousness until he passed away to fare according to his karma.

* * *

This discourse ended, the Master identified the birth: "Devadatta was the Commander Kāḷaka, Sāriputta was the artisan Chattapāṇi, and I was Dhammaddhaja."

# 221: Kāsāva Jātaka,  
The Yellow Robe

* * *

In the Buddhist tradition – going back to the time of the Buddha – monks and nuns wear yellow. It is actually a brown-ish yellow, and the exact color varies by region. During the Buddha's time, this was considered the poorest dye available, thus wearing yellow robes was a symbol of humility. As Buddhism moved into China, it became traditional to wear gray, brown, or black robes, also symbols of humility. And likewise, Tibetan monks and nuns wear maroon.

But as we see in this story, the humble yellow robe also became a symbol of spiritual accomplishment. And mis-using that symbol comes with dire consequences, karmically speaking if in no other way.

Sadly this story tells a tale that is relevant today, and that is killing elephants for their tusks.

* * *

" _If any man..._ " The Master told this story while he was staying at Jetavana. It is about Devadatta.

This story was prompted by something that happened at Rājagaha. At the time the Captain of the Faith ( _Sāriputta_ ) was living with 500 monks at the Bamboo Grove ( _Veluvana_ ). And Devadatta, with a group of men who were as wicked as he was, lived at Gayāsīsa.

At that time the citizens of Rājagaha used to get together for the giving of alms. A trader, who had gone there on business, brought a magnificent perfumed yellow robe. He asking if he could be one of the almsgivers, and he give this garment as his contribution.

The townspeople brought plenty of gifts. There was also a great deal of money. But there was this garment left. The crowd that had gathered said, "Here is this beautiful perfumed robe. Who should have it, the Elder Sāriputta or Devadatta?"

Some were in favor of Sāriputta. Others said, "The Elder Sāriputta will only stay here a few days. Then he will go traveling at his own sweet will. But Devadatta always lives near our city. He is our refuge in good fortune or ill. Devadatta should have it!"

They divided into two groups, and those who voted for Devadatta were in the majority. So they gave the robe to Devadatta. He had it cut into strips and sewn back together. It had a color like gold, and so he wore it.

At the same time, 30 monks from Sāvatthi went to salute the Master. After greetings had been exchanged, they told him about this affair, adding, "And so, sir, Devadatta wears the clothing of a saint, which does not suit him at all."

"Monks," the Master said, "this is not the first time that Devadatta has put on the clothing of a saint, a most unsuitable dress. He did the same before." And then he told them this story from the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was the King of Benares, the Bodhisatta came into this world as an elephant in the Himalaya Mountains. He was the lord of a herd that numbered 80,000 wild elephants, and he lived in the forest.

A poor man that lived in Benares saw the workers in the ivory bazaar making bangles and all manner of ivory trinkets. He asked them if they would buy elephant tusks if he could get them. To this they answered "Yes."

So he took a weapon, and - clothing himself in a yellow robe - he pretended to be a Pacceka Buddha ( _a solitary or non-teaching Buddha_ ). He put a covering band around his head. Then he stood in the path of the elephants and killed one of them with his weapon. He sold its tusks in Benares, and in this way he made a living.

After this he began to kill the very last elephant in the Bodhisatta's troop. Every day the number of elephants grew fewer and fewer. Then they went to the Bodhisatta and asked how it was that their numbers dwindled. He thought about what might be the cause. "Some man," he thought, "stands in the place where the elephants go, pretending to be a Pacceka Buddha. I wonder if he is the one who kills the elephants? I will find out."

So one day he sent the others out in front of him and he followed behind. The man saw the Bodhisatta. He rushed at him with his weapon. But the Bodhisatta turned and stood. "I will beat him into the earth and kill him!" he thought. He stretched out his trunk, but when he saw the yellow robes that the man wore, he thought, "I should pay respect to those sacred robes." So he drew back his trunk and cried, "Oh man! Isn't that dress, the symbol of sainthood, unsuitable to you? Why do you wear it?" and he repeated these lines:

"If any man, yet full of sin, should dare

To don the yellow robe, in whom no care

For temperance is found, or love of truth,

He is not worthy such a robe to wear.

He who has tamed desire, who everywhere

Is firm in virtue, and whose chiefest care

Is to control his passions, and be true,

He well deserves the yellow robe to wear."

Figure: "He is not worthy such a robe to wear."

With these words the Bodhisatta rebuked the man. He told him never to come there again or he would die for it. Then he drove him away.

* * *

After this discourse had ended, the Master identified the birth: "Devadatta was the man who killed the elephants, and I was the head of the herd."

# 222: Cūla Nandiya Jātaka,  
Little Nandiya

* * *

This is another story about Devadatta, but it is also a story about karma. Karma is an often-misunderstood concept in Buddhism. It is not deterministic, as this story may seem to imply. It is probabilistic. We all have good and bad karma, and either one can ripen at any time. This is why bad things can happen to good people, and good things can happy to bad people. The most telling line is in the final verse:

"And so our deeds are all like seeds."

Unskillful actions plant negative karmic seeds, and vice versa.

There is also another teaching of the Buddha in this story, and that is the use of a healthy kind of shame:

"Be careful you should nothing do of which you might repent."

A healthy sense of shame can prevent us from doing something we might regret. This is one of the skillful uses of mindfulness as we go about our daily tasks. We know that there are consequences to our actions, so we use care in what we think, say, and do.

This story also references a story from the Pāli Canon (it occurs in several places), and that is that Devadatta was "swallowed up by the earth." It is possible that this means an earthquake, or perhaps it is a legend that was added later.

* * *

" _I call to mind._ " The Master told this story while staying at the Bamboo Grove ( _Veluvana_ ). It is about Devadatta.

One day the monks were talking in the Dharma Hall: "Friends, that man Devadatta is harsh, cruel, and tyrannical, full of wicked attacks against the Supreme Buddha. He flung a stone ( _He tried to kill the Buddha by rolling a rock down a hill_ ), he even used the aid of Nāḷāgiri ( _He got an elephant named "Nāḷāgiri" drunk then got him to attack the Buddha_ ). There is no pity or compassion for the Tathāgata ( _the Buddha_ )."

The Master came in and asked what they were discussing as they sat there. They told him. Then he said, "This is not the first time, monks, that Devadatta has been harsh, cruel, and merciless. He was this way before." And he told them this story from the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was the King of Benares, the Bodhisatta was reborn as a monkey named "Nandiya," or "Jolly." He lived in the Himalaya Mountains. His youngest brother bore the name "Jollikin." The two of them headed a band of 80,000 monkeys, and they had a blind mother in their home for whom to care.

Once they left their mother in her refuge in the bushes, then they went into the trees to find sweet wild fruits of all kinds. They sent these back home to her. But the messengers did not deliver them, and - tormented with hunger - she became nothing but skin and bone.

When they returned the Bodhisatta said to her, "Mother, we sent you plenty of sweet fruits to eat. Why are you so thin?"

"My son, I never get them!"

The Bodhisatta pondered this. "While I look after my herd, my mother starves. I will leave the herd and only look after my mother." So he said to his brother, "Brother, you tend to the herd, and I will care for our mother."

"No, brother," he replied, "I do not care about ruling a herd. I, too, will care for only our mother!" So the two of them were of one mind. And leaving the herd, they brought their mother down out of the Himalaya Mountains. They took up their home in a banyan tree in the border-land where they took care of her.

Now a certain brahmin who lived at Takkasilā University had received his education from a famous teacher. Afterward he decided to take leave of him and told him that he would depart. This teacher had the power of seeing into a man's character from the signs on his body. Using his insight he perceived that his pupil was harsh, cruel, and violent. "My son," he said, "you are harsh and cruel and violent. Such people do not prosper in all seasons. They come to dire woe and dire destruction. Do not be harsh, or you will come to regret your actions." With this advice, he let him go.

The youth took leave of his teacher and went to Benares. There he married and settled down. But being unable to earn a livelihood by any of his other skills, he decided to do so using his bow. So he set about to work as a hunter. He left Benares to earn his living. Living in a border village, he roamed the woods armed with his bow and quiver, and he lived by selling the flesh of all manner of beasts which he killed.

One day, as he was returning home after having caught nothing in the forest, he saw a banyan tree standing on the edge of an open glade. "Perhaps," he thought, "there will be something here." So he headed to the banyan tree. Now the two brothers had just fed their mother with a meal of fruit. They were sitting behind her in the tree when they saw the man coming. "Even if he sees our mother," they said, "what can he do?" and they hid in the branches.

Then this cruel man, as he came up to the tree and saw the mother monkey weak with age and also blind, thought to himself, "Why should I return empty-handed? I will shoot this monkey first!" He lifted up his bow to shoot her. The Bodhisatta saw this and said to his brother, "Jollikin, my dear, this man wants to shoot our mother! I will save her life. When I am dead, you take care of her."

So saying, he came down out of the tree and called out, "Oh man, don't shoot my mother! She is blind and weak from age. I will save her life. Don't kill her but kill me instead!" The man agreed. Nandiya sat down in a place that was within bowshot. The hunter pitilessly shot the Bodhisatta. And when he dropped, the man prepared his bow to shoot the mother monkey. Jollikin saw this and thought to himself, "That hunter wants to shoot my mother. Even if she only lives a day, she will have received the gift of life. I will give my life for hers." Accordingly, he came down from the tree and said, "Oh man, don't shoot my mother! I give my life for hers. Shoot me. Take both of us brothers and spare our mother's life!"

Figure: The Pitiless Hunter

The hunter agreed. Jollikin sat down within bowshot. The hunter shot him, too, and he killed him. "This will do for my children at home," he thought, and he shot the mother, too. He hung all three of them on his carrying pole and set out for home.

At that very moment a thunderbolt struck the house of this wicked man. His wife and two children were burned to death. Nothing was left of the house but the roof and the bamboo uprights.

When the hunter entered the village a man met him and told him what had happened. The hunter was overcome with grief for his wife and children. He threw down his pole with the game on it as well as his bow right on the spot. He threw off his clothes and went home naked, wailing with his hands outstretched. When he got to the house the bamboo uprights broke. They fell on his head and crushed it. The earth yawned; flame leaped up from hell. As he was being swallowed up in the earth, he thought about his master's warning: "Then this was the teaching that the Brahmin Pārāsariya gave me!" And lamenting he uttered these stanzas:

"I call to mind my teacher's words: so this was what he meant!

Be careful you should nothing do of which you might repent.

"Whatever a man does, the same he in himself will find,

The good man, good, and evil he that evil has designed.

And so our deeds are all like seeds, and bring forth fruit in kind."

Lamenting in this way, he went down into the earth and was reborn in the depths of hell.

* * *

In this way the Buddha showed how in other days, as then, Devadatta had been harsh, cruel, and merciless. When the Master had ended this discourse, he identified the birth in these words: "In those days Devadatta was the hunter, Sāriputta was the famous teacher, Ānanda was Jollikin, the noble Lady Gotamī ( _the Buddha's birth mother_ ) was the mother, and I was the monkey Jolly."

# 223: Puṭa Bhatta Jātaka,  
A Bowl of Rice

* * *

This is a lovely story about a kind Queen, a wise counselor, and a stingy King. The Bodhisatta advises her to leave the King, at which point he comes to his senses and realizes what he is about to lose.

The Buddha often taught kindness and patience, and many Buddhist monks teach this to couples who are struggling in their relationships. And sometimes that is the proper course. But the Buddhist path is also about wisdom. And in a relationship in which there is no respect, sometimes the wise path is "to fly away."

"In the world, marriage without love is painful."

* * *

" _Honor for honor._ " The Master told this story while he was at Jetavana. It is about a wealthy landowner.

Tradition has it that there was once a landowner who was a citizen of Sāvatthi, and he did business with a landowner from the country. The landowner from the country owed him money. So taking his wife with him, he visited him to collect the debt. But the debtor said that he could not pay. The first man, in anger, set out for home without eating. On the road he met some people, and seeing how hungry he was, they gave him food. They asked him to in turn share it with his wife.

When he got the food, however, he did not share it with his wife. He said to his wife, "Wife, this is a well-known haunt of thieves, so you had better go in front." Having thus gotten rid of her, he ate all the food, and then he showed her the empty pot. He said, "Look here, wife! They gave me an empty pot!" She guessed that he had eaten all the food himself, and she was very annoyed.

As they passed by the monastery at Jetavana, they decided to go into the park and get a drink of water. There sat the Master, waiting to see them. He was like a hunter on the trail, seated under the shade of his perfumed cell. He greeted them kindly, then he said, "Lay sister, is your husband kind and loving?"

"I love him, sir," she replied, "but he does not love me. On this very day he was given a pot of food. He did not give a bite to me but ate it all himself."

"Lay sister, so it has always been — you loving and kind, and he heartless. But when by the help of the wise he learns your value, he will honor you." Then, at her request, he told this story from the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was the King in Benares, the Bodhisatta was the son of a member of the King's court. When he came of age he became the King's adviser in all things worldly and spiritual.

It so happened that the King was afraid of his son. He thought that his son might attack him. So he sent him away. Taking his wife, the son departed from that city. He went to a village in Kāsi, where he and his family lived. By and by the father died. His son heard the news and set out for Benares, saying "I will receive the kingdom that is my birthright." On his journey someone gave him some food, saying, "Eat, and give some to your wife as well." But he did not give her anything, and he ate it all himself. She thought, "He is a cruel man, indeed!" And she was very sad.

When he arrived in Benares and had received his kingdom, he made her the Queen consort. But he thought, "A little is enough for her." He showed her very little consideration or honor. He never even asked about her welfare.

"This Queen," the Bodhisatta thought, "serves the King well, and she loves him. But the King does not spend a single thought on her. I will make him show her respect and honor."

So he went to the Queen. He paid his salutations, and then stood to one side. "What is it, dear sir?" she asked.

"Lady," he asked, "how can we serve you? Shouldn't you give the elders a piece of cloth or a dish of rice?"

"Dear sir, I never receive anything myself. What can I give to you? When I do receive something, do I not share it? But now the King gives me nothing at all, let alone giving me anything extra. As he was traveling along the road he received a bowl of rice, but he never gave me a single bite. He ate it all himself."

"Well, madam, would you be able to say this in the King's presence?"

"Yes," she replied.

"Very well then. Today, when I stand before the King, when I ask my question, you give the same answer. I will make your goodness known on this very day."

So the Bodhisatta went on before. He stood in the King's presence. And she, too, went and stood near the King.

Then the Bodhisatta said, "Madam, you are very cruel. Shouldn't you give the elders a piece of cloth or a dish of food?" And she answered, "Good sir, I myself receive nothing from the King. What can I give to you?"

"Are you not the Queen consort?" he said.

"Good sir," she said, "what good is the place of a Queen consort when no respect is paid? What would the King give me now? When he received a dish of rice on the road, he gave me nothing. He ate it all himself."

Figure: "He gave me nothing."

And the Bodhisatta asked him, "Is this true, Oh King?" And the King nodded in agreement. When the Bodhisatta saw that the King agreed he said, "Then lady, why live here with the King when he is unkind? In the world, marriage without love is painful. While you live here, in a loveless marriage with the King, he will only bring you sorrow. People honor those who also show honor, and when someone does not show honor, as soon as you see it, you should go elsewhere. There are many others who live in the world." And he repeated the following stanzas:

Honor for honor, love for love is due,

Do good to him who does the same to you.

Observance breeds observance, but it's plain,

None need help him who will not help again.

"Return neglect for negligence, don't stay

To comfort him whose love has passed away.

The world is wide, and when the birds decry

That trees have lost their fruit, away they fly."

Hearing this, the King gave his Queen all due honor. And from that day on they lived together in friendship and harmony.

* * *

When the Master ended this discourse, he taught the Four Noble Truths, at the conclusion of which the husband and the wife attained stream-entry. Then he identified the birth: "The husband and the wife are the same in both cases, and I was the wise counselor."

# 224: Kumbhīla Jātaka,  
The Virtuous Ape

* * *

It is hard to know why the redactors of the Jātaka Tales chose to include certain stories. This isn't really a story at all, simply a verse. It feels like it belongs more in the Dhammapada, the collection of sayings.

Another curiosity about this story is the name. "Kumbhīla" literally means "alligator" or "crocodile," while the verse is addressed to an ape. Perhaps the Jātaka editor was having a bad day.

Nonetheless, the important point is to concentrate on the message. In this passage, the meaning is clear.

* * *

" _Oh Ape._ " The Master told this story at the Bamboo Grove ( _Veluvana_ ). It is about Devadatta.

* * *

"Oh Ape, these four virtues bring victory:

Truth, Wisdom, Self-control, and Piety.

"Without these blessings is no victory—

Truth, Wisdom, Self-control, and Piety."

Figure: Truth, Wisdom, Self-control, and Piety

* * *

# 225: Khanti Vaṇṇana Jātaka,  
Praising Forgiveness

* * *

This is an interesting story, and it is theme that has occurred before in the Jātaka. In this story, a king plus another man have people in their entourage misbehave. We never find out exactly what they did, but it appears that the offenders have made their masters out to be fools. But the conspirators are otherwise useful, and the story counsels patience and forbearance, two qualities that are central to the Buddha's teaching.

Having said that, the offenders also discover that their misdeeds are known, and this sense of shame causes them to reform their bad behavior. This will not always happen, of course, but often people misbehave because they think that no one knows what they are doing. Simply knowing that they have been found out can often lead them to reform.

* * *

" _There is a man._ " The Master told this story at Jetavana. It is about the King of Kosala ( _King Pasenadi_ ). A very useful subordinate conspired in the harem. Even though he knew the culprit, the King overlooked the affront because the fellow was useful. The King told the Master what had happened. The Master said, "Other kings in days long gone by have done the same." And at his request, he told the following story.

* * *

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was the King of Benares, a man of his court conspired against him in the King's harem. An attendant of this courtier did the same thing in the courtier's house. The man could not endure being insulted in this way. So he led the conspirator before the King saying, "My lord, I have a servant who does all manner of work, and he has made me look like a fool. What should I do with him?" And with this question he uttered the first verse:

"There is a man within my house, a zealous servant too,

He has betrayed my trust, oh King! Say what am I to do?"

On hearing this, the King uttered the second verse:

"I too a zealous servant have, and here he stands, indeed!

Good men, I think, are rare enough, so patience I do plead."

The courtier saw that these words of the King were aimed at him, and from then on he dared to do no wrong in the King's house. Likewise, the servant came to know that the matter had been reported to the King, and he did not dare to misbehave ever again.

Figure: "I have a nitwit, too!"

* * *

This discourse ended, the Master identified the birth: "I was the King of Benares." And the courtier on this occasion found out that the King had reported him to the Master, and he never misbehaved again.

# 226: Kosiya Jātaka,  
Kosiya's Story

* * *

While the military nature of this story does not sound like something the Buddha would do, there is a broader theme of timeliness that is part of the Buddha's teaching. This is especially true in the matter of speech. The Buddha taught – first and foremost – the importance of speaking the truth. But he also taught that there is a proper time in which to speak. So even if something is true, if it is "unwelcome and disagreeable to others," it is not the time to say it:

"Such speech as the Tathāgata knows to be true, correct, and beneficial, but which is unwelcome and disagreeable to others: the Tathāgata knows the time to use such speech." – [MN 58]

In other words, there is a time and a place for everything, and part of wisdom is knowing when that is.

The name of this story comes from Jātaka 130, The Story of Kosiya. It has the same theme.

* * *

" _There is a time._ " The Master told this story while he was at Jetavana. It is about the King of Kosala ( _King Pasenadi_ ). This King started out to subdue a border uprising at a bad season of the year. The circumstances have been described already ( _Jātaka 176_ ). Just as before, the Master told the King this story from the past.

( _Jātaka 176 is the Kalāya-muṭṭhi Jātaka: A Handful of Peas. The Buddha advises King Pasenadi not to undertake a military mission because it is a bad time of the year, presumably monsoon season. It is – of course – curious that the Buddha would give advice on the best time for a military mission, so the story does not ring true._ )

* * *

Once upon a time, the King of Benares started out for the field of battle at an unseasonable time of the year. He set up a camp in his park. At that time an owl entered a thicket of bamboos and hid there. Following was a flock of crows. "We will catch him," they said, "as soon as he comes out." And so they surrounded the thicket.

The owl came out before he should have. He did not wait until the sun set. He tried to make his escape. The crows attacked him. They pecked at him with their beaks until he fell to the ground. The King asked the Bodhisatta, "Tell me, wise sir, why are the crows attacking this owl?" The Bodhisatta answered, "Those who leave their sanctuary before the proper time, great King, fall into just such misery as this. Therefore one should not leave one's sanctuary before the right time." And to make the matter clear, he uttered this pair of verses:

"There is a time for everything, who forth from home will go

One man or many, out of time, will surely meet some woe.

As did the owl - unlucky fowl! - pecked dead by many a crow.

"Who masters quite each rule and rite, who others' weakness knows,

Like wise owls, he will happy be, and conquer all his foes."

When the King heard this, he turned back home again.

Figure: "There is a time for everything"

* * *

This discourse ended, the Master identified the birth: "Ānanda was the King, and I was the wise courtier."

# 227: Gūtha Pāṇa Jātaka,  
The Dung Beetle

* * *

It is a little unseemly that a Buddhist monk should beat a misbehaving layperson, but I suppose that stranger things have happened!

* * *

" _Well matched._ " The Master told this story while he was at Jetavana. It is about one of the monks.

There stood at that time, about three-quarters of a league ( _about 3 miles or 5 kilometers_ ) from Jetavana, a market town. In that town families were issued tickets ( _ration coupons_ ) that said how much food should be given to them. A great deal of rice as well as special meals were distributed in this way.

In that town there lived a bumbling, annoying lout who pestered the monks who came to share in the distribution. "Who is here for solid food? Who is here for drink? Who is here for moist food?" And he made those who could not answer feel ashamed. They dreaded him so much that they stopped going to the village.

One day, a monk went to the ticket distribution hall. He asked, "Is there any food for distribution in this village, sir?"

"Yes, friend," was the answer, "but there's a bumbling, annoying lout there asking questions. If you can't answer them, he abuses and reviles you. He is such a pest that nobody will go near the place."

"Sir," said the monk, "give me a ticket and tell me where to go. I will humble him and put him in his place. I will make it so that whenever he sees you after this, he will just want to run away."

The man agreed and gave the necessary ticket. The monk walked to our village and he put on his robe at the gate. The lout saw him. He ran at him like a mad ram yelling "Answer me a question, brother!" The monk replied, "Layman, let me go to the village first for my broth. Then I will come back to the waiting hall."

When the monk returned with his meal, the man repeated his question. The brother answered, "First let me finish my broth, sweep the room, and fetch my ticket's worth of rice." He went and got the rice. Then placing his bowl in this very man's hands and said, "Come, now I will answer your question."

Then the monk led him outside the village. He folded his outer robe and put it on his shoulder. Taking the bowl from the man, he stood waiting for him to begin. The man said, "Brother, answer me one question." "Very well, I will," said the monk, and with one blow he knocked him to the ground, bruised his eyes, beat him, dropped excrement on his face, and then left. He went off with these parting words to frighten him, "If you ever again ask a question of any monk who comes to this village, I will see about it!"

After this the man took to his heels at the mere sight of a monk.

By and bye all this became known among the Saṇgha. One day they were talking about it in the Dharma Hall. "Friend, I hear that a monk dropped excrement in the face of that loafer and then left him!" The Master came in and wanted to know what they were discussing. They told him. He said, "Monks, this is not the first time this brother attacked this man with excrement. He did just the same before." Then he told them this story from the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, those citizens of the kingdoms of Aṅga and Magadha who were traveling from one land to the other used to stay in a house on the road between the two kingdoms. There they drank liquor and ate fish. Early in the morning they yoked their carts and went on their way.

After they left, a certain dung-beetle, led by the odor of dung, went to the place where they had been. He saw some liquor on the ground. Because he was thirsty, he drank it, and then he returned to his lump of dung intoxicated.

When he climbed up on the wet dung it gave way a little. "The world cannot hear my weight!" he cried out. At that very moment an elephant came to that spot. When he smelled the dung he backed off in disgust. The beetle saw this. "That creature," he thought, "is afraid of me. See how he runs away! I must fight with him!" and so he challenged him in the first stanza:

"Well matched! For we are heroes both. Here let us combat try,

Turn back, turn back, friend elephant! Why would you fear and fly?

Let Magadha and Aṅga see how great our bravery!"

The elephant listened. He heard the voice. Then he turned back towards the beetle and said the second stanza by way of rebuke:

"It is not the foot, the trunk or hand, no teeth that I shall use

Of the dunghill, to the care of dung, it is that I shall choose."

And so, dropping a great piece of dung on him and urinating, he killed him then and there. Then he scampered off into the forest, trumpeting his success.

Figure: The Ill-fated Dung Beetle

* * *

When this discourse ended, the Master identified the birth: "In those days this lout was the dung-beetle, the monk in question was the elephant, and I was a tree sprite who saw it all from that clump of trees."

# 228: Kāmanīta Jātaka,  
The Brahmin Kāmanīta

* * *

In the Buddha's teaching, greed and lust have almost identical meanings. Sometimes it is helpful to substitute one for the other when reading the English translations.

One of the more unpopular but important teachings of the Buddha is how sense desire leads to suffering. Think of sense desire in terms of addiction and the meaning becomes clear. Imagine being free from sense desire. This is the only way to experience true peace, and peace - as the Buddha said - is the greatest happiness.

* * *

" _Three forts._ " The Master told this story while he was at Jetavana. It is about a brahmin named Kāmanīta. The circumstances will be explained in the Kāma Jātaka.

( _The Kāma Jātaka - number 487 - is a story with a similar theme. The Bodhisatta helps a King to overcome a sickness caused by greed by using wisdom._ )

* * *

The King of Benares had two sons. And of these two sons the elder one became the King. The younger one became the viceroy of a colony. The one that was King was consumed by the desire of riches, the lust of the flesh, and greedy for gain.

At the time, the Bodhisatta was Sakka, King of the gods. And as he looked out over India, he observed that the King was consumed by these lusts. He said to himself, "I will reprimand that King and make him ashamed." So he took the form of a young brahmin. Then he went to the King and looked at him.

"What does this young fellow want?" the King asked.

He said, "Great King, I see three towns. They are prosperous and fertile. They have elephants, horses, chariots, and infantry. They are full of ornaments of gold and fine gold. These may be taken with a very small army. I have come here to offer to get them for you!"

"When shall we go, young man?" the King asked.

"Tomorrow, sire."

"Then leave me now. You will leave early tomorrow."

"Good, my King. Hasten to prepare the army!" And so saying Sakka went back again to his own home ( _the Tāvatiṃsa heaven_ ).

On the next day the King ordered the drum to beat and an army to be made ready. And having summoned his courtiers, he spoke to them: "Yesterday a young brahmin came and said that he would conquer three cities for me: Uttarapañcāla, Indapatta, and Kekaka. Now we will go with that man and conquer those cities. Summon him in all haste!"

"Where did you send him, my lord, to stay?"

"I did not give him a place to stay," the King said.

"But you gave him money to pay for lodging, did you not?"

"No, I did not."

"Then how shall we find him?"

"Search for him in the streets of the city," the King said.

They searched, but they did not find him. So they went before the King and said to him, "Oh King, we cannot find him."

Great sorrow fell upon the King. "What glory has been snatched from me!" He groaned. His heart became hot, his blood became disordered, he was attacked by dysentery, and the physicians could not cure him.

After several days had passed, Sakka meditated, and he became aware of the King's illness. He said, "I will cure him." He took the form of a brahmin and went and stood at the King's door. He sent the message to the King, "A brahmin physician has come to cure you."

When he heard this, the King answered, "All the great physicians of the court have not been able to cure me. Give him some money and tell him to go." Sakka listened and replied, "I do not even want money for my lodging, and I will not take any fee for my services. I will cure him. Let the King see me!"

"Then let him come in," the King said, upon receiving this message.

Then Sakka went in. Wishing victory to the King, he sat on one side. "Are you going to cure me?" the King asked.

Sakka replied, "Even so, my lord."

"Cure me, then!" the King said.

"Very good, sire. Tell me your symptoms and how they came about -what you have eaten or drunk to bring it on, or what you have heard or seen."

"Dear friend, my disease was brought on me by something that I heard."

Sakka asked, "What was it?"

"Dear Sir, a young brahmin came and offered to win and give me power over three cities. I gave him neither lodging nor the means with which to pay for it. He must have grown angry with me and gone away to some other king. So when I thought how great glory had been snatched away from me, this disease came upon me. Cure, if you can, this that has come upon me because of my covetousness." And to make the matter clear he uttered the first stanza:

"Three forts, each built high upon a mount,

I want to take, whose names I here recount,

And there is one thing further that I need,

Cure me, Oh brahmin, me the slave of greed!"

( _According to the PTS notes, the "recounted" forts are named Pañcāla, Kuru, and Kekaka._ )

Figure: The Sickness of Greed

Then Sakka said, "Oh King, you cannot be cured by medicines made with roots, but you must be cured with the medicine of knowledge," and he uttered the second verse as follows:

"There are those who cure the bite of a black snake,

The wise can heal the wounds that goblins make.

The slave of greed no doctor can make whole,

What cure is there for the backsliding soul?"

So spoke the great Being to explain his meaning, and he added this: "Oh King, what if you were to get those three cities? Then while you reigned over these four cities, could you wear four pairs of robes at once, eat out of four golden dishes, lie on four state beds? Oh King, one ought not to be mastered by desire. Desire is the root of all evil. When desire is increased, he that cherishes her is cast into the eight great hells, and the sixteen lowest hells, and into all kinds and manner of misery."

( _In the Buddhist literature there are eight major hells and sixteen smaller hells. The major hells are called 1) Thought, 2) Black Rope, 3) Crushing, 4) Moaning, 5) Great Moaning, 6) Burning, and 8) Unremitting. The Hell of Thoughts contains sixteen smaller hells. They are called 1) Black Sand, 2) Boiling Excrement, 3) Five Hundred Nails, 4) Hunger, 5) Thirst, 6) Single Copper Cauldron 7) Many Copper Cauldrons, 8) Stone Pestle, 9) Pus and Blood, 10) Measuring Fire, 11) Ash River, 12) Iron Pellets, 13) Axes and Hatchets, 14) Jackals and Wolves, 15) Sword Cuts, and 16) Cold and Ice._ )

So the great Being terrified the King with a fear of hell and misery. And the King, by hearing his discourse, got rid of his heartbreak and in a moment he became free of his disease. And Sakka, after teaching him the Dhamma and establishing him virtue, went back to the world of gods. From then on the King gave alms and did good, and he at last passed away to fare according to his karma.

* * *

When this discourse ended, the Master identified the birth: "The monk who is a slave to his desires was at that time the King, and I was Sakka."

# 229: Palāyi Jātaka,  
The Debater

* * *

This is an odd story. In it a spiritual seeker who wants to debate the Buddha is scared away by the size of the gate to Jetavana Monastery. But you can visit Jetavana Monastery to this day. It is a humble place with a humble entrance, as one would expect. The size of the gateway may be exaggerated in a metaphorical way.

* * *

" _Lo, my elephants._ " The Master told this story while he was at Jetavana. It is about a spiritual seeker ( _samaṇa_ ) with an exaggerated sense of his own importance.

He traveled the whole of India in order to champion his views, but he could not find anyone who was willing to debate with him. At last he arrived in Sāvatthi. He asked if there was anyone there who would debate with him. The people said, "There is One who could argue with a thousand such people. He is the all-wise, chief of men, the mighty Gotama, lord of the faith. He bears down all opposition. There is no adversary in all India who can dispute with Him. As the waves break on the shore, so all arguments break against his feet and are dashed to spray."

This is how they described the qualities of the Buddha.

"Where is he now?" asked the seeker.

He was at Jetavana, they replied.

"Then I will go and do battle with him!" he replied.

So attended by a large crowd he made his way to Jetavana. On seeing the gate towers of Jetavana ( _as seen in the Bharhut Stupa_ ), which Prince Jeta had built at a cost of ninety million gold coins, he asked whether that was the palace where the Priest Gotama lived. This was just the gateway, they said. "If this is the gateway, what will the dwelling be like!" he cried. "There's no end to the perfumed chambers!" the people said. "Who could argue with such a spiritual seeker as this?" he asked, and he hurried off at once.

The crowd shouted for joy and thronged into the park. "What brings you here so early in the day?" the Master asked. They told him what had happened. He said, "This is not the first time, lay-people, that he hurried away at the mere sight of the gateway of my dwelling. He did the same before." And at their request, he told this story from the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, the Bodhisatta reigned as the King of Takkasilā in the realm of Gandhāra. Likewise Brahmadatta ruled in Benares. Brahmadatta resolved to capture Takkasilā. He set forth with a great army and took up a position not far from the city. There he positioned his army. "Place the elephants here, the horses over there, the chariots here, and put the infantry here. When ready charge and shoot your weapons. As the clouds pour forth the rain, pour forth a rain of arrows!" And he uttered this pair of stanzas:

"Lo, my elephants and horses, like the storm-cloud in the sky!

Lo, my surging sea of chariots shooting arrow-spray on high!

Lo, my host of warriors, striking sword in hand, with blow and thrust,

Closing in upon the city, till their foes shall bite the dust!

"Rush against them. Fall upon them! Shout the war-cry, loudly sing!

While the elephants in concert raise a clamorous trumpeting!

As the thunder and the lightning flash and rumble in the sky,

So be now your voice uplifted in the loud long battle-cry!"

So cried the King. He had his army march. They went before the gate of the city. And when he saw the towers on the city gate, he asked whether was that the King's dwelling. "That," they said, "is the gate tower."

"If this is just the gate tower, will the King's palace be like?" he asked.

And they replied, "It is like Vejayanta, the palace of ( _the god of gods_ ) Sakka!"

On hearing this the King said, "With a King as glorious as this we shall never be able to fight!"

And having seen no more than the tower at the city gate, he turned and ran away, going back to Benares.

Figure: "This is just the front door!"

* * *

This discourse ended, the Master identified the birth: "Our spiritual seeker was the King of Benares, and I was the King of Takkasilā."

Figure: Jetavana Monastery Today

# 230: Dutiya Palāyi Jātaka,  
The Second Debater

* * *

This is "The Debater" Part Deux. As if once was not enough, our debater from Jātaka 229 is back, only to be rebuffed once more!

* * *

" _Countless are my banners._ " The Master told this story while he was living at Jetavana. It is about this same persistent mendicant.

At that time the Master, with a large company round him, was sitting on the beautifully adorned throne of the Dharma, on a vermilion platform. He was giving a discourse like a young lion roaring with a lion's roar. The mendicant, seeing the Buddha's form like the form of Brahma, his face like the glory of the full moon, and his forehead like a plate of gold, turned around from where he had come. He ran off in the midst of the crowd saying, "Who could overcome a man like this?"

The crowd chased after him, then came back and told the Master. He said, "Not only now has this mendicant fled at the mere sight of my golden face. He did the same before." And he told them this story from the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, the Bodhisatta was the King in Benares. And in Takkasilā there reigned a certain King from Gandhāra. This King wanted to capture Benares. He surrounded the city with a complete army of four divisions ( _elephants, cavalry, chariots, and infantry_ ). And taking his stand at the city gate, he looked out on his army and said he, "Who would be able to conquer as great an army as this?" And describing his army, he uttered the first stanza:

"Countless are my banners, rival none they own,

Flocks of crows can never stem the rolling sea,

Never can the storm-blast beat a mountain down,

So, of all the living none can conquer me!"

Then the Bodhisatta displayed his own glorious countenance, as radiant as the full moon. He threatened him, saying, "Fool, do not babble so vainly! Now I will destroy your host as a maddened elephant crushes a thicket of reeds!" and he repeated the second stanza:

"Fool! and have you never yet a rival found?

You art hot with fever, if you seek to wound

A solitary savage elephant like me!

As they crush a reed-stalk so will I crush thee!"

When the King of Gandhāra heard his threat, he looked up, and beholding his wide forehead like a plate of gold, he turned and ran away from the fear that he himself would be captured. Then he went back to his own city.

Figure: "Maybe this was a bad idea."

* * *

This discourse ended, the Master identified the birth: "The persistent mendicant was the King of Gandhāra, and the I was the King of Benares."

# 231: Upāhana Jātaka,  
The Pair of Shoes

* * *

This is another story where Devadatta gets the usual bad treatment. And once again it may seem that his treatment was a little harsh. But there is also a lesson in here about humility. The pupil is supposedly taught everything that his Master knows. But a lot of mastering a skill cannot be taught. It is something that you feel deep in your bones. And until you have that deep sense of knowing, it is probably best to exercise a little humility!

* * *

" _As when a pair of shoes._ " The Master told this story when he was staying in the Bamboo Grove ( _Veluvana_ ). It is about Devadatta. The monks gathered together in the Dharma Hall and began to discuss the matter. "Friend, Devadatta repudiated his teacher and became the foe and adversary of the Tathāgata. And as a result he has come to utter destruction."

The Master came in and asked what they were discussing. They told him. The Master said, "Monks, this is not the first time that Devadatta has repudiated his teacher and become my enemy and as a result come to utter destruction. The same thing happened before." Then he told them this story from the past.

* * *

Once upon a time when Brahmadatta was the King of Benares, the Bodhisatta was born as the son of an elephant trainer. When he grew up, he was taught the art of managing an elephant. Later there came a young villager from Kāsi, and the Bodhisatta taught him the art of managing elephants as well. Now when the future Buddhas teach anyone, they do not teach in a stingy way. They teach everything that they know, keeping nothing back. So this youth learned all the branches of knowledge from the Bodhisatta without omission. And when he had learned, he said to his Master:

"Master, I will go and serve the King."

"Good, my son," he said. And he went to the King and told him that a pupil of his would serve the King. The King said, "Good, let him serve me."

"How much will you pay him?" the Bodhisatta asked.

"A pupil of yours will not receive as much as you. If you receive 100 gold coins, then he shall receive 50. Whatever you should receive, he will receive half of that." So the Bodhisatta went home and told all this to his pupil.

"Master," the youth said, "I know everything that you know, piece by piece. If I shall receive the same payment, I will serve the King. But if I do not receive the same payment, then I will not serve him." And the Bodhisatta told this to the King.

The King said, "If this young man can do the same as you, if he is able to show skill for skill with you, he will receive the same pay."

And the Bodhisatta told this to the pupil. The pupil answered, "Very well, I will."

"Tomorrow," the King said, "Show us your skill."

"Good, I will. Let this demonstration be proclaimed by the beat of drum." And the King commanded it to be proclaimed. "Tomorrow the master and the pupil will show their skill in managing the elephant. Tomorrow let all who wish to see this test gather together in the courtyard of the palace."

"My pupil," the teacher thought to himself, "does not have all of my resources and experience." So he chose an elephant, and in one night he taught him to do everything backwards. He taught him to go back when told to go forward, and to go forward when told to go back. He taught him to lie down when told to get up, and to get up when told to lie down. He taught him to drop when told to pick something up, and to pick something up when told to drop.

On the next day he mounted his elephant and went to the palace yard. His pupil was already there. He was mounted on a beautiful elephant. There was a great crowd of people. Both the Master and the pupil showed off their skills. But the Bodhisatta gave his elephant reverse orders. "Go forward!" he whispered so no one could hear, and it backed up. "Back up!" he whispered, and it ran forward. "Stand up!" he said, and it lay down. "Lie down!" he said, and it stood up. "Pick it up!" he said, and the creature dropped it. "Drop it!" he said, and he picked it up.

When the pupil tried to command the elephant, the elephant did the reverse of what he commanded. The crowd cried, "Go away, you rascal! Do not raise your voice against your Master! You do not know your limitations, and you think you can match yourself against him!" They assaulted him with clods of dirt and pieces of wood so that he gave up and ran away.

Figure: No Match for the Master

The Bodhisatta got down from his elephant. He approached the King and said, "Oh mighty King! For their own good men are taught. But there was one to whom his learning brought only misery, like a poorly made shoe." And he uttered these two stanzas:

"As when a pair of shoes which one has bought

For help and comfort cause but misery,

Chafing the feet till they grow burning hot

And making them to blister by and bye.

"Even so an arrogant ignoble man,

Having learned all that he can learn from you,

But that same teaching proved his own rue,

The lowbred churl is like the ill-made shoe."

The King was delighted and heaped honors upon the Bodhisatta.

* * *

When this discourse ended, the Master identified this birth as follows: "Devadatta was the pupil, and I was the teacher."

# 232: Vīṇā Thūṇa Jātaka,  
The Lute with Broken Strings

* * *

The Buddha once spoke about the dangers of reason. That may seem curious to a western audience, but we can come to all sorts of wrong conclusions based on reason. The Age of Reason was full of them. (See the witch sketch in "Monty Python and the Holy Grail.") This story might fall under that category.

* * *

" _Your own idea._ " The Master told this story while he was staying at Jetavana. It is about a young lady.

She was the only daughter of a rich merchant from Sāvatthi. One day she noticed a great fuss was being made over a fine bull in her father's house. She asked her nurse what it meant. "Who is this, nurse, that is honored so?" The nurse replied that it was a right royal bull.

On another day she was looking out from an upper story down the street, when lo, she saw a hunchback. She thought, "In the cow tribe, the leader has a hump. I suppose it's the same with men. That must be a right, royal man, and I must go and be his humble follower." ( _The cow is probably a brahma bull._ ) So she sent her maid to say that the merchant's daughter wished to be his follower, and he should wait for her in a certain spot. She collected her treasures together, and disguising herself, she left the mansion and went off with the hunchback.

By and bye all this became known in the town and among the Saṇgha. In the Dharma Hall, the monks discussed its meaning. "Friend, there is a merchant's daughter who has eloped with a hunchback!" The Master came in and asked what they were discussing. They told him. He replied, "This is not the first time, monks, that she has fallen in love with a hunchback. She did the same before." And he told them this story from the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was the King of Benares, the Bodhisatta was born into a rich man's family in a certain market town. When he came of age, he lived as a householder. He was blessed with sons and daughters, and for his son's wife he chose the daughter of a rich citizen of Benares. Then he set the day for the wedding.

Now the girl saw honor and reverence offered to a bull in her home. She asked her nurse, "What is that?"

"A right royal bull," the nurse replied.

And afterward the girl saw a hunchback walking down the street. "That must be a right royal man!" she thought, and taking with her the best of her belongings in a bundle, she went off with him.

The Bodhisatta also, having a mind to bring the girl home, set out for Benares with a great company. He traveled by the same road.

The pair went along the road all night long. All night long the hunchback was overcome with thirst, and at the sunrise, he was attacked by colic. Great pain came upon him. So he went off the road, dizzy with pain, and fell down, like a broken lute with broken strings. The girl sat down at his feet. The Bodhisatta saw her sitting at the hunchback's feet and recognized her. Approaching, he talked with her, repeating the first stanza:

"Your own idea! This foolish man can't move without a guide,

This foolish hunchback! 'Tis unsuitable you should be by his side."

Hearing him speak, the girl answered by the second stanza:

"I thought the crookback king of men, and loved him for his worth,

Who, like a lute with broken strings, lies huddled on the earth."

Figure: "I thought the crookback king of men!"

And when the Bodhisatta realized that she had only followed him in disguise, he had her bathed. He adorned her, took her into his carriage, and went to his home.

* * *

When this discourse ended, the Master identified the birth: "The girl is the same in both cases, and I was the merchant from Benares."

# 233: Vikiṇṇaka Jātaka,  
The Barbed Harpoon

* * *

This story almost reads like a Christian parable. The Buddha uses the image of a barbed harpoon that is stuck in the heart as a simile for sense desire. It is an apt image. A barbed harpoon cannot be safely removed, and at the same time it is fatal.

* * *

" _The barb is in your back._ " The Master told this story while he was at Jetavana. It is about a backsliding brother.

He was brought into the Dharma Hall and asked if he were really backsliding. To this he replied "yes." When he was asked why, he replied, "Because of sense desire." The Master said, "Sense desire is like a two-barbed harpoon that is shot into the heart. Once there, they kill, just as the barbed harpoon killed the crocodile." Then he told them this story from the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, the Bodhisatta was the King of Benares, and he was a good king. One day he entered his park and went to the side of a lake. And those who were skilled in dancing and singing began to dance and to sing. The fish and tortoises, eager to hear the sound of song, flocked together and went along beside the King. And the King, seeing a mass of fish as long as a palm trunk, asked his courtiers, "Now why do these fish follow me?"

The courtiers said, "They have come to offer their services to their lord."

The King was pleased when he heard this - that they had come to serve him - and he ordered that rice should be given to them regularly. But when it was time to feed them some of the fish came and some did not, and so some of the rice was wasted. They told the King about this. "From now on," the King said, "when it is time to give the fish their rice, let a drum be sounded. At the sound of the drum, when the fish flock together, give the food to them."

From then on the feeder caused a drum to sound, and when they flocked together, he gave the rice to the fish.

On day as they gathered together to eat the food, a crocodile came and ate some of the fish. The feeder told the King about this. The King listened and replied, "When the crocodile is eating the fish," he said, "stab him with a harpoon and capture him."

"Good," the man said. He went aboard a boat, and when the crocodile came to eat the fish, he stabbed him with a harpoon. It went through his back. Mad with pain, the crocodile went off with the harpoon. Seeing that he was wounded, the feeder spoke to him with this stanza:

"The barb is through your back, go where you may.

The beat of drum, calling my fish to feed,

Brought you, pursuing, greedy, on the way

Which brought you also to your direst need."

Figure: Doomed by Greed

When the crocodile got to his own place, he died.

* * *

To explain this matter, the Master - having become perfectly serene - spoke the second verse as follows:

"So, when the world tempts any man to desire

Who knows no other law but his own will and wish,

He perishes amid his friends in a fire,

Even as the crocodile that ate the fish."

When this discourse ended, the Master taught the Four Noble Truths. At the conclusion of the teaching, the backsliding monk attained stream-entry. The Master then identified the birth: "In those days I was the King of Benares."

# 234: Asitābhū Jātaka,  
The Story of Asitābhū

* * *

This story might be subtitled, "If you chase after a fantasy, you might miss the jewel that is right in front of your eyes." This is a lovely story about a woman who plays right past her ignorant husband's mistreatment to attain awakening.

* * *

" _Now desire has gone._ " The Master told this story while he was staying at Jetavana. It is about a young girl.

Tradition tells us that a certain man at Sāvatthi, a servant of the Master's two chief disciples, had a beautiful and happy daughter. When she grew up, she married into a family as good as her own. But the husband, without consulting anybody, used to enjoy himself elsewhere at his own sweet will. She took no notice of his disrespect, but invited the two chief disciples into her home. She gave them gifts and listened to their teaching, until at last she attained stream-entry. After this she spent all of her time in the enjoyment of the Path and the Fruit. Finally, thinking that since her husband did not want her, there was no need for her to remain in the household life. She determined to embrace the holy life. She informed her parents of her plan, carried it out, and became an arahant.

Her story became known among the Saṇgha. One day they were discussing it in the Dharma Hall. "Friend, the daughter of this family strove to attain the highest good. Finding that her husband did not care for her, she gave rich presents to the chief disciples, listened to their teaching, and gained stream-entry. She took leave of her parents, became a bhikkhunī ( _a Buddhist nun_ ), and then an arahant. So, friend, the girl sought the highest good."

While they were talking, the Master came in and asked what they were discussing. They told him. He said, "This is not the first time, monks, that she seeks the highest. She did so in past days as well." And he told them this story from the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was the King of Benares, the Bodhisatta was living as a recluse in the Himalaya Mountains. He had cultivated the Faculties ( _1. walking on water or through walls, 2. ESP, 3. telepathy, 4. recollecting previous lives and 5. "the divine eye," which is seeing peoples' next rebirth_ ) and the Attainments ( _jhānas_ ).

The King of Benares saw how magnificent the pomp of his son Prince Brahmadatta was. The King was filled with suspicion, and he banished his son from the realm.

The young man with his wife Asitābhū made his way to the Himalayas. He lived in a hut of leaves. They had fish and all manner of wild fruits to eat. He saw a woodland fairy and became enamored with her. "I will take her to be my wife!" he said. And thinking nothing of Asitābhū, he chased after the fairy.

His wife, seeing that he was chasing after the sprite, was angry. "The man cares nothing for me," she thought. "Why should I have anything to do with him?"

So she went to the Bodhisatta and showed him great respect. She learned what she must do in order to ordain. She gazed at the mystic object. She developed the Faculties and the Attainments. Then she bade the Bodhisatta farewell and returned to stand by the door of her hut of leaves.

Now Brahmadatta had followed the fairy, but did not see which way she went. So robbed of his desire he set back to the hut. Asitābhū saw him coming. She rose up in the air and hung in the air the color of a precious stone. She said to him, "My young lord! It is through you that I have attained this ecstatic bliss!" and she uttered the first stanza:

"Now desire has gone,

Thanks to you, and found its ending,

Like a tusk, once sawn,

None can make it one by mending."

Figure: "I have attained this ecstatic bliss!"

Then, as he looked on, she rose up and flew away to another place. And when she had gone, he uttered the second stanza, lamenting:

"Greed that knows no stay,

Lust, the senses all confusing,

Steals our good away,

Even as now my wife I'm losing."

And having shown his misery in this stanza, he lived alone in the forest, and when his father died, he became King.

* * *

After this discourse ended, the Master identified the birth: "These two people were the prince and princess, and I was the recluse."

# 235: Vacchanakha Jātaka,  
The Story of Vacchanakha

* * *

This story has two themes: the dangers of craving and sense desire, and the burdens of living the life of a householder, an ordinary being. The Buddha is particularly harsh in his assessment of what is required to own houses (be rich), saying that you must "lie and cheat" and "deal many a blow." What one person has another person does not have, and everything that we consume we take from the earth. The Buddha gave a discourse on the "Fruits of the Homeless Life" in which he says:

"The household life is close and dusty, the homeless life is free as air. It is not easy, living the household life, to live the fully-perfected holy life, purified and polished like a conch-shell." – [DN 2.40]

* * *

" _Houses in the world are sweet._ " The Master told this story when he was at Jetavana. It is about Roja the Mallian. ( _The "Mallas" lived in Kushinara where the Buddha died._ )

We learn that this man, who was a lay friend of Ānanda's, sent the Elder a message that he should come to him. The Elder took leave of the Master and went. He served the Elder with all sorts of food. Then he sat down on one side and engaged him in a pleasant conversation. Then he offered the Elder a share of his house, tempting him by the five types of sense desire. "Ānanda, sir, I have at home great store of live and dead stock. I will divide it and give you half. Let us live in one house together!" The Elder declared to him that suffering comes from desire. Then he rose from his seat and returned to the monastery.

When the Master asked whether he had seen Roja, he replied that he had. "What did he say to you?"

"Sir, Roja invited me to return to the world. Then I explained to him that suffering comes from sense desires and the worldly life." The Master said, "Ānanda, this is not the first time that Roja the Mallian has invited bhikkhus ( _monks_ ) to return to the world. He did the same before." And then, at Ānanda's request, he told this story from the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was the King of Benares, the Bodhisatta was born into a family of brahmins who lived in a certain market town. When he came of age, he took up the holy life, and he lived for a long time in the Himalayas.

One day he went to Benares to purchase salt and seasoning. While he was there, he stayed in the King's gardens. On the next day he went into Benares.

Now a certain rich man of the place, pleased at his behavior, took him home. He gave him food to eat and made him promise to live with him. He lived in the garden, and the rich man attended to his needs. And they developed a friendship for each other.

One day, the rich man, because of his love and friendship for the Bodhisatta, thought to himself, "The life of a recluse is unhappy. I will persuade my friend Vacchanakha to disrobe. I will divide my wealth in two and give half to him, and we both will live together." So one day, when the meal was done, he spoke sweetly to his friend and said, "Good Vacchanakha, unhappy is the hermit's life. It is pleasant to live in a house. Come now, let us both together take our pleasure as we will." So saying, he uttered the first stanza:

"Houses in the world are sweet,

Full of food, and full of treasure,

There you have your fill of meat

Eating, drinking at your pleasure."

Upon hearing this the Bodhisatta replied, "Good sir, from ignorance you have become greedy with desire. You call the householder's life good and the life of the recluse bad. Listen now and I will tell you how bad is the householder's life." And he uttered the second stanza:

"He that has houses peace can never know,

He lies and cheats, he must deal many a blow

On others' shoulders, this fault cannot cure,

Then who into a house would willing go?"

With these words the great Buddha explained the defects of a householder's life and went into the garden again.

Figure: Explaining the Defects of a Householder's Life

* * *

When the Master ended this discourse, he identified the birth: "Roja the Mallian was the Benares merchant, and I was Vacchanakha the recluse."

# 236: Baka Jātaka,  
The Crane

* * *

This story is full of Indian lore having to do with cranes and a metaphor for being "born again." A deceitful crane is trying to capture some fish. Fortunately the Bodhisatta, who is their leader, sees through the trickery.

* * *

" _See that twice-born bird._ " The Master told this story when he was staying in Jetavana. It is about a hypocrite. When he was brought before the Master, the Master said, "Monks, he was a hypocrite of old just as he is now," and he told the following story.

* * *

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was the King of Benares, the Bodhisatta was born as a fish in a certain pond in the Himalaya region. Following him was a great school of fish.

Now there was a crane who wanted to eat the fish. So in a place near the pond he drooped his head, spread out his wings, and looked vacantly at the fish, waiting until they were off their guard. ( _There is an Indian proverb for trickery called a "crane's sleep."_ ) At that moment the Bodhisatta and his followers came to that place in search of food. And the school of fish - on seeing the crane - uttered the first stanza:

"See that twice-born bird, how white,

Like a water-lily seeming,

Wings outspread to left and right,

Oh, how pious! dreaming, dreaming!"

( _The "twice-born bird" is born once when it cracks open the egg and then a second time when it first uses its wings to fly. This image is used in India to metaphorically represent "piety," "purity" or being "born-again." In Buddhism this means undertaking the Noble Eightfold Path, attaining stream-entry, or in its highest form becoming an arahant. So in the first stanza the "fish followers" are paying the crane a compliment._ )

Then the Bodhisatta looked, and uttered the second stanza:

"What he is you do not know,

Or you would not sing his praises.

He is our most treacherous foe,

That is why no wing he raises."

Figure: "What he is you do not know!"

Thereupon the fish splashed in the water and drove the crane away.

* * *

When the Master ended this discourse, he identified the birth: "Roja the Mallian was the Benares merchant, and I was Vacchanakha the recluse."

# 237: Sāketa Jātaka,  
The Story of Sākata

* * *

This is a story about rebirth and how loving someone in a previous life can carry over into the present life. This happens quite commonly to all people. You meet someone and there is an instant comfort level with them. In this story it is the love of parents for each other and their son.

* * *

" _Why are hearts cold._ " The Master told this story during a stay near Sāketa. It is about a brahmin named Sāketa. Both the circumstances that suggested the story and the story itself have already been given in the Jātaka 68 ( _The City of Sāketa Story_ ).

( _Jātaka 68 is a lovely story about an elderly couple who claim to be the Buddha's parents. But rather than dismiss them, he teaches them the Dharma and treats them with kindness and respect. It turns out that the couple had been his parents in many previous lifetimes._ )

* * *

...And when the Tathāgata had gone to the monastery, the monk asked, "How, Sir, did the love begin?" and he repeated the first stanza:

"Why are hearts cold to one - Oh Buddha, tell!

And love another so exceeding well?"

Figure: The Buddha and the Elderly Couple

* * *

The Master explained the nature of love by the second stanza:

"Those love they who in other lives were dear,

As sure as grows the lotus in the mere."

( _A "mere" is a pond._ )

After this discourse ended, the Master identified the birth: "These two people were the brahmin and his wife in the story; and I was their son."

# 238: Ekapada Jātaka,  
One Foundation

* * *

This is a lovely little story about a young man who wants to know the path to awakening.

In this story the Bodhisatta teaches that the path to awakening is "skill, virtue, and patience." "Skill" is an important part of right conduct. It is the difference between "good intentions" which may be harmful and unskillful, and "skillful intentions" which include wisdom and good judgment.

* * *

" _Tell me one word._ " The Master told this story at Jetavana. It is about a certain landowner.

We are told that there was a landowner who lived at Sāvatthi. One day his son was sitting on his hip, and he asked him what is called the "Door" question. ( _This question refers to the different ways of entering the path._ ) He replied, "That question requires a Buddha. No one else can answer it."

So he took his son to Jetavana. He saluted the Master. "Sir," he said, "as my son sat on my hip, he asked me the question called the 'Door.' I didn't know the answer, so I am here to ask you to give it."

The Master said, "This is not the first time, layman, that the lad has been a seeker after the way to accomplish his ends, and that he asked wise men this question. He did so before, and wise men in past days gave him the answer. But because of the dimness caused by rebirth, he has forgotten it." And at his request the Master told this story from the past.

( _Notice that the Buddha is not accusing him of being "dim-witted." He is simply referring to the normal loss of memory that comes in rebirth._ )

* * *

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was reigning in Benares, the Bodhisatta came into this world as a rich merchant's son. He grew up, and when in the course of time his father died, he took his father's place as a merchant.

And his son, a young boy sitting on his hip, asked him a question: "Father," he said, "tell me something in one word that embraces a wide range of meaning." And he repeated the first stanza:

"Tell me one word that all things comprehends,

By what, in short, can we attain our ends?"

His father replied with the second stanza:

"One thing for all things precious - that is skill,

Add virtue and add patience, and you will

Do good to friends and to your foes do ill."

( _The Bodhisatta is not saying to harm your enemies. He is saying that by doing good you will implicitly harm enemies. An example of this is the saying that "the best revenge is a good life."_ )

Figure: Teaching Skill, Virtue, and Patience

Thus did the Bodhisatta answer his son's question. The son used the way that his father pointed out to accomplish his life purpose, and by and bye he passed away to fare according to his karma.

* * *

When this discourse ended, the Master taught the Four Noble Truths at the conclusion of which father and son attained stream-entry. Then the Master identified the birth: "This man was then the son, and I was the merchant of Benares."

# 239: Harita Māta Jātaka,  
The Green Frog

* * *

This is a story where a predator becomes the prey after the Bodhisatta shows his friends the fish his weakness.

* * *

" _When I was in their cage._ " The Master told this story while he was at the Bamboo Grove Monastery ( _Veluvana_ ). It is about Ajātasattu.

Mahā-Kosala, the father of the King of Kosala, gave his daughter a village when she married King Bimbisāra. After Ajātasattu murdered his father Bimbisāra, the queen soon died from her love for him. But even after his mother's death, Ajātasattu still received the revenues from this village. The King of Kosala ( _Pasenadi_ ) proclaimed that no one who had committed patricide should have a village which was his by right of inheritance, and he declared war on Ajātasattu.

Sometimes the uncle got the best of him, and sometimes the nephew won. And when Ajātasattu was victorious, he raised his banner and marched through the country back to his capital in triumph. But when he lost, he returned all downcast without letting anyone know.

It happened that on one day the monks sat talking about this in the Dharma Hall. "Friend," so one would say, "Ajātasattu is delighted when he beats his uncle, and when he loses he is downcast." The Master entered the Dharma Hall and asked what they were discussing. They told him. He said, "Monks, this is not the first time that the man has been happy when he was victorious and miserable when he was not." And he told them this story from the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was the King of Benares, the Bodhisatta was born as a green frog. At the time people put wicker cages in all of the pits and holes of the rivers to catch fish. In one cage there were a large number of fish. And a water snake who was eating the fish went into the trap himself. Many of the fish ganged together to attack and bite him until he was covered with blood. Seeing that there was no help, in fear of his life he slipped out of the mouth of the cage and lay down full of pain on the edge of the water.

At the same moment, the green frog leaped and fell into the mouth of the trap. The snake, not knowing to whom he could appeal for help, asked the frog, "Friend frog, are you pleased with the behavior of those fish?" and he uttered the first stanza:

"When I was in their cage, the fish did bite

Me, though a snake. Green frog, does that seem right?"

Then the frog answered him, "Yes, friend snake, it does. Why not? If you eat fish which get into your domain, the fish eat you when you get into theirs. In his own place and district and feeding ground no one is weak." So saying, he uttered the second stanza:

"Men rob as long as they can accomplish it;

And when they cannot, why, the biter's bit!"

After the Bodhisatta declared this view, all the fish saw the snake's weakness. They cried, "Let us seize our foe!" and coming out of the cage, they bit him to death then and there, after which they departed.

Figure: "Let us seize our foe!"

* * *

When the Master ended this discourse, he identified the birth: "Ajātasattu was the water snake, and I was the green frog."

# 240: Mahāpiṇgala Jātaka,  
The Great Yellow King

* * *

Ajahn Brahmali often points out that people who are cruel will be dealt with in due time by the relentless forces of karma. So even if people treat us with cruelty, we can let their bad behavior pass us by. Our job is to develop good qualities, to be kind, generous, compassionate, and loving.

* * *

" _The Yellow King._ " The Master told this story at the Jetavana Park. It is about the dissident Devadatta.

For nine months Devadatta tried to destroy the future Buddha, and as a result had sunk down into the earth by the gateway of Jetavana. ( _According to Jātaka 457 Devadatta was "swallowed up by the earth," possibly an earthquake._ )

Then those who lived at Jetavana and the country around there were delighted, saying, "Devadatta, the enemy of Buddha, has been swallowed up in the earth. The adversary is dead, and the Master has become perfectly enlightened!" And hearing these words spoken over and over again, the people of the entire continent of India and all the goblins and living creatures and gods were equally delighted.

One day, all the monks were talking together in the Dharma Hall. They were saying, "Brother, since Devadatta sank into the earth, what a great number of people are glad, saying, 'Devadatta is swallowed up by the earth!'" The Teacher entered and asked, "What are you all discussing here, monks?" They told him. Then said he, "This is not the first time, oh monks, that a great number of people have rejoiced and laughed aloud at the death of Devadatta. Long ago they rejoiced and laughed as they do now." And he told them this story from the past.

* * *

Once upon a time there was a wicked and unjust King named Mahāpiṇgala, the Great Yellow King. He ruled over Benares. He behaved wickedly for his own will and pleasure. With taxes and fines and many mutilations and robberies, he crushed the people as if they were sugar cane in a mill. He was cruel, fierce, and ferocious. He did not have a grain of compassion. At home he was harsh and unforgiving to his wives, his sons, his daughters, his brahmin courtiers, and the householders of the country. He was like a speck of dust that falls in the eye, like gravel in the broth, like a thorn sticking in the heel.

Now the Bodhisatta was a son of King Mahāpiṇgala. After this King had reigned for a long time, he died. And when he died all of the citizens of Benares were overjoyed. They laughed a great laugh. They burned his body with a thousand cartloads of logs and doused the cremation site with thousands of jars of water. Then they consecrated the Bodhisatta to be the King. They beat a drum of rejoicing around the streets for the joy that they had gotten a righteous king. They raised flags and banners and decked out the city. At every door there was a pavilion. They scattered parched corn and flowers. They sat down on decorated platforms under fine canopies and ate and drank. The Bodhisatta himself sat upon a fine couch on a great raised platform in great magnificence, with a white parasol stretched above him. The courtiers and householders, the citizens and the doorkeepers stood around their King.

But there was one doorkeeper who was standing not far from the King. He was sighing and sobbing. "Good Porter," the Bodhisatta said, "all of the people are making merry for joy that my father is dead, but you stand weeping. Come, was my father good and kind to you?" And with the question he uttered the first stanza:

"The Yellow King was cruel to all men.

Now he is dead; all freely breathe again.

Was he, the yellow-eyed, so very dear?

Or, Porter, why do you stand weeping here?"

The man heard this, and he answered: "I am not weeping for sorrow that Piṅgala is dead. My head would be glad enough. For King Piṅgala, every time he came down from the palace or went up into it, would give me eight blows over the head with his fist, fierce like the blows of a blacksmith's hammer. So when he goes down to the other world, he will deal eight blows on the head of Yama, the gatekeeper of hell, as though he were striking me. Then the people there will cry, 'He is too cruel for us! And they will send him back up again. And I fear he will come and deal blows to my head again, and that is why I weep." To explain further he uttered the second stanza:

"The Yellow King was anything but dear,

It is his coming back again I fear.

What if he beat the King of Death, and then

The King of Death should send him back again?"

Then the Bodhisatta said, "That King has been burned with a thousand cartloads of wood. The place of his burning has been soaked with water from thousands of pitchers. The ground has been dug up all around. Beings that have gone to the other world do not return to the same bodily shape as they had before. Do not be afraid!" And to comfort him, he repeated the following stanza:

"Thousands of loads of wood have burned him quite,

Thousands of pitchers quenched what still did burn,

The earth is dug about to left and right

Fear not, the King will never more return.

Figure: "Hi. I'm Yama. Welcome to hell."

The porter took comfort after that. From then on the Bodhisatta ruled in righteousness. And after giving gifts and doing other kind acts, he passed away to fare according to his karma.

* * *

When the Master ended this discourse, he identified the birth: "Devadatta was Piṅgala, and I was his son."

# 241: Sabbadāṭha Jātaka,  
All-tusk

* * *

This is an interesting little tale in which the Bodhisatta – once again (!) – gets the best of Devadatta in a previous lifetime.

* * *

" _Even as the jackal._ " The Master told this story while he was staying in the Bamboo Grove ( _Veluvana_ ). It is about Devadatta.

Devadatta had won favor in the eyes of King Ajātasattu. But he could not sustain the reputation and support that he received for any period of time. When they saw the miracle done when Nāḷāgiri was sent against him, the reputation and support of Devadatta began to fall off.

( _Devadatta conspired to turn the drunk, angry bull elephant Nāḷāgiri on the Buddha in an attempt to kill him._ )

So one day, the monks were all talking about it in the Dharma Hall. The Master said, "Friends, Devadatta managed to gain favor and support, yet he could not keep it up. This happened in old days in just the same way." And then he told them this story from the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was the King of Benares, the Bodhisatta was his chaplain. He had mastered the three Vedas and the eighteen branches of knowledge ( _also called the 18 vidhyasthanams_ ). He knew the spell entitled "Of subduing the World." (Now this spell is one which involves meditation.)

One day, the Bodhisatta thought that he would recite this spell. He sat down in a special place on a flat stone, and there he proceeded with his recitation. It is said that this spell could be taught to no one without the use of a special ritual. For this reason he recited it in the place just described. It so happened that a jackal who was lying in a hole heard the spell and memorized it by heart. We are told that this jackal had been some brahmin in a previous lifetime, and in that lifetime he had learned the charm "Of subduing the World."

The Bodhisatta ended his recitation and got up, saying, "Surely I have learned that spell by heart now." Then the jackal came out of his hole and cried, "Ho, brahmin! I have learned the spell better than you know it yourself!" and off he ran. The Bodhisatta ran after him and followed him for a long way, crying, "You, jackal, will do a great mischief. Catch him! Catch him!" But the jackal got away and ran off into the forest.

The jackal found a she-jackal, and he gave her a little pinch on the body. "What is it, master?" she asked.

"Do you know me," he asked, "or do you not?"

"I do not know you."

He repeated the spell, and as a result gained command over several hundred jackals. And then there gathered around him all the elephants and horses, lions and tigers, pigs and deer, and all other four-footed creatures. He became their king under the title "Sabbadāṭha" or "All-tusk," and he made the she-jackal his consort. A lion stood on the back of two elephants, and Sabbadāṭha stood on the lion's back, the jackal king, along with his consort the she-jackal. And great honor was paid to them.

Now the jackal was tempted by his great honor. He became puffed up with pride, and he resolved to capture the kingdom of Benares. So with all the four-footed creatures in his domain, he went to a place near Benares. His multitude covered twelve leagues of ground. From his position there he sent a message to the King: "Give up your kingdom or fight for it." The citizens of Benares were overcome with terror. They shut the city gates and stayed within the fortified walls.

Then the Bodhisatta went to the King. He said to him, "Fear not, mighty King! Leave the task of fighting the jackal king Sabbadāṭha to me. But leave this fight only to me. No one else will be able to fight with him."

Thus he gave heart to the King and the citizens.

"I will ask him at once," he went on, "what he will do in order to take the city."

So he mounted the tower over one of the gates and cried out, "Sabbadāṭha, what will you do to gain possession of this realm?"

"I will cause the lions to roar, and with the roaring I will frighten the people. Thus will I take it!"

"Oh, that's it," thought the Bodhisatta. He went down from the tower. He made a proclamation by the beat of drums that all of the people in the great city of Benares, over all its twelve leagues, must plug up their ears with flour. The people heard the command. They stopped up their ears with flour so that they could not even hear each other speak. They even did this to their cats and other animals.

Then the Bodhisatta went up a second time into the tower and cried out "Sabbadāṭha!"

"What is it, Brahmin?" he said.

"How will you take this realm?" he asked.

"I will cause the lions to roar, and I will frighten the people and destroy them. This is how I will take it!" he said.

"You will not be able to make the lions roar. These noble lions, with their tawny paws and shaggy manes, will never do the bidding of an old jackal like you!" The jackal, stubborn with pride, answered, "Not only will the lions obey me, but I will even make this one here, upon whose back I sit, roar alone!"

"Very well," the Bodhisatta said, "do it if you can."

So he tapped the lion on which he sat with his foot in order to make him roar.

The lion, with his mouth resting on the elephant's temple, roared three times. The elephants were terrified and threw the jackal down at their feet. They trampled his head and crushed it to bits. Then and there Sabbadāṭha died. And all of the other elephants, hearing the roar of the lion, were frightened to death. They beat one another, and they all died then and there. The rest of the creatures, deer and swine, down to the hares and cats, also died then and there. They all died except for the lions who ran off into the woods. There was a heap of carcasses covering the ground for twelve leagues.

Figure: The Lion's Roar!

The Bodhisatta went down from the tower. He had the gates of the city thrown open. By the beat of the drums he caused a proclamation to be made throughout the city: "Let all the people take the flour from out of their ears. Those who want meat take as much as they like!" The people all ate what meat they could fresh, and the rest they dried and preserved.

It was at this time, according to tradition, that people first began to dry meat.

* * *

The Master, having finished this discourse, identified the birth by the following verses:

"Even as the jackal, stiff with pride,

Craved for a mighty host on every side,

And all toothed creatures came

Flocking around, until he won great fame,

"Even so the man who is supplied

With a great host of men on every side,

As great renown has he

As had the jackal in his sovereignty."

"In those days Devadatta was the jackal, Ānanda was the King, and I was the chaplain."

# 242: Sunakha Jātaka,  
The Dog

* * *

This is a story about a clever dog. It tells a story that shows that wisdom and patience are often the same quality.

* * *

" _Foolish Dog._ " The Master told this story while he was living at Jetavana. It is about a dog that used to be fed in the resting hall by the Ambala tower. ( _Ambala is a city in India._ )

It is said that from the time he was a puppy this dog had been kept and fed by some water-carriers. In the course of time it grew up to be a big dog. Once day a villager happened to see him, and he bought him from the water-carriers for some clothing and one rupee. Then, fastening him to a chain, he led the dog away.

The dog went with him without resisting. He did not make a sound. He followed his new master, eating whatever was offered. "He is fond of me, no doubt," the man thought, so he freed him from the chain. As soon as the dog was free, he ran off, and he never stopped running until he got back to the place from which he came.

Seeing him, the monks guessed what had happened. And in the evening, when they were gathered in the Dharma Hall, they began talking about it. "Friend, here is the dog back again in our resting hall! How clever he must have been to be freed from his chain! No sooner was he free than back he ran!"

The Master, entering the hall, asked what they were all talking about as they sat together. They told him. He responded, "Monks, this is not the first time our dog was clever enough to get rid of his chain. He was just the same before." And he told them this story from the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was the King of Benares, the Bodhisatta was born into a rich family in the kingdom of Kāsi. And when he grew up, he established a household of his own.

There was a man in Benares who had a dog who had been fed on rice until it grew fat. And a certain villager who had come to Benares saw the dog. He gave the owner a fine garment and a single coin for the dog, which he then led off bound by a strap. When he arrived at the outskirts of a forest, he entered a hut, tied up the dog, and lay down to sleep. At that moment the Bodhisatta entered the forest on some errand, and he saw the dog fastened to the thong, whereupon he uttered the first stanza:

"Foolish Dog! why don't you bite

Through that strap that holds you tight?

In a flash you would be free,

Scampering off merrily!"

On hearing this stanza, the dog uttered the second stanza:

"Resolute, determined, I

Wait my opportunity,

Careful watch and ward I keep

Till the people are asleep."

Figure: The Dog is Wise Beyond His Ears

So he spoke. And when the company were asleep, he gnawed through the strap and returned to his master's house in great glee.

* * *

When this discourse was ended, the Master identified the birth: "The dogs are the same, and I was the wise man."

# 243: Guttila Jātaka,  
Guttila the Musician

* * *

This is a wonderful story about respect, especially respect and gratitude for one's teachers. It is a lesson that I wish that I learned when I was young and arrogant.

This story is reminiscent of Jātaka 220, where Sakka, King of the devas, helps out the Bodhisatta. It is always good to have Sakka on your side, and you do that when you behave in a way that is admirable and virtuous. Be a good and kind person, and Sakka will always be on your side.

This story has some indications that it was at least modified after the Buddha's death. It refers to the "Three Piṭakas." This literally means the "Three Baskets." In Theravada Buddhism, these are 1) the suttas, 2) the Visuddhimagga, and 3) the Abhidhamma." But the Visuddhimagga and Abhidhamma were composed after the Buddha's time, and they are unique to Theravada – southern – Buddhism. There are those – and I'm one of them (!) – who think they deviate significantly from the letter and the spirit of the Buddha's teaching.

The Jātaka ends with a trip to the deva realm where the future Buddha hears the lovely and touching stories of the nymphs there, and how their acts of kindness and generosity resulted in such a favorable rebirth.

* * *

" _I had a pupil once._ " The Master told this story in the Bamboo Grove ( _Veluvana_ ). It is about Devadatta.

On this occasion the monks said to Devadatta, "Friend Devadatta, the Supreme Buddha is your teacher. From him you learned the Three Piṭakas and how to produce the Four kinds of Ecstasy ( _the four jhānas_ ). You really should not be the enemy of your own teacher!"

Devadatta replied, "Why, friends... Gotama the Ascetic my teacher? Not a bit. It was by my own power that I learned the Three Piṭakas and attained the Four Ecstasies." In this way he refused to acknowledge his teacher.

The monks fell to discussing this in the Dharma Hall. "Friend! Devadatta repudiates his teacher! He has become an enemy of the Supreme Buddha! And what a miserable fate has fallen to him!" The Master came into the hall and asked what they were discussing. They told him. "Ah, monks," he said, "this is not the first time that Devadatta has repudiated his teacher and shown himself to be my enemy and – likewise - come to a miserable end. It was just the same before." And then he told the following story.

* * *

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was reigning in Benares, the Bodhisatta was born into the family of a musician. His name was "Master Guttila." When he grew up, he mastered all the branches of music, and under the name of Guttila the Musician he became the greatest musician in all India. He never married, but instead he took care of his blind parents.

At that time some traders from Benares traveled to Ujjeni ( _"Ujjain" is a city in India_ ) in order for trade. A holiday was proclaimed. They all celebrated together. They bought scents and perfumes and ointments and all manner of foods and meats. "Go hire a musician!" they cried."

It happened that at the time a man named "Mūsila" was the chief musician in Ujjeni. They sent for him and hired him to perform for them. Mūsila played the lute. He tuned his lute up to the highest key to play upon. ( _Unlike Western music which has one "tempered" tuning, Indian music has different ways to tune an instrument._ ) But they had heard the performances of Guttila the Musician, and Mūsila's music seemed to them like scratching on a mat. So not one of them showed any pleasure in his playing. When Mūsila saw that they did not like his music, he said to himself, "I must have tuned it too sharp, I suppose." He tuned his lute down to the middle tone and played it like that. Still they sat indifferently. Then he thought , "I suppose they know nothing about music," and pretending that he, too, were ignorant, played with the strings all loose. As before, they did not respond. Then Mūsila asked them, "Good merchants, why do you not like my playing?"

"What! Are you playing?" they cried. "We thought that you were just tuning up."

"Why, do you know any better musician," he asked, "or are you just too ignorant to like my playing?"

The merchants said, "We have heard the music of Guttila the Musician in Benares, and your music sounds like women crooning to soothe their babies."

"Here, take your money back," he said, "I don't want it. But when you go to Benares, please take me with you."

They agreed and took him back to Benares with them. They took him to the home of Guttila, and then they all went back to their own homes.

Mūsila entered the Bodhisatta's house. He saw his beautiful lute where it stood, tied up. He took it down and played it. At this the old parents, who could not see him because they were blind, cried out, "The mice are gnawing at the lute! Shoo! shoo! The rats are biting the lute to pieces!"

At once Mūsila put down the lute and greeted the old folks. "Where do you come from?" they asked.

He replied, "I have come from Ujjeni to learn at the feet of the teacher."

"Oh, all right," they said. He asked where the teacher was.

"He is out, friend; but he will be back later today," came the answer.

Mūsila sat down and waited until he came. Then, after some friendly conversation, he said why he was there. Now the Bodhisatta was skilled in telling a person's character from the oils of the body. He perceived that this was not a good man, so he refused. "Go, my son, this art is not for you."

Mūsila clasped the feet of the Bodhisatta's parents to help his cause and begged to them: "Make him teach me!" Again and again his parents asked the Bodhisatta to do so, until he could not stand it any longer. And so he did as he was asked.

Later Mūsila accompanied the Bodhisatta to the King's palace.

"Who is this, master?" asked the King when he saw him.

"A pupil of mine, great King!" was the reply.

By and bye Mūsila got the attention of the King.

Now the Bodhisatta did not hold back on his knowledge. He taught his pupil everything that he knew himself. When this was done, he said, "Your knowledge is now perfect."

Mūsila thought, "I have now mastered my art. This city of Benares is the greatest city in all India. My teacher is old, so I will stay here."

So he said to his teacher, "Sir, I would like to serve the King."

"Good, my son," he replied, "I will tell the King."

He went before the King and said, "My pupil wishes to serve your Highness. Determine what his fee will be."

The King answered, "His fee shall be the half of yours."

He went and told this to Mūsila. Mūsila said, "If I am paid the same as you, I will serve. But if not, then I will not serve him."

"Why?"

"Say, do I not know all that you know?"

"Yes, you do."

"Then why does he offer me only half?"

The Bodhisatta told the King what had transpired. The King responded, "If he is as perfect in his art as you, he shall receive the same payment as you do."

The Bodhisatta reported this back to his pupil. The pupil consented to the agreement, and the King, upon being informed of this, replied, "Very well. On what day will you compete against each other?"

"Do it the seventh day from this, Oh King."

The King sent for Mūsila. "I understand that you are ready to test yourself against your master?"

"Yes, your Majesty," was the reply.

The King tried to dissuade him. "Don't do it," he said. "There should never be a rivalry between master and pupil."

"Hold, oh King!" he cried. "Yes, let there be a meeting between me and my teacher on the seventh day. Then we will know who is master of his art."

So the King agreed. He sent the drum beating around the city with this notice: "Attention! On the seventh day Guttila the Teacher and Mūsila the Pupil will meet at the door of the royal palace to show their skill. Let the people assemble from the city and see their skill!"

The Bodhisatta thought to himself, "This Mūsila is young and energetic. I am old and my strength is gone. What an old man does will not grow and prosper. If my pupil is beaten, there is no great benefit in that. But if he beats me, death in the woods is better than the shame that will come to me." So he went off to the woods. But he kept returning from the woods because of his fear of death. But then he would just go right back again through fear of shame. And in this way six days passed by. The grass died as he walked, and his feet wore away a path.

At that time, Sakka's throne became hot. ( _You may recall from Jātaka 220 that Sakka is the King of the Devas. In Indian mythology Sakka's throne grew hot when someone was in dire straits._ ) Sakka meditated and perceived what had happened. "Guttila the Musician is suffering great sorrow in the forest because of his pupil. I must help him!"

So he rushed off and stood before the Bodhisatta. "Master," he said, "why have you taken to the woods?"

"Who are you?" the Bodhisatta asked.

"I am Sakka."

Then the Bodhisatta said, "I was afraid that I would lose to my pupil, oh King of the gods, and therefore I ran off to the woods." And he repeated the first stanza:

"I had a pupil once, who learned from me

The seven-stringed lute's melodious minstrelsy.

He now would gladly his teacher's skill outdo.

Oh Kosiya! Will you my helper be!"

( _"Kosiya" is a pseudonym for Sakka._ )

"Fear not," said Sakka, "I am your defense and refuge," and he repeated the second stanza:

"Fear not, for I will help you in your need.

For honor is the teacher's rightful meed.

Fear not! Your pupil will not rival thee,

But you will prove the better man indeed."

( _"Meed" means "reward."_ )

"As you play, you will break one of the strings of your lute and play on only six strings. But the music will be as good as before. Mūsila, too, will break a string, and he will not be able to make music with his lute. Then he will be defeated. And when you see that he is defeated, you will break the second string of your lute, and the third, even on to the seventh. And you will go on playing with nothing but the body of the lute. From the ends of the broken strings the sound will go forth and fill the land of Benares for a space of twelve leagues."

With these words he gave the Bodhisatta three dice and went on: "When the sound of the lute has filled the city, you must throw one of these dice into the air. Three hundred nymphs will descend and dance before you. While they dance throw up the second, and three hundred more will dance in front of your lute. Then throw the third dice into the air, and three hundred more will come down and dance in the arena. I, too, will come with them. Go on, and fear not!"

In the morning the Bodhisatta returned home. At the palace door a pavilion was set up, and a throne was set up for the King. He came down from the palace and took his seat on the divan in the gay pavilion. All around him were thousands of slaves, women beautifully dressed, courtiers, brahmins, citizens. All the people of the town had come together. In the courtyard they set up seats circle on circle, tier above tier. The Bodhisatta, washed and anointed, had eaten all manner of the finest meats. He had his lute in hand as he sat waiting in his appointed place. Sakka was there, invisible, poised in the air, surrounded by a great company. However, the Bodhisatta saw him. Mūsila too was there, and he sat in his own seat. All around was a great multitude of people.

First the two each played the same piece. When they played, the multitude was delighted, and gave thunderous applause. Then Sakka spoke to the Bodhisatta from his place in the air. "Break one of the strings!" he said. Then the Bodhisatta broke one of the strings. And the string, even though it was broken, gave out a sound from its broken end. It sounded like music divine. Mūsila too broke a string, but no sound came out of it. His teacher broke the second string, and so on to the seventh string. He played on the instrument's body alone. And the sound continued and filled the town. The multitude waved and waved by the thousands. They threw their handkerchiefs up into the air. They shouted applause by the thousands. Then the Bodhisatta threw one of the dice up into the air. Three hundred nymphs descended and began to dance. And when he had thrown the second and third dice in the same way, there were nine hundred nymphs dancing just as Sakka had said.

Then the King signaled to the multitude. They rose up as one and cried, "Mūsila, you made a great mistake in pitting yourself against your teacher! You do not know your limits!' Thus they cried out against Mūsila, and with sticks and staves and anything that came to hand, they beat and bruised him to death. Then they seized him by the feet and threw him on a dung heap.

The King was delighted. He showered gifts on the Bodhisatta, and so did the people of the city. Sakka likewise spoke in praise of him. He said, "Wise sir, I will send my charioteer Mātali with a car drawn by a thousand thoroughbreds. You will mount my divine car, drawn by a thousand horses, and travel to heaven." And he left.

When Sakka had left and was back on his throne made from precious stones, the daughters of the gods asked him, "Where have you been, oh King?" Sakka told them everything that had happened. He praised the virtues and good qualities of the Bodhisatta. Then the daughters of the gods said, "Oh King, we long to look at this teacher. Please bring him here!"

Sakka summoned Mātali. "The nymphs of heaven," he said, "want to see Guttila the Musician. Go get him in my divine car and bring him here." The charioteer went and brought the Bodhisatta back. Sakka gave him a friendly greeting. "The maidens of the gods," he said, "want to hear your music, Master."

"We musicians, oh, great King," he said, "earn a living by performing our art. I will play for a fee."

"Play on and I will pay you."

"The only payment I want is this. Let these daughters of the gods tell me what acts of virtue brought them here. Then will I play."

Then the daughters of the gods said, "We will gladly tell you about our virtuous acts. But please, first play for us, Master."

For the space of a week the Bodhisatta played to them. His music surpassed the music of heaven. On the seventh day he asked the daughters of the gods about their virtuous lives, beginning with the first of them. One of them, during the time of the Buddha Kassapa ( _a previous Buddha_ ), had given an upper garment to a certain monk. She was reborn as an attendant of Sakka and had become chief among the daughters of the gods. She had a retinue of a thousand nymphs. The Bodhisatta asked her, "What did you do in a previous existence that has brought you here?" The manner of his question and the gift she gave is told in the Vimāna story ( _This probably refers to the "Vimānavatthu" which is the sixth book in the Khuddaka Nikāya._ ). They spoke as follows:

"O brilliant goddess, like the morning star,

Shedding thy light of beauty near and far,

Whence springs this beauty? Whence this happiness?

Whence all the blessings that the heart can bless?

I ask you, goddess excellent in might,

Whence comes this all-pervading wondrous light?

When you were mortal woman, what did thou

To gain the glory that surrounds thee now?"

"Chief among men and chief of women she

Who gives an upper robe in charity.

She that gives pleasant things is sure to win

A home divine and fair to enter in.

Behold this habitation, how divine!

As fruit of my good deeds this home is mine

A thousand nymphs stand ready at my call.

Fair nymphs, and I the fairest of them all.

And therefore am I excellent in might,

Hence comes this all-pervading wondrous light!"

Another had given flowers for worship to a monk who needed alms. Another had been asked for a scented wreath of five sprays for the shrine, and she gave it. Another had given sweet fruits. Another had given fine perfumes. Another had given a scented spray to the shrine of the Buddha Kassapa. Another had heard the discourses of traveling monks and nuns, and some of the monks and nuns had taken shelter in the house of their family. Another had stood in the water and given a drink to a monk who was eating his meal on a boat. Another living in the world had done her duty to her mother-in-law and father-in-law, never losing her temper. Another had shared her meager food and was virtuous. Another, who had been a slave in some household, without anger and without pride had given away a share of her own food and had been born again as an attendant upon the King of the gods. So all those who are written about in the story of Guttila-vimāna, thirty and seven daughters of the gods, were asked by the Bodhisatta what each had done to come there, and they too told what they had done in the same way by verses.

On hearing all this, the Bodhisatta exclaimed, "It is good for me, in truth, truly it is very good for me, that I came here and heard how even very small acts of merit lead to great glory. When I return to the world of men, I will give all manner of gifts and perform good deeds." And he uttered this aspiration:

"Oh happy dawn! Oh happy must I be!

Oh happy pilgrimage, whereby I see

These daughters of the gods, divinely fair,

And hear their sweet discourse! Henceforth I swear

Full of sweet peace and generosity,

Of temperance, and truth my life shall be,

Till I come there where no more sorrows are."

Figure: The Deva Describes Her Act of Virtue

Then after seven days had passed, the King of heaven gave his commands to Mātali the charioteer. He seated Guttila in the chariot and sent him to Benares. And when he got to Benares he told the people what he had seen with his own eyes in heaven. From that time on the people resolved to do good deeds with all their might.

* * *

When this discourse ended, the Master identified the birth: "In those days Devadatta was Mūsila, Anuruddha was Sakka, Ānanda was the King, and I was Guttila the Musician."

( _Anuruddha was a senior and very prominent monk. He was also the Buddha's cousin._ )

# 244: Vīticcha Jātaka,  
Free from Desire

* * *

This story reads like a Zen kōan. The punch line is a familiar Buddhist teaching about craving and non-craving.

* * *

" _What he sees._ " The Master told this story while he was at Jetavana. It is about a runaway samaṇa ( _spiritual seeker_ ) who wandered about the country.

It is said that this man could not find anyone who would debate with him in all India. Then he went to Sāvatthi and asked whether there was anyone who would debate with him. "Yes," he was told, "the Supreme Buddha." When he heard this, he and his many followers went to Jetavana. They asked a question of the Master while he was giving a discourse on the four kinds of disciples ( _stream-enterer, once-returner, non-returner, and arahant_ ). The Master answered his question and then put one to him in return. The man was unable to answer it, so he got up, and ran away. The crowd sitting there exclaimed, "One word, sir, vanquished the wayfarer!" The Master said, "Yes, mendicants, and just as I vanquished him now with one word, so I did before." Then he told them this story from the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was the King of Benares, the Bodhisatta was born into a brahmin family in the kingdom of Kāsi. When he grew up, he mastered his passions and embraced the holy life. And he lived for a long time in the Himalaya Mountains.

Once he went down from the mountains and lived near a large town. He stayed in a hut of leaves built beside a bend of the river Ganges. A certain samaṇa, who found no one who could debate him throughout all India, went to that town. "Is there anyone," he asked, "who can debate with me?"

"Yes," they said, and they told him about the power of the Bodhisatta. So, followed by a great multitude, he made his way to the place where the Bodhisatta lived, and after greeting him, took a seat.

"Will you drink," the Bodhisatta asked, "of the Ganges water, infused with wild wood odors?"

The samaṇa tried to trick him with his words. "What is Ganges? Ganges may be sand, Ganges may be water, Ganges may be the near bank, Ganges may be the far bank!"

The Bodhisatta said to the man, "Besides the sand, the water, the near and the far bank, what other Ganges can you have?"

The samaṇa had no answer for this. He got up and ran away. When he had gone, the Bodhisatta spoke these verses as a teaching to the assembled multitude:

"What he sees, he will not have.

What he sees not he will crave.

He may go a long way yet,

What he wants he will not get.

"He condemns what he has got.

Once 'tis gained, he wants it not.

He craves everything always,

Who craves nothing earns our praise."

Figure: Don't Mess with Mr. B.

* * *

When this discourse ended, the Master identified the birth: "The samaṇa is the same in both cases, and I was the recluse."

# 245: Mūlapariyāya Jātaka,  
The Root of All Things

* * *

The Mūlapariyāya Sutta is the first sutta in the Majjhima Nikāya. Bhikkhu Ñanamoli called it "one of the deepest and most difficult suttas in the Pāli Canon." Indeed, this story has rather complex themes for a Jātaka. It is certainly not a story for a child. It includes references to the Buddha's most complex teaching, that on causation, or "dependent co-arising." It also references abandoning craving for continued existence and becoming free from the rounds of rebirth.

This is another story that references the Three Piṭakas, which is a development that came after the Buddha's death.

* * *

" _Time all consumes._ " The Master told this story while he was staying near Ukkaṭṭhā ( _a town in Kosala_ ) in the Subhagavana Park. It is in connection with the Chapter on the Succession of Causes. ( _This is the Nidana Vagga – the Section on Causation – which is the 12th "vagga" in the Saṃyutta Nikāya. This is the teaching commonly known as "dependent origination" or "dependent co-arising"._ )

At that time, it is said, 500 brahmins who had mastered the three Vedas, having embraced salvation, studied the Three Piṭakas ( _the Sutta Piṭaka, the Vinaya Piṭaka, and the Abhidhamma_ ). Once they mastered these texts they became intoxicated with pride, thinking to themselves, "The Supreme Buddha knows just the Three Piṭakas, and we know them, too. So what is the difference between us?" They stopped visiting the Buddha and established a following of their own.

One day these men were seated before the Master when he repeated the Chapter on the Succession of Causes. Then he adorned it with the Eight Stages of Knowledge ( _the Noble Eightfold Path_ ). They did not understand a word that he said. They thought to themselves, "Here we have been believing that there were none as wise as we, and yet we understand nothing of this. There is no one as wise as the Buddhas. Oh the excellence of the Buddhas!" After this they were humbled, and they became as quiet as serpents with their fangs extracted.

When the Master had stayed as long as he wished in Ukkaṭṭhā, he went to Vesāli ( _the capital of the Indian republic of Licchavi_ ). And at Gotama's shrine he repeated the Chapter on Gotama. ( _This may refer to the Buddhavaṃsa, which is a hagiographical Buddhist text that describes the life of Gotama Buddha and of the twenty-four Buddhas who preceded him. It may also refer to the sutta "Gotama: The Great Sage of the Sakya," which is SN 12.10._ ) There was a quaking of a thousand worlds! Hearing this, these monks became arahants.

But, however, after the Master had finished repeating the Chapter on the Succession of Causes during his visit to Ukkaṭṭhā, the monastics discussed the whole affair in the Dharma Hall. "How great is the power of the Buddhas, friend! Why, these brahmin seekers who used to be so drunk with pride have been humbled by the lesson on the Succession of Causes!" The Master entered and asked what they were discussing. They told him. He said, "Brothers and sisters, this is not the first time that I have humbled these men who used to carry their heads so high with pride. I did the same before." And then he told them this story from the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta reigned in Benares, the Bodhisatta was born into a brahmin family. When he grew up, he mastered the Three Vedas. He became a renowned teacher. He instructed 500 pupils in the sacred verses. These 500, having given their best energy to their work and perfected their learning, said to themselves, "We know as much as our teacher. There is no difference between us."

Proud and stubborn, they would not go before their teacher and pay their respects, nor would they attend to their duties.

One day they saw their master seated beneath a jujube tree. They decided to mock him. They tapped on the tree with their fingers. "A worthless tree!" they said.

The Bodhisatta saw that they were mocking him. "My pupils," he said, "I will ask you a question."

They were delighted. "Ask your question," they said, "and we will answer."

Their teacher asked the question by repeating the first stanza:

"Time all consumes, even time itself as well.

Who is not consumes the all-consumer? Tell!"

( _The "consumer of time" is someone who destroys craving for existence and escapes from the rounds of rebirth._ )

The young men listened to the problem, but none of them could answer it. Then the Bodhisatta said, "Do not imagine that this question is in the Three Vedas. You imagine that you know all that I know, and so you act like the jujube tree. You don't know that I know a great deal that is unknown to you. Leave me now. I will give you seven days to think about this question."

( _According to the PTS notes, in India lore the jujube is considered to be only "externally pleasing," as opposed to the cocoanut, which is externally pleasing but also yields good food._ )

Figure: Challenging the Overconfident Students

So they saluted him and went back to their houses. For a week they pondered the question, yet they could not make any sense of the problem. On the seventh day they went to their teacher, greeted him, and sat down.

"Well, you of such auspicious speech, have you solved the question?"

"No, we have not," they said.

The Bodhisatta rebuffed them, uttering the second stanza:

"Heads grow on necks, and hair on heads will grow,

How many heads have ears, I wish to know?"

"You are fools," he went on, rebuking the youths. "You have ears with holes in them but no wisdom." Then he solved the problem while they listened. "Ah," they said, "great are our teachers!" They begged his forgiveness, and swallowing their pride they waited upon the Bodhisatta.

* * *

When the Master ended this discourse, he identified the birth: "At that time these monks were the 500 pupils, and I was their teacher."

# 246: Telovāda Jātaka,  
The Lesson

* * *

This story – once again – takes up the issue of eating meat.

I quote from the Winter 1994 issue of Tricycle Magazine. The article is by Kate Wheeler:

> "
> 
> According to the Buddha, it is possible to eat meat with a compassionate, pure, and gentle mind. Once, a wealthy donor named Jivaka came to the Buddha to check out a nasty rumor.
> 
> Venerable Sir, I have heard this: 'The recluse Gotama knowingly eats meat prepared for him from animals killed for his sake... do those who speak thus say what has been said by the Blessed One, and not misrepresent him?'
> 
> The Buddha said he had been misrepresented — he did not eat meat from animals specifically killed for him. Then he described the monk who lives "pervading the all-encompassing world with a mind imbued with loving-kindness" and is invited to accept a meal. That monk eats the almsfood "without being tied to it, infatuated with it, and utterly committed to it, seeing the danger in it and understanding the escape from it. What do you think, Jivaka? Would that (monk)... choose for his own affliction, or for another's affliction, or for the affliction of both?" Jivaka says no. The Buddha goes on to describe his own mind, in which cruelty of any kind was no longer a possibility. "Any delusion whereby cruelty or discontent or aversion might arise has been cut off."
> 
> From this story, it seems that the Buddha must have eaten meat. He did so without cruelty toward animals, without anger and judgment toward those who offered the meat to him.
> 
> "

This sets up the curious situation today where lay people are often vegetarians, but monks and nuns are not. But the issue for a monk or nun is that to refuse an offering of any kind is the worst kind of rebuke toward a lay person. The lay person makes the offering from a heart of generosity, albeit from a mind of ignorance. The monk or nun accepts the generosity while recognizing the defilement in the lay person.

* * *

" _The wicked kills._ " The Master told this is a story while he was staying in his gabled chamber near ( _the city of_ ) Vesāli. It is about Sīhasenāpati.

It is said that this man, after he had gone to the monastery, offered hospitality and then gave food with meat in it. On hearing this, the naked ascetics ( _rival sects_ ) were angry and displeased. They wanted to discredit the Buddha. "The priest Gotama," they sneered, "with his eyes open, eats meat prepared for him on purpose."

The monastics discussed this matter in their Dharma Hall. "Friend, Nāthaputta the Ascetic goes about sneering because, he says, 'Priest Gotama eats meat prepared for him on purpose. He does this with his eyes open'." ( _Nathaputta was probably a member of the rival Jain sect._ ) Hearing this, the Master responded, "This is not the first time, brothers and sisters, that Nāthaputta has sneered at me for eating meat which was prepared for me on purpose. He did the same thing in former times. And he told them this story from the past.

* * *

Once on a time, when Brahmadatta was the King of Benares, the Bodhisatta was born into a brahmin family. When he came of age he embraced the holy life.

One day he went down from his dwelling in the Himalaya Mountains to get salt and seasoning. On the next day he went into the city and begged for alms food. A certain wealthy man decided to annoy the recluse. So he brought him to his home, pointed out a seat, and then served him fish. After the meal, the man sat on one side and said, "This food was prepared specifically for you by killing living creatures. This wrong is on your head, not mine!" And he repeated the first stanza:

"The wicked kills and cooks and gives to eat,

He is defiled with harm that takes such meat."

On hearing this, the Bodhisatta recited the second stanza:

"The wicked may for naught kill wife or son,

Yet, if the holy eat, no harm is done."

And with these words of instruction the Bodhisatta rose from his seat and departed.

Figure: Teaching a Lesson

* * *

This discourse ended, the Master identified the birth, "Nāthaputta, the naked ascetic, was this wealthy man, and I was the recluse."

# 247: Pādañjali Jātaka,  
The Story of Pādañjali

* * *

This is a lovely little story about a foolish prince and the wise men who keep him from becoming the king. It is well known in the Buddhist world.

While this story is about a "king," it may be more about a "raja" in one of the Indian republics of the time. The king/raja did rule as the supreme leader, but it was at the pleasure of the senior ministers in the kingdom. The raja was elected and continued to serve only as long as he could keep a consensus between the ministers. The Buddha's father Suddhōdana was just such a man.

* * *

" _Surely this lad._ " The Master told this story while he was in Jetavana. It is about the Elder Lāḷudāyī.

One day, it is said, the two chief disciples ( _Sāriputta and Moggallāna_ ) were discussing a question. The Saṇgha members who heard the discussion praised the elders. Elder Lāḷudāyī, who sat among the company, curled his lip with the thought, "What is their knowledge compared with mine?" When the monastics noticed this, they left him. The company broke up.

The monastics were discussing this in the Dharma Hall. "Friend, did you see how Lāḷudāyī curled his lip in scorn of the two chief disciples?" On hearing this the Master said, "Brothers and sisters, in past days, as now, Lāḷudāyī had no other answer but a curl of the lip." Then he told them this story from the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, when King Brahmadatta was reigning in Benares, the Bodhisatta was his adviser in things spiritual and worldly. Now the King had a son. His name was "Pādañjali." He was an idle, lazy loafer.

By and bye the King died. Once his funeral rites were over, the courtiers discussed consecrating his son Pādañjali to be the new King. But the Bodhisatta said, "He is a lazy fellow, an idle loafer. Shall we consecrate him as King?"

The courtiers decided to test him by holding a trial. They sat the youth down before them and made an incorrect judgment. They assigned something to the wrong owner. Then they asked him, "Young sir, did we make the right decision?"

The lad curled his lip.

"He is a wise lad, I think," the Bodhisatta thought. "He must know that we made the wrong decision." And he recited the first verse:

"Surely the lad is wise beyond all men.

He curls his lip - he must see through us, then!"

On the next day, as before, they arranged a trial, but this time judged it properly. Again they asked him what he thought of it.

Again he curled his lip. Then the Bodhisatta perceived that he was a blind fool, and repeated the second verse:

"Not right from wrong, nor bad from good he knows,

He curls his lip, but no more sense he shows."

Figure: "Not right from wrong, nor bad from good he knows."

The courtiers knew then that the young man Pādañjali was a fool, and they made the Bodhisatta King.

* * *

When the Master ended this discourse, he identified the birth: "Lāḷudāyī was Pādañjali, and I was the wise courtier."

# 248: Kiṃsukopama Jātaka,  
The Riddle Tree

* * *

The theme of this Jātaka is also the theme of the Kiṃsuka Sutta, which is 35.204 in the Saṃyutta Nikāya.

This Jātaka is about one of my favorite themes in the Buddha's teaching – one that is often misunderstood – and that is that awakening is obtained in different ways depending on the person's temperament or personality. It is like a room with many doors that lead into it. One person may have boundless lovingkindness, and that is their door to awakening. I think that the meditation teacher Sharon Salzberg is like that. Another person may be very analytical – like Sāriputta – and that is their door. Some people – like Moggallāna – have great psychic ability, and so on. The suttas are full of stories that document the different ways in which monks and nuns attained an awakening.

This is one reason that I am not enamored of the Abhidhamma, which tries to create a one-size-fits-all, mathematical/scientific/cookbook way of awakening. I think that Buddhist practice is more like art, where many different students can take the same art courses yet all of them will produce very different kinds of art.

* * *

" _All have seen._ " The Master told this story while he was staying at Jetavana. It is the story about the Judas tree ( _the botanical name is "Butea Frondosa"_ ).

Four brothers approached the Tathāgata ( _the Buddha_ ) and asked him to explain the means by which one can awaken ( _become an arahant, a fully enlightened person_ ). He explained how to do this. This done, they went off to different places where they spent their days and nights. One of them, having penetrated the Six Spheres of Touch ( _the six sense bases: touch, sight, sound, taste, smell, and mental formations_ ), became an arahant. Another did so by penetrating the Five Elements of Being ( _the five elements: earth, air, fire, water, and space_ ). The third after penetrating the Four Principal Elements ( _the brahma viharas: compassion, lovingkindness, empathetic joy, and equanimity_ ). And the fourth after penetrating the Eighteen Constituents of Being.

( _The "Eighteen Constituents of Being" are the qualities unique to a Buddha. They are: (1) no faults in the action of the body, (2) no faults in the action of the mouth, (3) no faults in the action of the mind, (4) impartiality, (5) constant concentration of the mind, (6) insight into all things and absence of attachment to them, (7) untiring intention to lead people to salvation, (8) incessant endeavor, (9) consistency of teachings with those of other Buddhas, (10) perfect wisdom, (11) perfect emancipation, (12) perfect insight, (13) consistency of deeds with wisdom, (14) consistency of words with wisdom, (15) consistency of mind with wisdom, (16) knowledge of the past, (17) knowledge of the future, and (18) knowledge of the present._ )

Each of them reported to the Master the particular way in which he had awakened. Then one of them said to the Master, "There is only one nirvana for all these different paths of practice. How is it that all of them lead to awakening?" The Master replied, "This is like the people who saw the Judas tree." They asked him to tell them about it, and he told them this story from the past.

* * *

Once upon a time when Brahmadatta was the King of Benares, he had four sons. One day they sent for the charioteer, and they said to him, "We want to see a Judas tree. Show us one!"

"Very well, I will," the charioteer replied.

But he did not show it to them when they were all together. He took the eldest one to the forest in the chariot and showed it to him at the time when the buds were just sprouting from the stem. To the second one he showed it when the leaves were green. He showed it to the third one when it was blossoming and to the fourth one when it was bearing fruit.

After this had happened, one day the four brothers were sitting together and one of them said, "What sort of a tree is the Judas tree?" Then the first brother answered, "It is like a burned stump!"

And the second cried, "It is like a banyan tree!"

The third one said, "It is like a piece of meat!" ( _It has pink flowers._ )

And the fourth said, "It is like the acacia!" ( _a type of shrub_ )

They were confused by each other's answers and ran to find their father. "My lord," they asked, "what sort of a tree is the Judas tree?"

"What did you say to that?" he asked. They told him their answers. The King responded, "All four of you have seen the tree. But when the charioteer showed you the tree, you did not ask him 'What is the tree like at a particular time, at some other time?' You made no distinctions, and that is the reason for your mistake." And he repeated the first stanza:

"All have seen the Judas tree —

What is your perplexity?

No one asked the charioteer

What its form the livelong year!"

Figure: The Judas Tree the Livelong Year!

* * *

The Master, having explained the matter, then addressed the brothers: "Now as the four brothers, because they did not make a distinction and ask, fell in doubt about the tree, so you have fallen in doubt about the right path." And in his perfect wisdom he uttered the second verse:

"Who know the right with some deficiency

Feel doubt, like those four brothers with the tree."

When this discourse ended, the Master identified the birth: "At that time I was the King of Benares."

# 249: Sālaka Jātaka,  
Brother in the Tree

* * *

A story with a clever monkey and an evil man can never go wrong. In this case, the good guy prevails, but not without some trials.

It may seem curious that in the story-in-the-present a "distinguished elder monk" is the bad guy. But the history of the Saṇgha is full of stories of misbehaving monks and the occasional misbehaving nun. Even in the Saṇgha, people are people. The lesson is not to just blindly assume that a monk or nun will behave properly. The Buddha said that if you really want to know the quality of a person, you must be diligent and inquire fully into the character of that person. An example of this teaching is the Vīmaṃsaka Sutta: The Inquirer [MN 47]. In the Vīmaṃsaka Sutta the Buddha gives instructions on how to tell whether someone is fully awakened. By extension this applies more generally to how to tell if a teacher is true.

* * *

" _Like my own son._ " The Master told this story while he was living at Jetavana. It is about a distinguished elder.

It is said that he had ordained a young man whom he treated with cruelty. Finally, the novice could not stand it any longer and returned to the world. Then the elder tried to convince him to return. "Look here, lad," he said. "You will have your own robe and your own bowl as well. I have a bowl and a robe that I will give to you. Join us again!"

At first the young man refused, but at last after much pleading he did so. From that day on the elder mistreated him just as before. Again the lad found it too much and left the Saṇgha. And again, just as before, the elder begged him repeatedly to return. The young man replied, "You cannot manage with me or without me. Leave me alone. I will not return!"

The monastics got to discussing this in the Dharma Hall. "Friend," they said, "that young man was perceptive. He knew the elder too well to join us." The Master came in and asked what they were talking about. They told him. He responded, "Not only is the lad perceptive now, brothers and sisters, but he was just the same in the past. When once he saw the faults of that man, he would not accept him again." And he told them this story from the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, during the reign of Brahmadatta as the King of Benares, the Bodhisatta was born into a landowner's family. He earned his living by selling grain. There was another man who was a snake-charmer. He had a trained monkey to whom he had given an antidote to the snake's venom. He would make the snake play with the monkey. He made his livelihood in this way.

A festival had been proclaimed. The snake-charmer wished to celebrate at the feast. He entrusted the monkey to the merchant, asking him to care for it. Seven days later he went to the merchant and asked for his monkey. The monkey heard his master's voice and came out quickly from the grain shop. At once the man beat him over the back with a piece of bamboo. Then he took him off to the woods, tied him up, and fell asleep.

As soon as the monkey saw that he was asleep, he loosened his bonds, scampered off, and climbed up into a mango tree. He ate a mango and dropped the stone on the snake-charmer's head. This woke the man up. He looked up into the tree, and there was the monkey. "I will coax him down!" he thought, "and when he comes down from the tree, I will catch him!" So to convince him to come down from the tree, he repeated the first verse:

"Like my own son you shall be,

Master in our family.

Come down, brother from the tree —

Come and hurry home with me."

The monkey listened, and repeated the second verse:

"You are laughing in your sleeve!

Have you quite forgot that beating?

Here I am content to leave

And go on to ripe mangoes eating."

Figure: "Have you quite forgot that beating?"

Up he arose and disappeared into the woods, while the snake-charmer returned resentfully to his house.

* * *

When this discourse ended, the Master identified the birth: "Our novice was the monkey. The elder was the snake-charmer, and I was the grain merchant."

# 250: Kapi Jātaka,  
The Monkey

* * *

This is another story in which a monkey disguises himself as a monk in order to find the comfort of a warm fire. Monkeys certainly get a lot of bad treatment in the Jātaka Tales! Am I the only one who has compassion for the cold, hungry monkey?!

* * *

" _A holy sage._ " The Master told this story while he was living at Jetavana. It is about a hypocritical monk.

The Saṇgha found out about his hypocrisy. They discussed it in the Dharma Hall: "Friend, our brother, after embracing the Buddha's teaching that leads to salvation, still practices hypocrisy." The Master came into the hall and asked what they were discussing. They told him. He said, "Monks, this is not the only time this monk has been a hypocrite. He was a hypocrite before when he shammed himself simply for the sake of warming himself at the fire." Then he told them this story from the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was the King of Benares, the Bodhisatta was born into a brahmin family. When he grew up and his own son was old enough to run about, his wife died. He took the child on his hip and went into the Himalayas where he became a recluse. He brought up his son in the same life, living in a hut of leaves.

It was the rainy season, and the heaven poured down its floods incessantly. There was a monkey there who wandered about, tormented with the cold, chattering and rattling his teeth. The Bodhisatta found a large log, lit a fire, and lay down upon his bedroll. His son sat by him and rubbed his feet.

Now the monkey had found a robe belonging to some dead recluse. He dressed himself with the upper and lower robe, throwing the cloth over one shoulder. He took a walking stick and water pot and - dressed in this recluse's robe - went to the leaf-hut to warm himself. And there he stood in his borrowed robes.

The boy saw him and cried out to his father, "See, father! There is a recluse trembling with cold! Call him here. He should warm himself." Thus addressing his father, he uttered the first stanza:

"A holy sage stands shivering at our gate,

A sage, to peace and goodness consecrate.

Oh father! bid the holy man come in,

That all his cold and misery may abate."

Figure: Shivering at Our Gate

The Bodhisatta listened to his son. He got up and looked. Then he knew it was a monkey, and he repeated the second stanza:

"No holy sage is he, it is a vile

And loathsome monkey, greedy all to spoil

That he call touch, who dwells among the trees,

Once let him in, our home he will defile."

With these words, the Bodhisatta seized a piece of burning wood and scared away the monkey. The monkey leaped up and ran off, and whether he liked the woods or whether he didn't, he never returned to that place any more. The Bodhisatta cultivated the Faculties ( _1. walking on water or through walls, 2. ESP, 3. telepathy, 4. recollecting previous lives and 5. "the divine eye," which is seeing peoples' next rebirth_ ) and the Attainments ( _jhānas_ ), and to the young recluse he explained the process of the immaterial attainments ( _infinite space, infinite consciousness, nothingness, and neither perception nor non-perception_ ). Then he, too, let the Faculties and the Attainments spring up within him. And both of them, without a break in their ecstasy, became destined to be reborn in the Brahma realm.

* * *

Thus did the Master show how this man was not only then but had previously been a hypocrite. The discourse ended, he taught the Four Noble Truths, at the conclusion of which some reached the First Path ( _stream-entry_ ), some the Second ( _once returner_ ), and yet some the Third ( _non-returner_ ). Then he identified the birth: "The hypocritical monk was the monkey, Rāhula was the son, and I was the recluse." ( _Rāhula was the Buddha's son._ )

