Udanavarga 3.67

3.67

昔有婆羅門，年少出家學道，至年六十不能得道。婆羅門法六十不得道，然後歸家娶婦為居，生得一男端正可愛，至年七歲書學聰了，才辯出口有踰人之操，卒得重病一宿命終。梵志憐惜不能自勝，伏其屍上氣絕復蘇，親族諫喻強奪殯殮埋著城外。梵志自念：「我今啼哭計無所益，不如往至閻羅王所乞索兒命。」於是梵志沐浴齋戒，齎持華香發舍而去，所在問人：「閻羅王所治處為在何許？」展轉前行行數千里，至深山中見諸得道梵志，復問如前。諸梵志問曰：「卿問閻羅王所治處，欲求何等？」答言：「我有一子，辯慧過人，近日卒亡，悲窮懊惱不能自解。欲至閻羅王所乞索兒命，還將歸家養以備老。」諸梵志等愍其愚癡，即告之曰：「閻羅王所治處，非是生人可得到也，當視卿方宜，從此西行四百餘里有大川，其中有城，此是諸天神案行世間停宿之城，閻羅王常以月八日案行必過此城，卿持齋戒往必見之。」梵志歡喜奉教而去。到其川中見好城郭，宮殿屋宇如忉利天。梵志詣門，燒香翹脚呪願求見閻羅王。王敕門人問之，梵志啟言：「晚生一男欲以備老，養育七歲近日命終，唯願大王垂恩布施還我兒命。」閻羅王言：「大善！卿兒今在東園中戲，自往將去。」梵志即往，見兒與諸小兒共戲，即前抱之，向之啼泣曰：「我晝夜念汝食寐不甘，汝寧念父母辛苦以不？」小兒驚喚逆呵之曰：「癡騃老翁不達道理，寄住須臾名之為子，勿妄多言不如早去，今我此間自有父母，邂逅之間唐自抱乎？」梵志悵然悲泣而去。即自念言：「我聞瞿曇沙門知人魂神變化之道，當往問之。」於是梵志即還求至佛所。

In days of old there was a Brahman, who when young had left his home for the purpose of religious seclusion, and who remained a solitary student till he was sixty years of age, but even after this long period he was unable to arrive at supreme wisdom (Bōdhi). Now, according to the law of the Brahmans, if a man at sixty years of age has not reached wisdom, it is his duty to return to his home and marry a wife. Accordingly, the man having so done, there was born to him a very graceful boy, who when seven years of age, being already deeply read in the books of his religion, and possessed of wonderful dialectic skill, was suddenly struck by a fatal disease and died. The father, overwhelmed by sorrow, gave himself up to immoderate grief, and was quite unable to control himself. He threw himself on the corpse of his child, and lay there as one dead. On recovering himself, the child's body was enshrouded and coffined—the father having been remonstrated with by his relatives and those of his caste— and finally taken without the city for interment. On this occasion the Brahman began to reflect with himself thus— “What use is it thus giving way to tears? It is not of any service;

but I will go at once to the abode of Chen-lo-wang (Yamarāja), and beg him humbly to give me back my child alive.” On this the Brahman, having gone through certain religious rites and offered flowers and incense, departed from his home, and wherever he came he asked of all he met whether they knew where Yamarāja held his court and ruled. After wandering onwards thus for several thousand lis, he came to a deep mountain pass, where he met with a party of Brahmans who had acquired supreme wisdom. He inquired again of these if they could tell him where Yamarāja ruled and held his court. To this they replied, “And why do you, honourable sir, desire to know?” On this he told them his sad grief, and explained his intention to beg back his child from the God of the lower world. Then all the Brahmans, pitying his self-delusion, replied—"No mortal man can reach the place where Yama reigns; but about 400 lis to the westward of this place there is a great valley, in the midst of which there is a city. In this city the gods and heavenly spirits, who sometimes dwell among men, take up their abode, and Yama, on the eighth day of the month, constantly visits the spot. By going there, and practising a strictly religious mode of life, you may, honourable sir, see the King of the Dead.” Then the Brahman, rejoiced to hear this news, departed, and arriving at this valley, lo!

in the midst of it he saw a beautiful city with palaces, and towers, and residences, like those in the Trāyastriñshas Heaven. Then coming before the gate, he began to burn incense, and recite his religious formularies (Mantras), with a view to gain admission and obtain sight of Yamarāja. At length he was admitted into the dread presence of the King, and, on being asked his wish, he related his case as before. To him the King thus replied—"What you ask, honourable sir, is pious and good of you. Your son is now in the Eastern garden disporting himself there; take him and go.” On this the Brahman forthwith hastened to the place, and there he saw his loved child playing with other children. He immediately ran to him, and embracing him, with the tears coursing down his cheeks, exclaimed— “How can I forget you, my child, over whom I have watched so long and lovingly! Remember you not me, my child, your father? Do you not recall our grief as we tended you in your sickness, my child?” But the boy repelled the embrace of the Brahman, and upbraided him for using such foolish terms as father and child, who perish as the grass. “In my present state,” he added, “I know no such words, and I am free from such delusive thoughts.” On this the Brahman, with many tears, departed; and as he went he bethought himself of the Shaman Gōtama, and he resolved to go to him and lay bare his grief, and seek for some consolation.