付法藏因緣傳 3

English (machine translation) 3

Language: English

3.1

Translated by Kiṅkara, Tripiṭaka master from the Western Regions, together with Tanyao under the Northern Wei

The venerable Ānanda entrusted the Dharma to Śāṇakavāsin and told him: "Formerly, when the World-Honored One was traveling in the country of Mathurā, he turned to me and gave his command, saying: 'In this country there will be an elder named Gupta, whose son will be called Upagupta. In the method of dhyāna he will be the foremost. Although he will not have the physical marks, he will transform and save [beings] just like me. After my extinction he will bring about great benefit; the countless sentient beings taught and transformed by him will all attain liberation and become arhats. You should later deliver him and cause him to go forth from the household life. When you are about to enter nirvāṇa, entrust the Dharma-treasury to him.'" When Śāṇakavāsin was approaching nirvāṇa, he told Upagupta: "The Buddha entrusted the true Dharma to Mahākāśyapa; Kāśyapa next entrusted it to my master Ānanda; Ānanda bequeathed the Dharma to me; and now that I am about to pass into extinction, I entrust it to you. You should exert yourself vigorously to protect and uphold the eye of the world." Upagupta said: "I respectfully accept your instruction." Thereupon he expounded and made clear the unsurpassable wondrous Dharma, broadly proclaiming the true teaching to rescue all living beings. His virtue was profound and vast, difficult to measure. In the past he had long cultivated unsurpassable, supreme practices; even when born as a beast, he constantly transformed sentient beings, crushing and subduing the non-Buddhists, establishing the great banner of Dharma, and sheltering all under the cloud of loving-kindness and compassion. Merits such as these shall now be briefly explained.

Formerly, the Bhagavat was dwelling in the country of Śrāvastī, in the park of Anāthapiṇḍada. At that time, Upagupta was a Nirgrantha named Satyaka. His wisdom was profound and wondrous, his skill in debate peerless. He conceived deep arrogance and strode proudly throughout the world, binding his belly with copper plates and bearing a blazing fire atop his head, saying: "My wisdom is so full that I fear it will burst forth; for this reason I bind myself with plates. The world is dark and dim, seeing nothing; I wish to illuminate its blindness with my radiance." Hearing that the Buddha, the World-Honored One, was staying in the country of Śrāvastī, he wished to visit him to contend in eloquence. Someone told him: "If you see the Buddha, your wisdom will surely diminish and your light will naturally be extinguished." He then went to where the Buddha was and said to him: "Gautama, I wish to go forth from the household life. If my wisdom is equal to that of Śāriputra, my mind will be content and joyful; if I fall short of him, I shall return home." The World-Honored One told him: "Even if you were to accumulate hundreds of thousands of myriads of bodies, desiring to match Śāriputra, there is no such possibility." Having heard this, the brāhmaṇa took his leave of the Buddha and withdrew. Not long after he had left, the Buddha told the great assembly: "One hundred years after my extinction, this man will at that time attain the path of the arhat, possessing the threefold vision, the six supernormal knowledges, and fully endowed with the eight liberations. The lamp of his wisdom will shine uniquely, broadly transforming sentient beings, and those delivered by him will be countless." When the assembly heard this, they marveled at its rarity.

Furthermore, in a past life nayutas of kalpas ago, on Mount Urumuṇḍa, there was a pratyekabuddha together with five hundred of his kind. A community of ṛṣis also dwelt on the side of the mountain, while five hundred macaques lived on another side. At that time, the king of the macaques produced great faith and deeply cultivated the roots of goodness; he constantly gathered flowers and fruit to offer to the pratyekabuddhas. On another occasion, the assembly of pratyekabuddhas sat upright in subtle contemplation and entered into samādhi; the macaque imitated them, sitting cross-legged. Later, when the pratyekabuddhas all entered into nirvāṇa, the macaque offered flowers, but none [of the pratyekabuddhas] took notice of them; he pulled at their robes and pushed them, yet they remained motionless. He then knew they had entered extinction, and felt deep sorrow and anguish. Going to the other side of the mountain, he saw the ṛṣis practicing severe austerities: sleeping on thorns, standing on one foot or hanging upside down, scorching their bodies with the five fires, and leaping off cliffs to build fires. The macaque immediately gathered their ashes and thorns, cast away the filth, pulled down their feet to let them stretch out, and sat cross-legged before them. The ṛṣis, seeing this, were astonished at his actions, and promptly imitated the macaque by sitting upright and focusing their mindfulness; awakening by themselves without a master, they became pratyekabuddhas. They then thought: "Now that we have attained the path, it is due to this macaque." They immediately made offerings to him with incense and flowers. The king of the macaques at that time was Upagupta. Even when he was an animal, he could already awaken others; his intent was extremely clever, endowed with sharp wisdom and eloquence.

When the time came for Śāṇakavāsin to entrust the Dharma to him, he observed whether Gupta had fathered a son. Entering meditative concentration to contemplate, he knew he had not yet appeared in the world. He went with the monks to Gupta's house, and eventually, reducing his company, went alone by himself. Gupta asked: "Why are you alone with no companions?" He replied: "Elder, I have no wealth or salary; only those with faith who have gone forth accompany me." Gupta said again: "I enjoy worldly life and cannot go forth from the household. If I have a son later, I shall offer him to you." Śāṇakavāsin replied: "Excellent." Later a son was born, named Aśvagupta. When he grew older, [the venerable one] went to ask for him, but Gupta replied: "I have only one son; in principle I cannot give him to you. If another is born, I will certainly offer him to you." Later another son was born, named Nandagupta. When [the venerable one] went to ask for him, [Gupta] replied: "Venerable one, I now rely on these two sons to manage my livelihoods: the younger one protects, and the elder amasses the family business. In this way we can attain great wealth. For this reason I cannot give him to you. If a third is born, I shall then offer him to you." Śāṇakavāsin knew that these two sons had no karmic affinity with the path, so he did not persistently go to seek them.

Later a son was born whose countenance was upright and handsome; he was named Upagupta. He was gentle and compliant, by nature fond of kindness and pity, intelligent, eloquent, and vast-minded. At the age of twelve he was skilled at trading in the marketplace; whenever buyers came, he would always give them extra. Śāṇakavāsin, observing whether he had been born, knew that Upagupta had already appeared in the world. He immediately went to his place and asked him: "Now as you enter the market, is your mind pure or impure?" Upagupta asked: "What is meant by a pure mind and an impure mind?" He replied: "If the mind is united with greed and delusion, it is called impure; if it is not united with them, it is called pure." Gradually, using skillful means, he taught him to focus his mindfulness: whenever an unwholesome thought arose, he should put down a black pebble; whenever a wholesome thought arose, he should put down a white pebble. Thereupon, in accordance with the teaching, he gathered his mindfulness without distraction. At every arising of good or evil, he threw down a pebble. At first, the black ones were far more numerous and the white ones were few. Gradually practicing and training, the white and black became equal. When seven days were fulfilled, his mind became increasingly pure; the black pebbles were completely gone, and there were only white ones. Śāṇakavāsin thought: "Now this wholesome mind has been fully perfected; observing that the time for the path has arrived, I can expound the Dharma for him." He then proclaimed the four noble truths for him, and on that very spot [Upagupta] attained the fruit of srotāpanna.

At that time, in the city of Mathurā, there was a courtesan named Vāsavadattā, full of depraved seductiveness, bewitching arts, and deceitful flatteries. She sent a messenger to the market to purchase exquisite flowers. The messenger promptly went to Upagupta's place, obtained a great quantity of fine flowers, and presented them to Vāsavadattā. The woman was astonished at the abundance of flowers and asked the messenger: "Did you perhaps steal these flowers?" The messenger replied: "I did not steal them; I bought them in the market. There is a man named Upagupta who is humane, compassionate, broad-minded, and by nature fond of fairness. For this reason I obtained many flowers. Furthermore, this man's appearance is exquisitely handsome; if my lady were to see him, she would have no regrets even in death." Vāsavadattā then sent a person to invite him, but Upagupta refused completely; though she entreatingly pleaded with him, he never altered his resolve.

A son of an elder stayed the night with the courtesan. It happened that a merchant came from afar carrying great treasures and sought intimacy with the woman. At that time, the woman, coveting his treasures, killed the elder's son and buried him inside her house. The family relatives searched everywhere for him, reached the courtesan's house, and dug him out of the ground. They reported this matter fully to the king of the country, who immediately seized the courtesan, severed her hands and feet, cut off her ears and nose, and cast her away among the graves. Upagupta thought: "She originally invited me on account of her blooming beauty; for that reason I refrained from going. Now, for the sake of liberation, it is fitting that I go to transform her." He then took an attendant and went to where the courtesan was. Vāsavadattā said: "Originally, I was delicate and wondrous, with a captivating countenance, but at that time when I invited you, you would not grace me with a visit. Now that I am mutilated and ruined, what is the use of coming?" He answered: "Sister, I came in order to contemplate your true reality, not out of desire. Formerly, you used beauty to deceive and delude sentient beings, and foolish ordinary persons falsely gave rise to inverted thoughts. Now you yourself ought to contemplate this form attentively: it is impermanent, fragile, and dangerous, just like a mass of foam, covered with a thin skin and outwardly showing adornment, but with sinews and bones linked together, full of impure mucus and saliva. It is like a painted jar filled with stinking filth; fools do not realize it and give rise to deep attachment, whereas the wise understand it and never take delight in it. Though outwardly adorned with incense, flowers, baths, and clothing, inside it is truly impure. The profound vastness of the great ocean can have its drops counted, but the faults and perils of this body are very hard to fathom. For this reason the Buddhas constantly reproached it, never for a single moment producing thoughts of desiring or enjoying it." The courtesan's mind was gradually awakened at that time, and she conceived deep reverent faith in the Buddha's Dharma. She said: "Humane one, what you say is true and real; I pray only that you will explain it to me extensively." Upagupta then expounded for her: "All conditioned things are an accumulation of many sufferings, like a boil, like a sore, like an arrow piercing the heart. Birth, old age, sickness, and death revolve without bound; they are impermanent, perishable, unstable, and quickly decaying, like a condemned prisoner whose death is not far off; like a prison house in which no one takes delight; like fruit beside the road that is pelted by all. This body is loathsome and must eventually return to destruction, eagerly devoured by crows, magpies, foxes, and wolves; blown by the wind and scorched by the sun, it turns blue, putrid, and foul; hair, teeth, and bones lie scattered about in disorder. How could such a body be loved or desired? You ought to diligently apply skillful means to seek liberation." The courtesan attained understanding, acquiring the pure Dharma-eye, and upon the end of her life was reborn in the Trāyastriṃśa heaven. Upagupta, through contemplating the suffering, emptiness, and impermanence of all phenomena, immediately achieved the fruit of anāgāmin.

Śāṇakavāsin again went to Gupta and said to him: "You originally had an agreement to give me your son. Now that he is grown, can you give him to me?" Because Upagupta was naturally skilled in business, [Gupta] coveted him so much that he was again unwilling to give him up. The venerable one said: "The Buddha prophesied that this person, one hundred years after [his extinction], would perform great Buddha-deeds and bring benefit to sentient beings. You should open your heart and give me this son." When Gupta heard this, he permitted him to go forth from the household. Śāṇakavāsin took him to the monastery, caused him to go forth, and conferred the full precepts upon him. When the karmavācanā was concluded, he attained the path of the arhat, endowed with the threefold vision, the six supernormal knowledges, and complete in the eight liberations; he was skilled in words, and his exposition was inexhaustible.

He thought to himself: "I have now beheld the Dharma-body, but have not yet seen the Tathāgata's physical form with its marks and signs." Having thought this, he gave rise to deep sorrowful yearning. At that time there was an old bhikṣuṇī, one hundred and twenty years of age, who had once seen the Tathāgata. Upagupta, knowing that she had seen the Buddha, wished to go to her place. He immediately sent a messenger to tell the bhikṣuṇī: "The venerable Upagupta wishes to come see you." At that time the bhikṣuṇī filled a bowl to the brim with oil and placed it behind the door leaf. When Upagupta arrived at her dwelling, as he was entering the room, he spilled a few drops of oil. After exchanging greetings, they sat down. He asked: "Elder sister, when the World-Honored One was in the world, what were the deportment and conduct of the bhikṣus like?" The bhikṣuṇī said: "Formerly, when the Buddha was in the world, the group-of-six bhikṣus were the most crude and reckless, yet when they entered this room, they never spilled a single drop of water. Bhadanta, your wisdom is now lofty and supreme, and the people of the world call you the 'Buddha without marks'; yet when you entered my room, you spilled a few drops of oil. Judging from this, the people when the Buddha was present were truly marvelous." When Upagupta heard these words, he deeply reproached himself and felt extreme shame. The bhikṣuṇī said: "Bhadanta should not give rise to shame or regret. As the Buddha said: 'After my extinction, sentient beings on the first day will be superior to those on the second day; the people on the third day will be still baser and lowlier.' In this way, merits gradually decline and decay, stupidity and darkness grow, and wholesome dharmas become weak and diminished. How much more so now, when bhadanta is a hundred years removed from the Buddha! Even though you committed an act lacking in deportment, it was entirely fitting; why should it be considered strange?" At that time Upagupta asked her: "Sister, what was it like when you saw the Tathāgata?" The bhikṣuṇī said: "Formerly, when the Buddha was in the world, I was twenty years old and about to be married. I lost a golden hairpin that fell into the deep grass. I searched for it but could not find it; I then used a lamp to search everywhere, but grew exhausted without catching any glimpse of it. Just then, the Tathāgata happened to pass by; his golden radiance was as dazzling as a hundred thousand suns, and the dark places were all made brightly luminous, so that even the finest things were completely revealed. I immediately saw my hairpin and picked it up. For this reason I was able to see the Buddha." When Upagupta heard this matter, his sorrowful yearning doubled, and he sighed at its unprecedented wonder.

Śāṇakavāsin then told him: "The Buddha prophesied that a hundred years after [his extinction], you would be foremost in sitting in meditation and would extensively transform sentient beings. Now is the right time; you should bring benefit to them and cause all living beings to drink the taste of amṛta." Upagupta said: "I respectfully accept your instruction." In the country of Mathurā, he gathered a great assembly like a half-moon seating, and preached the Dharma for them: namely, discourses on generosity, discourses on morality, discourses on rebirth in heaven, explaining that desires are impure and that renunciation is supreme. Māra Pāpīyas then became sorrowful and frightened, thinking: "Upagupta has gathered a great assembly; he will certainly teach them to escape my realm. I must now go and ruin the minds of his assembly." When [Upagupta] was preaching the Dharma, [Māra] rained down genuine gold and treasures, or rained down flowers and necklaces of bright, pure luster; he manifested a white elephant adorned with the seven treasures, or appeared as an exceptionally beautiful woman. The entire assembly looked and watched, having no mind to listen to the Dharma. During three days of expounding the profound flavor of the Dharma, not a single person attained the path. The demon king was delighted and congratulated himself deeply. Upagupta immediately entered samādhi, contemplating and considering who had done this. The demon king also placed a garland of pearls and flowers around his neck. The venerable one, observing, knew it was the work of Māra, and thought: "The evil demon is jealous and corrupt, ruining the true Dharma. Why did the Tathāgata not subdue him?" He then contemplated the Buddha's intention, which was to have him transform him. He then took three corpses—namely, a snake, a dog, and a human—transformed them into a flower garland, and influenced Māra to come, saying to him: "You gave me a garland, showing great generosity; now I return this to repay you." Māra was overjoyed, stretched out his neck, and received it. When it reached his neck, it turned back into dead corpses, with worms and maggots about to crawl forth, stinking, rotting, and unbearable to approach. Seeing this, Māra felt deep revulsion and disgust, and said to Upagupta: "Why have you tied these dead corpses around my neck?" The venerable one answered: "A bhikṣu should not be adorned with a flower garland; you maliciously put it on me, and now I have put rotten corpses back on you. It is entirely fitting; you should not be angry." Māra used his supernormal power, wishing to remove the corpses, but they were unshakeable like Mount Sumeru. Feeling great rage, he sprang into the sky, begging the hosts of gods to untie the dead corpses. The gods all said: "This was done by a great sage; how could we lowly ones be able to remove it?" He went again to King Brahmā, begging to be freed from the binding of the corpses. King Brahmā answered: "This is the supernormal power wrought by a disciple of the Ten Powers; how could I, ordinary and base, untie it? Even the fierce wind of the kalpa-conflagration could not loosen the binding of these dead corpses. One might sooner suspend Mount Sumeru by a lotus fiber than untie these corpses; there is no such possibility. Just as one who falls to the ground must rely on the ground to rise again, if you take refuge in Upagupta, the binding of these dead corpses may perhaps be undone." At that time, Pāpīyas accepted King Brahmā's instruction, cast aside his pride, and gave rise to deep reverent faith. He went to the venerable one's place, threw his five limbs to the ground, and said: "Bhadanta, when the Buddha first attained the path and sat beneath the king of trees, I led my hosts to press upon and surround him; my harassments and disturbances of him were countless, yet he never uttered a single harsh word to slight or humiliate me. His great compassion was profound and vast like Mount Sumeru. You are an arhat, lacking the power of compassion and patience, and have humiliated me before gods and humans." Upagupta replied: "Pāpīyas, you are greatly foolish and without wisdom, comparing the person of a hearer (śrāvaka) to the Tathāgata! You seek to equate a mustard seed with Mount Sumeru, the glow of a firefly with the brilliance of the sun and moon, and water in a cow's footprint with the capacity of the great ocean. The Tathāgata's great compassion is something the two vehicles do not possess; for this reason he did not retaliate against you. Now I am narrow and base, lacking a mind of compassion and patience, and for this reason I humiliated you. Furthermore, the Tathāgata wished for me to subdue you later, so that through this you might conceive reverent faith in the Buddha, and by virtue of this wholesome mind not fall into the three evil destinies, washing away the defilements and destroying all sinful karmas." Hearing this, the demon felt great joy; his body hairs bristled and he gave rise to a thought of rare wonder. He said: "Humane one, through you I have given rise to reverent faith, and you have brought great benefit to me. Please now untie these three corpses for me." The venerable one answered: "Do not harass the true Dharma any more; only then will I untie them for you." Māra said: "I accept your instruction." The venerable one further said: "I was not able to see the Tathāgata's physical body; you once beheld it, so you should manifest it for me." Māra said: "Humane one, when I manifest the Buddha's body, do not prostrate to me." Upagupta said: "It shall be as you say." He then untied the three kinds of corpses. Māra entered the forest and transformed his shape to resemble the Buddha, with the thirty-two marks and eighty minor signs, his appearance marvelous like a mass of molten gold, radiant and shining, his demeanor dignified and serene. He transformed [other figures] into bhikṣus surrounding him front and back, walking forth from the forest like the king of geese. Seeing him, Upagupta was overjoyed, and attentively contemplating him, spoke in verse:

3.3

"Alas, impermanence, devoid of compassion,
Can destroy such a supreme, marvelous physical body!"

3.4

Upagupta gazed upon [the form] with single-minded devotion, not taking his eyes off it for an instant. Inwardly leaping with joy, he spoke a verse in praise:

3.5

"How marvelous is pure karma,
That can bring forth this wondrous fruit!
It is not born from Īśvara,
Nor is it produced without a cause.
The face is like purple-gold,
The eyes are pure like blue lotuses.
His upright beauty surpasses the sun and moon;
His marvels excel a grove of flowers.
He is as serene as the great ocean,
Immovable like Mount Sumeru.
He walks with ease like a lion;
He looks about like the bull king.
Throughout immeasurable hundreds of thousands of kalpas,
He purely cultivated body, speech, and mind.
For this reason he has attained
Such an exceptionally marvelous body.
Even an enemy is filled with joy at the sight;
How much more should I not rejoice!"

3.6

After Upagupta had spoken this verse, his mindful reverence toward the Buddha became so intense that he inadvertently bowed down before him. Māra said, "Noble one, why do you do this?" He replied, "Pāpīyas, I know that the World-Honored One passed into extinction long ago. Seeing this form was as if beholding the Buddha; joy arose within me, and for that reason alone I bowed." Māra then resumed his original form and returned to the heavens. On the fourth day, Māra came down again and proclaimed aloud to all: "Noble ones, all of you who wish to attain wealth and happiness, to be born among humans or gods, or who seek the supreme tranquility of nirvāṇa, having not seen the Tathāgata teach the Dharma with great compassion, should all go to Upagupta's place to listen to and receive the wondrous Dharma and practice it with a sincere heart." At that time, men and women, old and young, in the city of Mathurā, hearing that the venerable one had subdued the evil Māra, gathered like clouds in their hundreds, thousands, and myriads. Upagupta mounted the lion seat and preached various Dharmas according to their capacities. Hundreds of thousands of sentient beings attained the path of the srotāpanna, and eighteen thousand people became arhats. From then on, those he transformed were immeasurable, and he brought great benefit to King Aśoka. That king's merits were profound, far-reaching, and extraordinary; he attained indestructible faith in the Three Jewels, and through good conditions obtained these supreme fruits. Formerly, when the Buddha was staying in the Kalandaka forest, the time came and he led the monks into the city to beg for food. Along the way, he saw two boys, one named Jaya and the other named Vijaya. They were playing with earth to build cities, houses, and granaries, and also named [the dirt] rice, millet, hemp, and wheat, collecting it together and placing it inside the granaries. The Tathāgata's light shone upon them all, turning everything into a golden hue, utterly clear and pure. Filled with joy, Jaya took what he called "roasted grain flour" to offer to the Tathāgata. His body being small and low, he could not reach; Vijaya knelt down to let him step on him to make the offering. Thereupon the World-Honored One smiled. At that time, Ānanda immediately addressed the Buddha, saying, "For what reason does the Tathāgata display this smile?" The Buddha told Ānanda, "Do you see these two boys?" "Yes, indeed, I have seen them." "One hundred years after my death, this boy will become a cakravartin of the fourth rank, ruling the world with the true Dharma at Pāṭaliputra. He will distribute my śarīra far and wide, building eighty-four thousand jeweled stūpas." [The Buddha] then handed this earth to Ānanda to plaster the south wall of the chamber, which was just enough to cover it completely. One hundred years later, he indeed became king. Cruel and tyrannical, he killed many, and constructed a prison city named "Pleasing on the Outside." He appointed an evil man named Giri and set up large cauldrons with boiling liquid, iron pellets, knives, and swords, fully equipping it with various such things, and executed all who entered from outside. The son of an elder had left household life for the Path; while wandering on his alms round, he entered the Pleasing Prison and immediately wished to leave. Giri stopped him, whereupon he cried aloud with great wailing. The jailer asked, "Why do you act like this?" The monk replied, "I do not fear death, but care only for good benefit. I have just recently left household life and have not yet realized the flavor of the Path. A human body is hard to obtain, and the Buddha's Dharma is hard to encounter. Now that I have met it, to die in vain—it is reflecting on this that makes me weep with great sorrow." Giri answered, "The king previously ordered that whoever enters this prison shall never be allowed to leave." The monk said further, "I must now surely die; I only wish for a stay of seven days, after which I will submit to execution." At that time the jailer granted it to him. A palace maid of King Aśoka had flirted with another man; the king, in great fury, committed them to the prison for punishment, and immediately had them crushed to dust with an iron pestle, their bones and flesh scattered like a mass of foam. Having observed this, the monk felt deep revulsion and sighed, "How true! The words spoken by the Great Compassionate One are truly genuine! He said that form is impermanent, like a bubble or a flame, not firm, quickly decaying, and very difficult to preserve for long. Previously, this woman's countenance was blooming and delightful, but now if one seeks it again, where is it to be found? Human life is empty and false, impossible to guard. Noble and lowly, poor and rich, foolish and wise are different, but though their lives differ, they all equally meet this death. Just as the sources of a hundred rivers are each distinct, yet there is not a single stream that does not flow into the great ocean, so too are human beings, all heading toward the place of death. Long or short according to their karma, they receive lives of varied lengths, but before long they inevitably return to extinction. This body is foul-smelling, filthy, and repulsive; covered by a thin skin, one falsely gives rise to thoughts of love, failing to see the various faults and evils within. How strange that birth and death should be the delight of infants and fools, and not that upon which the minds of the wise and noble roam and dwell!" Contemplating thus from night until dawn, he severed the fetters and attained the fruit of srotāpanna; practicing with further diligence, he attained the path of an arhat. When the seven days were fulfilled, Giri said to him, "Your time has now arrived; you may submit to execution." The monk replied, "My night has passed, my sun has risen; what was to be done has been accomplished. Do as you wish with your punishment." Giri in anger put him into a cauldron to boil him, but the blazing, intense heat turned cool and refreshing. Surprised at this, he went to the cauldron to look, and saw a thousand-petaled lotus flower growing inside the cauldron, with that monk sitting cross-legged upon it. Giri immediately went to inform the king. The king came with his retinue to view it. Thereupon the monk leaped into the air and performed the eighteen miraculous transformations. Seeing this, the king marveled at what had never been before, saying, "We all equally possess human form; how can there be such a difference in wondrous majesty and virtue? I do not yet understand; please explain it to me." At that time, wishing to transform the king, the monk spoke these words: "I have severed all fetters and am liberated from the three realms of existence, free from all agitation, tranquil and at peace. Great King, you should know: the Buddha prophesied of you that one hundred years later you would rule the city of Pāṭaliputra, distribute his śarīra, and widely build jeweled stūpas. Why do you now instead commit such evil, harming sentient beings without a heart of compassion? The King ought now to fulfill the Buddha's intention and bestow the joy of fearlessness upon sentient beings." Having heard this, the king deeply reproached himself, took refuge in the Three Jewels, and gave rise to reverent faith. He collected the Tathāgata's meritorious śarīra and built eighty-four thousand jeweled stūpas. Having completed the stūpas, he went to Kukkuṭārāma monastery, joined his palms, and asked the elder Yaśas, "Is there anyone in this Jambudvīpa who has received a prophecy like mine?" Yaśas answered, "The Buddha prophesied that the venerable Upagupta would bring about great benefit one hundred years after [his extinction]." The king asked again, "Has that pure person appeared in the world yet?" He answered, "Great King, he was born into the world long ago, has attained the path of an arhat, and is surrounded by people as he preaches the Dharma on Mount Urumuṇḍa." The king immediately prepared his chariot, wishing to go and pay homage to him, and promptly sent a messenger to say, "Great Sage, King Aśoka wishes to come and pay his respects." The venerable one thought, "This place is narrow and cramped, unable to hold many people. I should now go there in person." He then made preparations and set out toward Pāṭaliputra. Hearing this, the king rejoiced, swept and cleaned the lanes and roads, burned incense, scattered flowers, and played various music. He promptly went out with his ministers to welcome the venerable one. Upon seeing him, he cast his five limbs to the ground, gazed upon him with complete devotion, not taking his eyes off him for an instant, and said, "Great Sage, that I have become king with sovereign pleasure is not equal to beholding you once today." With his heart full of great joy, he spoke a verse, saying:

3.7

"Though the Buddha has entered tranquil extinction,
Now the Venerable One is born to succeed his place.
Now you should impart your teachings,
And I shall follow and learn from them."

3.8

Thereupon the venerable one rubbed the king's crown with his hand and replied in verse, saying:

3.9

"Be prudent, fearful, and heedful;
Royal status, wealth, and honor are difficult to maintain.
All things must inevitably return to decay and extinction;
In the world there is nothing that abides forever.
The Three Jewels are difficult to encounter, but now you have met them;
Constantly make offerings to them and do not cease."

3.10

Then King Aśoka invited the Venerable into the palace, arranged a jeweled throne, personally supported him up onto it, and said: "Great Holy One! Wherever the Buddha traveled, walked, and stayed, I wish to erect stūpas to increase the faith of the multitude." The Venerable praised him, saying: "Excellent, excellent! I will now go and show the King every place." He immediately prepared the fourfold army, and they set out together. They headed toward the Lumbinī garden to show the Buddha's birthplace, up to coming to Kuśinagara, where his converting affinity ended and he entered nirvāṇa. Hearing these words, the King fell unconscious to the ground; only after cold water was sprinkled on his face did he revive. Thereupon stūpas were erected in all these places, and having made offerings of a hundred thousand ounces of gold, he then departed. He further showed the King the merit-stūpas of Śāriputra and the other five hundred arhats; the King paid homage to them all and made offerings of gold. Finally, they came to the stūpa of Bakula. The King said: "What merit does this stūpa possess?" [The Venerable] replied: "Great King! The Buddha prophesied that this man would be free of all decline and illness. Long ago, ninety-one kalpas in the past, after the extinction of Vipaśyin Buddha, Bakula was residing at a monastery. He saw wealthy and noble people coming to make offerings to the saṅgha. The Venerable [Bakula] was lying down drunk at the time, and thought to himself: 'Since I am poor and destitute, with what shall I make an offering? Right now I have only a single harītakī fruit. If there are any sick monks among the saṅgha, I can offer it to them to heal their disease.' Thereupon he struck the mallet and announced the offering of medicine. At that time a monk was suffering severely from a headache; he asked the medicine-keeper for a harītakī fruit. The medicine-keeper said: 'Someone has offered medicine; you may take and consume it.' Then the monk went there, took the medicine, and having consumed it, his disease was immediately cured. On account of this cause, for ninety-one kalpas he was born among humans and devas, never having any disease. In his final life, he was born into a brāhmaṇa family. His mother died early, and his father took another wife. When Bakula was still a young child, he saw his mother making cakes and asked her for one. His stepmother was jealous and wicked, harboring a longstanding hatred, and immediately threw him into the cake oven; its flames blazed furiously, and she covered it with a pan. His father came from outside, searched everywhere for him, and found his son right in the oven. Later, on another occasion, the mother was boiling meat, and this little child again came and asked for some. The mother was even more enraged and threw him into the cauldron; the broth boiled scaldingly hot, but he was neither burned nor scalded. The father sought him again, unable to find him at all, and said: 'Where can my son be now?' At that time Bakula answered from within the cauldron; the father pulled him out, entirely safe and sound as before. Later, the mother went to a river, and Bakula held her clothes, following behind. The mother became furiously enraged and said: 'What sort of ghostly, monstrous creature is this? Even though I burned and boiled him, I could not make him die!' She thereupon seized him and threw him into the river. He encountered a large fish, which immediately swallowed him. Owing to his merit, he still did not die. A fisherman caught this fish on a hook, brought it to the market, and offered it for sale. Since he asked a high price, no one bought it; from morning till evening, it was on the verge of rotting and stinking. Bakula's father was walking through the market; seeing this large fish, he thought: 'The meat of this fish now is abundant. It is about to spoil, and the price asked is meager. I should now buy it and take it home.' He then gave him the money, took the fish, and returned home. He immediately cut open its belly with a sharp knife. At that time, Bakula called out loudly from inside the fish's belly: 'May father be gentle, do not let me be harmed!' He then opened the fish's belly and lifted him out. As he gradually grew up, he went to the Buddha and left the household life, attaining the path of an arhat and becoming endowed with all merits. At the age of one hundred and sixty, he had never experienced any illness, not even a fever or a headache. Desiring little and knowing contentment, he always delighted in seclusion and quiet, never having taught anyone even a single four-line verse." Having heard this, the King sent someone with a single coin to make an offering to this stūpa. A minister said to the King: "They are equally arhats; why make an offering with only a single coin?" The King said to the minister: "Because he saved himself and could not convert others." The stūpa deity would not accept it and handed it back to the King. The minister said: "Truly he desires little; he does not even wish to accept a single coin, how much less many!" Such are the five hundred great arhats: each has his past causes, but they are omitted and not recounted. After King Aśoka had finished making offerings to the stūpas of the Tathāgata and the śrāvakas, he joyfully joined his palms and spoke a verse:

3.11

"Only after hundreds of thousands of ages
does one obtain human rebirth;
I have now, indeed,
not received birth in vain.
Meeting a fine field of merit,
I have fully performed supreme deeds;
with fragile wealth,
I have cultivated the firm Dharma.
The stūpas I have erected
adorn Jambudvīpa,
just as white clouds
adorn the open sky."

3.12

Having spoken this verse, he bowed his head in reverence and departed. He went to the Bodhi tree and said: "I now wish to create two kinds of merit: first, to fill a thousand vases with fragrant broth and bathe the Bodhi tree; second, to establish a Pañcavārṣika." He then bathed himself, put on fresh, clean robes, ascended a high tower, bowed in reverence to the four directions, and said: "May all the noble ones accept my invitation!" Just as he finished speaking, arhats from the ten directions came flying through the air. Sages of the three paths, twenty thousand in all, also gathered like clouds. They left the seat of the elder, and none dared sit in it. The King asked the monks: "Why do you leave this empty seat?" Yaśas answered: "There is a great arhat named Piṇḍola. The Tathāgata prophesied that he can roar the lion's roar, and his majestic virtue is lofty and supreme. He will now come here." Hearing this, the King's bodily hairs all stood on end, like an utpala flower first beginning to blossom; he immediately joined his palms, looking up in anticipation. Then Piṇḍola, together with the arhats, flew down from the sky like king geese. The entire assembly arose in veneration. Seeing that the Venerable's eyebrows and hair were eminent and white, and that his bodily marks and features were like those of a pratyekabuddha, the King bowed in reverence, throwing his five limbs to the ground, and asked: "Great Holy One, have you seen the Tathāgata?" He replied: "I have seen him. His form was like a mass of gold, his face like the full moon, his body adorned with the thirty-two marks; his Brahmā voice was profound and wonderful, a cave and dwelling of great compassion." The King asked again: "In what place did you see him?" The Venerable replied: "In Rājagṛha, during the summer retreat. Residing among them, I saw the supreme field of merit. Even when you formerly offered dirt to the Buddha and the Buddha gave you the prophecy, I was also able to witness it." At that time, that king took everything in his country—his wife, children, and kin, gold, silver, lapis lazuli, cattle, sheep, fields, and houses, as well as his own person, his palace women and female entertainers—and offered them entirely to the saṅgha, requesting that the Pañcavārṣika be established in his name. After bathing the Bodhi tree, he personally poured and served the food for the monks. Then Piṇḍola poured ghee over the rice. The King said: "Great Holy One, the nature of ghee is difficult to digest; might it not cause illness?" The Venerable replied: "It will not cause trouble. Why? In the Buddha's time, water was equal to today's ghee. Therefore, eating it will ultimately not cause disease." At that time, wishing to prove this matter, the Venerable stretched his hand into the ground, reaching down more than forty-two thousand li, took the earth's fat, and showed it to the King: "The King should now know: because sentient beings have meager merit, the rich and oily tastes have all flowed into the earth. Therefore, worldly merit progressively declines." Having made his offerings, the King joyfully withdrew. The King had a younger brother named Suthāta, whose wrong views were vehement, and who hated śramaṇas. The King used skillful means to make him change his wrong mind; he immediately left the household life and attained the path of an arhat. Later, he was killed by a Qiang tribesman. At that time, the assembly questioned Upagupta: "For what reason was that Suthāta born in an eminent and noble family, yet was killed by a Qiang?" The Venerable replied: "Listen well, and I will explain. Long ago in the past, at the time of Kāśyapa Buddha, he made offerings to the saṅgha; owing to this merit, he was born life after life always in honor, glory, wealth, and nobility. Furthermore, in a past life, he was a hunter; having laid out his nets and snares and caught no birds, seeing a pratyekabuddha, hatred arose in his mind, and he immediately cut off his head with a sharp sword. Due to this karma, he fell into the great hells, and in life after life was constantly killed by others. Although he attained the fruit of the path, he still underwent bitter pain."

3.13

Account of the Transmission of the Dharma-treasury, Fascicle Three

Linked texts (1)

付法藏因緣傳 — Classical Chinese