 
# Jātaka Tales

Folk Tales of the Buddha's Previous Lives

Volume 4

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: 9780463965481

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_

Table of Contents

Introduction to Volume 4

151: Rājovāda Jātaka, Advice to a King

152: Sigāla Jātaka, The Jackal (One More Time...)

153: Sūkara Jātaka, The Pig Story

154: Uraga Jātaka, The Nāgā and the Garuḷa

155: Gagga Jātaka, Gagga's Story

156: Alīnacitta Jātaka, The Good Heart

157: Guṇa Jātaka, Unbreakable Virtue

158: Suhanu Jātaka, Strongjaw

159: Mora Jātaka, The Peacock

160: Vinīlika Jātaka, Blue-black

161: Indasamānagotta Jātaka, The Story of Indasamānagotta

162: Santhava Jātaka, Ritual

163: Susīma Jātaka, King Susīma

164: Gijja Jātaka, The Vulture

165: Nakula Jātaka, The Mongoose

166: Upasāḷha Jātaka, The Story of Upasāḷha

167: Samiddhi Jātaka, Prosperity

168: Sakuṇagghi Jātaka, The Falcon

169: Araka Jātaka, The Teacher Araka

170: Kakaṇṭaka Jātaka, The Chameleon

171: Kalyāṇa-dhamma Jātaka, The Auspicious Act

172: Daddara Jātaka, The Jackal's Roar

173: Makkaṭa Jātaka, The Deceitful Monkey

174: Dūbhiya-makkaṭa Jātaka, The Ungrateful Monkey

175: Ādiccupaṭṭhāna Jātaka, The Scoundrel

176: Kalāya-muṭṭhi Jātaka, A Handful of Peas

177: Tiṇḍuka Jātaka, The (Black and White) Ebony Tree

178: Kacchapa Jātaka, The Tortoise

179: Satadhamma Jātaka, The Story of Satadhamma

180: Duddada Jātaka, Easy to Give

181: Asadisa Jātaka, The Champion

182: Saṃgāmāvacara Jātaka, Engaged in Conflict

183: Vālodaka Jātaka, The Leftovers

184: Giridanta Jātaka, The Story of Giridanta

185: Anabhirati Jātaka, Discontent

186: Dadhi-vāhana Jātaka, Carried-on-the-Curds

187: Catumaṭṭaa Jātaka, The Foolish Upstart

188: Sīhakoṭṭhuka Jātaka, The Lion and the Jackal

189: Sīhacamma Jātaka, The Lion Skin

190: Sīlānisaṃsa Jātaka, The Fruits of Virtue

191: Ruhaka Jātaka, The Story of Ruhaka

192: Siri-Kāḷakaṇṇi Jātaka, The Luck of the Unfortunate Person

193: Culla Paduma Jātaka, The Small Lotus

194: Maṇicora Jātaka, The Jewel Thief

195: Pabbatūpathara Jātaka, Forgiveness

196: Valāhassa Jātaka, The Cunning Beasts

197: Mittāmitta Jātaka, True Friend

198: Rādha Jātaka, The Story of Rādha

199: Gahapati Jātaka, The Householder

200: Sādhusīla Jātaka, Right Virtue

## 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 4

This volume is a rich and varied collection of stories. As usual, their adherence to true Buddhist teachings is a little uneven. Still, there are many wonderful and inspiring tales.

One of the most touching is Jātaka 180. It is about generosity. It so happened that at the time that I was editing this story, I heard Ajahm Brahm (Bodhinyana Monastery in Australia) tell an inspiring story about the generosity of a brain damaged girl in Thailand. (I retell this story in the introductory notes to Jātaka 180.) One of the beauties of virtuous qualities is that you don't have to be especially smart or accomplished or successful or anything like that to act on them. In fact, the especially smart and accomplished and successful are often the most handicapped when it comes to manifesting the profound simplicity of virtue.

We live in a world with so much negativity. Of course this is not lost in the Buddha's teachings. It is, after all, the First Noble Truth. Bad stuff happens. But our minds are so drawn to negativity that – as also the Buddha classically taught – we are simply making our own misery.

The beauty and the gratitude that come with deeper understandings of the Buddadharma can make you increasingly sensitive to how our minds do this. I am amazed at how often I will make a simple, positive remark, and someone will push back with something negative. More often than not it is something simple like commenting on a majestic view of a mountain or the good that a charity does or something like that. It could be anything. And so often and so inevitably someone will say, "Oh, that view isn't so great" or "that charity has this or that problem." The mind has to go instantly for the kill. And I often wonder, "Why would you even say something like that."

Even seemingly positive things like generosity can come from a negative point of view. I give to this charity because I hate the people who oppose it. It is a statement more about what you are against than what you are for.

The world has plenty of negativity. While the First Noble Truth points out the inevitability of stress in the human realm, ultimately the Buddha's teachings are about how to find true happiness. Being kind and generous brings happiness. Being compassionate, patient, and forgiving brings happiness. The calming, healing practice of meditation brings happiness. Wisdom brings happiness. And the usual ways of searching for happiness - ways that are rooted in fear, anxiety, self-absorption, greed, anger, and delusion – do not. What you buy next at Walmart really isn't going to do it. Really. And the poor planet suffers very time you act on that delusion.

These stories help to create a mindset that puts virtue before anything else. They encourage a culture of good qualities. And those good qualities are available to anyone. We simply have to move in that direction, away from suffering and toward greater happiness. You will be happier, and the people around you will be, too.

Eric K. Van Horn

Rio Rancho, NM

January 1, 2020

# 151: Rājovāda Jātaka,  
Advice to a King

* * *

This is quite a remarkable story about two kings who are concerned with moral purity. They both go to great lengths to discover faults in their behavior. It is reminiscent of Confucian models of moral behavior for civil servants and governing officials.

* * *

" _Rough to the rough._ " The Master told this story while he was living in Jetavana. It describes how a king was taught a lesson.

It is said that one day the King of Kosala had just passed sentence in a very difficult case involving moral wrong. ( _This story is told in_Tesakuṇa Jātaka, number 521 _._ ) After his meal, with hands not yet dry, he proceeded in his splendid chariot to visit the Master. The King saluted the Master - his feet beautiful like the open lotus flower - and sat down beside him.

Then the Master addressed him in these words: "Why, my lord King, what brings you here at this time of day?"

"Sir," he said, "I missed my time visiting you because I was sitting on a difficult case. It involved moral wrong-doing. Now I have finished it. I have eaten, and here I am with my hands hardly dry to wait upon you."

"My lord King," the Master replied, "to judge a cause with justice and impartiality is the right thing to do. That is the way to heaven. Now when you have the advice of a being as wise as me, it is no wonder that you should judge your case fairly and justly. But the wonder is when kings have only had the advice of scholars who are not wise, and yet have decided fairly and justly, avoiding the Four Ways of Wickedness (killing, stealing, sexual misconduct, lying) and observing the Ten Royal Virtues ( _charity, morality, altruism, honesty, gentleness, self-control, non-anger, non-violence, forbearance, uprightness_ ). And after ruling justly they have gone to swell the hosts of heaven." Then, at the King's request, he told this story from the past..

* * *

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was the King of Benares, the Bodhisatta was conceived by the King's Queen Consort. After the ceremonies appropriate to her status were duly performed, she safely gave birth. On his name-day, they gave him the name "Prince Brahmadatta."

In due course, he grew up. When he was 16 years old he went to Takkasilā University for his education. There he mastered all the branches of learning, and on his father's death he became the King. He ruled with uprightness and righteousness, administering justice with no regard to his own will or whim. And because he ruled justly, his ministers for their part were also just. Thus, because all things were justly done, there was no one who brought a false suit into court. Eventually the bustle of all the suitors ceased within the precincts of the palace. All day long the ministers might sit on the bench and go away without seeing a single suitor. The courts were deserted.

Then the Bodhisatta thought to himself, "Because of my just government not one suitor comes to try a case in court. The old hubbub is quiet. The courts of law are deserted. Now I must search inward to see if I have any faults in me. If I find any, I will abandon them and live a good life hereafter."

From that time on he tried continually to find someone who would tell him of a fault that he had. But of all those who were around him at court he could not find one such person. He heard nothing but good things about himself. "Perhaps," he thought, "they are all too afraid of me to say anything ill but can only say what is good."

And so he went about to try those who were outside his walls. But with these people it was the same. Then he made inquiries of the citizens at large, and outside the city he questioned those who belonged to the suburbs at the four city gates. Still there was no one who found any fault with him. All he heard were praises. Finally, intending to try the countryside, he entrusted the government to his ministers, mounted his carriage, and taking only the driver with him, left the city in disguise.

He traveled all over the country, even to the frontier. Still he did not find a single fault finder. All he heard was praise. So he turned back from the journey, and he set his face homewards again by the highroad.

Now it so happened that at this very time Mallika, the King of Kosala, had done the very same thing. He too was a just King, and he had been searching for his faults. But among those about him there was no one who found any fault. And hearing nothing but praise, he had been making inquiries throughout the country and happened to arrive at that same place.

These two met in a place where the carriage road was deeply sunk between two banks, and there was not enough room for one carriage to pass another.

"Get your carriage out of the way!" said King Mallika's driver to the driver of the King of Benares.

"No, no, driver," he said, "get out of the way with yours! Know that in this carriage sits the great monarch Brahmadatta, lord of the kingdom of Benares!"

"Not so, driver!" replied the other. "In this carriage sits the great King Mallika, lord of the realm of Kosala! It is for you to make way and to give way to the carriage of our King!"

"Why, here's a King too," thought the driver of the King of Benares. "What in the world is to be done?"

Then a thought occurred to him. He would ask what the ages of the two Kings was so that the younger should give way to the elder. And he asked the other driver how old his King was. However, he discovered that they were both the same age. Thereupon he asked the extent of this King's power, wealth, and glory, and all points touching his caste and clan and his family. He discovered that both of them had a country 1500 kilometers long, and that they were alike in power, wealth, glory, and the nature of their family and lineage. Then he thought that the higher rank might be given to the better man. So he asked the other driver to describe his master's virtues. The man replied by the first verse of the following poetry, in which he set forth his monarch's faults as though they were so many virtues:

"Rough to the rough, King Mallika the mild with mildness sways,

Masters the good by goodness, and the bad with badness pays.

Give way, way place, O driver! Such are this monarch's ways!"

"Oh," said the driver of the King of Benares. "Is that all you have to say about your King's virtues?"

"Yes," said the other.

"If these are his virtues, what must his faults be?"

"I will tell you his faults, then," he said, "if you will. But let me hear what your King's virtues are!"

"Listen then," the first responded, and he repeated the second verse:

"He conquers wrath by mildness, the bad with goodness sways,

By gifts the miser vanquishes and lies with truth repays.

Give way, way place, O driver! such are this monarch's ways!"

( _The PTS edition of this Jātaka equates this verse with Dhammapada 223:_

Conquer anger

with lack of anger;

bad with good;

stinginess with a gift;

a liar with truth.

)

Figure: The Virtuous King Conquers Wrath

At these words both King Mallika and his driver descended from their carriage. They unbridled the horses and moved out of the way, yielding to the King of Benares. Then the King of Benares instructed King Mallika, saying, "This is what you must you do," after which he returned to Benares. There he gave alms and did good all his life, until at last he went to swell the hosts of heaven.

And King Mallika took the lesson to heart. After traversing the length and breadth of the land and finding no one who found any fault with him, he returned to his own city. There he gave alms all his life and did good, until at the end he too went to swell the hosts of heaven.

* * *

When the Master ended this discourse, which he began for the purpose of giving a lesson to the King of Kosala, he identified the birth: "Moggallāna was the driver of King Mallika. Ānanda was the King. Sāriputta was the driver of the King of Benares, and I was the King."

# 152: Sigāla Jātaka,  
The Jackal (One More Time...)

* * *

This is one of those stories that does not feel very Buddhist. One theme is staying in your place, your rank, or your caste. The Buddha's Saṇgha was famously even-handed when it came to such distinctions. And the idea that the "noble" Bodhisatta would kill the jackal also does not ring true. Still there is a lesson in here about succumbing to sense desire, and that is a very Buddhist theme, indeed. People do the craziest things for sexual desire.

The barber is also a nicely drawn character, a simple but noble and virtuous man. A barber was a very low person in Indian society, but one of the Buddha's greatest disciples was Upāli, who recited the Vināya at the First Buddhist Council. Upāli had originally been a barber.

* * *

" _Who rashly undertakes._ " The Master told this story while he was staying in his gabled chamber. It is about a barber who lived at Vesāli.

This man, as we are told, used to do shaving and hairdressing and hair braiding for the royal household: kings and queens, princes and princesses. Indeed he did all of that type of work that had to be done. He was a true believer in the Dharma. He took the Three Refuges, resolved to keep the Five Precepts, and from time to time he would listen to the Master's discourses.

One day he set out to do his work in the palace, taking his son with him. On their way the young fellow saw a Licchavi girl dressed up fine and grand. He thought she looked like a goddess. He became infatuated with her. He said to his father as they left the palace, "There is a girl. If I get her, I shall live. But if I don't, there's nothing but death for me."

He would not touch a morsel of food but lay down hugging the bedstead. His father found him and said, "Why, son, don't set your mind on forbidden fruit. You are a nobody, a barber's son. This Licchavi girl is a highborn lady. You're no match for her. I'll find you somebody else, a girl of your own place and rank."

But the boy would not listen to him. Then came his mother, his brother and sister, his aunt and uncle, everyone from his family. All his friends and companions tried to pacify him. But they could not. So he pined and pined away, and he lay there until he died.

The father performed his funeral rites and did what is usual to do for the spirits of the dead. By and by, when the first edge of grief had worn off, he thought he would call upon the Master. Taking a large present of flowers, scents, and perfumes, he went to Mahāvana ( _a woods near Vesāli_ ). He paid homage to the Master, saluted him, and sat down on one side.

"Why have you kept out of sight all this time, layman?" the Master asked. Then the man told him what had happened. The Master said, "Ah, layman, this is not the first time he has perished by setting his heart on what he must not have. This is precisely what he has done before." Then at the layman's request, he told a story of the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was the King of Benares, the Bodhisatta came into the world as a young lion in the region of the Himalayas. In the same family there were some younger brothers and one sister, and all of them lived in a Golden Cave.

Now nearby this cave was a Cave of Crystal on a silver hill where a jackal lived. By and by the lions' parents died. Then they used to leave the lioness, their sister, behind in the cave while they hunted for food. When they got their food, they would bring it back for her to eat.

Now the jackal had seen this lioness, and he fell in love with her. When the old lion and lioness were alive, he could not win her. Now, when the seven brothers went to find food, he came out from his Crystal Cave and moved quickly to the Golden Cave. There he stood before the young lioness and attempted to seduce her with these tempting words:

"O Lioness, I am a four-footed creature, and so are you. Therefore be my mate, and I will be your husband! We will live together in friendship and amity, and you shall love me always!"

Figure: The Rascal Jackal

On hearing this the lioness thought to herself, "This jackal here is mean among beasts, vile, and like a man of low birth. I am of royal blood. That he should speak to me is improper and evil. How can I live after hearing such things said? I will hold my breath until I die." But then she thought, "No, to die so would not be fitting. My brothers will soon be home again. I will talk to them first, and then I will put an end to myself."

The jackal, receiving no answer, felt sure that she cared nothing for him. So he went back to his Crystal Cave and lay down in great misery.

Now one of the young lions, having killed a buffalo, or an elephant, or what not, ate some of it himself. Then he brought back a share for his sister. He gave it to her, inviting her to eat.

"No, brother," she said, "I will not eat a single bite for I must die!"

"Why must you die?" he asked.

And she told him what had happened.

"Where is this jackal now?" he asked.

She saw him lying in the Crystal Cave, and thinking he was up in the sky (because the crystal of the cave was transparent), she said, "Why, brother, do you not see him above Silver Mountain, lying up in the sky?"

The young lion, unaware that the jackal lay in a Crystal Cave and deciding that he was truly in the sky, leapt as lions do and tried to kill him. But he struck against the crystal which burst his heart into pieces. He fell to the foot of the mountain and died.

Then another brother came in. The lioness told him the same story. This lion did precisely what the first one did, and likewise fell dead by the foot of the mountain.

When six of the brother lions had perished in this way, last of all the Bodhisatta entered. When she told her story, he asked where the jackal was now?

"There he is," she said, "up in the sky above Silver Mountain!"

The Bodhisatta thought, "Jackals lying in the sky? Nonsense. I know what it is. He is lying in a Crystal Cave."

So he went to the foot of the mountain. There he saw his six brothers lying dead.

"I see how it is," he thought. "They were all foolish and lacked the fullness of wisdom. They did not know that this is the Crystal Cave. They beat their hearts out against it and were killed. This is what comes of acting rashly without due reflection." And he repeated the first stanza:

"Who rashly undertakes an enterprise,

Not counting all things that may arise,

Like one who burns his mouth in eating food

Falls victim to the plans he did devise."

After repeating these lines, the lion continued, "My brothers wanted to kill this jackal. But they did not know how to properly plan. They leapt up too quickly at him and so they were killed. I will not do what they did. But I will make the jackal burst his own heart as he lies there in the Crystal Cave."

So he found the path the Jackal used to go up and down. He turned toward it and roared the lions roar three times so that earth and heaven together were all one great roaring! The jackal in the Crystal Cave was frightened and astounded so that his heart burst, and he died instantly.

* * *

The Master continued, "Thus did this jackal die when he heard the lion roar." Then he repeated the second stanza:

On Daddara the Lion gave a roar,

And made Mount Daddara resound again.

Nearby a jackal lived; he feared full sore

To hear the sound, and burst his heart in two.

* * *

Thus did our lion send this jackal to his death. Then he laid his brothers together in one grave and told the sister they were dead. He comforted her. He lived the rest of his days in the Golden Cave until he passed away to the place which his merits had earned for him.

* * *

When the Master had ended this discourse, he taught the Four Noble Truths. At the conclusion of the teaching, the layman was established in the Fruit of the First Path ( _stream-entry_ ). Then he identified the birth: "The barber's son of today was the jackal. The Licchavi girl was the young lioness. The six younger lions are now six Elders; and I was the eldest lion."

# 153: Sūkara Jātaka,  
The Pig Story

* * *

A curious tale about muck and sewage (!). In this story, a pig actually gets the better of the Bodhisatta.

* * *

" _You have four feet._ " This is a story told by the Master while he was at Jetavana. It is about a certain Elder who was very old.

Once, we are told, there happened to be a gathering at night-time. The Master preached while standing upon a slab of the jeweled staircase at the door of his scented cell. After the Blessed One delivered the discourse, he retired into his scented chamber, and the Captain of the Faith (Sāriputta), saluting his Master, went back to his own cell again. Mahāmoggallāna also retired to his cell. After a moment's rest he returned to ask the Elder Sāriputta some questions.

( _Mogallāna presumably did this for the benefit of the community. He was already an arahant and knew the answers to the questions. He was – presumably - trying to demonstrate Sāriputta's wisdom._ )

After he asked each question, the Captain of the Faith made it all clear as though he were making the moon rise in the sky. There were present the four classes of disciples ( _monks, nuns, laymen, and laywomen_ ). They sat and heard it all.

Then a thought came into the mind of one aged Elder. "Suppose," he thought, "I can bewilder Sāriputta before this crowd by asking him some question? They will all think, 'What a clever fellow!' and I shall gain great credit and reputation."

So he stood up in the crowd, and stepping near to the Elder Sāriputta, he stood on one side. He said, "Friend Sāriputta, I too have a question for you. Will you let me speak? Give me a decision in discrimination or in non-discrimination, in refutation or in acceptance, in distinction or in non-distinction." ( _This is a philosophical question that may simply be nonsense._ )

The Elder Sāriputta looked at him. "This old man," he thought, "still lives in the realm of sense desire. He is empty and knows nothing." He shamed him by not saying a single word. He lay down his fan, rose from his seat, and returned to his cell. The Elder Moggallāna likewise returned to his cell. The bystanders jumped up, crying, "Seize this wicked old fellow who wouldn't let us hear the sweet words of the discourse!" and they mobbed him.

He ran off and fell through a hole in the corner of a cesspool just outside the monastery. When he got up he was covered in filth. When the people saw him, they felt sorry for him and want to see the Master. He asked, "Why have you come at this unseasonable hour, laypeople?"

They told him what had happened. "Laypeople," he said, "this is not the only time this old man has been put to shame. Long, long ago he did not know his limits. He pitted himself against the strong and was covered with filth as he is covered now." Then, at their request, he told them a story of the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was the King of Benares, the Bodhisatta was born as a lion. He lived in a mountain cave in the Himalayas. Nearby there were many wild pigs. They lived by a lakeside. A group of recluses lived beside the same lake. They lived in huts made from leaves and the branches of trees.

One day it so happened that the lion had killed a buffalo or elephant or some such game. After eating what he wanted, he went down to drink at the lake. Just as he came out, a sturdy pig happened to be feeding by the side of the water. "He'll make a meal for me some other day," the lion thought.

But afraid that if the pig saw him he might never come there again, the lion slunk away to the side as he came up out of the water. The pig saw this. The pig thought, "This is because he has seen me and is afraid! He dares not come near me, and off he runs in fear! This day shall see a fight between me and a lion!" So he raised his head and challenged the lion in this stanza:

"You have four feet... so do I. Thus, friend, we're both alike, you see;

Turn, lion, turn. Are you afraid? Why do you run away from me?"

The lion responded, "Friend pig," he said, "today there will be no fight between you and me. But next week on this day let us fight it out on this very spot." And with these words, he left.

The pig was delighted to think how he was going to fight a lion. He told his entire family about it. But the story only terrified them. "You will be the ruin of us all," they said, "and yourself to boot. You do not know what you can do, or you would not be so eager to fight a lion. When the lion comes, he'll be the death of you and all of us as well. Do not be so happy to fight!"

These words made the pig afraid.

"What am I to do, then?" he asked.

Then the other pigs advised him to roll around in the recluses' dunghill for the next seven days and let the muck dry on his body. Then on the seventh day he should moisten himself with water and be first at the meeting place. Then he must determine the direction of the wind and get to the windward side. Because lions are very clean, he would spare his life when he got a whiff of him.

Figure: The Lion Concedes. Yuck!

So he did this. On the appointed day, there he was. No sooner had the lion smelled him and smelled the filth, he said, "Friend pig, this is a good trick! If you were not covered in filth, I would have your life this very day. But as it is, I cannot bite you, or even so much as touch you with my foot. Therefore I spare your life." And then he repeated this stanza:

"O dirty pig, your hide is foul, the stench is horrible to me.

If you would fight I would concede, and say you have the victory."

Then the lion turned away. He went off to get his day's food. And after a drink at the lake, he went back again to his cave on the mountain.

And the pig told his family how he had beaten the lion! But they were terrified that the lion would come another day and be the death of them all. So they ran away and went to another place.

* * *

When the Master ended this story, he identified the birth: "The pig of those days is now the ancient Elder, and I was the lion."

# 154: Uraga Jātaka,  
The Nāgā and the Garuḷa

* * *

This story is reminiscent of the famous story from the Mahasamaya Sutta [DN 20]. The Mahasamaya Sutta is often chanted to invoke the favor of the devas. It is something like an inventory of the deva realms. In it – as in this story – the Buddha forms a truce between the nāgas and the garuḷas.)

* * *

" _Concealed within a stone._ " The Master told this story while he was at Jetavana. It is about a quarrel between two soldiers.

Tradition tells how two soldiers, in the service of the King of Kosala, both of high rank and great persons at court, no sooner caught sight of one another than they started to argue. Neither the King nor their friends or their families could make them agree.

It happened that one day early in the morning the Master, looking around to see which of his friends were ripe for liberation, perceived that these two were ready to attain stream-entry. On the next day he went seeking alms alone in Sāvatthi. He stopped in front of the door of one of them who came out and took the Master's bowl. Then he led him inside and offered him a seat. The Master sat and talked about the benefits of cultivating lovingkindness. When he saw the man's mind was ready, he taught the Four Noble Truths. This established the man in the Fruit of the First Path.

Then rising, he proceeded to the house of the other. Out he came. After appropriate salutation, he begged the Master to enter and gave him a seat. He also took the Master's bowl. The Master sang the praises of the Eleven Blessings of Lovingkindness. And perceiving that his heart was ready, he declared the Four Noble Truths. He too became established in the Fruit of the First Path.

( _The blessings of mettā - lovingkindness - from AN 11.16: "1. He sleeps in comfort. 2. He awakes in comfort. 3. He sees no evil dreams. 4. He is dear to human beings. 5. He is dear to non-human beings. 6. Devas (gods) protect him. 7. Fire, poison, and sword cannot touch him. 8. His mind can concentrate quickly. 9. His countenance is serene. 10. He dies without being confused in mind. 11. If he fails to attain arahantship (the highest sanctity) here and now, he will be reborn in the brahma-world."_ )

Thus they were both liberated. They confessed their faults to one another and asked forgiveness. Peaceful and harmonious, they were at one together. On that very same day they ate together in the presence of the Blessed One.

His meal over, the Master returned to the monastery. They both returned with him bearing a rich present of flowers, scents and perfumes, of ghee, honey, and sugar. The Master, having preached of duty before the Saṇgha, uttered a Buddha's admonition and retired to his scented chamber.

On the next morning, the monks talked the matter over in the Dharma Hall. "Friend," one would say to another, "our Master subdues the unsubdued. Why, here are these two grand persons, who have been quarreling all this time. They could not be reconciled by the King himself, or friends or family. And the Master has humbled them in a single day!"

The Master came in. "What are you discussing," he asked, "as you sit here together?"

They told him. He said, "Monks, this is not the first time that I have reconciled these two." And he told this story of the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, while Brahmadatta was the King of Benares, a great multitude gathered together in Benares to celebrate a festival. Crowds of men and of gods, of serpents and garuḷas (enormous mythical birds) came together to see the meeting.

It so happened that in one spot a nāgā (a serpent and enemy of garuḷas) and a garuḷa were watching the celebration together. The nāgā, not noticing that this was a garuḷa beside him, put a hand on his shoulder. And when the garuḷa turned and looked to see whose hand it was saw the nāgā. The nāgā looked too, and saw that this was a garuḷa. Frightened to death, he flew off over the surface of a river. The garuḷa gave chase to try and catch him.

Now the Bodhisatta was a recluse. He lived in a leaf-hut on the river bank. At that time he was trying to keep the sun's heat off of him by using a wet cloth and wearing his garment of bark. Then he went bathing in the river. "I will use this recluse," the nāgā thought, "to save my life."

The nāgā assumed the form of a fine jewel and attached himself to the bark garment. The garuḷa saw where he had gone, but out of respect he would not touch the garment. So he addressed the Bodhisatta in this way:

"Sir, I am hungry. Look at your bark garment. There is a serpent there which I wish to eat." And to make the matter clear, he repeated the first stanza:

"Concealed within a stone this wretched snake

Has taken refuge for safety's sake.

And yet, in reverence to your holiness,

Though I am hungry, yet I will not take.

Figure: The Respectful Garuḷa

Standing where he was in the water, the Bodhisatta said a stanza in praise of the garuḷa:

"Live long, protected by Brahma, though pursued,

And may you never lack for heavenly food.

Do not, in reverence of my holiness,

Do not devour him, though in hungry mood."

In these words the Bodhisatta expressed his approval, standing there in the water. Then he came out and took both creatures with him to his hermitage. There he explained the blessings of lovingkindness until they were both at one. From that day on they lived together happily in peace and harmony.

* * *

When the Master ended this discourse, he identified the birth, saying, "In those days, the two great people were the nāgā and the garuḷa, and I was the recluse."

# 155: Gagga Jātaka,  
Gagga's Story

* * *

This story is about a combination of superstition and social conventions. In this story, the Buddha admonishes his monks for saying that ancient Indian equivalent of "Bless you" when someone sneezes. On the other hand, because it was a social convention, and presumably people were saying it to be polite, he allowed them to respond when common people (non-monastics) said this to them. So it is an interesting balance in the Saṇgha. The monks are instructed not to respond to each other's sneezes in this way. On the other hand, they are told to behave politely for this social convention.

I had to laugh when I read this story. It has been so ingrained into me that I always say, "Bless you" when someone sneezes. I was once severely chastised for doing so (!) for the same reason that the Buddha does to his monks when they do it. However, I reserve the right to – as the Buddha also says – behave politely and acknowledge a sneeze using the social convention!

* * *

" _Gagga, live a hundred years._ " The Master told this story when he was staying in the monastery built by King Pasenadi in front of Jetavana. ( _The Jātaka commentaries say that this monastery was called "Rājakārāma."_ ) It is about a sneeze.

One day, we are told, as the Master gave a talk to four persons who were sitting around him, he sneezed. "Long life to the Blessed One! Long life to the Buddha!" the monks all cried aloud, and they created a big fuss.

The noise interrupted the talk. The Master said to the monks, "Why, monks, if one cries 'Long life!' on hearing a sneeze, would a man live or die any differently because of that?"

They answered, "No, no, Sir."

He went on, "You should not cry 'Long life' for a sneeze, monks. Whosoever does so is guilty of an unwholesome act."

It is said that at that time, when a monk sneezed, people used to call out, "Long life to you, Sir!" But the monks had their principles and did not answer. Everybody was annoyed by this. They asked, "Why is it that the priests around Buddha the Sakya prince do not answer when they sneeze, and someone wishes them long life?"

All this was told to the Blessed One. He said, "Monks, common people are superstitious. When you sneeze and they say, 'Long life to you, Sir!' I permit you to answer, 'The same to you'." Then the monks asked him, "Sir, when did people begin to answer 'Long life' and 'The same to you'?" The Master said, "That was long, long ago." 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 brahmin's son in the kingdom of Kāsi. His father was a lawyer whose name was "Gagga.". When the lad was sixteen years old or so, his father gave him a fine jewel.

They both traveled through town after town, village after village, until they came to Benares. There the man had a meal cooked in the gatekeeper's house. But as he could find nowhere to stay, he asked where there was lodging to be had for wayfarers who came too late? ( _Indian cities had a strict curfew._ ) The people told him that there was a building outside the city, but that it was haunted. Nonetheless he could stay there if he liked. The boy said to his father, "Do not fear any goblin, father! I will subdue him and bring him to your feet." So he persuaded his father to stay at the haunted building, and they went to the place together.

When they got to the haunted building, the father lay down on a bench. His son sat beside him, rubbing his feet.

Now the goblin that haunted the place had received it for twelve years' of service that he had given to Vessavaṇa ( _Vessavaṇa is one of the Four Heavenly Kings, which is in the realm just above the human realm in the Buddhist cosmology. He rules the northern direction and his subjects are the yakkhas._ ) He lived on the central rafter of the hut.

A condition of his staying at the building was that if any man who entered it should sneeze, and if long life was wished for him, the goblin should answer, "Long life to you!" If anyone did not respond in the proper way by saying, "The same to you," the goblin had the right to eat them.

He decided to make the father of the Bodhisatta sneeze. Accordingly, using his magical power he raised a cloud of fine dust that entered the man's nostrils. And as he lay on the bench, he sneezed. The son did not cry "Long life!" and down came the goblin from his perch, ready to devour his victim. But the Bodhisatta saw him descend, and he thought, "There is no doubt that he made my father sneeze. This must be a goblin that eats everyone who does not say 'Long life to you'." Addressing his father, he repeated this verse as follows:

"Gagga, live a hundred years, aye, and twenty more, I pray!

May no goblin eat you up. Live a hundred years, I say!"

The goblin thought, "I cannot eat this one because he wished 'Long life to you.' But I shall eat his father." He went up to the father. But the man determined the truth of the matter. "This must be a goblin," he thought, "who eats anyone who does not reply, 'Long life to you, too!'" And so addressing his son, he repeated the second verse:

"You too live a hundred years, aye, and twenty more, I pray!

Poison be the goblin's food. Live a hundred years, I say!"

The goblin heard these words. He turned away, thinking "I cannot eat either one of them." But the Bodhisatta asked him, "Come, goblin, how is it that you eat the people who enter this building?"

"I earned the right because I gave twelve years of service to Vessavaṇa."

"What, are you allowed to eat everybody?"

"I can eat anyone who does not say 'The same to you' when another wishes them long life."

"Goblin," said the boy, "you have done some wicked deeds in former lives that have caused you to be born fierce, cruel, and a bane to others. If you do the same kind of thing now, you will continue to pass from darkness to darkness. Therefore from now on abstain from such things as taking life."

Figure: Explaining Virtue to the Goblin

With these words he humbled the goblin. He scared him with a fear of rebirth in hell. Then he established him in the Five Precepts and made him as respectful as an errand-boy.

On the next day, the people came and saw the goblin. They learned how the Bodhisatta had subdued him. They went and told the King, "My lord, some man has subdued the goblin. He made him as respectful as an errand-boy!"

So the King sent for him. He gave him the post as Commander-in-Chief. He heaped honors upon the father. He made the goblin the Treasurer. And after giving alms and doing good the goblin departed to swell the hosts of heaven.

* * *

In this way the Master finished this story which he told to explain when the custom first arose of answering "Long life" by "The same to you." He identified the birth, saying, "In those days, Ānanda was the King, Kassapa was the father, and I was his son."

# 156: Alīnacitta Jātaka,  
The Good Heart

* * *

This is a lovely story about a hero elephant who saves his kingdom. In this story the Bodhisatta is just a baby prince who is given the name "Winheart" because "he was born to win the hearts of the people."

* * *

" _Prince Winheart once upon a time._ " The Master told this story while he was at Jetavana. It is about a timid monk. The circumstances will be set forth in the Saṁvara Birth ( _Jātaka 462_ ).

When the Master asked this monk if he really were timid as was said, he replied, "Yes, Blessed One." To which the Master said, "What, monk! In former days did you not gain supremacy over the kingdom of Benares, twelve leagues either way? Then did you not give it to a baby boy, like a lump of flesh and nothing more, and all this just by your perseverance! And now that you have embraced this great path to liberation, are you to lose heart and be timid?" And he told a story of the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was the King of Benares, there was a village of carpenters not far from the city. 500 carpenters lived there. They would go up the river in a vessel and enter the forest. There they would shape beams and planks for building houses. They put together the framework of one-story or two-story houses, numbering all the pieces from the main post onwards. They brought these down to the river bank, put them on the ship, and rowed downstream again. Then they built the houses as was required of them, after which, when they received their payment, they went back again for more materials for building. And in this way they made their livelihood.

Once it so happened that in a place where they were at work shaping timbers, a certain elephant stepped on a splinter of acacia wood. The splinter pierced his foot and caused it to swell up and fester. He was in great pain. In his agony, he caught the sound of these carpenters cutting wood.

"There are some carpenters who will cure me," he thought. So limping on three feet, he presented himself before them, and lay down nearby.

The carpenters, seeing his swollen foot, went up and looked. They saw the splinter sticking in it. With a sharp tool they made an incision around the splinter. They tied a string to it and pulled it out. Then they cauterized the incision, washed it with warm water, and doctored it properly. And in a very short time the wound was healed.

Grateful for this cure, the elephant thought, "My life has been saved by the help of these carpenters. Now I must repay this kindness and make myself useful to them."

So after that, he used to pull up trees for them. Or when they were chopping he would roll up the logs, or bring them their axes and any tools they might want. He held everything in his trunk like grim death. And the carpenters, when it was time to feed him, used to each bring him a portion of food so that he had 500 portions of food in all.

Now this elephant fathered a baby. It was white all over, a magnificent high-bred creature. The elephant reflected that he was now old, and he had better bring his young one up to serve the carpenters. He himself would then be free to go. So without a word to the carpenters he went off into the wood. He brought his son to them, saying, "This young elephant is a son of mine. You saved my life, and I give him to you as a fee for your healing me. From now on he will work for you."

So he explained to the young elephant that it was his duty to do the work that he had been doing. Then he went away into the forest, leaving his son with the carpenters. From then on the young elephant did all their work, faithfully and obediently. They fed him, as they had fed the other, with 500 portions of food for a meal.

Once his work was done, the elephant would go play in the river, and then he would return again. The carpenters' children used to pull him by the trunk and play all sorts of pranks with him in the water and out. Now noble creatures, be they elephants, horses, or men, never defecate in or foul the water. So this elephant did nothing of the kind when he was in the water. He always waited until he came out onto the bank.

One day, rain had fallen up river. And because of the flood a half-dry cake of his dung was carried into the river. This floated down to a landing spot in Benares. There it stuck fast to a bush. Just then the King's elephant keepers had brought 500 elephants down to the river to give them a bath. But the creatures smelled this soil of a noble animal, and none of them would enter the water. Up went their tails, and off they all ran.

The keepers told this to the elephant trainers who replied, "There must be something in the water, then." So orders were given to clean the water. There in the bushes they saw the lump.

"That's what the problem is!" the men cried.

So they brought a jar and filled it with water. They powdered the lump and put it into the water. Lo and behold it had a sweet smell. They sprinkled this water over the elephants. Their bodies became sweet, and at once they went down into the river and bathed.

When the trainers reported this to the King, they advised him to find the elephant and use it for his own profit.

Accordingly, the King got onto a raft and went up stream until he came to the place where the carpenters had settled. The young elephant heard the sound of drums as he was playing in the water. He came out of the water and presented himself before the carpenters. All the carpenters went forth to do honor to the King's visit. They said to him, "Sire, if you need some woodworking done, why did you come here? Why not simply send for it and have it brought to you?"

"No, no, good friends," the King answered, "I did not come here for wood. I came for this elephant here."

"He is yours, Sire! They shouted. But the elephant refused to move.

"What do you want me to do, elephant?" asked the King.

"Order that the carpenters be paid for what they have spent on me, sire."

"Willingly, friend," said the King.

And the King ordered that 100,000 gold pieces be laid by his tail, his trunk, and by each of his four feet. But this was not enough for the elephant. He still would not go. So each of the carpenters was given a pair of cloths, and to each of their wives a robe. They were also given enough to support the carpenters' children. Then with a last look at the carpenters and the women and the children, he left in the company of the King.

The King brought him to his capital city. The city and stable were decorated magnificently. He led the elephant around the city in a solemn procession. Then they went into his stable which was fitted up with splendor and pomp. There he solemnly sprinkled the elephant and prepared him to go riding. He treated him like a dear friend. The King gave him half of his kingdom. He took as much care of him as he did of himself. And after the coming of this elephant, the King won supremacy over all India.

In due time the Bodhisatta was conceived by the Queen Consort. When it was close to her time to deliver the baby, the King died. Now if the elephant learned about the King's death, it was sure to break his heart. So he was cared for as usual, and not a word was said about the King's death. But their neighbor, the King of Kosala, heard about the King's death. "Surely that kingdom is at my mercy," he thought.

So he marched with a mighty army to the city and besieged it. The gates of the city were closed, and a message was sent to the King of Kosala, "Our Queen is near the time of her delivery. The astrologers have declared that in seven days she shall bear a son. If she bears a son, we will not yield the kingdom. But on the seventh day we will give you battle. We ask that you wait this long." And to this the King agreed.

In seven days the Queen bore a son. On his name-day they called him Prince Winheart, because, said they, he was born to win the hearts of the people.

On the very same day that he was born, the townsfolk began to do battle with the King of Kosala. But because they had no leader, little by little the army was giving way, as great as it was. The courtiers told this news to the Queen, adding, "Since our army loses ground in this way, we fear defeat. But the state elephant, our King's bosom friend, was never told that the King is dead, and that a son was born to him, and that the King of Kosala is here to give us battle. Shall we tell him?"

"Yes, do so," said the Queen. So she dressed up her son and laid him in a fine linen cloth. Then she left the palace with her entire court and went into the elephant's stable. There she laid the baby at the Elephant's feet, saying, "Master, your friend is dead. We were afraid to tell it you lest the news might break your heart. This is your friend's son. The King of Kosala has besieged the city and is making war upon your son. The army is losing ground. Either kill your son yourself or win the kingdom back for him!"

At once the elephant stroked the child with his trunk. He lifted him up on his head. Then moaning and lamenting he took him down and put him into his mother's arms, and with the words – "I will subdue the King of Kosala!" – he hastily went forth.

Then the courtiers put his armor and ornamental cloth on him. They unlocked the city gate and escorted him out. The elephant emerging and trumpeted loudly. He frightened the enemy so that they all ran off. Then the army broke up the camp and seized the King of Kosala by his topknot. They carried him to the young prince and threw him down at his feet. Some wanted to kill him, but the elephant held them off. He let the captive King go with this advice, "Be careful for the future, and do not think that we are vulnerable because our Prince is young."

Figure: Warning the King of Kosala

After that, the power over all India fell into the Bodhisatta's own hand. No one was able to rise up against him. The Bodhisatta became the King when he was seven years old as King Winheart. His reign was just, and when he came to the end of his life, he went to swell the hosts of heaven.

* * *

When the Master had ended this discourse, he repeated this couple of verses:

"Prince Winheart took King Kosala - ill pleased with all he had.

By capturing the greedy King, he made his people glad."

"So any monk, strong in will, who to the refuge flies,

Who cherishes all good, and goes the way Nirvana lies,

By slow degrees will bring about destruction of all ties."

And so the Master, bringing his teaching to a climax in the eternal Nirvana, went on to declare the Four Noble Truths. Then this backsliding monk became an arahant, fully enlightened. Then the Master identified the birth: "She who now is Mahāmāyā ( _the Buddha's biological mother_ ) was then the mother. This timid monk was the elephant who took the kingdom and handed it over to the child. Sāriputta was the father elephant, and I was the young Prince."

# 157: Guṇa Jātaka,  
Unbreakable Virtue

* * *

This story gets a little muddled when the monastics ask the Buddha about being a "respecter of persons with their gifts." However, I think you will see that in the end it is a story about unbreakable gratitude and friendship.

* * *

" _The strong will always have their way._ " This story was told by the Master while he was at Jetavana. It is about how the Elder Ānanda received a gift of 1,000 robes. The Elder had been preaching to the ladies of the King of Kosala's palace as described above in the Mahāsāra Birth ( _Jātaka 92_ ).

As he taught there in the manner described, 1,000 robes, each one worth 1,000 gold coins, were brought to the King. The King gave 500 of them to as many of his Queens. The ladies gave these as a gift to our Elder. Then on the next day, wearing their old robes, they went to the palace where the King was eating his breakfast. The King remarked, "I gave you dresses worth 1,000 gold coins each. Why are you not wearing them?"

"My lord," they said, "we gave them to the Elder Ānanda."

"Does the Elder Ānanda have them all?" he asked.

They said, yes, he did.

"The Supreme Buddha," he said, "only allows three robes. Ānanda is doing a little trade in cloth, I suppose!"

He was angry with the Elder. After breakfast, the King visited him in his cell. After greeting him, the King sat down with these words:

"Tell me, sir, do my ladies learn or listen to your teaching?"

"Yes, sire. They learn what they should. What they need to hear, they hear."

"Oh, indeed? Do they only listen, or do they give you gifts of robes?"

"Today, sire, they have given me 500 robes worth 1,000 gold coins each."

"And did you accept them, sir?"

"Yes, sire, I did."

"Why, sir, doesn't the Master have some rule about only having three robes?"

"That is true, sire. For every monastic three robes is the rule. That is what you can use for yourself. But no one is forbidden to accept what is offered, and that is why I took them. I will give them to monastics whose robes are worn out."

"But when these monastics get them from you, what do they do with their old ones?"

"They make them into cloaks."

"And what about the old cloaks?"

"Those they turn into shirts."

"And the old shirts?"

"They turn those into bedspreads."

"The old bedspreads?"

"They become mats."

"The old mats?"

"The old mats become towels."

"And what about the old towels?"

"Sire, it is not permitted to waste the gifts of the faithful. So they chop the old towels up into bits. They mix the bits with clay and use that for mortar in building their huts."

"A gift, sir, should not be destroyed, not even a towel."

"Well, sire, we do not destroy any gifts. Everything is used somehow."

This conversation pleased the King so much that he sent for the other 500 robes that remained and he gave them to the Elder. Then, after receiving his thanks, he greeted the Elder solemnly and went on his way.

The Elder gave the first 500 robes to fully-ordained monastics whose robes were worn out. But there were only 500 fully-ordained monastics in the monastery. However, there was also a novice monk who was very useful to the Elder. He swept out his cell, served him food and drink, gave him a toothbrush and water for cleaning his mouth, looked after the outhouses, living rooms, and sleeping rooms. He did everything. For all his great service, the Elder gave him the 500 additional robes that he had received from the King. The young monk in turn distributed them to his fellow students. They cut them up, dyed them as yellow as a kaṇikāra flower ( _a flowering plant indigenous to southern Asia_ ), then dressed in them. They waited upon the Master, greeted him, and sat down on one side.

"Sir," they asked, "is it possible for a holy disciple who has entered on the First Path to be a respecter of persons in his gifts?"

( _It seems that they are asking if by giving these robes as a gift, Ānanda is doing so out of respect for each individual._ )

"No, monks, it is not possible for holy disciples to be respecters of persons in their gifts."

( _Ānanda is not implying that by giving these gifts that he has respect for them._ )

"Sir, our spiritual teacher, the Treasurer of the Faith, gave 500 robes, each worth 1,000 gold coins, to a young monk. He, in turn, has divided them between us."

"Monks, in giving these Ānanda was no respecter of persons. That young fellow was a very useful servant, so he made the gift to his attendant for his service, for the sake of goodness. He did so thinking that one good turn deserves another and wishing to do what gratitude demands. In former days, as now, wise men acted on the principle that one good turn deserves another." And then, at their request, he told them this story of the past.

( _So Ānanda was giving the gift specifically out of gratitude for the actions of the young monk._ )

* * *

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was the King of Benares, the Bodhisatta was born as a lion. He lived in a cave in the hills. One day he left his lair and looked towards the foot of the mountain. Now all around the foot of that mountain stretched a great body of water. Next to the water was some soft green grass growing on the thick mud. Over this mud ran rabbits and deer and light creatures eating the grass.

One day, as usual, there was a deer eating the grass. "I'll have that deer!" the lion thought, and with a lion's leap he sprang from the hillside towards it. But the deer, frightened to death, scampered away taunting the lion. The lion could not stop his momentum. Down he fell on the mud. He sank in and he could not get out. He remained there for seven days. His feet were fixed like four posts, and he did not have a single thing to eat.

Then a jackal, hunting for food, happened to see him. He set off running in great terror. But the lion called out to him: "I say, jackal, don't run. I am stuck here in the mud. Please save me!"

Up came the jackal. "I could pull you out," he said, "but then you might eat me."

"Fear nothing, jackal, I won't eat you," the lion said. "On the contrary, I'll will be of great service to you. Only get me out somehow."

The jackal accepted this promise. He worked away the mud around the lion's four feet. He dug the holes where his four feet were towards the water. Then the water ran in and made the mud soft. Then he got under the lion, saying, "Now, sir, make one great effort." He made a loud noise and struck the lion's belly with his head. The lion strained every muscle and scrambled out of the mud. He stood on dry land.

After a moment's rest, the lion plunged into the lake and washed and scoured the mud from him. Then he killed a buffalo and tore up its flesh with his fangs. He offered some to the jackal, saying, "Eat, friend!" After the jackal ate he did, too. After this, the jackal took an additional piece in his mouth.

"What's that for?" the lion asked.

"For my humble servant, my mate, who awaits me at home."

"All right," said the lion, who also took some for his own mate.

"Come, friend," he said again. "Let us stay for a while on the mountain top, and then we will go to the lady's house."

So there they went. The lion fed the she-jackal, and after they were both satisfied, he said, "Now I am going to take care of you."

So he took them to the place where he lived. He settled them into a cave near to his own.

After that, he and the jackal used to go hunting together. They would kill all kinds of creatures and eat to their hearts' content. Then they would bring back some for their two mates.

As time went on, the she-jackal and the lioness each had two cubs, and they all lived happily together.

One day, a sudden thought struck the lioness. "My lion seems very fond of the jackal and his mate and young ones. The jackal must have some hold on my lion. Well, I will torment her and frighten her and get her away from this place."

So when the lion and the jackal were away hunting, she tortured and terrified the jackal's mate. She asked her why she stayed there, why did she not run away? And her cubs frightened the young jackals in the same way. The she-jackal told her mate what had been said. "It is clear," she said, "that the lion must have said something about us. We have been here a long time, and now he will be the death of us. Let us go back to the place where we lived before!"

On hearing this, the jackal approached the lion with these words. "Master, we have been here a long time. Those who stay too long overstay their welcome. While we are away, your lioness scolds and terrifies my mate. She asks her why she stays and tells her to go away. Your young ones do the same to mine. If any one does not like a neighbor, he should just tell him to go and send him on his way. What is the use of all this torment?" So saying, he repeated the first stanza:

"The strong will always have their way. It is their nature so to do.

Your mate roars loud, and now I say I fear what once I trusted to."

The lion listened. Then turning to his lioness, he said "Wife, do you remember how I was once out hunting for a week and then brought back this jackal and his mate with me?"

"Yes, I remember."

"Well, do you know why I stayed away that whole week?"

"No, Sir."

"My wife, in trying to catch a deer, I made a mistake. I got stuck in the mud. I stayed there for a whole week without food. This jackal saved my life. This – my friend - saved my life! A friend in need is a friend indeed, whether he is great or small. You must never again disrespect my friend or his wife or his family." And then the lion repeated the second stanza:

"A friend who plays a friendly part, however small and weak he be,

He is my kinsman and my flesh and blood, a friend and comrade he.

Despise him not, my sharp-fanged mate! This Jackal saved my life for me."

When she heard the story, the lioness made her peace with the jackal's mate. And forever after she lived in harmony with her and her young ones. And the young of the two pairs played together in their early days, and when the parents died, they did not break the bond of friendship. They lived happily together as the old ones had lived before them. Indeed, the friendship remained unbroken through seven generations.

Figure: "A Friend and Comrade"

* * *

When the Master ended this discourse, he taught the Four Noble Truths at the end of which some entered on the First path, some on the Second, some on the Third, and some the Fourth. The Master then identified the birth: "Ānanda was the jackal in those days, and I was the lion."

# 158: Suhanu Jātaka,  
Strongjaw

* * *

I'm not sure how believable this story is. Having said that, perhaps there is some deep seeded karma from long ago that is manifesting. Judge for yourself!

* * *

" _Birds of a feather._ " The Master told this story while he was at Jetavana. It is about two hot-tempered monks.

It happened that there were two monks who were passionate, cruel, and violent. One was living at Jetavana and one was living in the country. Once the country monk came to Jetavana on some errand or other. The novices and young monks knew the passionate nature of this man so they took him to the cell of the other in order to see them fight. However, no sooner did they see each other than those two hot-tempered men ran into each other's arms, hugging and caressing hands and feet and back!

The monks talked about it in the Dharma Hall. "Friend, these passionate monks are cross, cruel, and angry to everyone else. But with each other they are the best of friends, cordial and sympathetic!" The Master came in and asked what they were discussing. They told him. He said, "This, monks, is not the only time that these men, who are cross, cruel, and angry to all else, have been cordial and friendly and sympathetic to each other. It happened just so in the past." And so saying, he told this story from the past.

* * *

Once upon a time when Brahmadatta was the King of Benares, the Bodhisatta was his advisor, a courtier who advised him on things worldly and things spiritual. Now this King was of a somewhat covetous nature, and he had a brute of a horse named "Mahāsoṇa," or "Big Chestnut."

Some horse-dealers came down from the north country. They brought 500 horses with them. Word was sent to the King that these horses had arrived. Now until now the Bodhisatta had always asked the dealers to fix their own price and then paid it in full. But now the King, being displeased with him, summoned another member of his court. He said to him, "Friend, ask the men to name their price. Then let loose Big Chestnut. Make him bite them, and when they are weak and wounded get the men to reduce their price."

"Certainly," said the man, and so he did.

The dealers indignantly told the Bodhisatta what this horse had done.

"Don't you have a similar horse in your own city?" the Bodhisatta asked.

Yes, they said. There was one named Suhanu, which means "Strongjaw." He was a fierce and savage brute.

"Bring him with you the next time you come," the Bodhisatta said, and this they promised to do.

So the next time they came they brought this brute with them. The King, hearing that the horse-dealers had arrived, opened his window to look at the horses. As before, he had Chestnut let loose. The dealers, when they saw Chestnut coming, let Strongjaw loose. No sooner had the two met, then they stood still licking each other all over!

Figure: The Bully Lovebirds

The King said to the Bodhisatta, "Friend, when these two rogue horses are with other horses, they are fierce, wild, and savage. They bite them and make them ill. But with each other, there they stand, licking one another all over the body! How can this be?"

"The reason is," the Bodhisatta said, "that they are not different. They are alike in nature and character." And he repeated this couple of verses:

"Birds of a feather flock together. Chestnut and Strongjaw both agree

In scope and aim both are the same; there is no difference I can see."

"Both are savage and vicious. Both always bite their tether.

So both are bad, and vice with vice, must even agree together."

Then the Bodhisatta went on to warn the King against being greedy and spoiling other men's goods. The he fixed the value of the horses and made him pay the proper price. The dealers received their due value and went away well satisfied. And the King, abiding by the Bodhisatta's warning, at last passed away to fare according to his karma.

* * *

When the Master ended this discourse, he identified the birth: "The bad monks were these two horses. Ānanda was the King, and I was the wise counselor."

# 159: Mora Jātaka,  
The Peacock

* * *

This story starts out ominously looking like another one in which the attractiveness of a woman is the theme. But that turns out to be a very minor part of the story, and ends up being more about the fruits of virtuous behavior.

One other theme here is the use of a "pirit chant," a protective chant. These have been largely excised out of Western Buddhism. But they have a tradition that goes back to the time of the Buddha.

* * *

" _There he rises, king all-seeing._ " The Master told this story while he was at Jetavana. It is about a backsliding monk. This monk was taken before the Master who asked, "Is it true, monk, as I hear, that you have regressed?"

"Yes, sir."

"What have you seen that made you lapse?"

"A woman dressed up in magnificent clothes," he said.

Then the Master said, "It is no wonder that an attractive woman should tempt a man like you! Even wise men, who for 700 years have committed no offense, on hearing a woman's voice have transgressed in a moment. Even the holy become impure. Even they who have attained the highest honor have come to disgrace. How much more likely this is to happen to the ordinary man!" And he told a story of the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was the King of Benares, the Bodhisatta was reborn as a peacock. The egg that contained him had a shell as yellow as a kaṇikāra bud ( _a gold colored flower_ ). When he broke the shell, he became a golden peacock, fair and lovely, with beautiful red lines under his wings.

In order to find a safe place to live, he traveled over three ranges of hills, and he settled in the fourth one on a plateau of a golden hill in Daṇḍaka ( _a forest in ancient India_ ). When day dawned, as he sat upon the hill watching the sun rise, he composed a Brahma spell to keep himself safe in his own feeding ground. The spell began "There he rises":

"There he rises, king all-seeing,

Making all things bright with his golden light.

I worship you, glorious being,

Making all things bright with your golden light,

Keep me safe, I pray,

Through the coming day."

He worshipped the sun in this way with this verse. Then he repeated another verse in worship of the Buddhas who have passed away:

"All saints, the righteous, wise in holy lore,

I do honor these, and their aid implore.

All honor to the wise, to wisdom honor be,

To freedom, and to all that freedom has made free."

Uttering this charm to keep himself from harm, the peacock went off to find food.

After flying about all day, he came back and sat on the hilltop to watch the sun go down. Then as he meditated, he uttered another spell to preserve himself and ward off enemies. This one began "There he sets":

"There he sets, the king all-seeing,

He that makes all bright with his golden light.

I worship you, glorious being,

Making all things bright with your golden light.

Through the night, as through the day,

Keep me safe, I pray."

"All saints, the righteous, wise in holy lore,

I do I honor these and their aid implore.

All honor to the wise, to wisdom honor be,

To freedom, and to all that freedom has made free."

Uttering this charm to keep himself from harm, the peacock fell asleep.

Now there was a savage who lived in a certain village of wild huntsmen near Benares. One day when he was wandering about the Himalaya hills he noticed the Bodhisatta perched upon the golden hill of Daṇḍaka, and he told this to his son.

It so happened that on that day one of the wives of the King of Benares, Khemā by name, saw a golden peacock giving a Dharma discourse in a dream. She told this to the King, saying that she longed to hear the discourse of the golden peacock. The King asked his courtiers about it, and the courtiers said, "The Brahmins will be sure to know."

The Brahmins said, "Yes, there are golden peacocks." When asked "where?" they replied, "The hunters will be sure to know."

The King called the hunters together and asked them. Then this hunter answered, "O lord King, there is a golden hill in Daṇḍaka, and a golden peacock lives there."

"Then bring it here. Do not kill it. Make sure that you take it alive."

The hunter set snares in the peacock's feeding ground. But even when the peacock stepped on it, the snare would not close. The hunter tried for seven years, but he could not catch him. Finally the hunter died. And Queen Khemā too died without getting her wish.

The King was angry because his Queen had died for the sake of a peacock. He had an inscription made upon a golden plate that said, "Among the Himalaya mountains is a golden hill in Daṇḍaka. A golden peacock lives there, and whoever eats its flesh becomes forever young and immortal." He put this into a casket.

After his death, the next King read the inscription and thought, "I will become ever young and immortal." So he sent another hunter after the golden peacock. Like the first hunter, he failed to capture the peacock and died in the quest. The same thing happened to six successive kings.

Then a seventh king arose. He also sent out a hunter. The hunter observed that when the golden peacock came into the snare, it did not shut, and that he recited a charm before setting out in search of food. He went to the marshes and caught a peahen (a female peacock). He trained her to dance when he clapped his hands and to cry at the snap of finger. Then, taking her along with him, he set the snare. He fixed its uprights in the ground, early in the morning before the peacock had recited his charm. Then he made the peahen utter a cry.

The sudden sound of the female's note aroused desire in the peacock's breast. Leaving his charm unsaid, he went towards her and was caught in the net. Then the hunter grabbed him and took him to the King of Benares.

The King was delighted at the peacock's beauty. He ordered a seat to be set for him. Sitting on the offered seat, the Bodhisatta asked, "Why did you have me caught, O King?"

"Because they say that anyone who eats you will become immortal and have eternal youth. So I want to have eternal youth and immortality by eating you," the King said.

"So be it. All who eat me become immortal and have eternal youth. But that means that I must die!"

"Of course it does," the King said.

"Well, if I die, how will my flesh give immortality to those that eat it?"

"Your color is golden. So it is said that those who eat your flesh become young and live so forever."

( _The PTS edition notes: "Perhaps because they are supposed to live as long as gold lasts. On the same principle, pieces of jade are placed in the coffin of the Chinese to preserve the soul of the dead. Groot, in a work on Chinese religions, quotes a Chinese writer of the 4th century who says, "He who swallows gold will exist as long as gold. He who swallows jade will exist as long as jade," and recommends it for the living."_ )

"Sir," replied the bird, "there is a good reason for my gold color. Long ago, I ruled over the whole world. I reigned in this very city. I kept the Five Precepts, and I made all the people of the world do the same. For that I was reborn after death in the Realm of the Thirty-Three Gods. I lived out my life there, but in my next birth I became a peacock because of some unskillful act. However, I am gold because I had previously kept the Precepts."

"What? Incredible! You were an imperial ruler who kept the Precepts! And born gold-colored as the fruit of them! Give me some proof!"

"I have one piece of evidence, sire."

"What is it?"

"Well, sire, when I was the monarch, I used to pass through the air seated in a jeweled car. This car now lies buried in the earth beneath the waters of the royal lake. Dig it up from beneath the lake, and that will be my proof."

The King approved the plan. He had the lake drained. He had the chariot dug out. And so he believed the Bodhisatta. Then the Bodhisatta addressed him:

"Sire, except for Nirvana, which is everlasting, everything else, being composite in their nature, are unsubstantial, impermanent, and subject to arising and passing away."

Figure: The Golden Peacock's Dharma Talk

Then giving a discourse on this theme he inspired the King to keep the Precepts. Peace filled the King's heart. He gave his kingdom to the Bodhisatta and showed him the highest respect. The Bodhisatta returned the gift, and after staying for a few days, he rose up in the air and flew back to the golden hill of Daṇḍaka. His parting words of advice were: "O King, be heedful!" And the King for his part remained faithful to the Bodhisatta's advice. And after giving alms and doing good deeds, he passed away to fare according to his karma.

* * *

This discourse ended, the Master taught the Four Noble Truths and the backsliding monk attained stream-entry. Then the Master identified the birth: "Ānanda was the King of those days, and I was the golden peacock."

# 160: Vinīlika Jātaka,  
Blue-black

* * *

After a while you begin to feel sorry for Devadatta. He is surely the favorite punching bag of early Buddhism. In this story he gets dumped into a pile of manure!

* * *

" _As yonder king goes galloping._ " The Master told this story during a visit to Veḷuvana ( _the Bamboo Forest Monastery in Rajagaha_ ). It is about how Devadatta imitated the Buddha.

The two chief disciples ( _Sāriputta and Moggallāna_ ) went to visit Gayāsīsa ( _A mountain near Gayā in Behar. It is now called "Brahmayoni." The Buddha gave the Adittapariyaya Sutta: The Fire Sermon [SN 35.38] here._ ) where Devadatta imitated the Buddha and fell. ( _In this story, Devadatta had gotten some of the Buddha's disciples to follow him instead of the Buddha. However, Sāriputta and Moggallāna got them to return. In one account of the story, Devadatta then died._ ) The Elders then both returned, after delivering a discourse and taking with them their own pupils. Upon arriving at Veḷuvana, the Master asked them what Devadatta had done when he saw them? "Sir," they said, "he imitated the Buddha and was utterly destroyed." ( _Devadatta pretended to be the Buddha._ ) The Master answered, "It is not only now, Sāriputta, that Devadatta came to destruction by imitating me. This has happened before." Then at the Elder's request, he told this story of the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, when Videha was reigning at Mithilā in the realm of Videha, the Bodhisatta was born as the son of his Queen Consort. He grew up in due course and was educated at Takkasilā University. And when his father died he inherited his kingdom.

At that time a certain king of the golden geese mated with a crow at their feeding grounds and they had a son. He was not like either his mother or his father. He was a dingy blue-black color, and accordingly they gave him the name "Dingy."

The goose king often visited his son. He also had two other sons who were geese like himself. They remarked once that he often went to the regions where men lived and asked him why he did that. "My sons," he said, "I have a mate there, a crow, and she has given me a son whose name is 'Dingy.' I go there to visit him."

"Where do they live?" they asked.

"On the top of a palm tree near Mithilā in the kingdom of Videha," he said, describing the spot.

"Father," they said, "wherever men live it is very dangerous. You should not to go there. Let us go and bring him back to you."

So they took a stick and perched Dingy upon it. Then each of them took one end of the stick in their beaks, and they flew over the city of Mithilā.

At that moment King Videha happened to be sitting in a magnificent carriage drawn by a team of four milk-white thoroughbreds. He was making a triumphal circuit of the city. Dingy saw him and thought, "What is the difference between King Videha and me? He is riding in state around his capital in a chariot drawn by four white horses, and I am carried in on a stick carried by a pair of geese." So as he passed through the air he repeated the first stanza:

"As yonder king goes galloping with his milk-white four-in-hand,

Dingy has these, his pair of geese, to bear him over the land!"

These words made the geese angry. Their first thought was "Let us drop him here and leave him!" But then they thought, "What will our father say!" So for fear of rebuke, they brought the creature to their father and told him everything that had happened.

The father grew angry when he heard it. "What!" he said, "are you my sons' superior? Do you make yourself master over them and treat them like horses in a carriage? You don't know your place. You do not belong here. Go back to your mother!" And with this rebuke he repeated the second stanza:

"Dingy, my dear, there's danger here. This is no place for you.

By village gates your mother waits. There you must hasten too."

With that he told his sons to dump the bird in a dunghill outside the city of Mithilā, and so they did.

Figure: "Let Your Mother Worry About You!"

* * *

This lesson ended, the Master identified the birth: "Devadatta in those days was Dingy. The two Elders were the two young geese. Ānanda was the father goose, and I was King Videha myself."

# 161: Indasamānagotta Jātaka,  
The Story of Indasamānagotta

* * *

This is another curious tale in which an elephant goes rogue. It seems a little odd that someone is blamed for being kind to an animal. Also, I have to admit, I love elephants. But see what you think.

* * *

" _Friendship with evil._ " The Master told this story while he was at Jetavana. It is about a stubborn person. The circumstances will be told in the Vulture Birth ( _Jātaka 427_ ). The Master said to this monk, "In days gone by, as now, you were trampled to death by a mad elephant because you were so stubborn and heedless of wise men's advice." And he told the story.

* * *

Once upon a time, while Brahmadatta was the King of Benares, the Bodhisatta was born into a brahmin family. When he came of age he left his worldly home and took to the holy life. and in time became the leader of a company of 500 recluses who all lived together in the Himalaya Mountains.

Among these recluses was a stubborn and unteachable person named "Indasamānagotta." He had a pet elephant. When the Bodhisatta found out about this, he sent for him and asked if he really did have a young elephant? Yes, the man said, he had an elephant which had lost its mother. "Well," the Bodhisatta said, "when elephants grow up they have been known to kill even those who care for them. You better not keep it any longer."

"But I can't live without him, my teacher!" he replied.

"Oh, well," the Bodhisatta said, "you'll live to regret it."

So he continued to care for the elephant, and soon it grew to an immense size.

One day the recluses went far away to gather roots and fruits in the forest. They were gone for several days. At the first breath of the south wind the elephant went into a rage.

"Destruction to this hut!" the elephant thought. "I'll smash the water-jar! I'll overturn the stone bench! I'll tear up the mattress! I'll kill the recluse, and then off I'll go!" Then he ran into the jungle and waited, watching for their return.

The elephant's master came first. He was loaded down with food for his pet. As soon as he saw the elephant, he ran up to him thinking all was well. The elephant rushed out from the thicket. He seized him in his trunk, threw him to the ground, and then with a blow to the head crushed the life out of him. Then he trumpeted madly and ran off into the forest.

Figure: The Price of Ignoring Wise Advice

The other recluses brought this news to the Bodhisatta. He said, "We should have nothing to do with the bad," and then he repeated these two verses:

"Friendship with evil let the good eschew,

The good, who know what duty bids them do.

They will work mischief, be it soon or late,

Even as the elephant his master slew."

"But if a kindred spirit you do see,

In virtue, wisdom, learning like to thee,

Choose such a one to be your own true friend.

Good friends and blessing go in company."

In this way the Bodhisatta showed his band of recluses that it is good to be reasonable and not stubborn. Then he performed Indasamānagotta's funeral rites. And cultivating good qualities, he was reborn at last into Brahma's heaven.

* * *

After concluding this discourse, the Master identified the birth: "This stubborn fellow was then Indasamānagotta, and I was the teacher of the recluses."

# 162: Santhava Jātaka,  
Ritual

* * *

In the Buddha's teachings, one of the hindrances to awakening is attachment to rites and rituals. This had particular significance in India – then as now – because in the Brahmin and Hindu religions, it is the proper performance of rituals that leads to a good rebirth and eventually to awakening. But the belief in ritual is true in most religions, including Buddhism, although this is not what the Buddha taught.

The positive part of this story emphasizes the value of good friendship. This is also a common theme in the Buddha's teaching. It is a condition for stream-entry. In the Buddha's teaching, a good friend is ideally an arahant, but it could be anyone who encourages us along the path. Conversely, bad friends are those who encourage us in the three poisons: craving and sense desire, all the forms of aversion like fear, hatred, anger, and anxiety, and the third poison, which is delusion. (In Buddhism, curiously, the latter includes both atheists and theists!) And in the end the Buddha says that if we cannot find good friendship, we are better off going off on our own.

* * *

" _Nothing is worse._ " The Master told this story while he was at Jetavana. It is about feeding the sacred fire. The circumstances are the same as those of the Naṅguṭṭha Birth ( _Jātaka 144_ ). The monks, on seeing those who kept up this fire, said to the Blessed One, "Sir, here are topknot ascetics practicing all sorts of false asceticism. What's the benefit in that?"

"There is no benefit in it," the Master said. "It has happened in the past that even wise men have imagined that there is some benefit in feeding the sacred fire. But after doing this for a long time, they found out that there is no benefit to it. Then they put the fire out, beat it down, beat it down with sticks, and never gave it so much as a look afterwards." 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 was about sixteen years old, his father and mother took his birth-fire ( _a ritual fire which – as it sounds – is lit at the birth of a child_ ) and said to him, "Son, will you take your birth-fire into the woods and worship the fire there, or will you learn the Three Vedas, settle down as a married man, and live in the world?" ( _He is asking whether the son wants to be a holy man or live a conventional, worldly life_ ).

He replied, "There will be no worldly life for me. I will worship my fire in the woodland and go on the way to heaven."

So taking his birth-fire, he said good-bye to his parents, and entered the forest. There he lived in a hut made of branches and leaves and worshipped to the fire.

One day he was invited to some place where he received a present of rice and ghee. "I will offer this rice to the Great Brahma," he thought. So he took the rice home to feed the sacred fire. Then he said, "With this rice I feed the sacred flame," and he threw the rice into the fire.

The rice had barely touched the flames when – because the rice was full of fat from the ghee - a fierce flame leapt up and set his hermitage on fire. The brahmin ran away in terror and sat down when he got far away. "There should be no dealings with the useless," he said. "This fire has burned the hut that I built with so much effort!" And he repeated the first stanza:

"Nothing is worse than bad company.

I fed my fire with plentiful rice and ghee.

And lo! the hut that gave me such effort

To build, my fire has burned for me."

"I'm done with you now, false friend!" he added. He poured water on the fire, beat it out with sticks, and then went off to the mountains. There he came upon a black deer licking the faces of a lion, a tiger, and a leopard. This made him think that there was nothing better than good friends, and he repeated the second stanza:

"Nothing is better than good company.

Kind offices of friendship here I see.

Behold the lion, tiger, and the pard -

The black deer licks the faces of all three."

( _A "pard" is a leopard._ )

Figure: Good Company

With these reflections the Bodhisatta plunged into the depths of the mountains. There he embraced the true religious life, cultivating the Five Faculties ( _1) faith/confidence, 2) energy, 3) mindfulness, 4) concentration/samadhi and 5) wisdom/insight_ ) and the Attainments ( _jhānas_ ), until at his life's end he was reborn in Brahma's heaven.

* * *

After delivering this discourse, the Master identified the birth: "In those days I was the recluse of the story."

# 163: Susīma Jātaka,  
King Susīma

* * *

This is another story of dubious Buddha Dharma. Again, however, judge for yourself. But it is hard to believe that the Buddha would encourage competition with other religious groups. In fact, he famously encouraged his lay supporters if they had previously supported another teacher to continue to support them. Still, the inspiring part of the story is the young brahmin's determination to win back his family legacy.

* * *

" _100 black elephants._ " The Master told this story while he was at Jetavana. It is about the arbitrary giving of alms.

We hear that at Sāvatthi, a family used to sometimes give alms to the Buddha and his friends and sometimes they used to give to the other sects. Sometimes the givers would form themselves into groups. The people of one street would get together, or all of the inhabitants would collect voluntary offerings and present them.

On this occasion all the inhabitants had made such a collection. But the people were divided. Some demanded that this collection be given to the rival sect, while some spoke for those who followed the Buddha. Each party stuck to their position. The supporters of the rival sects voting for them, and the supporters of Buddha voted for the Buddha's Saṇgha. Then it was proposed to vote on the question, and it so happened that those who were for the Buddha were in the majority.

So their plan was followed, and the followers of the rival sects could not present the gifts. Instead they were given to the Buddha and his disciples.

The citizens invited the Buddha's followers. For seven days they gave rich offerings. On the seventh they gave the last of the articles they had collected. The Master returned thanks after which he taught them about the fruits of the path. Then he returned to Jetavana. And when his followers had done their duties, he delivered a Buddha's discourse standing before his scented chamber, after which he retired.

In the evening the monastics discussed the matter in the Dharma Hall. "Friend, how the rival disciples tried to prevent these offerings from coming to the arahants! Yet they couldn't do it. All of the offerings were laid before the arahants' feet. Ah, how great is the Buddha's power!"

Just then the Master arrived. He asked, "What are you discussing?"

They told him.

"Monastics," he said, "this is not the first time that the rival disciples have tried to prevent an offering that should have been made to me. They did the same before. But these offerings always were finally laid at my feet." So saying, he told them this story from the past.

* * *

Once upon a time a King named "Susīma" ruled over Benares. The Bodhisatta was the son of his chaplain. When he was 16 years old, his father died. The father had been the Master of Ceremonies in the King's elephant festivals. He alone had made all of the decisions about how to decorate the elephants for the festival. By this means he earned as much as ten million gold coins at each festival.

At the time of our story the time for an elephant festival came around. And the brahmins all flocked to the King with these words, "O great King! The time for an elephant festival has come, and the festival should be organized. But your chaplain's son is very young. He does not know either the three Vedas or the lore of elephants (The elephant training manual). Shall we conduct the ceremony?" To this the King agreed.

The brahmins went away delighted. "Aha," they said, "we have kept this young man from performing the festival. We will do it ourselves and keep the profit!"

But the Bodhisatta's mother heard that there was to be an elephant festival in four days. "For seven generations," she thought, "we have managed the elephant festivals from one generation to the next. The old tradition will pass away from us, and our livelihood will melt away!"

She wept and wailed. "Why are you crying?" her son asked. She told him. He said, "Well, mother, should I conduct the festival?"

"What, you? You don't know the three Vedas or the elephant lore. How can you do it?"

"When are they going to hold the festival, mother?"

"Four days from now, my son."

"Where can I find teachers who know the three Vedas by heart, and all the elephant lore?"

"Just such a famous teacher, my son, lives at Takkasilā University. That is in Gandhāra. It is 1,000 kilometers from here."

"Mother," he said, "we will not lose our hereditary right. It will take me one day to get to Takkasilā. It will take one night for me to learn the three Vedas and the elephant lore. On the next day I will travel home, and on the fourth day I will manage the elephant festival. Cry no more!" With these words he comforted his mother.

Early the next morning he broke his fast and set out all alone for Takkasilā University. He reached it in a single day. He found the teacher, greeted him, and sat on one side.

"Where have you come from?" the teacher asked.

"From Benares, teacher."

"Why did you come here?"

"I want to learn the three Vedas and the elephant lore from you."

"Certainly, my son, you shall learn it."

"But, sir," our Bodhisatta said, "my situation is urgent." Then he told him the whole matter, adding, "In a single day I have traveled 1,000 kilometers. Give me your time for this one night only. Three days from now there will be an elephant festival. I will learn everything after one lesson."

The teacher consented. Then the boy washed his master's feet, and gave him a fee of 1,000 gold coins. He sat down on one side and learned everything by heart. As the day broke, he finished the three Vedas and the elephant lore.

"Is there any more to learn?" he asked.

"No, my son, you have learned it all."

Figure: The Quick Learner

After an early meal he took his leave. And in a single day he was back in Benares. He greeted his mother. "Have you learned your lesson, my boy?" she said. He answered "yes," and she was delighted to hear it.

On the next day, the festival of the elephants was prepared. A hundred elephants were prepared. They wore gold ornaments and gold flags. They were covered with a plethora of fine gold, and the palace courtyard was duly decorated. The brahmins stood there in their fine gala dress, thinking to themselves, "Now we will perform the ceremony. We will do it!"

Shortly the King arrived dressed in all his splendor. The Bodhisatta was likewise dressed like a prince. He was at the head of his staff. He approached the King with these words, "Is it really true, O great King, that you are going to deprive me of my right? Are you going to give other brahmins the right to manage this ceremony? Have you said that you mean to give them the various ornaments and vessels that are used?" And he repeated the first stanza as follows:

"100 black elephants, with tusks all white

Are yours, all shiny, gold, and bright.

To the brahmins you give festival oversight,

Forgetting my old ancestral right."

King Susīma, thus addressed, then repeated the second stanza:

"100 black elephants, with tusks all white,

Are mine, all shiny, gold, and bright.

To the brahmins I take back the oversight,

My lad, remembering your ancestral right."

Then a thought struck the Bodhisatta. He said, "Sire, if you do remember my ancestral right and your ancient custom, why do you abandon me and make others the masters of your festival?"

"Why, I was told that you did not know the three Vedas or the elephant lore. That is why I have ordered the festival to be managed by others."

"Very well, sire. If there is one among all these brahmins who can recite a portion of the Vedas or the elephant lore better than me, let him stand forward! Not in all India is there anyone who knows the three Vedas and the elephant lore for the ordering of an elephant festival!" Proud as a lion's roar rang out the answer!

Not a single brahmin stepped forward to contend with him. So the Bodhisatta kept his ancestral right and conducted the ceremony. And laden with riches, he returned to his own home.

* * *

When the Master ended this story, he taught the Four Noble Truths. Some entered on the First Path ( _stream-entry_ ), some on the Second ( _once-returner_ ), some the Third ( _non-returner_ ), and some the Fourth ( _arahant_ ). The he identified the birth: "Mahāmāyā was at that time my mother ( _the Buddha's biological mother_ ), King Suddhodana was my father ( _the Buddha's biological father_ ), Ānanda was King Susīma, Sāriputta was the famous teacher, and I was the young brahmin."

# 164: Gijja Jātaka,  
The Vulture

* * *

This is a story about respect for one's elders. Sadly, this is not a part of our Western culture. But I have seen it up close living in the southwestern U.S. where the two predominant cultures here – Hispanic and Native American – have this same respect for elders that is discussed in the Buddhist scriptures.

Just last week I was traveling through Farmington, New Mexico, which just east of Navajo Nation. I pulled into a gas station where I saw an elderly Indian man coming out. He could barely walk. There was a young Indian man just hanging out leaning against the building. He quite deliberately went over to the man and helped him to his car. I thought they might have been related. But the young man just came back to the building while the old man was driven off. The young man was just doing what any self-respecting Navajo would do, and that was to help a respected older person.

The Buddha said this about one's parents:

> "I tell you, monks, there are two people who are not easy to repay. Which two? Your mother and father. Even if you were to carry your mother on one shoulder and your father on the other shoulder for 100 years, and were to look after them by anointing, massaging, bathing, and rubbing their limbs, and they were to defecate and urinate right there [on your shoulders], you would not in that way pay or repay your parents. If you were to establish your mother and father in absolute sovereignty over this great earth, abounding in the seven treasures, you would not in that way pay or repay your parents. Why is that? Mother and father do much for their children. They care for them, they nourish them, they introduce them to this world. But anyone who rouses his unbelieving mother and father, settles and establishes them in conviction; rouses his unvirtuous mother and father, settles and establishes them in virtue; rouses his stingy mother and father, settles and establishes them in generosity; rouses his foolish mother and father, settles and establishes them in discernment: To this extent one pays and repays one's mother and father." – [AN 2.33]

* * *

" _A vulture sees a corpse._ " The Master told this story about a monk who had his parents to support. The circumstances will be related under the Sāma Jātaka ( _Jātaka 540_ ). The Master asked him whether he, a monk, was really supporting people who were living in the world. The monk admitted that this was true.

"How are these people related to you?" the Master went on.

"They are my parents, sir."

"Excellent, excellent," the Master said, and he told the other monks not be angry with him. "Wise men of old," he said, "have done service even to those who were not related to them, but this man's task has been to support his own parents." So saying, he told them this story of the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, when Brahmavatta was the King of Benares, the Bodhisatta was reborn as a young vulture on Vulture Peak ( _this was the Buddha's favorite place to meditate_ ), and he had to care for his mother and father.

Once there was a great wind and rain. The vultures could not hold their own against it. Half frozen, they flew to Benares, and there they sat, shivering with cold near the wall and the ditch.

A merchant of Benares was just then leaving the city on his way to bathe when he saw these miserable vultures. He got them together in a dry place, made a fire, sent for and brought them some meat from the cattle's burning-place, and put someone in charge to look after them.

When the storm ended, our vultures were all right and flew off at once back to the mountains. There they met and discussed what had happened. "A Benares merchant has been kind to us, and 'one good turn deserves another,' as the saying goes. So after this when any of us finds some clothing or jewelry it must be dropped in that merchant's courtyard."

So from then on if they ever noticed people drying their clothes in the sun, they watching for an unwary moment and snatched them quickly just as hawks pounce on a bit of meat. Then they dropped them in the merchant's yard. But he, whenever he saw that they were bringing him anything, had whatever they brought put aside.

The victims of the vultures' crimes told the King how they were plundering the city. "Just catch me one vulture," the King said, "and I will make them bring it all back." So snares and traps were set everywhere, and our dutiful vulture was caught.

They seized him with the intention of taking him to the King. The merchant, however, was on his way to wait upon his majesty. He saw these people walking with the vulture. He went with them for fear that they might hurt the vulture.

They gave the vulture to the King, who proceeded to question him.

"You rob our city and carry off clothes and all sorts of things," he began.

"Yes, sire."

"To whom have these things been given"

"A merchant of Benares."

"Why?" asked the King

"Because he saved our lives, and they say that one good turn deserves another. That is why we gave them to him."

"They say that vultures can see a corpse 500 kilometers away," the King said. "Why can't you see a trap that is set for you?" And with these words he repeated the first stanza:

"A vulture sees a corpse that lies 500 kilometers away."

When you land on a trap don't you see it, pray?"

The vulture listened, then replied by repeating the second stanza:

"My parents' hour of death draws near, and soon their lives will cease.

I sprung the trap to keep them safe, so they may die in peace."

Figure: The Vulture Explains

After the vulture responded the King turned to our merchant. "Have all these things really been brought to you, then, by the vultures?"

"Yes, my lord," he said.

"Where are they?"

"My lord, I have stored them all away. Everyone will receive his own property back. But please let this vulture go!"

He had his way. The vulture was set free, and the merchant returned all the property to its owners.

* * *

This lesson ended, the Master taught the Four Noble Truths. At the conclusion of the discourse the dutiful monk attained fruition of the First Path, stream-entry. Then the Master identified the birth: "Ānanda was the King of those days. Sāriputta was the merchant, and I was the vulture who supported his parents."

# 165: Nakula Jātaka,  
The Mongoose

* * *

This is a simple story about making peace between two quarreling people and the uselessness of arguing.

* * *

" _Creature, your egg-born enemy._ " The Master told this story during a stay at Jetavana. It is about two noblemen who were always quarreling. The circumstances have been given above in the Uraga Birth ( _Jātaka 154_ ). Here, as before, the Master said, "This is not the first time, monks, that I have resolved a dispute between these two nobles. In former times I reconciled them as well." Then he told this story from the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was the King of Benares, the Bodhisatta was born in a certain village into a brahmin family. When he came of age, he was educated at Takkasilā University. Then, renouncing the world, he became a recluse. He cultivated the Five Faculties ( _faith, energy, mindfulness, concentration, wisdom_ ) and the Attainments ( _the jhānas_ ). He lived in the region of the Himalaya Mountains, eating wild roots and fruits that he picked up in his wanderings.

At the end of his cloistered walk lived a mongoose in an anthill. And not far off, a snake lived in a hollow tree. These two, the snake and the mongoose, were always quarreling. The Bodhisatta talked to them about the misery of quarreling and the blessing of peace. He tried to reconcile the two together, saying, "You should stop quarreling and live together in peace."

When the serpent was away, the mongoose lay with his head out of the hole in his anthill with his mouth open. In that way he fell asleep, heavily breathing in and out. The Bodhisatta saw him sleeping there. He asked him, "Why, what are you afraid of?" and he repeated the first stanza:

"Creature, your egg-born enemy a faithful friend is made,

Why sleep you there with teeth all bare? Of what are you afraid?"

"Father," the mongoose said, "never despise a former enemy, but always suspect him," and he repeated the second stanza:

"Never despise an enemy nor ever trust a friend.

A fear that springs from unfeared things uproots and makes an end."

"Do not be afraid," the Bodhisatta replied. "I have persuaded the snake not to harm you. Do not mistrust him anymore." With this advice, he proceeded to cultivate the Four Brahma-vihāras ( _loving-kindness, compassion, sympathetic joy, and equanimity_ ), and in time was reborn in Brahma's heaven. And the others too passed away to fare according to their karma.

Figure: The Mongoose Receives Wise Advise

* * *

Then this lesson ended, the Master identified the birth: "The two noblemen were at that time the snake and the mongoose, and I was the recluse."

# 166: Upasāḷha Jātaka,  
The Story of Upasāḷha

* * *

This is a lovely story whose theme may get a little lost. The Bodhisatta explains to a father and son that death is inevitable unless you perfect the qualities of kindness and virtue.

* * *

" _14,000 Upasāḷhas._ " The Master told this story while he was at Jetavana. It is about a brahmin named Upasāḷha who was particular in the matter of cemeteries.

This man, we learn, was rich and wealthy. But even though he lived next to the monastery, he showed no kindness to the Buddhas and held many wrong views. But he had a son who was wise and intelligent. When the man was growing old, he said to his son, "Don't let my body be cremated in a cemetery where any outcast can be cremated, but find some uncontaminated place in which to cremate me."

"Father," the young man said, "I do not know of any cemetery like that in which to cremate your body. Take the lead and show me a place where I can have you cremated." The brahmin consented and led his son out of the city to the top of Vulture Peak. ( _Vulture Peak was the Buddha's favorite place to meditate._ ) Then he said, "Here, my son, no outcast is ever cremated. Here is where you should have me cremated." Then he began to descend the hill in his son's company.

That evening the Master was looking around to see which of his friends was ripe for awakening. He perceived that this father and son were ready to attain stream-entry. So he took their road and went to the foot of the hill like a hunter waiting for his quarry. There he sat until they came down from the top. Down they came, and they saw the Master. He greeted them and asked, "Where are you bound, brahmins?"

The young man told him what they had been doing. "Come along, then," the Master said, "and show me the place your father pointed out."

So they climbed back up the mountain. "Which place did you choose?" he asked.

"Sir," the boy said, "the space between these three hills is the one he showed me."

The Master said, "This is not the first time, my boy, that your father has been particular in the matter of cemeteries. He was the same before. This is not the only time that he has pointed this place out to you for his cremation. Long ago he pointed out the very same place." And at his request the Master told them this story from the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, in this very city of Rājagaha, lived this same brahmin Upasāḷhaka, and he had the very same son. At that time the Bodhisatta had been born into a brahmin family of Magadha. And when his education was completed, he embraced the holy life. He cultivated the Five Faculties ( _1) faith, 2) energy, 3) mindfulness, 4) concentration, and 5) wisdom_ ) and the Attainments ( _jhānas_ ), and he lived a long time in the region of the Himalayas absorbed in meditative bliss.

Once he left his hermitage on Vulture Peak to go buy salt and seasonings. While he was away, this brahmin spoke in just the same way to his son, as now. The boy asked him to point out a proper place, and he came and pointed out this same spot. As he was descending the hill with his son, he saw the Bodhisatta. They approached him, and the Bodhisatta put the same question to them as he did just now, and the son responded as before.

"Ah," he said, "we'll see whether this place that your father has shown you is contaminated or not." He made them go back up the hill again. "The space between these three hills," the boy said, "is pure."

"My boy," the Bodhisatta replied, "there is no end to the people who have been cremated in this very spot. Your own father, born a brahmin, as now, in Rājagaha, and bearing the very same name of Upasāḷhaka, has been cremated on this hill in 14,000 births. On the whole earth there is not a spot to be found where a corpse has not been cremated, which has not been a cemetery, and which has not been covered with skulls."

He knew this because he had the faculty of recalling previous lives. And then he repeated these two stanzas:

"14,000 Upasāḷhas have been cremated on this spot,

Nor is there the wide world over any place where death is not.

"Where there is kindness, truth, justice, restraint, and self-control,

There no death can find an entrance. There goes each liberated soul."

( _The Bodhisatta is saying that virtue is the path to the deathless._ )

Figure: Explaining Kindness as the Path to Liberation

When the Bodhisatta had thus instructed the father and son, he cultivated the Four Excellences ( _the brahma-vihāras_ ) and was reborn in Brahma's heaven.

* * *

When this discourse was ended, the Master declared the Four Noble Truths. At the conclusion of the discourse the father and son attained stream-entry. The he identified the birth: "The father and son were the same then as they are now, and I was the recluse."

# 167: Samiddhi Jātaka,  
Prosperity

* * *

Stories similar to this one show up throughout the Pāli Canon. In this case, an attractive, temptress of a goddess tries to entice a recluse into giving up the holy life, to enjoy the pleasures of a sensual life, and then when he is older go back to the holy life. But as the recluse says, we never know the time of our death. We have to treat each moment as precious for it could be our last. We must use every moment to our best advantage so that we can awaken and free ourselves from stress and suffering and the endless and fruitless rounds of rebirth.

* * *

" _Begging brother, do you know?_ " The Master told this story while he was staying in Tapoda Park near Rājagaha. It is about the Elder Samiddhi whose name means "prosperity."

Once the Elder Prosperity had been sitting in deep samadhi ( _meditative absorption_ ) all night long. At sunrise he bathed, then he stood with his under robe on. He held his outer robe in his hand. As he dried his body, it shined radiant like gold. He was like a golden statue of exquisite workmanship, the perfection of beauty, and that is why he was called "Prosperity."

A daughter of the gods saw the Elder's unsurpassed beauty and fell in love with him. She said to him, "You are young, monk, and fresh, a mere stripling. You are blessed with coal black hair. Bless you! You have youth, you are lovely and pleasant to the eyes. Why should a man like you become a monk without a little enjoyment? Take your pleasure first, and then you can lead the holy life and do what the recluses do!"

He replied, "Goddess, at some time or other I must die, and I do not know the time of my death. That time is hidden from me. Therefore in the freshness of my youth I will follow the holy life and put an end to suffering."

Having received no encouragement, the goddess at once vanished. The Elder went and told his Master what had happened. Then the Master said, "Not only now, Prosperity, are you tempted by a goddess. In past days, as now, goddesses tempted recluses." And then at his request the Master told a story from the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was the King of Benares, the Bodhisatta was born as a brahmin's son in the village of Kāsi. When he came of age, he attained perfection in all his studies, and then he embraced the holy life. He lived in the Himalayas near a natural lake. There he cultivated the Five Faculties ( _1) faith, 2) energy, 3) mindfulness, 4) concentration, and 5) wisdom_ ) and the Attainments ( _jhānas_ ).

All night long he sat in deep samadhi. At sunrise he bathed and with one bark garment on and another in his hand, he stood, letting the water dry from his body. At that moment a daughter of the gods observed his perfect beauty and fell in love with him. Tempting him, she repeated this first stanza:

"Begging brother, do you know

What of joy the world can show?

Now's the time - there is no other.

Pleasure first, then - begging brother!"

Figure: The Goddess and the Handsome Recluse

The Bodhisatta listened to the goddess's address and then replied. Declaring his purpose, he repeated the second stanza:

"The time is hid - I cannot know

When is the time that I must go.

Now is the time; there is no other.

So I am now a begging brother."

When the goddess heard the Bodhisatta's words, she vanished at once.

* * *

After this discourse the Master identified the birth: "The goddess is the same in both stories, and I was the recluse at that time."

# 168: Sakuṇagghi Jātaka,  
The Falcon

* * *

In this story we learn that the monastics at the time were assigned specific areas of the city in which to go for alms. The Buddha warns them to stick to their assigned districts. But then he uses this as a metaphor for refraining from sense pleasures, for by giving into sense pleasures you are outside of your district - in enemy ground – where Māra can attack you!

I do have one objection to this story and that is that I happen to like falcons!

* * *

" _A quail was in his feeding ground._ " The Master told this story while he was at Jetavana. It is about the bird teaching.

One day the Master called the Saṇgha, saying, "When you seek alms, monks, keep each to your own assigned district." And repeating that sutta from the Mahāvagga ( _a section of the monastic code_ ) which suited the occasion, he added, "But wait a moment. In the past others - even in the form of animals - refused to keep to their own districts, and by encroaching on other people's lands, they fell into the hands of their enemies. Then by their own intelligence and resources, they got free." With these words he told them this story from the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was the King in Benares, the Bodhisatta was reborn as a young quail. He got his food by hopping about over the clods of earth that were left after plowing.

One day he thought he would leave his feeding ground and try another. So off he flew to the edge of a forest. As he picked up his food there, a falcon saw him. Attacking him fiercely, the falcon caught him.

Held prisoner by this falcon, our quail bemoaned, "Ah! How very unlucky I am! How little sense I have! I've encroached on someone else's land! Oh that I had kept to my own place where my fathers were before me! Then this falcon would have been no match for me, I mean if he had come to fight!"

"Why, quail," the falcon said, "where is the place where your fathers fed before you?"

"A plowed field all covered with clods of earth!"

At this the falcon, relaxing his grip, let go. "Off with you, quail! You won't escape me there, either!"

The quail flew back and perched on an immense clod of earth, and there he stood, calling, "Come along now, falcon!"

Straining every nerve, poising both wings, down swooped the falcon fiercely upon our quail. "Here he comes with a vengeance!" the quail thought. And as soon as he saw him in full swoop, he just turned over and let him strike against the clod of earth. The falcon could not stop himself and struck his breast against the ground. This broke his heart, and he fell dead with his eyes staring out of his head.

Figure: Crash and Burn

* * *

When this tale had been told, the Master added, "Thus you see, monks, how even animals fall into their enemies' hands by leaving their proper place. But when they keep to it, they conquer their enemies. Therefore take care not to leave your own place and intrude upon another's. Oh monks, when people leave their own station Māra finds a door, Māra gets a foothold. What is foreign ground, monks, and what is the wrong place for a monk? I mean the Five Sense Pleasures. What are these five? The lust of sight, the lust of touch, the lust of taste, the lust of sound, and the lust of smell. This, monks, is the wrong place for a monk." Then growing perfectly enlightened he repeated the first stanza:

"A quail was in his feeding ground, when, swooping from on high.

A falcon came, but so it fell he came to death thereby."

* * *

When the falcon had perished, the quail came out exclaiming, "I have seen the back of my enemy!" He perched on his enemy's breast and gave voice to his exultation in the words of the second stanza:

"Now I rejoice at my success; a clever plan I found

To rid me of my enemy by keeping my own ground."

* * *

This discourse at an end, the Master declared the Four Noble Truths. At the conclusion of the declaration many monks attained stream-entry. Then the Master identified the birth: "Devadatta was the falcon of those days, and I was the quail."

# 169: Araka Jātaka,  
The Teacher Araka

* * *

Often Buddhists are guilty of putting too much emphasis on meditative achievements. The Buddha made it clear that the practices of virtue and cultivating the brahma-vihāras ( _mettā, compassion, empathetic joy, and equanimity_ ) can yield just as much fruit. And trying to practice meditation without also practicing virtue is a fool's errand.

In this story the Buddha makes it clear that attaining the ability to practice boundless and unconditional lovingkindness for all beings has great rewards.

* * *

" _The heart that feels boundless compassion._ " The Master told this story while he was at Jetavana. It is about the discourse on lovingkindness.

On one occasion the Master addressed the Saṇgha: "Renunciants, when you practice lovingkindness with devoted single mindedness, when you meditate on, increase, make a vehicle of progress, make your one object, practiced and well begun, you may expect to produce Eleven Blessings. What are these eleven? (1) You sleep happily. (2) You awaken happily. (3) You do not suffer bad dreams. (4) You are dear to human beings. (5) You are dear to non-human beings. (6) The devas protect you. (7) No fire or poison or weapon will harm you. (8) Your mind gets quickly concentrated. (9) Your facial expression is serene. (10) You die unperturbed. (11) And even if you fail to attain higher states (jhāna), you will at least be reborn in the Brahma world. ( _The Eleven Blessings also appear in AN 11.16 and "The Questions of King Milinda."_ )

"Lovingkindness, renunciants, practiced with renunciation of one's sensual desires may be expected to produce these Eleven Blessings. Praising the lovingkindness that holds these Eleven Blessings, renunciants, a monk or nun should show kindness to all creatures, whether expressly commanded or not.

"He should be a friend to the friendly, a friend to the unfriendly, and a friend to the indifferent. To all without distinction, whether expressly bidden or not, he should show lovingkindness. He should show compassion with joy and sorrow and practice equanimity. He should do his work by means of the Four Excellences ( _the brahma-vihāras_ ).

By so doing he will go to Brahma's heaven even without attaining stream-entry. By cultivating lovingkindness for seven years, wise people of old have lived in Brahma's heaven for seven eons, each with its one period to wax and one to wane."

( _According to the PTS, this refers to the arising and falling of the "sasana," times in which the Dharma is known but then is lost._ ) And he told them this story of the past.

* * *

Once upon a time in a former age, the Bodhisatta was born into a brahmin's family. When he grew up, he abandoned his desire for sense pleasures and embraced the holy life. He attained the Four Excellences ( _brahma-vihāras_ ). His name was Araka. He became a teacher, and he lived in the Himalaya region with a large body of followers.

Admonishing his band of sages, he said, "A recluse must show lovingkindness. He must be sympathetic both in joy and sorrow, and he must be full of equanimity. For this thought of lovingkindness attained by resolve prepares him for Brahma's heaven." And explaining the blessing of lovingkindness, he repeated these verses:

"The heart that boundless compassion feels for all things that have birth,

In heaven above, in realms below, and on this middle earth,

"Filled full of infinite compassion, infinite lovingkindness,

Such a heart can never be narrow or heartless."

Figure: Teaching Lovingkindness

Thus the Bodhisatta taught his students on the practice of lovingkindness and its blessings. And without a moment's interruption of his meditative absorption he was born in the heaven of Brahma. And for seven eons, each with his time to wax and wane, he was not reborn in this world.

* * *

After finishing this discourse, the Master identified the birth: "The band of sages of that time are now the Buddha's followers, and I was the teacher Araka."

# 170: Kakaṇṭaka Jātaka,  
The Chameleon

* * *

This Jātaka simply references the second of the ten stories in Jātaka 546. I have rendered that portion of Jātaka 546 below.

This Kakaṇṭaka Birth will be given below in the Mahā-Ummagga Birth ( _Jātaka 546)._

* * *

## Jātaka 546: Māha-Ummagga Jātaka,

### The Story of the Chameleon

* * *

This story is a mixed bag for the chameleon. At first he is rewarded for his respectful behavior. But then he becomes proud and vain, and he loses his respectful behavior. Nonetheless, when the King becomes angry with the chameleon, the Bodhisatta urges him to be kind, patient, and compassionate.

One day the King went with the sage into the park. A chameleon who lived on the top of the arched gateway saw the King approach. He came down and lay flat on the ground. Seeing this, the King asked, "What is he doing, wise sir?"

"Paying respect to you, sire."

"If so, let his respect be rewarded. Give him a gift."

"Sire, a gift is of no use to him. All he wants is something to eat."

"And what does he eat?"

"Meat, sire."

"How much does he need?"

"A single coin's worth, sire."

"A single coin is a simple gift from a king," said the King. So he sent a man with orders to regularly give the chameleon a single coin's worth of meat. But on a fast day, when there is no killing, the man could not find any meat. So he bored a hole through the coin, strung it on a thread, and tied it around the chameleon's neck. This made the creature proud. That day the King went once more into the park. When the chameleon saw the King draw near, his pride in his wealth make him think that he was equal to the King. "You may be very rich, Oh, King, but so am I." So he did not come down, but lay still on the archway, stroking his head.

The King saw this and said, "Wise sir, this creature does not come down today as usual. Why is that?" and he recited this stanza:

The chameleon did not used to stay up on the archway.

Explain, Mahosadha,

Why the chameleon has become so high and mighty.

The sage realized that the man must have been unable to find meat on this fast day when there was no killing, and that the creature must have become proud because of the coin hung about his neck. So he recited this stanza:

The chameleon has what he has never had before,

A single coin.

Hence he disregards King Vedeha, lord of Mithilā.

Figure: The Chameleon Discovers Vanity

The King sent for the man and questioned him, and he affirmed what had happened. Then he was even more pleased with the sage, who - it seemed - knew the mind of the chameleon, with a wisdom like the supreme wisdom of a Buddha. So he gave him the revenue taken at the four gates. The King was also angry with the chameleon, and he thought of ending the gift. But the sage told him that it was unfitting and persuaded him to continue it.

Thus ends the story of the chameleon.

# 171: Kalyāṇa-dhamma Jātaka,  
The Auspicious Act

* * *

These stories tend to be very simple, but they often contain surprising twists. This is one of them.

* * *

" _Oh, King, when people hail us._ " The Master told this story while he was at Jetavana. It is about a deaf mother-in-law.

It is said that there was a wealthy landowner in Sāvatthi. He was a true believer in the Dharma. He had taken the Three Refuges ( _Buddha, Dharma, and Saṇgha_ ) and the Five Virtues ( _the lay precepts_ ). One day he set out to listen to the Master at Jetavana. He brought plenty of ghee and condiments of all sorts, flowers, perfumes, and so forth. At the same time, his wife's mother went to visit her daughter. She brought a present of solid food and porridge. Now she was a little hard of hearing.

After dinner, when one feels a little drowsy, she said by way of keeping herself awake, "Well, and does your husband live happily with you? Do you get along well?"

"Why, mother, what a thing to ask! You could hardly find a holy monk who is so good and virtuous as he!"

The good woman did not quite understand what her daughter had said, but she caught the word "monk" and she cried, "Oh dear, why has your husband become a monk!" And she made a great commotion.

Everybody who lived in that house heard it, and they cried, "News! Our squire has become a monk!" People heard the noise, and a crowd gathered at the door to find out what it was. "The squire who lives here has become a monk!" was all they heard.

Our squire listened to the Buddha's discourse, then he left the monastery to return to the city. About halfway there a man met him, and he cried, "Why, master, they say you've become a monk, and all your family and servants are crying at home!"

Then these thoughts passed through his mind. "People say I have become a monk when I have done nothing of the kind. An auspicious speech must not be neglected. Today I will become a monk!" Then he turned right around and went back to the Master. "You paid your visit to the Buddha," the Master said, "and went away. What brings you back here again?"

The man told him what had happened, adding, "An auspicious speech, sir, must not be neglected. So here I am, and I wish to become a monk." Then he received the lower and the higher ordination. ( _These are 1) novice ordination and 2) full ordination. Usually you have to be a novice monk for some time before receiving full ordination, but he must have been a very kind and virtuous person._ ) He lived a good life, and very soon he became an arahant ( _fully awakened/enlightened_ ).

The story became known in the Saṇgha. One day they were discussing it in the Dharma Hall in this way: "I say, friend, the squire ordained because he said 'an auspicious speech must never be neglected,' and now he has become an arahant!"

The Master came in and wanted to know what it was they were discussing. They told him. He said, "Monks, wise men in days long past also entered the Saṇgha because they said 'an auspicious speech must never be neglected'," and then he told them this story of the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was the King of Benares, the Bodhisatta was reborn as a rich merchant's son. When he grew up and his father died, he took his father's place.

Once he went to pay his respects to the King. At the same time his mother-in-law went to visit her daughter. She was a little hard of hearing, and all happened just as it has happened now. The husband was on his way back from paying his respects to the King when he was met by a man. The man said, "They say you have become a monk, and there's such pandemonium in your house!"

The Bodhisatta, thinking that auspicious words must never be neglected, turned right around and went back to the King. The King asked what brought him back again. "My lord," he said, "all my people are weeping over me, I am told, because they believe that I have become a monk. And I have done nothing of the kind. But auspicious words must not be neglected, and I will, indeed, become a monk! I want your permission to become a monk!"

And he explained the circumstances in the following verses:

"Oh King, when people call us by the name

Of 'holy', we must make our acts the same.

We must not waver or fall short of it.

We must take up the task for very shame.

"Oh King, this name has been bestowed on me.

Today they cry how holy I must be.

Therefore I would a recluse live and die.

I have no taste for joy and revelry."

Figure: "They say you have become a monk!"

In this way the Bodhisatta asked the King's leave to embrace the holy life. Then he went away to the Himalayas and became a recluse. He cultivated the Faculties ( _1) faith/confidence, 2) energy, 3) mindfulness, 4) concentration/samadhi and 5) wisdom/insight_ ) and the Attainments ( _jhānas_ ) and was at last reborn in Brahma's heaven.

* * *

The Master, having ended this discourse, identified the birth: "Ānanda was the King in those days, and I was the rich Benares merchant."

# 172: Daddara Jātaka,  
The Jackal's Roar

* * *

This story gives an interesting insight into early Buddhist practice. In it we see that in the evening elder monks and presumably nuns as well recite one or more discourses. (This is probably how the other monastics learned them.) In the story in the present we find a monk who wants to among those respected elders, but predictably he falls short.

In the story from the past we once again find the poor jackal as the foil of the story.

The "lion's roar" is a metaphor used throughout the Pāli Canon for the Buddha's teaching, and also for important events such as someone attaining awakening. If you have ever heard a lion roar, you know how the earth shakes. I was in a zoo once when a lion roared, and the whole zoo went silent, animals and people alike. That experience really brought this metaphor to life for me!

* * *

" _Who is it with a mighty cry?_ " The Master told this story while he was at Jetavana. It is about one Kokālika. At this time we hear that there were a number of very learned monks in the district of Manosilā. They spoke out like young lions. When they recited the discourses before the Saṇgha they were loud enough to bring down the heavenly Ganges ( _Milky Way_ ).

As they recited their texts, Kokālika - not knowing what an empty fool he would show himself to be - thought he would also like to recite the discourses. So he went among the monks saying, "They don't ask me to recite a discourse. If they were to ask me, I would do it."

The whole Saṇgha got to know about this and they thought they would give him a chance. "Friend Kokālika," they said, "recite some discourses today for the Saṇgha." He agreed to this, not knowing his folly. That day he would recite before the monastic community.

First he found some gruel made to his liking, he ate it, and he had some of his favorite soup. At sundown the gong sounded for the recitation time. The whole community gathered together. The robe that he put on was as blue as a bluebell. His outer robe was pure white. Dressed in this way he entered the meeting. He greeted the Elders and stepped up to a Teaching Seat under a grand jeweled pavilion. He held an elegantly carved fan. He sat down, ready to begin his recitation. But just at that moment beads of sweat began to pour out all over him, and he felt ashamed. He was able to recite the first stanza, but then he could not remember what came next. So rising from the seat in confusion, he left the meeting and went to his cell. Someone else, a real scholar, recited the discourse. After that all the monastics knew how empty he was.

One day the monastics started talking about this in the Dharma Hall. "Friend, it was not easy to see before how empty Kokālika is. But now through his own efforts he has shown it." The Master entered and asked what they were discussing. They told him. He said, "Brothers and Sisters, this is not the first time Kokālika has betrayed himself by his own voice. The very same thing happened before." And then he told them this story from the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was reigning in Benares, the Bodhisatta was born as a young lion. He was the king of many lions. He lived with a pride of lions in Silver Cave. Nearby there was a jackal who lived in another cave.

One day, after a rain shower, all the lions were together at the entrance of their leader's cave. They roared loudly and jumped about playfully as lions do. As they were roaring and playing, the jackal too lifted up his voice. "Here's this jackal who is trying to roar with us!" the lions said. They felt embarrassed for the jackal and went silent. When they all fell silent, the Bodhisatta's cub asked him this question. "Father, all these lions that were roaring and playing have fallen silent for very shame on hearing the jackal. What creature betrays himself in this way?" and he repeated the first stanza:

"Who is it with a mighty try makes the meager sound?

Who is it, Lord of Beasts? and why has he no welcome found?"

At his son's words the old lion repeated the second stanza:

"The jackal, of all beasts most vile, it is he that makes that sound.

The lions loathe his baseness, so they sit in silence round."

Figure: The Embarrassed Jackal

* * *

"Brothers and Sisters," the Master added, "this is not the first time Kokālika has betrayed himself by his voice. It was just the same before." And bringing his discourse to an end, he identified the birth: "At that time Kokālika was the jackal, Rāhula was the young lion, and I was the lion king."

# 173: Makkaṭa Jātaka,  
The Deceitful Monkey

* * *

This story makes more sense if you read Jātaka 487. In that story the main character – who in the story of the past is a monkey – is an extremely ill-behaved monk, someone who was very deceitful. On its own this story seems to lack compassion for the poor monkey. It may even without the backstory!

* * *

" _Father, see that poor old fellow?_ " The Master told this story while he was staying in Jetavana. It is about a scoundrel. The circumstances will be explained in the Uddāla Jātaka ( _Jātaka 487_ ). Here too the Master said, "Monks, this is not the only time this fellow turned out to be a scoundrel. In days gone by, when he was a monkey, he played tricks for the sake of a fire." And he told this story of the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was reigning in Benares, the Bodhisatta was born into a brahmin family in the village of Kāsi. When he came of age, he received his education at Takkasilā University, after which he settled down in life.

His wife in time bore him a son and later a daughter. And just when the young girl was able to run, she died. The husband performed her funeral rites, and then he said, "What is home to me now? I and my son will live the life of recluses." Leaving his friends and family in tears, he took the boy to the Himalaya. He became a religious recluse and lived on the fruits and roots that the forest yielded.

One day during the rainy season, after there had been a downpour, he kindled some sticks. Then he lay down on a bed roll and warmed himself at the fire. His son sat beside him rubbing his feet.

Now a wild monkey, miserable with cold, saw the fire in the recluse's hut. "Now," he thought, "if I go in, they'll cry out 'monkey!' 'Monkey!' and drive me out. I won't get a chance to warm myself." Then he thought, "I have it! I'll get a recluse's robes and get inside by tricking them!"

So he put on the robes of a dead recluse, took his begging bowl and walking stick, and stood by the door of the hut where he crouched down beside a palm tree. The boy saw him and – not knowing he was a monkey - cried to his father "Here's an old recluse, sure enough, miserably cold, who has come to warm himself at the fire." Then he addressed his father in the words of the first stanza, begging him to let the poor fellow in to warm himself:

"Father, see! a poor old fellow huddled by a palm tree there!

Here we have a hut to live in. Let us give the man a share."

When the Bodhisatta heard this, he got up and went to the door. But when he saw the creature was only a monkey, he said, "My son, men do not look like that. It is a monkey, and he must not be asked in here." Then he repeated the second stanza:

"He would but defile our dwelling if he came inside the door.

Such a face – it is easy to see - no good brahmin ever bore."

The Bodhisatta seized a burning piece of wood, crying, "What do you want there?" and threw it at him, driving him away. Mr. Monkey dropped his robe, sprang up a tree, and ran away into the forest.

Figure: "Go Away, Deceitful Monkey!"

Then the Bodhisatta cultivated the Four Excellences ( _the brahma-vihāras_ ) until he was reborn in Brahma's heaven.

* * *

When the Master had ended this discourse, he identified the birth: "This tricky monk was the monkey of those days. Rāhula was the recluse's son, and I was the recluse."

# 174: Dūbhiya-makkaṭa Jātaka,  
The Ungrateful Monkey

* * *

This is a story about ingratitude.

In the Buddha's teaching, gratitude is a quality to be cultivated. There are a number of discourses in the Aṇguttara Nikāya about gratitude or the lack thereof..

Gratitude and generosity are linked together. Someone who is grateful is also generous. You may know people who – no matter how little they have – are grateful for what they do have and are always willing to share what little they may have. Then there are those who – no matter how much they have – are never satisfied and who share little or nothing. That is an extremely effective way to suffer!

* * *

" _Plenty of water._ " The Master told this story while he was at Veḷuvana ( _the Bamboo Forest Monastery in Rājagaha_ ). It is about Devadatta. One day the monks happened to be talking in the Dharma Hall about Devadatta's ingratitude and treachery to his friends when the Master came in. "Not just this one time, monks, has Devadatta been ungrateful and treacherous to his own friends. He was just the same 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 a Kāsi village. When he came of age, he married and settled down.

Now in those days there was a deep well by the highway in Kāsi-land, but there was no way to get down to it. The people who passed by the well, in order to gain merit, would draw water from it using a long rope and a bucket. Then they would fill a trough for the animals, giving the animals water to drink. All around the well there was a mighty forest where a group of monkeys lived.

It so happened that for two or three days no one drew water from the well, and the animals could get nothing to drink. A monkey who was tormented with thirst walked up and down near the well looking for water.

Now the Bodhisatta came that way on an errand. He drew water for himself, drank it, and washed his hands. Then he noticed our monkey. Seeing how thirsty he was, the Bodhisatta drew water from the well and filled the trough for him. Then he sat down under a tree to see what the creature would do.

The monkey drank, sat down near to the Bodhisatta, and made a grimacing face in order to frighten the him. "Ah, you bad monkey!" he said, "when you were thirsty and miserable, I gave you plenty of water, and now you make frightful faces at me. Well, well, help a rascal and you waste your time." And he repeated the first stanza:

"Plenty of water did I give to you

When you were chafing, hot, and thirsty too.

Now full of mischief you sit chattering,

With wicked people best have nothing to do."

Figure: The Ungrateful Monkey!

Then this spiteful monkey replied, "I suppose you think that's all I can do. Now I'll drop something on your head before I go." Then, repeating the second stanza, he went on:

"A well-conducted monkey who did ever hear or see

I leave my droppings on your head, for such my manners be."

As soon as he heard this the Bodhisatta got up to go. But at the very instant this monkey, from the branch where he sat, dropped his feces like a garland upon his head. Then he ran off into the forest shrieking. The Bodhisatta washed himself clean and went his way.

* * *

When the Master had ended this discourse he said, "It is not only now that Devadatta is like this, but in former days as well he would not acknowledge a kindness that I showed him." Then he identified the birth: "Devadatta was the monkey then, and I was the brahmin."

# 175: Ādiccupaṭṭhāna Jātaka,  
The Scoundrel

* * *

This is the third in the bad monkey series. Apparently monkeys had a very bad name during the Buddha's time! My own experience is quite different. When I visited Jetavana Park, there were two kinds of monkeys there. They were very well behaved, and they seemed to be completely comfortable with those of us who meditated there.

* * *

" _There is no tribe._ " The Master told this while he was at Jetavana. It is about a scoundrel.

* * *

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was reigning in Benares, the Bodhisatta was born into a brahmin family from Kāsi. When he came of age, he went to Takkasilā University, and there he completed his education. Then he went to the Himalaya and embraced the holy life. He cultivated the Five Faculties ( _1) faith/confidence, 2) energy, 3) mindfulness, 4) concentration/samadhi and 5) wisdom/insight_ ) and the Attainments ( _Jhānas_ ), and he became the teacher of a large group of pupils.

He stayed there for a long time until finally he needed to buy salt and seasonings. He went down from the highlands to a border village where he stayed in a leaf-hut. When the recluses were out seeking alms, a mischievous monkey used to enter the hermitage and turn everything upside down. He would spill the water out of the jars, smash the jugs, and finish by making a mess in the place where the fire was.

When the monsoon season ended, the recluses decided to go back to the mountains, and they took leave of the villagers. "At present," they thought, "the flowers and fruit are ripening on the mountains." The villagers said to them, "Tomorrow we will come to your huts with alms, and you will eat before you go."

So on the next day they brought plenty of food and drink. The monkey thought to himself, "I'll trick these people into giving me some food too." So he pretended to be someone holy seeking alms. He stood near to the recluses worshipping the sun. When the people saw him, they thought, "Holy are they who live with the holy," and they repeated the first stanza:

"There is no tribe of animals with such a virtuous one.

See how this poor monkey here stands worshipping the sun!"

In this way the people praised the monkey's virtues. But the Bodhisatta, observing it, replied, "You don't know the ways of a mischievous monkey, or you would not praise one who deserves no praise," adding the second stanza:

"You praise this creature's character because you know him not.

He has defiled the sacred fire, and broke each waterpot."

Figure: The Rascally Monkey

When the people heard what a rascally monkey it was, they seized sticks and rocks and they pelted him, and they gave their alms to the recluses. The sages returned to the Himalaya, and without once interrupting their meditative bliss they were reborn at last in Brahma's heaven.

* * *

At the end of this discourse, the Master identified the birth: "This scoundrel was the monkey of those days. The Buddha's followers were the company of recluses, and I was their leader."

# 176: Kalāya-muṭṭhi Jātaka,  
A Handful of Peas

* * *

Ah, those poor monkeys. They certainly get rough treatment here in the next installment of The Bad Monkeys series. But here the monkey is not so much bad as foolish.

* * *

" _A foolish monkey._ " The Master told this story while he was at Jetavana. It is about a King of Kosala.

One rainy season, rebellions broke out on his borders. The troops stationed there, after two or three battles in which they failed to conquer their adversaries, sent a message to the King. In spite of the season and in spite of the rains, he took the field. He encamped before Jetavana Park. Then he began to think, "It is a bad season for a military campaign. Every crevice and hollow is full of water. The road is muddy. I'll go visit the Master. He will be sure to ask 'where are you going?' Then I will tell him. It is not only in events of the future life that our Master protects me, but he protects in the things which we see now. So if my campaign is not to prosper, he will say 'It is a bad time to go, Sire.' But if I am to succeed, he will say nothing." So he went into the park, and after greeting the Master, he sat down on one side.

( _It was a common belief in India at that time that priests and holy men could see the future. The King of Kosala apparently did not know much about the Buddha's teaching or he would never have thought to ask him about a military campaign._ )

"From where do you come, Oh King," the Master asked, "at this unseasonable hour?"

"Sir," he replied, "I am on my way to subdue a border uprising, and I came first to bid you farewell."

To this the Master said, "So it happened before, that mighty monarchs, before setting out for war, have listened to the word of the wise, and turned back from an unseasonable expedition." Then, at the King's request, he told this story from the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was reigning in Benares, he had a counselor who was his right-hand man. He gave the King advice on all things spiritual and secular.

There was a rebellion on the frontier, and the troops who were stationed there sent the King a message. The King then started out even though it was the rainy season. He made camp in his park. And there the Bodhisatta stood before the King.

The soldiers had steamed some peas for the horses and poured them out into a trough. One of the monkeys that lived in the park jumped down from a tree, filled his mouth and hands with the peas, and then leapt back up again, sitting down in a tree to eat.

As he ate, one pea fell from his hand onto the ground. He climbed down from the tree to look for the lost pea, but in doing so, he dropped all of the other peas. He looked and looked but he could not find the single pea that he had dropped, and now he had also lost all of the other peas. So he climbed up his tree again, and sat still - very glum - looking like someone who had lost 1,000 gold coins in some lawsuit.

Figure: The Sad and Foolish Monkey

The King observed what the monkey had done and pointed it out to the Bodhisatta. "Friend, what do you think of that?" he asked, to which the Bodhisatta replied, "King, this is what fools do. They spend 100 gold coins to win one silver one." And he went on to repeat the first stanza:

"A foolish monkey, living in the trees,

Oh King, when both his hands were full of peas,

Has thrown them all away to look for one.

There is no wisdom, Sire, in such as these."

Then the Bodhisatta approached the King and addressed him again, repeated the second stanza:

"Such are we, Oh mighty monarch, such all those that greedy be,

Losing much to gain a little, like the monkey and the pea."

On hearing this the King turned around and went straight back to Benares. But the rebels were told that the King had left his capital to destroy his enemies, so they hurried away from the borders.

* * *

At the time when this story was told, the rebels ran away in the same fashion. The King, after listening to the Master's lesson, rose and took his leave, and he went back to Sāvatthi.

The Master, after this discourse was at an end, identified the birth: "In those days Ānanda was the King, and I was the wise counselor."

# 177: Tiṇḍuka Jātaka,  
The (Black and White) Ebony Tree

* * *

Finally! A story in which a monkey is the hero! Yay!

* * *

" _All around us see them stand._ " The Master told this is a story while he was at Jetavana. It is about perfect knowledge. Just as in the Mahābodhi Birth ( _Jātaka 528_ ), and the Ummagga Birth ( _Jātaka 546_ ), when he heard his own wisdom praised, he remarked, "Not only now is the Buddha wise, but he was wise and resourceful in the past as well," and he told this story from the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was the King in Benares, the Bodhisatta was born as a monkey. He lived with a community of 80,000 monkeys in the Himalaya. Not far from where they lived there was a village which was sometimes inhabited and sometimes empty. And in the midst of this village was a tiṇḍuka tree ( _a "Diospyros Embryopteris," or "black and white ebony" tree_ ). It had sweet fruit, and it was covered with twigs and branches. When the village was empty, all the monkeys used to go there and eat the fruit.

Once when the tree was full of fruit, the village was full of people. The village was surrounded by a bamboo palisade, and the gates were guarded. The tiṇḍuka tree stood with its boughs bending beneath the weight of the fruit. The monkeys began to wonder, "There's a village where we used to get fruit to eat. I wonder if that tree has fruit on it or no, and are there people in the village or not?"

They decided to send a scout monkey to spy. He found that there was fruit on the tree, and that the village was crammed with people. When the monkeys heard that there was fruit on the tree, they were determined to get that sweet fruit to eat. Working up their courage, a crowd of them went and told their chief. The chief asked whether the village was full or empty?

"Full," they said.

"Then you must not go," he said, "because men are very deceitful."

"But, sire," they said, "we'll go at midnight when everybody is fast asleep, and then we will eat!"

So this great company obtained permission from great their chief. They went down from the mountains and waited nearby until the people went to bed. In the middle watch of the night, they climbed the tree and began to eat the fruit.

A man got up in the night for some purpose. He went out into the village, and there he saw the monkeys. At once he sounded the alarm. The people ran out armed with bows and arrows or holding any sort of weapon that came to hand. They surrounded the tree. "When dawn comes," they thought, "we will have them!"

The 80,000 monkeys saw these people, and were scared to death. They thought, "There is no one who can help us except for our chief." So they went to him and recited the first stanza:

"All around us see them stand, warriors armed with bow and quiver,

All around us, sword in hand, who is there who can deliver?"

At this the monkey chief answered, "Fear not. Human beings have plenty to do. It is the middle watch now. There they stand, thinking, 'We'll kill them!' But we will find some way to hinder this business of theirs." And to console the monkeys he repeated the second stanza:

"Men have many things to do. Something will disperse the meeting.

See what still remains for you. Eat, while fruit is left for eating."

The Great Being comforted the monkey troop. If they had not had this crumb of comfort their hearts would have broken and they would have perished. When the Great Being had consoled the monkeys, he cried, "Assemble all the monkeys together!" But in assembling them, there was one they could not find. It was his nephew, a monkey named "Senaka." So they told him that Senaka was not with the group. "If Senaka is not here," he said, "have no fear. He will find a way to help you."

Now when the monkey troop had gathered together, Senaka had been asleep. Later he woke up, and he did not see anyone near him. So he followed their tracks, and by and bye he saw all the people down below. "There is some danger for our troop," he thought. Just then he saw - in a hut on the outskirts of the village - an old woman. She was fast asleep in front of a fire. Pretending that he was a village child going out to the fields, Senaka seized a burning piece of wood. And standing well to the windward side, he set fire to the village. Then the men all left the monkeys, and fled back to put out the fire. So the monkeys scampered away, and each one of them brought a fruit for Senaka.

Figure: Senaka Saves the Day!

* * *

When the Master had finished this discourse, he identified the birth: "Mahānāma Sakka was the nephew 'Senaka' of those days. The Buddha's followers were the monkey troop, and I was their chief." ( _Mahānāma Sakka was a cousin of the Buddha's. There is a discourse in the Aṇguttara Nikāya called "The Mahānāma Sakka Sutta" [AN 3.73]. It was told to Mahānāma Sakka by Ānanda._ )

# 178: Kacchapa Jātaka,  
The Tortoise

* * *

This is a story with some not-so-subtle Buddhist themes. First and foremost, it is a story about being practical. While of course Buddhism is a mystical tradition, it is also compellingly practical. But this story is also about Buddhism's old friends: craving, clinging, and attachment.

* * *

" _Here was I born._ " The Master told this story while he was Jetavana. It is about how a man overcame malaria.

Malaria once broke out in a family from Sāvatthi. The parents said to their son, "Don't stay in this house, son. Make a hole in the wall and escape somewhere and save your life. ( _The belief was that malaria was caused by a spirit who would guard the door. The hole in the wall was a way to escape from it._ ) Then come back again. There is a great hoard of treasure buried here. Dig it up, restore the family fortunes, and have a happy life."

The young fellow did as he was told. He broke through the wall and made his escape. When the disease had run its course, he returned and dug the treasure up, and he used it to establish his household.

One day, laden with oil and ghee, clothes and other offerings, he went to Jetavana. There he greeted the Master and took his seat. The Master entered into a conversation with him. "We hear," he said, "that you had disease in your house. How did you escape it?" He told the Master all about it. The Master said, "In days gone by, as now, friend layman, when danger arose, there were people who were too fond of home to leave it. As a result they perished, while those who were not afraid to leave went elsewhere and saved themselves." And then at his request the Master told this story from the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was reigning in Benares, the Bodhisatta was born in a village as a potter's son. He worked at the potter's trade, and he had a wife and family to support.

At that time there lay a great natural lake close to the great river of Benares. When there was a lot of water, the river and lake merged into one body of water, but when the water was low, they were distinct.

Now fish and tortoises know by their instincts when the year will be rainy and when there will be a drought. So at the time of our story the fish and the tortoises that lived in that lake knew there would be a drought. So when the river and the lake were one water, they swam out of the lake into the river. But there was one tortoise who would not go into the river because, he said, "I was born here, and here I have grown up. Here is my parents' home. I cannot leave it!"

When the hot season came all of the water dried up. He dug a hole and buried himself, right in the place where the Bodhisatta got his clay. One day when the Bodhisatta went to get some clay, he dug down with a big shovel until he cracked the tortoise's shell. He turned him over on the ground as though he were a large piece of clay. In his agony the creature thought, "Here I am, dying, all because I was too attached to my home to leave it!" and in the words of these verses he bemoaned:

"Here was I born, and here I lived. My refuge was the clay.

And now the clay has played me false in a most grievous way.

You, you I call, O potter. Now hear what I have to say!

"Go where you can find happiness, wherever the place may be,

Forest or village, there the wise both home and birthplace see.

Go where there's life. Don't stay at home for death to master thee."

Figure: Too Attached, and Now, Too Dead

So he went on and on, talking to the Bodhisatta until he died. The Bodhisatta picked him up. He gathered all the villagers together and addressed them, "Look at this tortoise. When the other fish and tortoises went into the great river, he was too attached to his home to go with them. He buried himself in the place where I get my clay. Then as I was digging for clay, I broke his shell with my big shovel, and turned him out on the ground believing that he was a large lump of clay. He told me what he had done, lamenting his fate in two verses of poetry. Then he died. So you see he came to his end because he was too attached to his home. Take care not to be like this tortoise. Don't say to yourselves, 'I have sight, I have hearing, I have smell, I have taste, I have touch, I have a son, I have a daughter, I have numbers of men and maids for my service, I have precious gold.' Do not cling to these things with craving and desire. Each being passes through three stages of existence" ( _birth, death, rebirth_ ).

In this way he exhorted the crowd with the skill of a Buddha. The discourse was spread all over India, and it was remembered for 7,000 years. The whole village lived in accordance with his teaching. They gave alms and did good deeds until they were reborn in the heavenly realms.

* * *

When the Master finished telling this story, he taught the Four Noble Truths. At the conclusion of the teaching the young man was established in the Fruit of the First Path ( _stream-entry_ ). Then the Master identified the birth: "Ānanda was the tortoise, and I was the potter."

# 179: Satadhamma Jātaka,  
The Story of Satadhamma

* * *

This is a very curious story. It feels like it came from a later time when Brahminism (early Hinduism) and Buddhism has started to merge together. This happened especially in Vajrayana Buddhism (Tibetan Buddhism), which fused together elements of Brahminism, Buddhism, and animism. The story defends the practice of high caste people not accepting anything from a low cast person, which is most definitely not a teaching of the Buddha. The Buddha's Saṇgha was open to all people (including women!), and all were treated as equals.

Despite this religious fusion, the purpose of this story may be to inform lay people about some of the violations of the monastic code. One of the responsibilities of lay people is to ensure that the monastics are behaving properly. If the monastics misbehave, the lay people have recourse by withholding the requisites. It's a system of checks and balances.

It is also strange that the Bodhisatta is from the low caste, but is not given any respect.

* * *

" _What a trifle._ " The Master told this story while he was at Jetavana. It is about the 21 unlawful ways of acquiring the requisites.

At one time there were a great many monks who used to earn a living as physicians, or runners ( _doing errands on foot_ ), exchanging alms for alms ( _storing food overnight_ ), and so on, the 21 unlawful callings. All this will be set forth in the Sāketa Birth ( _Jātaka 238. However Jātaka 238 simply refers to Jātaka 68_ ). When the Master found out what they were doing, he said, "Now there are a great many monks who are violating the monastic code. Those who do these things will not escape birth as goblins or disembodied spirits. They will become beasts of burden. They will be born in hell. For their benefit and blessing it is necessary to give a discourse that makes its meaning clear and plain."

So he gathered the Saṇgha together, and said, "Monks, you must not acquire the requisites ( _food, clothing, shelter, and medicine_ ) by the 21 unlawful methods. Food won unlawfully is like a piece of red-hot iron, like a deadly poison. These unlawful actions are blamed and rebuked by disciples of all Buddhas and Pacceka-Buddhas ( _"Solitary" or non-teaching Buddha_ ). For those who eat food gained by unlawful means there is no laughter and no joy. Food obtained in this way, in my teaching, is like the garbage of the lowest caste. To take it, for a disciple of the true Dharma, is like taking the waste of the vilest of mankind." And with these words, he told this story from the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was the King of Benares, the Bodhisatta was born as the son of a man of the lowest caste. When he grew up, he left his home on a journey, taking some rice grains in a basket for his food.

At that time there was a young fellow in Benares. His name was Satadhamma. He was the son of a powerful person, a northern brahmin. He also left on a journey, but he did not take rice grains or even a basket. The two met on the highway. The young brahmin said to the other, "What caste are you from?"

He replied, "Of the lowest. And what caste are you from?"

"Oh, I am a northern brahmin."

"All right, let us travel together." And so they did.

When breakfast time came, the Bodhisatta sat down where there was some nice water. He washed his hands and opened his basket. "Will you have some?" he said.

"Tut, tut," Satadhamma said. "I don't want any of your low caste food."

"All right," the Bodhisatta said.

Careful to waste nothing, he put as much as he wanted in a leaf, fastened up his basket, and ate. Then he took a drink of water, washed his hands and feet, and picked up the rest of his rice and food. "Come along, young sir," he said, and they started off again on their journey.

All day they tramped along, and in the evening they both had a bath in some nice water. When they came out, the Bodhisatta sat down in a nice place, undid his parcel, and began to eat. This time he did not offer any food to Satadhamma. The young gentleman was tired from walking all day. He was hungry to the bottom of his soul. He stood there looking on and thinking, "If he offers me anything, I'll take it." But the Bodhisatta ate away without a word.

"This low fellow," Satadhamma thought, "eats every scrap without a word. Well, I'll ask for a piece. I can throw away the outside, which is defiled and eat the rest."

And so he did. He ate what was left. But as soon as he had eaten, he thought, "How I have disgraced my birth, my clan, my family! Why, I have eaten the leavings of a low born peasant!"

He felt so disgraced that he threw up the food, and blood came with it. "Oh, what a wicked thing I have done," he cried, "all for the sake of a trifle!" And he said these words of the first stanza:

"What a trifle! and his leavings! given too against his will!

And I am a highborn brahmin, and the stuff has made me ill!"

Thus did the young gentleman lament, adding, "Why did I do such a wicked thing just for life's sake?" He plunged into the jungle, and never let anyone see him again. There he died forlorn.

Figure: He Died Forlorn

* * *

When this story ended, the Master repeated, "Just as the young brahmin, monks, after eating the leavings of a low-caste man, found that neither laughter nor joy was for him because he had taken improper food. So whoever seeks liberation and gains the requisites by unlawful means, when he eats the food and supports his life in any way that is blameworthy and disapproved by the Buddha, will find that there is no laughter and no joy for him." Then, becoming perfectly serene, he repeated the second stanza:

"He that lives by being wicked, he that cares not if he errs,

Like the brahmin in the story, has no joy with his affairs."

When this discourse was concluded, the Master taught the Four Noble Truths, at the conclusion of which many monks attained stream-entry. Then the Buddha identified the birth, saying, "At the time of the story I was the low-caste man."

# 180: Duddada Jātaka,  
Easy to Give

* * *

This is a lovely and simple story about the joy of giving.

Ajahn Brahm of Bodhinyana Monastery in Australia was once asked by a lay follower how could he learn to feel the joy of giving more. Ajahn Brahm said that one way to do that is to look at the inspiring stories of other people who give. He went on to tell several stories of giving that are very inspirational.

One of them is about a young teenage girl from Thailand. She was very poor and lived in a poor village there. She was also brain damaged from birth, and she could not speak. But the villagers looked after her, and she was very devoted to the temple and the monks.

One day Ajahn Brahm was sweeping the back of the temple, and he sensed that someone had snuck in. He thought maybe the temple was being robbed. So he very quietly peeked around the corner, and there he saw this young girl. She was looking around cautiously to see if anyone was watching. Then she went up to the alter, put something there, and then turned around and ran out the door.

Ajahn Brahm went up to the altar to see what she had put there. What he saw was a very crudely made origami lotus flower. She was probably embarrassed that anyone would know who had made it. But she had made this gift from the goodness of her heart. It was the best that she could do, and it was the most that she could give.

This is the joy that comes from a kind and generous heart. And of course Ajahn Brahm made sure that none of the other monks removed that lotus flower from the altar.

* * *

" _It is hard to do as good people do._ " The Master told this story while he was at Jetavana. It is about alms given in common.

Two friends from Sāvatthi - young men of good position - made a collection, providing all the necessities to give to the Buddha and his followers. They invited them all, provided for them for seven days, and on the seventh presented them with all their requisites. The eldest of these saluted the Master and said - sitting beside him – "Sir, among those who contributed, some gave much and some gave little, but let it bear much fruit for all alike." Then he offered the gift. The Master's reply was, "In giving these things to the Buddha and his followers, you, my lay friends, have done a great deed. In days of old wise men gave in the same way, and thus offered their gifts." Then at his request he told a story from the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was the King of Benares, the Bodhisatta was born into a brahmin family from Kāsi. When he grew up, he was educated at Takkasilā University, after which he renounced the world and took up the holy life. He went to live with a group of disciples in the Himalaya Mountains. He lived there for a long time.

Once he needed to procure salt and seasoning, so he went on a pilgrimage through the countryside. In due course he arrived in Benares. There he settled in the King's park. On the following morning he and his company went on alms rounds to a village outside the gates of the city. The people there gave him alms. On the next day he sought alms in the city. The people were all glad to give him alms. They got together and made a collection, and they provided plenty for the band of recluses. After the presentation their spokesman offered his gift with the same words as above. The Bodhisatta replied, "Friend, where there is faith, no gift is small." And he returned his thanks in these verses:

"It is hard to do as good folk do, to give as they can give,

Bad men can hardly imitate the life that good folk live.

"And so, when good and evil go to pass away from earth,

The bad are born in lowly realms, in heaven the good have birth."

Figure: The Bodhisatta's Thanksgiving

This was his thanksgiving. He remained there for the four months of the rains, and then returned to the Himalaya. There he practiced all the kinds of holy meditation, and without a single interruption continued in them until he passed away and was reborn in a heavenly realm.

* * *

When this discourse came to an end the Master identified the birth: "At that time," he said, "the Buddha's company was the body of recluses, and I was their leader."

# 181: Asadisa Jātaka,  
The Champion

* * *

The Buddha is often portrayed as someone who in his youth had remarkable physical skills. This story echoes that theme. However, it is very hard to know now how much of those legends are true. Later versions of the canonical literature tended to exaggerate somewhat (!) the Buddha's abilities, especially when he was younger and a member of a wealthy and powerful household. This exaggeration was probably done innocently and with "good" intentions. Nonetheless, it is hard to know how much of those stories are true. Here we see the Buddha shooting an arrow up into the heavenly realms. Yikes!

* * *

" _Prince Peerless, skilled in the archers' craft._ " The Master told this story while he was at Jetavana. It is about the Great Renunciation. The Master said, "Not only now, monks, has the Tathāgata made the Great Renunciation. In the past he also renounced the white parasol of royalty and did the same." ( _The "white parasol" is the symbol of royal authority. In other words, he renounced the throne._ ) And he told this story of the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was the King of Benares, the Bodhisatta was conceived as the son of the Queen Consort. The baby was safely delivered, and on his naming day they gave him the name of Asadisa-Kumāra, or "Prince Peerless." About the time that he was able to walk, the Queen conceived once again someone who was also to be a wise being. This baby was also safely delivered, and on the naming day they called the baby Brahmadatta-Kumāra, or "Prince Heaven-sent."

When Prince Peerless was 16 years old, he went to Takkasilā University for his education. There at the feet of a world-famous teacher he learned the Three Vedas and the Eighteen Accomplishments ( _also called the 18 vidhyasthanams_ ). In the science of archery he was peerless. And when his education was complete, he returned to Benares.

When the King was on his deathbed he commanded that Prince Peerless should succeed him and that Prince Brahmadatta would then be the heir apparent. When he died, the kingship was offered to Prince Peerless, who refused, saying that he did not want it. So they coronated Brahmadatta as King by sprinkling him with water. Peerless cared nothing for glory or power. He wanted nothing.

While the younger brother ruled, Peerless lived in royal splendor. But the slaves slandered him to his brother. "Prince Peerless wants to be the King!" they said. King Brahmadatta believed them and allowed himself to be deceived. He sent some of his men to take Prince Peerless prisoner.

One of Prince Peerless' attendants told him what was about to happen. He was angry with his brother, and he decided to go away to another country. When he arrived there, he sent word to the King that an archer was coming. "What wages does he ask?" the King asked. "100,000 gold coins a year," was the reply.

"Good," said the King. "let him enter."

Prince Peerless went into the King's presence and stood waiting. "Are you the archer?" asked the King.

"Yes, Sire."

"Very well, I take you into my service." After that Prince Peerless remained in the service of this King. But the old archers were annoyed at how much money was given to him. "It is too much," they grumbled.

One day it so happened that the King went out into his park. There, at the foot of a mango tree was a screen that had been put up in front of a stone throne. There he lay down on a magnificent couch. He happened to look up, and there - right at the treetop - he saw a cluster of mango fruit. "It is too high to climb up for," he thought. So he summoned his archers. He asked them whether they could cut off the cluster of fruit with an arrow and bring it down for him. "Oh," they said, "that will be easy. But your majesty has seen our skill often enough. The newcomer is so much better paid than we. Perhaps you might make him cut down the fruit."

Then the King sent for Prince Peerless and asked him if he could do it. "Oh yes, your Majesty, if I may choose my shooting spot."

"What place do you want?"

"The place where your couch is." The King had the couch removed and gave up his place.

Prince Peerless did not carry his bow in his hand. He carried it hidden underneath his clothing. So he needed a screen to shield him while he removed it. The King ordered a screen to be brought, and our archer went in.

He removed the white cloth which he wore on top. Then he fastened his waist band and put on a red waistcloth. From his hidden bag he took out a sword which was in pieces. He assembled it and sheathed it on his left side. Next he put on a chain mail made of gold, fastened his bow-case over his back, and took out his great rams-horn bow. It, too, was made in several pieces which he assembled. He fixed the bowstring, red as coral. He put a turban upon his head, and twirling an arrow in his fingers, he threw open the screen and came out.

He looked like a serpent prince just emerging from the ground. He went to the spot he had chosen, notched the arrow to the bowstring, and then put this question to the King. "Your Majesty," he said, "should I bring this fruit down with an upward shot or by dropping the arrow on top of it?"

"My son," the King said, "I have often seen a mark brought down by the upward shot, but I have never seen one taken by dropping an arrow on top. Make the arrow drop on top of it."

"Your Majesty," the archer said, "this arrow will fly very high. It will fly up to the heaven of the Four Great Kings, and then it will return. You must please be patient until it returns."

The King promised. Then the archer said, "Your Majesty, when I shoot this arrow, on the way up it will pierce the mango stalk exactly in the middle. When it comes down, it will not swerve so much as the width of a hair. It will hit the same spot on the way down and bring the cluster down with it."

Then he shot the arrow. As the arrow went up it pierced the exact center of the mango stalk. When the archer knew that his arrow had reached the place of the Four Great Kings, he fired another arrow with greater speed than the first. This struck the feather of the first arrow, turning it back down toward the earth. The second arrow went all the way to the heaven of the Thirty-three Gods. There the deities caught it and kept it.

The sound of the falling arrow as it split the air was like the sound of a thunderbolt. "What is that noise?" they all asked.

"That is the arrow falling," our archer replied. The bystanders were all frightened to death. They were afraid that the arrow would fall on them. But Prince Peerless comforted them. "Do not be afraid," he said. "I will make sure that it does not fall on the earth."

Down the arrow came, not off target by the width of a hair. It neatly cut through the stalk of the mango cluster. The archer caught the arrow in one hand and the fruit in the other. "We have never seen anything like that before!" the onlookers cried.

Figure: "Just showin' off!"

How they praised the great man! How they cheered and clapped and snapped their fingers, thousands of handkerchiefs waving in the air! In their joy and delight the courtiers gave presents to Prince Peerless amounting to 10 million gold coins. And the King, too, showered gifts and honors upon him like rain.

While the Bodhisatta was receiving such glory and honor at the hands of the King, seven kings, who knew that Prince Peerless was missing from Benares, set siege to the city and summoned its King to fight or yield. The King Brahmadatta was frightened out of his mind. "Where is my brother?" he asked.

"He is in the service of a neighboring King," was the reply.

"If my dear brother does not come," he said, "I am a dead man. Go, fall at his feet in my name, make peace with him, bring him here!"

His messengers went and did as they were told. Prince Peerless took leave of his master and returned to Benares. He comforted his brother and told him to fear nothing. Then wrote a message and wrapped it around the arrow. It said, "I, Prince Peerless, have returned. I mean to kill you all with one arrow which I will shoot at you. Let those who want to live make their escape."

This he shot the arrow so that it fell in the middle of a golden dish from which the seven kings were eating. When they read the message they all ran away, half-dead with fear.

Thus did our Prince put seven kings to flight without shedding even so much blood as a fly might drink. Then he looked at his younger brother, he renounced and forsook the world, cultivated the Faculties ( _1) faith/confidence, 2) energy, 3) mindfulness, 4) concentration/samadhi and 5) wisdom/insight_ ) and the Attainments ( _jhānas_ ), and at his life's end was reborn in Brahma's heaven.

* * *

"And this is the way," the Master said, "that Prince Peerless routed seven kings and won the battle, after which he took up the holy life." Then becoming perfectly serene he uttered these two verses:

"Prince Peerless, skilled in archers' craft, a gallant chief was he,

Swift as the lightning sped his shaft, great warriors' fear to be.

"Among his foes what mayhem done! Yet he hurt not a soul,

He saved his brother, and he won the grace of self-control."

When the Master ended this discourse, he identified the birth: "Ānanda was then the younger brother, and I was the elder."

# 182: Saṃgāmāvacara Jātaka,  
Engaged in Conflict

* * *

The story-in-the-present is a very famous one from the Pāli Canon. It is about the Buddha's step-brother, Nanda.

This story shows the Buddhist notion of a healthy sense of shame. Shame can be used in a positive way. It keeps us from behaving in harmful and unskillful ways.

This is another tale where the story-in-the-present rings true but the actually Jātaka does not. The story-in-the-present is straight from the Pāli Canon. But the Jātaka itself presents the elephant as a hero even though it is making war on another king's city. That does not sound like something of which the Buddha would approve. However, it is from a previous life when even the Buddha was a work-in-progress.

* * *

" _Oh Elephant, you are a hero._ " The Master told this story while he was staying at Jetavana. It is about the Elder Nanda.

The Master, on his first return to Kapilavatthu ( _the Buddha's hometown_ ), had ordained his younger brother Prince Nanda into the Saṇgha, after which he returned to Sāvatthi. Now Venerable Nanda, as he was leaving his home, saw the lovely Janapadakalyāṇī looking out of a window with her hair half combed. She said, "Why, Prince Nanda is off to be with the Master! Come back soon, dear lord!" Upon hearing this, he grew downcast and despondent, yellower and yellower, and the veins stood knotted over his skin.

When the Master learned of this he thought, "What if I can establish Nanda as an arahant?" He went to Nanda's cell and sat on the seat which was offered him.

"Well, Nanda," he asked, "are you content with our teaching?"

"Sir," replied Nanda, "I am in love with Janapadakalyāṇī, and I am not content.'

"Have you been on a pilgrimage to the Himalaya, Nanda?'

"No, sir, not yet."

"Then we will go."

"But, sir, I have no miraculous powers. How can I go?"

"I will take you, Nanda." So saying, the Master took him by the hand and flew through the air.

On the way they passed over a burned field. There, on the charred stump of a tree, with her nose and tail half gone, her hair scorched off, nothing but skin and all covered with blood, sat a female monkey.

"Do you see that monkey, Nanda?" the Master asked.

"Yes, Sir."

"Take a good look at her," he said. Then he pointed out, stretching over 300 kilometers, the uplands of Manosilā, the seven great lakes, Anotatta and the rest, the five great rivers, the whole Himalaya highlands, with the magnificent hills named of Gold, of Silver, and of Gems, and hundreds of other lovely spots. Then he asked, "Nanda, have you ever seen the realm of the Thirty-three Gods?"

"No, sir, never," was the reply.

"Come along, Nanda," he said, "and I will show you the realm of the Thirty-three Gods."

Then he went with Nanda to the Yellowstone Throne (the throne of the god "Sakka") and had him sit on it. Sakka, the King of the gods in two heavens, came with his host of gods. He greeted them and sat down on one side.

His handmaids numbered 25 million. There were 500 nymphs with doves' feet. They all came and greeted them, then they sat down on one side. The Master had Nanda look at these 500 nymphs again and again.

"Nanda" he said, "do you see these dove-footed nymphs?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, who is prettier, they or Janapadakalyāṇī?"

"Oh, sir! As that wretched ape was in comparison with Janapadakalyāṇī, so is she compared with these!"

"Well, Nanda, what are you going to do?"

"How is it possible, sir, to win these nymphs?"

"By living as a recluse, sir," the Master said, "one may win these nymphs."

The boy said, "If the Blessed One pledges his word that the life of a recluse will win these nymphs, then I will lead the life of a recluse."

"Agreed, Nanda, I pledge my word."

"Well, Sir," he said, "Let's not waste any time. Let us be off, and I will become a recluse."

The Master brought him to Jetavana back again, and Nanda began to follow the life of a recluse.

The Master told Sāriputta, the Captain of the Faith, about the promise to his younger brother about the nymphs in the realm of the Thirty-three Gods. In turn, Sāriputta told the story to Elder Mahāmoggallāna, to Elder Mahākassapa, to Elder Anuruddha, to Elder Ānanda, and so on. Eighty great disciples in all learned of the Buddha's pledge to Nanda. And then, one after another, the story spread to the entire Saṇgha.

The Captain of the Faith, Elder Sāriputta, asked Elder Nanda, "Is it true, as I hear, friend, that you have the Buddha's pledge that you will win the nymphs of the gods in the heaven of the Thirty-three by living the life as a recluse? Then," he went on, "isn't it true that your holy life is bound up with women and lust? If you live this life just for the sake of women, what is the difference between you and a common laborer for hire?"

Hearing this doused all the fire in him and made him ashamed of himself. In the same way all of the 80 chief disciples and all the rest of the Saṇgha made him feel ashamed.

"I have been wrong," he thought. In shame and remorse, he gathered up his courage and set to work cultivating his spiritual insight. Soon he became an arahant.

He went to the Master and said, "Sir, I release the Blessed One from his promise."

The Master said, "If you have become an arahant, Nanda, I am released from my promise."

When the monastics heard of this, they began to talk about it in the Dharma Hall. "How suggestible the Elder Nanda is, to be sure! Why, friend, one word of advice awakened his sense of shame. At once he began to live as a recluse and now he is an arahant!"

The Master entered the hall and asked what they were discussing. They told him. "Monastics," he said, "Nanda was just as serene in former days as he is now," and then he told them this story from the past.

* * *

Once upon a time when Brahmadatta was reigning in Benares, the Bodhisatta was born as an elephant trainer's son. When he grew up, he was carefully taught all that pertains to the training of elephants. He was in the service of a king who was an enemy to the king of Benares. He trained his king's elephant of state to perfection.

The king determined to capture Benares. Mounting his state elephant, he led a mighty army against Benares and laid siege to it. Then he sent a letter to the king of the city. It said, "Fight or yield." The king chose to fight. Walls and gates, towers and battlements were manned with a great army, and he defied the enemy.

The hostile king armed his state elephant and clad himself in armor. He took a sharp prod in his hand and drove his beast toward the city. "Now," he said, "I'll storm this city, kill my enemy, and get his realm into my control."

But then he saw the defenders. They threw boiling mud and shot stones from their catapults. All kinds of missiles rained down on them. The elephant was scared out of his wits and would not go near the city.

Then the trainer ran up crying to the elephant, "A hero like you is quite at home on the battle-field! In such a place it is disgraceful to turn tail!" And to encourage his elephant, he uttered these two verses:

"O Elephant, you the hero, whose home is in the field,

There stands the gate before you now, why do you turn and yield?

"Make haste! Break through the iron bar, and beat the pillars down!

Crash through the gates, made strong for war, and enter in the town!"

The elephant listened. One word of advice was enough to turn him. Winding his trunk about the shafts of the pillars, he tore them up like so many toadstools. He beat against the gateway, broke down the bars, and forcing his way through he entered the city and won it for his king.

Figure: The Elephant Attacks the City!

* * *

When the Master finished this discourse, he identified the birth: "In those days Nanda was the elephant, Ānanda was the king, and I was the trainer."

# 183: Vālodaka Jātaka,  
The Leftovers

* * *

This is a story about alcohol consumption. In the Jātaka Tale, the more civilized beings consume alcohol but are able to maintain their decorum, but those with undisciplined minds cannot.

This does not really resonate with the Buddha's teaching. The fifth Precept is not to consume substances that dull the mind. It is not because there is anything inherently wrong with consuming alcohol or drugs, but that intoxication so often leads to harmful behavior.

* * *

" _This sorry drink._ " The Master told this story while he was at Jetavana. It is about 500 people who drank cheap liquor.

At Sāvatthi, we learn, there were 500 people who had left the defilements of a worldly life to their sons and daughters and gone to live as lay people under the Master's preaching. Of these, some were stream-enterers, some were once-returners, and some were non-returners. So all of them had attained at least the first stage of awakening.

They had also brought with them their attendants. Thus they had 500 people waiting on them. The attendants would bring them toothbrushes, mouth-water, and garlands of flowers. These attendants used to drink cheap liquor. After their meal and a nap, they used to run down to the Aciravatī River, and on the river bank they would wrestle like Mallians ( _a tribe of professional wrestlers_ ), shouting all the time. But the 500 lay followers were quiet. They made very little noise, and they cultivated serenity.

The Master happened to hear the attendants shouting one day. "What is that noise, Ānanda?" he asked.

"The lay people's attendants. They drink cheap liquor," was the reply.

The Master said, "Ānanda, this is not the only time these attendants have drunk cheap liquor and caused a great ruckus. They used to do the same in days gone by. And likewise these lay followers were just as tranquil as they are now." So saying - at his request - the Master told this story of the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was the King of Benares, the Bodhisatta was born as the son of one of his courtiers. He became the King's adviser in all things both worldly and spiritual. Word came to the King of a revolt on the frontier. He ordered 500 cavalry horses to be made ready. The army was complete in its four parts ( _elephants, horses, chariots, and infantry_ ). With these he set out. He put down the rebellion, after which he returned to Benares.

When he got home he gave this order, "The horses are tired. Let them have some sweet fruit and some fine liquor to drink." The steeds took this delicious drink and then retired to their stables. There they stood quietly, each in his stall.

But there were leftovers from the fine fruit, skins and rinds and seeds. These leftovers had nearly all the goodness squeezed out of them. The keepers asked the King what to do with them. "Knead them up with water," he commanded. "Strain them through a towel, let the mixture ferment, and give it to the donkeys who carried the horses' fodder."

The donkeys drank up this wretched stuff. It made them go mad. They galloped about the palace yard bellowing loudly.

Figure: "It Made Them Go Mad!"

From an open window the King saw the Bodhisatta and called out to him. "Look there! See how mad these donkeys are from that sorry drink! How they bellow, how they prance about! But those fine thoroughbreds that drank the fine liquor, they make no noise. They are perfectly quiet and do not jump not at all. What is the meaning of this?" And he repeated the first stanza:

"This sorry drink, the goodness all strained out,

Drives all these donkeys in a drunken rout,

The thoroughbreds, that drank the potent juice,

Stand silent and do not prance about."

And the Bodhisatta explained the matter in the second stanza:

"The indecent, though he but taste and try,

Is frolicsome and drunken by and by.

He that is gentle keeps a steady brain

Even if he drain most potent liquor dry."

When the King had listened to the Bodhisatta's answer, he had the donkeys driven out of his courtyard. Then, abiding by the Bodhisatta's advice, he gave alms and did good until he passed away to fare according to his karma.

* * *

When this discourse was ended, the Master identified the birth as follows: "At that time these attendants were the 500 asses, these lay followers were the 500 thoroughbreds, Ānanda was the king, and I was the wise courtier."

# 184: Giridanta Jātaka,  
The Story of Giridanta

* * *

This is another story that beats up on Devadatta, but you can't help feeling a little compassion for the poor, gimpy horse trainer.

This is another story where the theme is the danger of having the wrong kind of companionship. Our "friends" can talk us into doing all kinds of stupid things that we would never do otherwise. We are like gardens. Some people water the flowers in us; others water the weeds.

* * *

" _Thanks to the horse trainer._ " The Master told this story while he was staying in Veḷuvana Park ( _the Bamboo Grove Monastery_ ). It is about keeping bad company. The circumstances have already been recounted in the Mahilāmukha Jātaka ( _Jātaka 26_ ). Again, as before, the Master said, "In former days this monk kept bad company just as he does now." Then he told this story from the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, there was a King named "Sāma the Black." He reigned in Benares. In those days the Bodhisatta was a member of a courtier's family. He grew up to be the King's advisor in all things worldly and spiritual.

Now the King had a horse of state named "Paṇḍava." His trainer was a man named "Giridanta." Giridanta was a lame man. The horse used to watch him as he limped about holding the halter. Knowing that Giridanta was his trainer, the horse imitated him and limped too.

Somebody told the King that the horse was limping. The King sent doctors to examine the horse, but they declared him to be perfectly sound physically. Then the King sent for the Bodhisatta. "Go, friend," he said, "and find out what is going on."

He soon found out that the horse was lame because he was imitating the lame trainer. So he told the King what was going on. "It's a case of bad company," he said, and went on to repeat the first stanza:

"Thanks to the groom, poor Paṇḍava is in an unsafe state.

No more displays his former ways, but needs must imitate."

"Well, now, my friend," said the King, "what's to be done?"

"Get a new horse trainer," the Bodhisatta replied, "and the horse will be as good as ever." Then he repeated the second stanza:

"Find but a fit and proper groom, on whom you can depend,

To bridle him and exercise, the horse will quickly mend.

His sorry plight will be set right; he imitates his friend."

Figure: Be Careful Who You Imitate!

So this is what the King did. The horse became as good as before. The King showed great honor to the Bodhisatta, being pleased that he knew even the ways of animals.

* * *

When the Master finished this discourse, he identified the birth: "In those days Nanda was the elephant, Ānanda was the King, and I was the trainer."

# 185: Anabhirati Jātaka,  
Discontent

* * *

One of the many themes in the Buddha's system of training is the importance of simplifying your life. This is the purpose behind the life of a monastic. Life as a lay person is inevitably muddy. This is not a hard and fast rule, of course. Some lay people have a much better understanding of the Dharma than many monks or nuns. But it is worth considering – whatever we do – whether our actions are simply making our lives more complicated. A complicated life is not a good support for establishing calm, tranquility, and serenity.

* * *

" _Thick, muddy water._ " The Master told this story while he was staying at Jetavana. It is about a young brahmin.

A young brahmin, as they say, who was from Sāvatthi, had mastered the Three Vedas. He then taught the sacred verses to a number of young brahmins and kshatriyas ( _the second highest caste, or – technically - at the time of the Buddha "varṇa"_ ). In time he settled down as a married man.

His thoughts were now busy with wealth and worldly affairs, male and female servants, lands and substance, cows and bulls, sons and daughters. He became subject to passion, error, and folly. This obscured his mindfulness so that he forgot how to repeat the texts. Now the verses were not clear in his mind.

One day this man bought some flowers and sweet scents. He took these to the Master at Jetavana Park. After his greeting, he sat down on one side. The Master talked pleasantly to him. "Well, young sir, you are a teacher of the sacred verses. Do you know them all by heart?"

"Well, sir," he replied, "I used to know them all right, but since I married my mind has been darkened, and I don't know them any longer."

"Ah, young Sir," the Master said, "just the same thing happened before. At first your mind was clear and you knew all your verses perfectly, but when your mind was obscured by passion and lust, you could no longer remember them clearly." Then at his request the Master told this story from the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was the King of Benares, the Bodhisatta was born into the family of a rich and powerful brahmin. When he grew up, he studied under a renowned teacher at Takkasilā University. There he learned all the magic charms. After returning to Benares he taught these charms to a large number of brahmin and kshatriya youths.

Among these youths was one young brahmin who had learned the Three Vedas by heart. He became a master of the ceremonies. He could repeat the whole of the sacred texts without stumbling on a single line. As time went by he married and settled down. Then household cares clouded his mind, and he could no longer repeat the sacred verses.

One day his teacher paid him a visit. "Well, young sir," he asked, "do you know all of your verses by heart?"

"Since, I have been the head of a household," the brahmin replied, "my mind has been clouded and I cannot repeat them."

Figure: He Can't Remember!

"My son," his teacher said, "when the mind is clouded, no matter how perfectly the scriptures have been learned, they will not stand out clearly. But when the mind is serene there is no forgetting them." And then he repeated the following two verses:

"Thick, muddy water will not show

Fish or shell or sand or gravel that may lie below.

So with a clouded wit

Not your nor other's good is seen in it.

"Clear, quiet waters ever show

All, be it fish or shell, that lies below.

So with unclouded wit

Both your and other's good shows clear in it."

* * *

When the Master finished this discourse, he taught the Four Noble Truths, at the conclusion of which the young brahmin attained stream-entry. Then he identified the birth: "In those days, this youth was the young brahmin, and I was his teacher."

# 186: Dadhi-vāhana Jātaka,  
Carried-on-the-Curds

* * *

This story has quite a few twists and turns. The main character is a man who starts out by being thrown out of his house by his parents who consider him lazy and useless. He goes on to steal a magical gem and kill three recluses. Normally this would be cause for alarm (!), but eventually we learn that he becomes a good and kind ruler. Truly not a simple tale.

The story itself has – again – the moral about keeping bad company. But in this case there is a wonderful simile. The simile is of a sweet mango tree that is spoiled by becoming entwined with a noxious, creeping vine (a "nimb tree").

* * *

" _Sweet was once the mango's flavor._ " The Master told this story while he was at Jetavana. It is about keeping bad company.

The circumstances were the same as in the last Jātaka. Again the Master said, "Monastics, bad company is evil and harmful. Why do we talk about the evil effects of bad company on human beings? In days long gone by, even a vegetable, a mango tree, whose sweet fruit was a dish fit for the gods, turned sour and bitter through the influence of a nauseating and bitter nimb tree." Then he told this story from the past. ( _The "nimb" tree is also called "Indian lilac." It is usually considered to be a weed._ )

* * *

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was reigning in Benares, four brahmin brothers who were from the land of Kāsi left the world and became recluses. They built four huts - all in a row - in the highlands of the Himalaya, and there they lived.

The eldest brother died and was reborn as Sakka ( _lord of the devas and ruler of the Tāvatiṃsa heaven_ ). Remembering who he had been in his previous life, he used to visit his brothers every seven or eight days to lend them a helping hand.

One day, he visited the eldest of the recluses, and after the usual greeting he took his seat to one side. "Well, sir, how can I serve you?" he asked. The recluse, who was suffering from jaundice, replied, "I would like to make a fire."

Sakka gave him a razor-axe. (A razor-axe is so called because it serves as razor or as an axe depending on how you fit it into the handle.) "Why," the recluse said, "who is there to get firewood for me?"

"If you want a fire, sir," Sakka replied, "all you have to do is to hit the axe with your hand and say, 'Fetch wood and make a fire!' The axe will fetch the wood and make you the fire."

After giving him this razor-axe he visited the second brother and asked him the same question, "How can I serve you, sir?" Now there was an elephant track by his hut, and the creatures annoyed him. So he told Sakka that he was annoyed by elephants and wanted them to be driven away. Sakka gave him a drum. "If you beat on this side, sir," he explained, "your enemies will run away. But if you strike the other side, they will become your firm friends and will surround you with a fourfold army." ( _elephants, cavalry, chariots, and infantry_ ) Then he handed him the drum.

Finally he made a visit to the youngest brother, and he asked - as before - how he could serve him. He too had jaundice and what he said was, "Please give me some milk curds." Sakka gave him a milk bowl with these words, "Turn this over if you want anything, and a great river will pour out of it and will cause a flood. It will even be able to win a kingdom for you." With these words he departed.

After this the first brother used the axe to make a fire. The second brother beat on one side of his drum to drive the elephants away. And the youngest brother had his curds to eat.

About this time a wild boar that lived in an abandoned village discovered a gem that had magic power. Picking up the gem in his mouth, he rose into the air by its magic. From afar he could see an island in the middle of the ocean, and he decided to live there. He flew there and descended onto a pleasant spot beneath a mango tree. There he made his home. One day he fell asleep under the tree. The jewel was lying just in front of him.

Now a certain man from the Kāsi country, who had been thrown out of his house by his parents as an idle and worthless person, had made his way to a seaport. There he signed onto a ship as a common sailor. In the middle of the sea the ship wrecked. He floated on a plank to this island. As he wandered in search of fruit, he saw our boar fast asleep. Quietly he crept up, seized the gem, and found himself magically rising through the air! He landed on the mango tree and thought, "The magic of this gem has taught the boar to be a sky-walker. I suppose that is how he got here. Well! I will kill him and make a meal of him first. Then I'll be off."

So he snapped off a twig and dropped it on the boar's head. The boar woke up, and seeing no gem, ran around frantically. The man up in the tree laughed. The boar looked up, and seeing the man banged his head against the tree and killed himself.

The man came down, lit a fire, cooked the boar and ate his meal. Then he rose up into the sky and set out on his journey.

As he passed over the Himalaya, he saw the recluses' settlement. So he descended and spent several days in the eldest brother's hut. There he was entertaining and entertained, and he found out about the magic of the axe. He made up his mind to get it for himself. So he showed our recluse the magic of his gem and offered to exchange it for the axe. The recluse yearned to be able to fly through the air and struck the bargain.

The man took the axe and started to leave. But before he had gone very far, he struck it and said, "Axe! Smash that recluse's skull and bring the gem back to me!" Off flew the axe, splitting open the recluse's skull. Then it brought the gem back.

Then the man hid the axe and paid a visit to the second brother. He stayed with him for a few days and soon discovered the power of his drum. Then he exchanged his gem for the drum, as before, and as before made the axe cleave the second brother's skull. Then he went to the youngest of the three recluses where he found out about the power of the milk-bowl. He gave his jewel in exchange for it, and as before sent his axe to split the man's skull. Thus he was now the owner of the jewel, the axe, the drum, and the milk-bowl.

Now he rose up and passed through the air. Stopping near Benares, he wrote a letter that he sent by messenger that the King must either fight him or surrender. When he received this message the King sent out his troops to "seize the scoundrel." But he beat on one side of his drum and was promptly surrounded by a fourfold army. When he saw that the King had deployed his forces, he then overturned the milk-bowl and a great river poured forth. A huge number of men were drowned in the river of curds. Next he struck his axe. "Fetch me the King's head!" he cried. Away went the axe, and it came back and dropped the head at his feet. No one could raise a hand against him.

Surrounded by his mighty army, he entered the city. He anointed himself as King under the title "King Dadhi-vāhana," or "Carried-on-the-Curds," and he ruled righteously.

One day, as the King was amusing himself by casting a net into the river, he caught a mango fruit. It had floated down from Lake Kaṇṇamuṇḍa and was fit for the gods. It was a huge fruit, as big as a basin. It was round and golden in color. The King asked what the fruit was. The foresters told him that it was a mango. He ate it and had the stone planted in his park where it was watered with milk-water.

The tree sprouted up, and in three years it bore fruit. The tree was treated like a royal treasure. Milk-water was poured all around it. It was sprayed with five different types of perfume. It was decorated with colorful wreaths of flowers. A lamp was kept burning. It was fueled with scented oil. And all round the tree was a screen of the finest cloth. The fruit was sweet and had the color of fine gold.

King Dadhi-vāhana would send presents of these mangoes to other kings. However, he would prick the mango stones with a thorn so that they could not sprout. The kings always planted the stones, but they could never get them to take root. They wondered why this was and eventually discovered what the reason was.

One of those kings asked his gardener whether he knew how to ruin the flavor of the fruit and turn it bitter. Yes, the man said he could. So his king gave him 1,000 gold coins and sent him to Benares do this deed.

As soon as he arrived in Benares, the man sent a message to the King that a gardener had come. The King admitted him to his presence. After the man saluted him, the King asked, "You are a gardener?" "Yes, Sire," the man said, and he began to sing his own praises. "Very well," the King said, "you may go and assist my park keeper." So after that the two of them tended the royal grounds.

The newcomer managed to make the park look more beautiful by forcing flowers and fruit out of their season. This pleased the King so much that he dismissed the former park keeper and put the gardener in sole charge of the park. No sooner had this man gotten control of the park then he planted nimb trees and creepers around the mango tree. In time the nimb trees sprouted up. Above and below, root with root and branch with branch, the nimb trees became entangled with the mango tree. Thus this tree, with its sweet fruit, grew as noxious and sour as the leaves of the nimb tree. As soon as the gardener knew that the fruit had gone bitter, he took to his heels and ran away.

Figure: The Nefarious Gardener and His Poison Vines

One day King Dadhi-vāhana went for a walk in his pleasure garden. He picked one of the mangoes and took a bite from it. The juice in his mouth tasted like a nasty nimb leaf! He coughed and spat it out.

Now at that time the Bodhisatta was his worldly and spiritual advisor. The King turned to him and said, "Wise sir, this tree is as carefully cared for as ever, and yet its fruit has gone bitter. What's the meaning of this?" And he repeated the first stanza:

"Sweet was once the mango's taste, sweet its scent, its color gold.

What has caused this bitter flavor? For we want it as of old."

The Bodhisatta explained the reason in the second stanza:

"Round about the trunk entwining, branch with branch, and root with root,

See the bitter creeper climbing? That is what has spoiled your fruit.

And so you see bad company will make the better follow suit."

On hearing this the Bodhisatta ordered that all the nimb trees and creepers be removed, their roots pulled up, and the noxious soil taken away. Sweet earth was put in its place. The tree was carefully fed with sweet water, milk-water, and scented water. Then by absorbing all this sweetness its fruit grew sweet again. The King put his former park keeper back in charge, and after his life was over he passed away to fare according to his karma.

* * *

After this discourse ended, the Master identified the birth, "In those days I was the wise counselor."

# 187: Catumaṭṭaa Jātaka,  
The Foolish Upstart

* * *

There are many stories in the Pāli Canon about upstarts, people who thought they knew more than the greatest arahants. Sometimes they thought they knew more than the Buddha. This is one such story. You probably know of a case where someone who was an expert was treated as inferior by someone who clearly knew nothing. In those case it is best to say nothing, or – as happens here – to simply walk away. Fools do not usually know they are fools. In fact, studies show that often it is the fools who are the most opinionated. People who are very confident in their opinions tend to be the most ignorant.

* * *

" _Sit and sing._ " The Master told this story while he was staying at Jetavana. It is about an elder monk.

Once, we are told, the two chief disciples ( _Sāriputta and Moggallāna_ ) were sitting together answering questionings. An elder monk walked up to them. He sat down and said, "I have a question too, sirs, which I would like to ask you, and if you have any difficulty, you may put the question to me." Sāriputta and Moggallāna were disgusted. They got up and left. The people who had listened to the Elders' discourse then went to the Master. He asked why they were there. They told him what had happened. He replied, "This is not the first time, brothers and sisters, that Sāriputta and Moggallāna have been disgusted with this man and left without a word. It was just the same in days gone by." And he proceeded to tell them a story of the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was the King of Benares, the Bodhisatta became a tree sprite who lived in a forest. Two young geese flew down from Mount Cittakūṭa and perched on this tree. They flew about in search of food, returned back again, and after resting for a while they flew back to their mountain home.

As time went on, the sprite struck up a friendship with them. Coming and going, they were great friends. They used to talk of different beliefs to one another before they parted.

It so happened that one day, as the birds sat on the treetop talking with the Bodhisatta, a jackal halted at the foot of the tree. He addressed the young geese with the words of the following stanza:

"Sit and sing upon the tree

If in private you would be.

Sit upon the ground, and sing

Verses to your jackal king!"

Filled with disgust, the young geese took off and flew back to Cittakūṭa. When they were gone, the Bodhisatta repeated the second stanza for the jackal's benefit:

"This bird here to that bird sings,

Lofty such discussion brings.

Defective beast, you must then

Go back into your hole again!"

Figure: "Back Into Your Hole Again!"

* * *

When the Master had ended this discourse, he identified the birth: "In those times the old man was the jackal. Sāriputta and Moggallāna were the two young geese, and I was the tree-sprite."

# 188: Sīhakoṭṭhuka Jātaka,  
The Lion and the Jackal

* * *

So many of these ancient stories from many cultures are metaphors. This story has the same theme as the last one. It is about someone who wants to be something that he isn't. A somewhat more subtle way to put it is that he wants the status of a position without doing the work required to earn that status.

* * *

" _Lion's claws and lion's paws._ " The Master told this is a story while he was at Jetavana. It is about a man named "Kokālika." They say that one day Kokālika heard a number of wise monastics teaching the Dharma. He wanted to be a teacher himself. All the rest is just as told in the previous tale. Once again when the Master heard about this he said, "This is not the only time that Kokālika has shown what he was worth by means of his own voice. The very same thing happened before." And he told this story of the past.

* * *

Once on a time, when Brahmadatta was the King of Benares, the Bodhisatta was a lion in the Himalaya Mountains. He had a cub by a she jackal who mated with him. The cub was just like his father in toes, claws, mane, color, and figure. But his voice was like that of his mother.

One day, after a shower of rain, all the lions were frolicking together and roaring. The cub thought that he would like to roar too, but he just yelped like a jackal. On hearing him all the lions fell silent at once! Another cub of the same father, own brother of this one, heard the sound, and said, "Father, that lion is like us in color and everything except for his voice. Who is he?" In asking the question he repeated the first stanza:

"Lion's claws and lion's paws,

Lion's feet to stand upon,

But the bellow of this fellow

Sounds not like a lion's son!"

In response the Bodhisatta said, "It's your brother, the jackal's cub. He is like me in form, but in voice he is like his mother." Then he gave a word of advice to the other cub, "My dear son, as long as you live here keep a quiet tongue in your head. If you give voice again, they'll all know that you are a jackal." To drive the point home he repeated the second stanza:

"All will see what kind you be

If you yelp as once before.

So don't try it, but keep quiet,

Yours is not a lion's roar."

And after this advice the creature never again tried to roar.

Figure: The Lion's... Woof?

* * *

When the Master had finished this discourse, he identified the birth: "In those days Kokālika was the jackal, Rahula was the brother cub, and I was the king of beasts."

# 189: Sīhacamma Jātaka,  
The Lion Skin

* * *

In this story our old friend Kokālika is frightened, and in so doing uses poor judgment that leads to his demise!

* * *

" _Neither lion, nor tiger I see._ " This story, like the last, is about Kokālika. It was told by the Master while he was at Jetavana. This time he wanted to chant. The Master, on hearing of it, told the following story.

* * *

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was reigning in Benares, the Bodhisatta was born into a farmer's family. When he grew up he earned his living by cultivating the land.

At the same time there was a merchant who used to go about selling goods. He had a donkey who carried them around for him. Wherever he went, he took his bundle off of the donkey, threw a lionskin over him, and then turned him loose in the rice and barley fields. When the watchmen saw the animal, they thought he was a lion and so dared not come near him.

One day this trader stopped at a certain village, and while his breakfast was being cooked, he turned the donkey loose in a barley field with the lionskin on. The watchman thought it was a lion. He dared not go near him, and he fled home and sounded the alarm. All the villagers armed themselves and hurried to the field, shouting and blowing on horns and beating drums. The donkey was frightened out of his wits and gave a loud hee-haw! Then the Bodhisatta, seeing that it was a donkey, repeated the first stanza:

"Neither lion nor tiger I see,

Not even a leopard is he.

But a donkey - the wretched old hack!

With a lionskin over his back!"

As soon as the villagers learned that it was only a donkey, they battered him until they broke his bones, and then they went off with the lionskin. When the merchant appeared and found that his donkey had been beaten, he repeated the second stanza:

"The donkey, if he had been wise,

Might long the green barley have eaten,

A lionskin was his disguise,

But he gave a hee-haw and got beaten!"

Figure: The Lionskin Disguise Discovered

As he was in the act of uttering these words, the donkey died. The merchant left him and went on his way.

* * *

After this discourse was ended, the Master identified the birth: "At that time Kokālika was the ass, and I was the wise farmer."

# 190: Sīlānisaṃsa Jātaka,  
The Fruits of Virtue

* * *

So often we see the Buddha emphasize the important of good friendship! We are all gardens, with weeds and flowers, admirable and not-so-admirable qualities. Some people water our flowers, and some water our weeds.

This is a lovely, particularly fantastic tale of devotion and faith. This is a part of Buddhism that is not very popular in the west. We love our doubt and skepticism. But faith alone – the Pāli Canon tells us – can lead to awakening. Faith becomes the self-fulfilling prophecy. And if all you have is doubt and skepticism, you will never reach the far shore.

* * *

" _Behold the fruit of faith._ " The Master told this story while he was staying at Jetavana. It is about a layman with great faith. He was a faithful, devoted person, and an admirable disciple.

One evening when he was on his way to Jetavana, he came to a bend in the river Aciravatī. Ferrymen had pulled their boat up onto the shore in order to service it. There were no other boats at the landing to carry him across the river. But our friend's mind was so full of delightful thoughts of the Buddha, he walked right into the river. But his feet never sank into the water. He got as far as the middle of the river walking as though he were on dry land. Then his rapture was interrupted by the sound of the waves. As soon as his rapture was broken, his feet began to sink into the water. But he was able to regain his sense of rapture with thoughts of the Buddha, and in this way he continued to walk on the water to the far shore.

When he arrived at Jetavana, he greeted the Master and took a seat on one side. The Master entered into a conversation with him pleasantly. "I hope, good layman," he said, "that you did not have any mishaps on your way here."

"Oh, Sir," he replied, "when I was on my way here I was so absorbed in thoughts of the Buddha that I set foot on the river, but I walked over it as though it was dry ground!"

"Ah, friend layman," the Master said, "you are not the only one who was kept safe by remembering the virtues of the Buddha. In days gone by devoted laymen were shipwrecked in the middle of the ocean, and they saved themselves by remembering the Buddha's virtues." Then, at the man's request, he told this story of the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, in the days when Kassapa was the Supreme Buddha ( _Kassapa is the 27th of the 29 Buddhas named in the Buddhavamsa_ ), there was a disciple who had entered on the noble eightfold path. He took passage on board a ship in the company of a barber of considerable wealth. ( _This is a bit of a cultural oddity. Barbers were considered to be among those with the lowest social status in India._ ) The barber's wife had put him under the care of our friend, to look after him in better and in worse.

After they had been on the ship for a week, the ship was wrecked in the middle of the ocean. The barber and our friend clung to a plank from the wrecked ship. Finally they were cast up onto an island. There the barber killed some birds. He cooked them and offered a share of his meal to the lay brother. "No, thank you," he said, "I have had enough." He was thinking to himself, "In this place there is no help for us except the Three Jewels ( _the Buddha, the Dhamma, and the Saṇgha_ ) and so he contemplated the blessings of the Three Jewels. As he continued his contemplation, a nāgā ( _serpent god_ who had been born on the island changed his body into the shape of a great ship. The ship was filled with the seven kinds of precious things ( _gold, silver, pearl, coral, catseye, ruby, and diamond_ ). The helmsman was a Spirit of the Sea. The three masts were made of sapphire, the anchor was made of gold, the ropes were silver, and the planks were gold.

The Spirit of the Sea stood on board, crying, "Are there any passengers bound for India?"

The lay brother said, "Yes, that's where we are going."

"In with you then - on board with you!"

He went aboard, and he wanted to call to his friend the barber. "You may come," the helmsman said, "but he may not."

"Why not?"

"He is not a man of the holy life, that's why," said the Spirit. "I brought this ship for you, but not for him."

"Very well," the layman said. "The gifts that I have given, the virtues I have practiced, the powers that I have developed, I give the fruit of all of them to him!"

"I thank you, master!" the barber said.

"Now," the Spirit of the Sea said, "I can take you on board."

Figure: The Devoted Disciple and the Spirit of the Sea

So he took them both over the sea and sailed upstream to Benares. There, by his power, he created an abundance of wealth for both of them. Then he said to them, "Keep company with the wise and good. If you, barber, had not been in company of this devout layman, you would have perished in the midst of the ocean." Then he uttered these verses in praise of good company:

"Behold the fruit of sacrifice, virtue, and devotion,

A nāga as ship conveys the good man o'er the ocean.

"Make friendship only with the good, and keep good company,

Friends with the good, this barber could his home in safety see."

Thus did the Spirit of the Sea hold forth, poised in mid-air. Finally he went back to his own home taking the nāga with him.

* * *

The Master, after finishing this discourse, taught the Four Noble Truths. At the end of this discourse the devoted layman entered on the Fruit of the Second Path (once-returner), and the Master identified the birth: "Sāriputta was the nāga, and I was the Spirit of the Sea."

# 191: Ruhaka Jātaka,  
The Story of Ruhaka

* * *

I know a Buddhist monk who talks a lot about peoples' romantic relationships. He tells one particularly inspiring story of a wife who was being physically abused. But by her patience and care, she was able to transform her violent husband into a kind and gentle man.

But those kinds of stories can also be dangerous and have to be regarded with care. You have to know when discretion is the better part of valor. In this Jātaka a brahmin priest is embarrassed by his wife. And while the King urges him to forgive her, he decides that he has had enough.

* * *

" _Even a broken bowstring._ " The Master told this story while he was at Jetavana. It is about temptation arising from a former wife. The circumstances will be explained in [ _Jātaka 423_ ], in the Indriya Jātaka. Then the Master said to this monk, "That is a woman who does you harm. In former times, too, she caused you to be embarrassed before the King and his whole court, and she gave you good reason to leave your home." And then he told this story from the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, when King Brahmadatta was reigning in Benares, the Bodhisatta was born to his chief Queen. He came of age, and his father passed away. Then he became King, and he ruled righteously.

The Bodhisatta had a chaplain named Ruhaka, and this Ruhaka had an old brahmin woman as his wife.

The King gave the brahmin a horse decorated with all its trappings. As he rode along on the back of his richly adorned steed, the people on this side and that were loud in its praise. "See that fine horse!" they cried. "What a beauty!"

When he got home, he went into his mansion and told his wife what had happened.

"Good wife," he said, "Our horse is well received! Right and left the people are all speaking in praise of it."

Now his wife was very deceitful. She said to him, "Ah, husband, you do not know where the beauty of this horse truly is. It is all in his fine decorations. Now if you want to make yourself fine like the horse, put his decorations on yourself and go down into the street, prancing along like a horse. You will see the King and he will praise you, and all the people will praise you."

The brahmin was foolish enough to listen to her. He did not see that she was trying to embarrass him. So he believed her and did as she said. Everyone who saw him laughed out loud. "There goes a fine priest!" they all said. And the King shamed him. "Why, my teacher," he said, "Are you out of your mind? Are you crazy?" When he heard this the brahmin realized that he had humiliated himself and he was ashamed. He was very angry with his wife. He rushed home, saying to himself, "The woman has shamed me before the King and his entire retinue. I will reprimand her and throw her out!"

Figure: How Embarrassing

But the crafty woman found out that he was angry. She snuck out of the house by a side door. She went to the palace where she stayed four or five days. When the King discovered what had happened, he sent for his priest and said to him, "My teacher, all fools are full of faults. You ought to forgive this lady." And to encourage the brahmin to forgive his wife he uttered the first stanza:

"Even a broken bowstring can be mended and made whole.

Forgive your wife, and cherish not this anger in your soul."

Hearing this, Ruhaka uttered the second stanza:

"While there is bark and workmen too

'Tis easy to buy bowstrings new.

Another wife I will procure.

I've had enough of her, for sure."

So saying, he sent her away and took another brahmin woman as his wife.

* * *

The Master, after finishing this discourse, taught the Four Noble Truths, at the conclusion of which the tempted monk was established in the fruit of the First Path ( _stream-entry_ ). He then identified the birth: "On that occasion the former wife was the same woman. Ruhaka was the tempted monk, and I was the King of Benares."

# 192: Siri-Kāḷakaṇṇi Jātaka,  
The Luck of the Unfortunate Person

* * *

This is another Jātaka that simply references another story, in this case Jātaka 546. Jātaka 546 is reproduced in its entirety in Volume 3, Jātaka 110: Sabbasaṃhāraka-pañha Jātaka, All Collected Wisdom. Jātaka 110 is another story that simply references Jātaka 546.

* * *

" _Even though women may be fair._ " This story will be told in the Mahā Ummagga Jātaka ( _Jātaka 546_ ).

* * *

# 193: Culla Paduma Jātaka,  
The Small Lotus

* * *

This story reads more like a dime novel than a tale of morality. It includes murder, infidelity, cannibalism (!), drinking blood, and a very angry Bodhisatta.

* * *

" _'Tis I and no other._ " The Master told this story while he was at Jetavana. It is about a backsliding monk. The circumstances will be explained in the Ummadantī Birth ( _Jātaka 527_ ). When the Master asked this monk whether he was really a backslider, he replied that he was. "Who," the Master said, "has caused you to regress?" The monk replied that he had seen a flirtatious woman, and - overcome with passion - he had fallen in love with her. Then the Master said, "Brother, seductive women are all ungrateful and treacherous. Wise men of old were even so stupid as to give the blood from their own right knee for them to drink. They gave them gifts for their entire lives, and yet they did not win their hearts." And he told this story of the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, when King Brahmadatta reigned over Benares, the Bodhisatta was born as the chief Queen's son. On his naming day, they called him "Prince Paduma," the Lotus Prince. After him there were six younger brothers who were born. One after another these seven princes came of age. They married and settled down, living as the King's companions.

One day the King looked out into the palace courts, and as he looked he saw these men with a great number of followers accompanying the princes. The King suspected that they meant to kill him and seize his kingdom. So he sent for them, and after a fashion he spoke to them:

"My sons, you may not live in this town. So go elsewhere, and when I die you can return and take the kingdom that belongs to our family."

They consented to their father's words but went home weeping and wailing. "It does not matter where we go!" they cried. And taking their wives with them, they left the city and traveled along the road.

By and bye they came to a wood where they could not get any food or drink. They were in danger of starving, so they conspired to save their lives at the expense of the women. They seized the youngest brother's wife and killed her. They cut up her body into thirteen parts and ate it. But the Bodhisatta and his wife set aside one portion and ate the other between them.

They repeated this for six consecutive days. They killed and ate six of the women. And each day the Bodhisatta set one portion aside so that he had put aside six portions of food.

On the seventh day the other princes would have taken the Bodhisatta's wife to kill her. But instead he gave them the six portions that he had kept. "Eat these," he said. "Tomorrow I will manage." They did eat the flesh. And when the time came that they fell asleep, the Bodhisatta and his wife snuck off together.

When they had gone a short distance the woman said, "Husband, I can go no further." So the Bodhisatta took her on his shoulders, and at sunrise he came to the edge of the woods. She said, "Husband, I am thirsty!"

"There is no water, dear wife!" he said.

But she begged him again and again. Finally he struck his right knee with his sword and said, "There is no water. But sit down and you can drink the blood from my knee." And so she did.

By and bye they came to the mighty Ganges. They drank, they bathed, they ate all manner of fruits, and they rested in a pleasant spot. And there by a bend in the river they built a small hut and lived there.

Now it happened that a robber in the region of the Upper Ganges had been guilty of high treason. His hands and feet and nose and ears had been cut off. He was put in a boat and left to drift down the great river. He floated to where the hut was, groaning with pain.

The Bodhisatta heard his pitiful wailing. He went to the river bank and saved the man. He brought him to the hut and tended to his wounds with astringent lotions and ointments.

But his wife said to herself, "Here is a lazy fellow he has fetched out of the Ganges, and now we have to look after him!" And she walked around spitting disgust at the unfortunate fellow.

Now while the man's wounds were healing, the Bodhisatta had him living there in the hut along with his wife. He brought fruits of all kinds from the forest to feed both him and the woman. And as they lived there together, the woman fell in love with the fellow and started having an affair with him. She wanted to get rid of the Bodhisatta and said to him, "Husband, when I was sitting on your shoulder as we came out of the woods, I saw a hill, and I vowed that if we were saved and came to no harm, I would make an offering to the holy spirit of the hill. Now this spirit haunts me, and I want to make good on my promise!"

"Very well," the Bodhisatta said, not knowing her vile plan. He prepared an offering and gave it to her. Then they climbed to the top of the hill. Then his wife said to him, "Husband, it is not the hill-spirit, but you who are my chief of gods! In your honor I will first offer wild flowers. Then I will walk reverently around you, keeping you on the right, and I will pay homage to you. After that I will make my offering to the hill-spirit."

So saying, she had him face the cliff at the edge of the hill. She pretended that she was paying homage to him in reverent fashion. As she walked behind him, she hit him on the back and threw him over the cliff. Then she cried in joy, "I have seen the back of my enemy!" She went back down the hill and went back to her lover.

Now the Bodhisatta tumbled down the cliff, but he landed on top of a fig tree. But he could not get down off of the hill, so he sat there in the branches eating the figs. It so happened that there was a huge iguana that used to climb up the hill to eat the fruit of this fig tree. That day he saw the Bodhisatta and ran away. On the next day, however, he worked up the courage to eat some fruit on the opposite side of the tree. Again and again he came, until at last he struck up a friendship with the Bodhisatta.

"How did you get here?" he asked, and the Bodhisatta told him what had happened.

"Well, don't be afraid," the iguana said. And taking him on his back, he descended the hill, bringing the Bodhisatta with him. There he took him to the road and showed him the direction that he should go. Then he returned to the forest.

The Bodhisatta went to a nearby village. He lived there until he heard of his father's death. He made his way back to Benares where he inherited the kingdom that belonged to his family. He took the name "King Lotus." He faithfully followed the ten rules of righteousness for kings ( _generosity, morality, renunciation, honesty, gentleness, asceticism, non-violence, patience, uprightness_ ), and he ruled honorably. He built six Halls of Bounty, one at each of the four gates, one in the midst of the city, and one before the palace. Every day he distributed 600,000 gold coins.

Now the wicked wife took her lover on her shoulders and left the forest. She went begging among the people, and she collected rice and gruel to support him. If she was asked what the man was to her, she would reply, "His mother was my father's sister, and he is my cousin. They gave him to me to care for, and I have made him my husband Even if he were doomed to death I would take him on my shoulders and care for him and beg for food for him!"

"What a devoted wife!" all the people said. And from then on they gave her more food than ever. Some of them also offered advice. They said, "Do not live in this way. King Lotus is the lord of Benares. He has created a stir throughout all India by his generosity. He would be delighted to see you. He will be so delighted that he will give you rich gifts. Put your husband in this basket and make your way to him." So saying, they persuaded her to go.

The wicked woman placed her lover in the basket. Taking it up she left for Benares where she lived on what she got at the Halls of Bounty.

Now the Bodhisatta used to ride to an alms-hall on the back of a splendid, richly decorated elephant. And after giving alms to eight or ten people, he would go back home again. The wicked woman placed her lover in the basket, and she took it to where the King was used to passing. When the King saw her, he asked, "Who is this?" "A devoted wife," was the answer. He sent for her and immediately recognized who she was. He had the man removed from the basket and asked her, "What is this man to you?" "He is the son of my father's sister, given to me by my family, my own husband" she answered.

"Ah, what a devoted wife!" they all cried, for they did not know the whole story, and they praised the wicked woman.

"What? Is the scoundrel your cousin? Did your family give him to you?" the King asked. "He is your husband, is he?"

She did not recognize the King and replied "Yes, my lord!" as bold as can be.

"And is this the King of Benares' son? Are you not the wife of Prince Lotus, the daughter of a king? Did not you drink the blood from my knee? Did you not fall in love with this rascal and throw me down a cliff? Ah, you thought that I was dead. Yet here I am alive!"

Then he turned to his courtiers. "Do you remember what I told you when you questioned me? My six younger brothers killed their six wives and ate them. But I kept my wife unharmed. I brought her to the bank of the Ganges where I lived in a humble hut. I hauled a condemned criminal out of the river and took care of him. This woman fell in love with him. She threw me down a cliff, but I saved my life by showing kindness to an iguana, and he, in turn, showed kindness to me. This is no other than the wicked woman who threw me off the hilltop. This and no other is the condemned wretch!" And then he uttered the following verses:

"'Tis I - no other - and this queen is she.

The handless knave, no other, there you see.

She says, 'This is the husband of my youth.'

The wicked deserve to die; they have no truth.

"With a great club beat out the scoundrel's life

Who lies in wait to steal his neighbor's wife.

Then take the faithless temptress by and bye,

And shear off her nose before she die."

But although the Bodhisatta was full of anger and ordered this punishment for them, he did not go through with it. He stifled his wrath, and instead he had the basket bound to her head so tightly that she could not get it off. He had the same thing done to the villain, and they were driven out of his kingdom.

Figure: "Out of my kingdom!"

* * *

When the Master had ended this discourse, he taught the Four Noble Truths. At the conclusion of the teaching the backsliding monk attained the Fruit of the First Path. Then the Master identified the birth: "In those days certain elder monks were the six brothers. The young lady Ciñcā was the wife. Devadatta was the criminal, Ānanda was the iguana, and I was King Lotus."

( _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._ )

# 194: Maṇicora Jātaka,  
The Jewel Thief

* * *

In this story our old friend Devadatta tries to kill the Bodhisatta in a previous life. Unfortunately for Devadatta, the Bodhisatta's wife – who will become his wife in the present lifetime, has such virtue that Sakka – the lord of the devas – intervenes. Take a wild guess at who wins that contest. It's really not a good idea to take on the lord of the devas.

* * *

" _The gods are here._ " The Master told this story while he was at Veḷuvana ( _the bamboo grove_ ). It is about how Devadatta tried to kill him. Hearing that Devadatta conspired to kill him, he said, "Monastics, this is not the only time that Devadatta has tried to kill me. He tried to do this before, and he failed." Then he told them this story of the past.

* * *

Once upon a time Brahmadatta was reigning in Benares when the Bodhisatta was born as the son of a householder who lived in a village not far from the city.

When he came of age, they arranged for him to marry a young woman who was from a family in Benares. She was a fair and lovely maiden, beautiful as a divine nymph, graceful like a climbing vine, ravishing as a hummingbird. Her name was Sujātā. She was faithful, virtuous, and respectful. She always did her duty to her lord and his parents. This girl was very dear and precious to the Bodhisatta. They two lived together in joy, unity, and harmony.

On a day Sujātā said to her husband, "I would like to see my mother and father."

"Very well, my wife," he replied. "Prepare some food for the journey." He had food of all sorts cooked, and they placed the provisions in a wagon. Since he drove the vehicle, he sat in frontand his wife sat behind him. Then they went off to Benares. On their way they unyoked the wagon, washed, and ate. Then the Bodhisatta yoked the oxen again. As before he sat in the front, and Sujātā, who had changed her dress and adorned herself, sat behind him.

As the wagon entered the city, the King of Benares happened to be making a solemn circuit around the palace mounted on the back of a splendid elephant. Sujātā had gotten out of the wagon and was walking behind it on foot. The King saw her and was immediately smitten. He called one of his courtiers. "Go," he said, "and find out whether that woman has a husband." The man did as he was told and then went back to tell the King. "She has a husband, I am told," he said. "Do you see that man sitting in the cart over there? He is her husband."

The King could not contain his passion, and evil thoughts entered his mind. "I will find some way to get rid of this fellow," he thought, "and then I will take her as my wife." Calling to one of his men he said, "Here, my good fellow, take this jeweled crest and act as though you were walking casually down the street. As you go by, drop it in into the wagon." So he gave him the jeweled crest and sent him off. The man took it and went, and as he passed the wagon he dropped it in. Then he returned and reported to the King that it was done.

"I have lost a jeweled crest!" the King cried. Suddenly the whole place was in an uproar.

"Shut all the gates!" the King ordered. "Cut off the outlets! Hunt the thief!" The King's followers obeyed. The city was in confusion! The other man, taking some others with him, went up to the Bodhisatta crying, "Hello! Stop your cart! The King has lost a jeweled crest. We must search your cart!" And search it he did until he found the jewel that he had put there himself.

"Thief!" he cried, seizing the Bodhisatta. They beat him and kicked him. Then they bound his arms behind him. They dragged him before the King crying out, "See the thief who stole your jewel!"

"Off with his head!" the King commanded. They flailed the Bodhisatta with whips. They tormented him at every street corner and dragged him out of the city by the south gates.

Now Sujātā left the wagon, and stretching out her arms she ran after him wailing as she went, "Oh, my husband, it is I who brought you into this woeful plight!" The King's servants threw the Bodhisatta on his back with the intention of cutting off his head. When she saw this Sujātā thought about her own goodness and virtue, reflecting in this way within herself: "I suppose there can be no spirit here strong enough to stop the hand of cruel and wicked men who work mischief on the virtuous," and weeping and wailing she repeated the first stanza:

"No gods are here, they must be far away,

No gods, who over all the world hold sway.

Now wild and violent men may work their will,

For here is no one who could stop their way."

As the virtuous woman lamented, the throne of Sakka, King of the Gods, grew hot. "Who is it that would make me fall from my godhead?" thought Sakka. Then he became aware of what was happening. "The King of Benares," he thought, "is doing something very cruel deed. He is making the virtuous Sujātā miserable. Now I must go there!"

So descending from the god world, by his own power he threw the wicked King off of the elephant. He laid him on his back at the place of execution. He tore off the King's clothes and put them on the Bodhisatta. Then he put the Bodhisatta on the King's elephant. At the same time the servants lifted the axe and cut off a head, but it was the King's head. And once it was cut off, they saw that it was the head of the King. (Oops.)

Then Sakka took human form and went before the Bodhisatta. He consecrated the Bodhisatta to be the new King. He gave Sujātā the role of chief Queen. And as the courtiers, the brahmins, the householders, and the rest saw Sakka, King of the gods, they rejoiced, saying, "The unrighteous King is dead! Now we have received a King who is righteous from the hands of Sakka!"

Sakka stood poised in the air and declared, "From this time forward your virtuous King will rule in righteousness. If a King is ever unrighteous, the gods will send the rain out of season, and in season they will send no rain. There will be the fear of famine, the fear of pestilence, and the fear of war. These three fears will happen because of him." In this way he instructed them, and then he spoke this second verse:

"For him no rain falls in the time of rain,

But out of season pours and pours again.

A god comes down from heaven upon the earth.

Behold the reason why this man is slain."

Figure: Sakka Makes His Declaration

Thus did Sakka admonish the great multitude of people, and then he went back to his divine home. The Bodhisatta reigned in righteousness, and when his life was over, he went to swell the hosts of heaven.

* * *

The Master, having ended this discourse, identified the birth: "At that time Devadatta was the wicked King. Anuruddha was Sakka. Sujātā was Rāhula's mother, and by Sakka's gift I was the righteous King."

( _Anurudda was a prominent member of the Saṇgha and the Buddha's cousin. Rāhula was the Buddha's son, and "Rāhula's mother" was the Buddha's wife "Yasodarā" before the Buddha's spiritual quest._ )

# 195: Pabbatūpathara Jātaka,  
Forgiveness

* * *

This story might also be called "do not overreact." In this story two courtiers commit an act of indiscretion. But the King still values them, so the Buddha counsels him to forgive them. And while we do not know what came next, one can certainly think that these two errant courtiers became even more loyal to the King because of his forgiveness.

* * *

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

We are told that a certain courtier had an affair with a woman in the King's harem. The King investigated the matter, and when he discovered what had happened he decided to tell the Master. So he went to Jetavana and saluted the Master. He told him about the courtier's affair and asked what he should do. The Master asked him whether he found the courtier useful to him and whether he loved his wife. "Yes," was the reply, "the man is very useful. He is the mainstay of my court, and I do love the woman." "Sire," the Master replied, "when people are useful and women are dear, there is no reason to harm them. In past days, too, kings listened to the words of the wise and were able to look past such things." And he told this story of the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was the King of Benares, the Bodhisatta was born into a courtier's family. When he came of age, he became the King's counselor in things worldly and spiritual.

Now a member of the King's court had an affair with one of the women in the King's harem. The King learned all about it. "He is a most useful servant," he thought, "and the woman is dear to me. I cannot destroy these two. I will ask a wise man in my court what to do. If I must put up with it, I will put up with it. If not, then I will not."

He sent for the Bodhisatta, and asked him to be seated. "Wise sir," said he, "I have a question to ask you."

"Ask it, Oh King, and I will answer," he replied. Then the King asked his question in the form of a riddle:

"A happy lake lay sheltered at the foot of a lovely hill,

But a jackal used it, knowing that a lion watched it still."

"Surely," the Bodhisatta thought, "one of his courtiers must have had an affair with a woman in the harem," and he recited the second couplet:

"Out of the mighty river all creatures drink at will.

If she is dear, have patience, the river's a river still."

Thus did the Great Being advise the King.

And the King heeded this advice. He forgave them both and told them to go and not to misbehave again. They were grateful for the King's forgiveness. They did as they were told, and from that time on they stopped their indiscretion. And the King gave alms and did good until at his life's end he was reborn in a heavenly realm.

Figure: Forgiveness

* * *

After hearing this story of the past the King of Kosala also forgave both these people and chose to overlook their indiscretion.

When the Master had ended this discourse, he identified the birth: "At that time Ānanda was the King, and I was the wise councilor."

# 196: Valāhassa Jātaka,  
The Cunning Beasts

* * *

In the Parinibbāna Sutta the Buddha tells his followers – just before his death – that he has left nothing out of his teachings. If people follow his instructions, they will be free from suffering and the rounds of rebirth. This is a recurring theme in the Jātaka literature. The Buddha's Dharma is like a road map. If you follow it, you will arrive at the final destination.

* * *

" _They who will neglect._ " The Master told this story while he was at Jetavana. It is about a monk who had become a backslider.

When the Master asked him if it was really true that he was a backslider, the monk replied that it was true. When he was asked why he replied that his passion had been aroused by seeing a beautifully dressed woman. Then the Master said to him, "Brother, men can be tempted by a woman's figure and voice, scents, perfumes, and touch, and by their seductiveness and flirtations. In this way men fall into their power. There are temptresses who - as soon as they know a man is under her spell - will ruin them, character, wealth, and all. This gives them the name of "she-goblins." In days gone by a group of she-goblins tempted a caravan of traders. They got power over them, and afterwards - as soon as they found a different group of men - they killed every one in the first group. They devoured them, crunching them in their teeth while the blood ran down over both cheeks." And then he told this story of the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, a town of goblins called Sirīsavatthu on the island of Sri Lanka. It was populated by she-goblins. Whenever a ship wrecked there, the she-goblins got dressed, took rice and other food, trains of slaves and their children on their hips, and went to greet the merchants. In order to make them think that theirs was a city of human beings, they created the illusion of men plowing and tending herds of cattle, dogs, and the like. They would invite the merchants to eat the rice and other food that they brought.

The unsuspecting merchants would eat all that was offered. When they had eaten and drunk, they rested. The goblins would engage them in conversation, asking, "Where do you live? Where do you come from? Where are you going, and what brought you here?"

"We were shipwrecked here," they would reply.

"Very well, noble sirs," the she-goblins would respond. "It has been three years since our own husbands set off on a ship. They must have perished. You are merchants too. We will be your wives."

Thus they would lead them astray by their cunning and tricks until they could get them into the goblin city. Any men who had been previously caught were bound with magic chains and cast into a house of torment. And if they could not find any shipwrecked men where they lived, they would scour the coast as far as the river Kalyāṇi on one side and the island of Nāgadīpa on the other. This was their way.

Now it happened that once 500 shipwrecked traders were cast ashore near the city of these she-goblins. The goblins came up to them and lured them into their trap until they were able to get them into the city. Those who they had previously caught were bound with magic chains and cast into the house of torment. Then the chief goblin took up with the chief man. The others paired off with the rest of the men until the 500 she-goblins were matched with the 500 traders, and they made the men their husbands.

One night when her man was asleep, the chief she-goblin went to the house of torment. She killed some of the men and ate them. The other she-goblins did likewise. When the eldest goblin returned from the feast her body was cold. The eldest merchant embraced her and quickly realized that she was a goblin. "All 500 of them must be goblins!" he thought to himself, "we must get out of here!"

So early in the morning when he went to wash his face, he spoke to the other merchants. "These are goblins not human beings! As soon as they can find more shipwrecked men they will make them their husbands and eat us. Come, let us escape!"

250 of the men replied, "We cannot leave them. Go if you want, but we will not run away."

But the chief trader with the remaining 250 men - who were ready to obey him - ran away in fear of the goblins.

Now at that time, the Bodhisatta had been reborn as a flying horse. ( _There is a pillar in the Indian city of Mathura there is an image of a flying horse with people clinging to it. It may be referring to this scene._ ) The horse was white all over. It had a beak like a crow and hair like muñja grass ( _a particularly lush type of grass_ ). It had the supernatural power of being able to fly through the air.

The horse flew through the air from the Himalaya Mountains until he got to Sri Lanka. There he passed over the ponds and tanks of the island. He ate the rice that grew wild there. As he passed over the island on his journey he called out three times in a human voice filled with compassion, "Who wants to go home? Who wants to go home?"

"The traders heard his cry and shouted, "We want to go home, master!" They put their hands together and raised them respectfully to their foreheads. "Then climb up on my back," the Bodhisatta said.

Figure: "We want to go home!"

Some of them climbed up, some grabbed hold of his tail, and some remained standing with a respectful salute. Then the Bodhisatta took up even those who stood still saluting him. He took all of them – all 250 of them - back to their own country. There he set them down each in his own home. Then he went back to his own home in the Himalaya.

And the she-goblins, when other men came to that place, killed the 250 men who had remained behind, and then they ate them.

* * *

The Master now said, addressing the monastics, "These traders perished by falling into the hands of she-goblins. But the others obeyed the advice of the good horse. They all returned safely home again. In the same way those who neglect the advice of the Buddhas, monks and nuns, laymen and laywomen, come to great misery in the four hells. There they are punished under the five fetters. ( _The first of the ten fetters – also called "the lower fetters." They are 1) belief in a permanent self, 2) skeptical doubt, 3) attachment to rites and rituals, 4) sense desire and 5) ill will._ ) But those who heed such advice come to the three kinds of fortunate birth ( _humans, god, and demi-gods_ ), the six heavens of sense ( _the heavenly realms_ ), the twenty worlds of Brahma ( _the "Brahma" heavenly realms_ ). And reaching the state of imperishable Nirvana they attain great blessedness." Then, becoming perfectly blissful ( _jhāna_ ), he recited the following verses:

"They who neglect the Buddha when he tells them what to do,

As the goblins ate the merchants, likewise they shall perish too.

"They who listen to the Buddha when he tells them what to do,

As the bird-horse saved the merchants, they shall win salvation too."

When the Master ended this discourse, he taught the Four Noble Truths, at the conclusion of which the backsliding monk entered on the Fruit of the First Path ( _stream-entry_ ), and many others entered on the Fruit of the First, Second ( _once returner_ ), Third ( _non-returner_ ) or Fourth ( _arahant_ ). Then the Master identified the birth: "The Buddha's followers were the 250 merchants who followed the advice of the horse, and I was the horse."

# 197: Mittāmitta Jātaka,  
True Friend

* * *

The story in the present may seem a little harsh. A student takes a piece of cloth without asking his teacher's permission, whereupon his teacher strikes him and ridicules him. This harsh treatment may be because of the karmic residue from the Jātaka itself, where in a previous life the student also disobeyed his teacher, and this leads to his demise!

* * *

" _He smiles not._ " The Master told this story while he was at Sāvatthi ( _the capital city of Kosala_ ). It is about a certain monk.

This monk took a piece of cloth that had been discarded by his teacher. He was confident that if he took it his teacher would not be angry. Then he made a shoe-bag of it and took his leave. When this teacher asked why he took it, he replied he had felt confident that if he took the cloth that his teacher would not be angry. The teacher flew into a rage. He stood up and struck him. "What trust is there between you and me?" he asked.

This incident became known among everyone in the Saṇgha. One day the monks were discussing it in the Dharma Hall. One said, "Friend, this young monk was so confident of his teacher's friendship that he took a piece of cloth and made it into a shoe-bag. Then the teacher asked him what trust there could be between them. He flew into a rage, jumped up, and struck him."

The Master came in and asked them what they were discussing. They told him. Then he said, "This is not the first time, monks, that this man has disappointed the trust of his fellow. He did the same before." And then he told this story of the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was the King of Benares, the Bodhisatta was born as a brahmin's son in the realm of Kāsi ( _one of the countries in India_ ). When he came of age, he renounced the world. 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 lived in the region of the Himalaya with a band of disciples.

One of this band disobeyed the Bodhisatta. Against the Bodhisatta's instructions he kept a young elephant which had lost its mother. This creature grew to be very large, then he killed his master and made off into the forest. The recluses performed his funeral rites, and then they went to the Bodhisatta and asked this question:

"Sir, how may we know whether someone is a friend or an enemy?"

The Bodhisatta responded to them in the following stanzas:

"He smiles not when he sees him, no welcome will he show,

He will not turn his eyes that way, and answers him with 'No.'

"These are the marks and tokens by which your foe you see.

These if a wise man sees and hears he knows his enemy."

Figure: Figure: "He smiles not!"

In these words the Bodhisatta declared the marks of friend and foe. Thereafter he cultivated the Excellences ( _the brahma-vihāras_ ) and was reborn in the Brahma realm.

* * *

When the Master ended this discourse, he identified the birth: "The monk in question was he who kept the pet elephant. His teacher was the elephant, the Buddha's followers were the band of recluses, and I was their leader."

# 198: Rādha Jātaka,  
The Story of Rādha

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This story is almost identical to Jātaka 145. It is about the futility of trying to guard against someone who is determined to be unfaithful, and what a trap it is to desire such a person. The broader lesson is about the dangers in sense desire generally. Sense desire gets us into all sorts of trouble, most especially sexual desire. The Buddha's way is to abandon sense desire, replacing it with serenity, tranquility, and bliss. That is a kind of happiness that – as the Buddha taught – is safe and blameless.

The name "Poṭṭhapāda" is interesting. There is a discourse called the "Poṭṭhapāda Sutta." It is the ninth discourse in the Digha Nikāya [DN]. In DN 9 Poṭṭapāda is a wanderer ("paribbājaka") who asks the Buddha about some of the most fundamental philosophical issues of the time. This includes most notably the Buddha's teachings on non-self. At the end of this discourse Poṭṭapāda became a lay follower of the Buddha.

* * *

" _I come, my son._ " The Master told this story while he was at Jetavana. It is about a monk who was a backslider.

We hear that the Master asked him if he really was a backslider. He replied, yes, he was. Being asked why, he replied, "Because my passions were aroused on seeing a beautifully dressed woman." Then the Master said, "Brother, there is no benefit to watching women. In days gone, guards were placed to watch an unfaithful woman, and yet they could not keep her from misbehaving. If you marry someone who is untrue, you cannot keep them from illicit affairs." And he told this story of the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was the King of Benares, the Bodhisatta came into the world as a young parrot. His name was "Rādha" and his youngest brother was named "Poṭṭhapāda." While they were still quite young both of them were caught by a fowler and handed over to a brahmin in Benares. The brahmin cared for them as if they were his children. But the brahmin's wife was a wicked woman. There was no way to keep her from mischief.

The husband had to go away on business, and he told his young parrots, "Little dears, I am going away on business. Keep watch on your mother in season and out of season. See whether any men come to see her." So off he went, leaving his wife in charge of the young parrots.

As soon as he was gone, the woman began to misbehave. Men came to see her night and day. There was no end to them. Poṭṭhapāda, observing this, said to Rādha, "Our master put this woman into our charge, and here she is acting wickedly. I will talk to her."

"Don't," Rādha said. But Poṭṭhapāda would not listen. "Mother," he said, "why do you misbehave?"

How she longed to kill him! But pretending that she was going to embrace him, she said, "Little one, you are my son! I will never misbehave again! Here, then, little dear!" So he went up to her. She grabbed him crying, "What! You preach to me! You don't know your place!" And she wrung his neck and threw him into the oven.

Figure: Figure: Poṭṭhapāda's Demise

After some time passed the brahmin returned. Once he had rested, he asked the Bodhisatta, "Well, my dear, what about your mother. Has she been faithful or not?" And as he asked the question, he repeated the first couplet:

"I come, my son, the journey done, and now I am at home again,

Come tell me is your mother true? Does she make love to other men?"

Rādha answered, "Father dear, the wise do not speak of things that are not to be blessed, whether they have happened or not." And he explained this by repeating the second couplet:

"For what he said he now lies dead, burnt up beneath the ashes there,

It is not well the truth to tell, lest Poṭṭhapāda's fate I share."

Thus did the Bodhisatta hold forth to the brahmin. And he continued, "This is no place for me to live in either." Then bidding the brahmin farewell, he flew away to the woods.

* * *

When the Master had ended this discourse, he taught the Four Noble Truths, at the conclusion of which the backsliding monk reached the Fruit of the First Path ( _stream-entry_ ). He then identified the birth: "Ānanda was Poṭṭhapāda, and I was Rādha."

# 199: Gahapati Jātaka,  
The Householder

* * *

This is another one of those misogynistic stories that does not ring true. In the story-in-the-present we are told that a "wicked woman can never be made right." The Buddha would never make a statement like that. In fact, one of the fundamental tenets of the Buddha's teaching is that anyone can change at any time. This is the profound lesson of Aṇgulimāla, the serial killer who became an arahant. It is also curious that the "wicked woman can never be made right," when the Jātaka story says that after the incident at the house the wicked woman "did not dare to misbehave even in thought," contradicting the story's own premise. It is also interesting that the story is about a wicked woman, while the headman of the village apparently gets off scot-free!

* * *

" _I do not like this._ " The Master told this story during a stay at Jetavana. It, too, is about a backsliding monk. In the course of his address he said, "A wicked woman can never be kept right. Somehow or another they will misbehave and trick their husbands." And then he told this story of the past.

* * *

Once upon a time, during the reign of Brahmadatta, the King of Benares, the Bodhisatta was born in the realm of Kāsi as a householder's son. When he came of age he married and settled down. Now his wife was a wicked woman, and she had an affair with the head of the village. The Bodhisatta got wind of it and thought about how he might put her to the test.

At that time all the grain had been washed away during the rainy season and there was a famine. But it was the time when the corn had just sprouted. All the villagers came together and asked for the help of the head of the village. They said, "Two months from now when we have harvested the corn, we will pay you back." So they got an old ox from him and ate it.

One day, the headman watched for his chance, and when the Bodhisatta was away he visited the house. Just as the two were happily together, the Bodhisatta came in by the village gate and set out for home. The woman happened to look toward the village gate and she saw a man walking toward them. "Why, who's that?" she wondered, looking at him as he stood on the threshold. "It is he!" She cried. She told the headman. He trembled in terror.

"Don't be afraid," the woman said, "I have a plan. You know we have had meat from your ox. Pretend that you were asking to be paid for the meat. I will climb up into the granary and stand at the door crying. 'There is no rice here!' Then you stand in the middle of the room and call out insisting, again and again, 'I have children at home. Pay me for the meat!'"

So saying, she climbed up to the granary and sat in the doorway. The headman stood in the midst of the house and cried, "Pay me for the meat," while she replied, "There is no rice in the granary. I will pay you when the harvest is in. Now leave me alone!"

The good man entered the house and saw what was going on.

"This must be that wicked woman's plan," he thought, and he called to the headman, "Sir headman, when we had some of your old ox to eat, we promised to give you rice for it in two months. Only a half a month has passed. Why are you trying to make us pay now?" Then he said, "That's not the reason you are here. You have come for something else. I don't like your ways. That wicked and sinful woman over there knows that there is no rice in the granary, but she has climbed up and sits there crying, 'No rice here!' And you cry 'Pay me!' I don't like your doings, either of you!" And to make his meaning clear, he uttered these lines:

"I don't like this, I don't like that, I don't like her, I say,

Who stands beside the granary, and cries 'I cannot pay!'

"Nor you, nor you, sir! Listen now. My means and store are small.

You gave me once a skinny cow, and two months' grace withal.

Now, here today, you bid me pay! I don't like it at all."

Then he seized the headman by the lock of hair on the top of his head, dragged him out into the courtyard and threw him down as he cried, "I'm the headman!" But the good man mocked him, saying "You owe me damages for injury done to a wife under another man's watch!" He beat him until the man was faint. Then he took him by the neck and threw him out of the house. He seized the wicked woman by her hair, pulled her away from the granary, knocked her down, and threatened her. "If you ever do this kind of thing again, I'll make you remember it!"

Figure: Winner and Still Champion

From that day on the headman dared not even look at that house, and the woman did not dare to misbehave even in thought.

* * *

When this discourse was ended, the Master taught the Four Noble Truths, at the conclusion of which the backsliding monk reached the Fruit of the First Path ( _stream-entry_ ). Then he declared the birth: "I was the good man who punished that headman."

# 200: Sādhusīla Jātaka,  
Right Virtue

* * *

This story does not hold up very well for a modern audience, but at that time polygamy was very common. Thus in this story a father is trying to decide to whom to give all of his daughters. But part of the equation of that time is that a man had to be able to afford multiple wives, therefore this usually only happened to wealthy men. In fact there are many stories about men working hard to become successful enough to afford even one wife. That was the social order of the day, although admittedly it was an extremely sexist society. The moral of this story is, however, supposed to be that virtue is to be valued over physical appearance, age, and nobility.

* * *

" _One is good._ " The Master told this story while he was at Jetavana, it is about a brahmin.

This man, we are told, had four daughters. Four suitors wooed them. One was fine and handsome, one was old and well advanced in years, the third a man from a noble family, and the fourth was good. He thought to himself, "When a man is settling his daughters' futures, to whom should he give them? The handsome man or the older man, or one of the other two, the highly born man or the virtuous man?"

No matter how much he thought about it, he could not decide. So he thought he would bring the matter to the Supreme Buddha. He would surely know. Then he would give the girls to the most suitable man.

So he had a quantity of perfumes and garlands prepared as offerings, and then he went off to visit the monastery. Saluting the Master, he sat on one side and told him the situation. Then he asked, "To which of these four should I give my daughters?" To this the Master replied, "In days gone by, as now, wise men asked this question. But now that rebirth has confused your memory, you cannot remember what happened." And then at his request the Master told this story of the past.

* * *

Once upon a time when Brahmadatta ruled in Benares, the Bodhisatta was born as a brahmin's son. When he came of age, he went off to receive his education at Takkasilā University. When he returned he became a famous teacher.

Now there was a brahmin who had four daughters. These four were wooed by four persons as told above. The brahmin could not decide to whom to give them. "I will ask the teacher," he thought, "and then I will decide to whom they should be given." So he went to the teacher and repeated the first couplet:

"One is good, and one is noble. One is handsome, one is old.

Answer me this question, brahmin: Of the four, which best appears?"

Hearing this, the teacher replied, "Even though there be beauty and the like qualities, a man is to be despised if he fails in virtue. Therefore, beauty is not the measure of a man. Those that I favor are the virtuous." And in explanation of this matter, he repeated the second couplet:

"Good is beauty. To the aged show respect, for this is right.

A noble birth is good. But virtue - virtue, that is my delight."

Figure: Choose the Virtuous Man

When the brahmin heard this, he gave all his daughters to the virtuous man.

* * *

When this discourse was over the Master taught the Four Noble Truths, at the conclusion of which the brahmin attained stream-entry. Then the Master identified the birth: "This brahmin was the brahmin then, and I was the famous teacher."

