付法藏因緣傳 4

English (machine translation) 4

Language: English

4.1

Translated by the Western Region Tripiṭaka Master Kiṅkara together with Tanyao under the Northern Wei

King Aśoka had another son named Dharmavardhana. His appearance was handsome and proper, and his eyes were exceedingly extraordinary. At that time there was a bird named kuṇāla, whose eyes were bright and clear, resembling that child's; hence they named this son Kuṇāla. When he grew up, a wife was wed to him, named Śuddhamatī. The King brought his son to the Kukkuṭārāma monastery. The elder Yaśas, knowing that he was destined to lose his eyes, told him: "Eyes are impermanent; they must inevitably be destroyed and cannot be relied upon. You should exert diligent effort to seek supreme liberation." At that time, Kuṇāla accepted the instruction and returned to the palace, contemplating these eyes as suffering, empty, and perishable. The King's chief queen, named Tiṣyarakṣitā, gave rise to extreme lustful attachment toward Kuṇāla; with the fire of desire blazing vehemently, she pressed him to have sexual intercourse. By nature the prince was inherently pure and chaste; his resolve was firm, and he would not comply with her command. Tiṣyarakṣitā harbored intense hatred. At that time Kuṇāla was governing within the city of Takṣaśilā; that chief queen was constantly watching for an opportunity. It happened that the King fell ill, becoming exceedingly distressed and critical; the queen treated him, and he was immediately cured. She requested the wish to take the King's throne for seven days. Having received permission, she then wished to avenge her grievance, and secretly sealed a letter ordering that his eyes be gouged out. The prince complied with the order, seeking a villain to extract his right eye and place it in his palm to look upon it. He then remembered Yaśas's original admonition and said: "True indeed is the Venerable's instruction! It is authentic, certain, and not false. He said eyes are impermanent, just like an illusion. Formerly I regarded these eyes as extraordinary and subtle; today, deeply contemplating them, what can be loved and attached to? I shall renounce this fragile and rotting phenomenon, and single-mindedly seek the most supreme, pure eye of wisdom." While making this contemplation, he attained the fruit of srotāpanna. Having the other eye extracted, he again contemplated deeply; his feeling of disgust reached its culmination, and he attained the fruit of sakṛdāgāmin. When his wife Śuddhamatī heard that her husband's eyes had been gouged out, weeping loudly with tears falling like rain, she came in shock and weeping; having seen him, she fell unconscious, reviving only after a long while. At that time Kuṇāla spoke a verse to instruct her, saying:

4.3

"Formerly I performed evil karma,
and today I receive it back myself.
All the suffering of the world
and the affection of love must end in parting.
You should contemplate this carefully;
why should you weep so aloud?"

4.4

The people of the city drove the husband and wife far away. Wandering from place to place, they made their way toward Pāṭaliputra, playing the lute and begging for alms to sustain themselves. At last they arrived at the royal palace and stayed within the elephant stables, where, plucking the lute and singing clearly, he proclaimed his sufferings. Hearing the music, the king seemed to recognize it, and sent someone to see; it was Kuṇāla. The king immediately summoned him inside. Having seen his son, the king fainted and fell to the ground, weeping aloud and trembling all over. He asked Kuṇāla, “Who ruined your eyes? Tell me at once! I shall punish their crime.” Kuṇāla said, “Did father not hear? Formerly, even the Tathāgata underwent the retributions of karma. Retributions such as these possess exceedingly great power. Among all the noble sages, the honored and noble, the poor and lowly, there is no expedient means by which anyone can escape. Through my own past karma I have brought about this cruel calamity. Let the king not sorrow or distress himself, causing his mind to languish.” Although King Aśoka heard these words, his heart was still burned by the fire of grief. He spoke to his son again, saying, “Who destroyed your eyes? I shall butcher, dismember, and annihilate their body!” Inquiring from one to another, he learned of Tiṣyarakṣitā. The king at once summoned her and said to her, “What earth can bear you without swallowing you up? You were truly my enemy, falsely pretending intimacy from the outside. For what reason did you destroy my son’s eyes? Now, with a wheel of knives and a tree of swords, I shall chop your body to dust! I shall discard your corpse in a foul and filthy place, and pour dung-juice and vile poisons down your throat!” When Kuṇāla heard these words of the king, he gave rise to great compassion toward Tiṣyarakṣitā, and addressed his father, saying, “Through foolishness she committed this error and offense, and for this reason she is now disgraced and humiliated. The king is a wise man; how could you act like her? If you now wish to inflict vengeance upon her, you will surely harm each other as enemies for kalpas on end. Turning about like this, when would it ever end? The great king should know: just as an echo immediately answers to a sound, this body is likewise the reason suffering exists. Moreover, this body is the root of all evils; that is why all Buddhas constantly urge us to abandon it. If this body were definitively peaceful and blissful, why would the wise constantly give rise to aversion toward it? Viewed in this light, the body is the root of suffering, the accumulation of immeasurable evils. May the great king listen: just as an infant in the world does not yet know principle and righteousness, and reviles its parents without a mind of humility and respect, would those parents ever give rise to hatred toward their child? All sentient beings are also like this: constantly covered and obscured by afflictions, they are foolish and without wisdom, just like young children. How could one give rise to anger toward them?” The king’s heart was exceedingly fierce and cruel, and he would not accept his words; gathering a great heap of firewood and oil, he burned her to death. At that time, the assembly questioned Upagupta: “For what reason was this prince born into a noble family yet had his eyes gouged out?” The venerable one told them, “Listen well, and I shall explain. Formerly, in Vārāṇasī, there was a hunter who went to the Snowy Mountains and encountered a hailstorm. Five hundred deer all entered into a single cave. The hunter wished to kill them all, but then thought: ‘If I kill them all, they will rot and stink. Let me rather gouge out their eyes and eat them gradually.’ Thereupon he gouged out the eyes of the five hundred deer. Due to this cause, down to the present he has undergone this retribution. Furthermore, long ago, after Krakucchanda Buddha had passed into extinction, the king of that country at the time was named Duanyan (Subhavyūha). He collected the Buddha’s relics and raised a seven-jeweled stūpa. Later there was another king whose mind was without reverent faith; he dismantled the stūpa, took the jewels, and left only earth and timber. The people of the entire country all wept and wailed. A son of an elder came and asked the reason, and the people answered, saying, ‘The jeweled stūpa of Krakuc[chanda] Buddha has been destroyed; for this reason we weep.’ When the elder’s son heard this, he immediately repaired and decorated it as before, and made an image of that Buddha with wondrous primary and secondary marks. He then made a vow, saying, ‘May I in a future life attain supreme liberation just like that World-Honored One!’ Due to this karma, he was born into a noble family and attained pure and wondrous fruit.” The retinue of King Aśoka was like this; they all laid down their heavy burdens and all escaped birth and death. The king’s faithful mind was deep, far-reaching, and difficult to measure. Whenever he saw śramaṇas, whether senior or junior, he would go out to greet them, inquire after them, and pay homage with reverence. At that time there was a minister named Yaśa, who was without reverent faith and ablaze with wrong views; he said, “King Aśoka is utterly lacking in wisdom, humiliating his noble virtue to bow down to young novices.” When the king heard this, he ordered his ministers to search for the heads of a hundred beasts, making Yaśa alone seek a human head. Having received the king’s command, they all searched; having obtained them, they all came and presented them to the king. The king ordered them to take them to the market to display and sell. Before long, all the heads were sold; of Yaśa’s human head, there was no buyer at all. After several days, it was about to rot and stink. He addressed the great king, saying, “This head is difficult to sell; no one even wishes to look at it, much less buy it.” The king asked Yaśa, “What thing is most noble?” He replied, “Great King, man is superior.” The king said, “If man is superior, why was it not sold?” Yaśa replied, “Although a human life is noble, in death it is base and vile.” The king said, “Is my head the same as this or not?” Yaśa, terrified, looked down and looked up, then answered, saying, “The king’s head is also just as vile as this.” The king said, “If my head is base and vile, why do you wonder at my paying reverent homage to young novices? If you are my true good spiritual friend, you ought to urge me to trade a fragile head for an indestructible head. Why do you now stop me from doing good?” Only then did the minister Yaśa reproach himself, change his errant mind, and faithfully revere the Three Jewels. Later, at one time, the king asked Upagupta, “Formerly, when the Buddha was in the world, who gave the greatest gifts?” The venerable one replied, “The elder Sudatta gave exceedingly vast gifts, offering gold amounting to one hundred billion to the Tathāgata.” The king thought to himself, “He was still able to give so many precious treasures; how could I today fail to equal him?” He then calculated the things he had previously given, which came to ninety-six billion ounces of gold. Just then, he fell gravely ill and knew his life was about to end; he then wept and gave rise to great anguish. There was a minister named Rādha[gupta], who was the very boy who had rejoiced in his merit on that earlier day. Due to this merit, he had become a prime minister. His wisdom was profound and broad, and he was skilled in speech. Seeing the king sorrowful and distressed, he joined his palms and said, “Just as when the sun is at its height all gaze up to it, the king’s flourishing virtue is also like this, revered by all alike. Now that the king has fallen ill, it is like the sun about to set; among the people of the state, none are not sorrowful and fearful. The great king should now listen to what I say. The three realms are impermanent, flowing and shifting without staying; whether young, robust, or old, all will ultimately return to destruction. It is like stone mountains closing in from all four directions—what wise person could ever escape? Sentient beings of the world are also like this: having received a body of the five aggregates, the mountain of death comes to press upon them. Even if one were to devise hundreds of thousands of expedients, and with various spells hide away and flee, none have ever been seen who could escape this affliction. Therefore one should know that the world is entirely impermanent; that which meets must part. You should deeply contemplate this principle. You ought to restrain yourself; why should you sorrow and lament?” The king told the minister, “I do not fear death or begrudge precious treasures. It is simply that I am parting from the noble assembly, and of the hundred billion pieces of gold to be given, four billion are still lacking. It is for this reason that I weep.” Rādha[gupta] said, “The storehouses are very abundant; you may give them to make up the full amount.” King Aśoka immediately gave the seven jewels to Kukkuṭārāma monastery, and established Kuṇāla’s son Śamatha as crown prince. Evil ministers of wrong views said to the crown prince, “King Aśoka’s life is about to end, and he is scattering the various storehouses. If you succeed to the throne, you will have no resources to use. You should now cut this off and not follow his intention.” Then Śamatha, believing and accepting their errant words, sent food to the king on a single gold platter. The king immediately redirected it as an offering to Kukkuṭārāma monastery. Later, they brought food to the king in an earthenware vessel containing only half an āmalaka fruit. The king summoned his ministers and asked them, “Who is the master of this Jambudvīpa?” The ministers replied, “The king alone reigns over it.” He answered, “Not so. I have mastery only over this half an āmalaka fruit.” He then said, “Alas! Wealth and nobility are utterly detestable and vile! Glory and position are like illusions, dispersing and vanishing before long. Though dwelling in honor and renown, one ultimately falls. I was the emperor of men, my majesty and virtue without equal; yet at the verge of death I am impoverished, having only half a fruit. Thus I know that the world is entirely false and deceptive, which fools relish but the noble sages reproach!” Thereupon he spoke a verse to his ministers, saying:

4.5

“True indeed is the Tathāgata’s teaching;
What he expounded is truly not false.
He broadly proclaimed the faults of birth and death:
There is nothing in them that can be loved or delighted in.
Originally I dwelt in honor and nobility;
My majesty and virtue had few equals.
The lesser kings and the people,
Not one failed to look up to me in reverence.
Today my merit is on the verge of exhaustion;
Hunger and distress entangle and oppress me.
Just like a violent rushing river,
Striking a mountain, it has no more power.
Formerly I aided the poor and destitute,
And delivered those in all kinds of suffering and affliction.
How is it that today,
I myself dwell in such lowliness and disgrace?
Only now do I know that positions of honor and nobility
Are easily destroyed and not solid.
The calm and quiet bliss of liberation
Is alone the most delightful.”

4.6

Having spoken this verse, he immediately commanded a minister: "Take this fruit to the Kukkuṭārāma monastery, and speak as I say: 'King Aśoka pays homage at the feet of the Saṅgha. Only over this half an āmalaka fruit do I now have mastery; all that I had has been lost. Though this fruit is small, it is my final gift. I pray only that the Saṅgha, pitying my poverty and suffering, will accept it.'" The Elder Yaśas addressed the monastic community: "You should observe: King Aśoka enjoyed blessed joy and governed the whole world, yet now he has been stripped [of power] by his ministers, having mastery only over half a fruit. Know that cyclic existence is profoundly loathsome! Wealth, rank, and the five desires soon decay; authority and mastery are extinguished in an instant. Alas! The three realms of existence are difficult to dwell in long." He then instructed the monastery steward to crush this fruit and place it in the broth, so that all the monks might universally receive this offering. When King Aśoka was on the verge of breathing his last, he asked Radhagupta: "Who holds mastery over this Jambudvīpa?" Radhagupta said: "Only you, Great King." Having heard these words, he sat up, joined his palms, looked in all four directions, and spoke these words: "Excluding only the treasury, I now bestow all the great earth within the four seas upon the Buddha and the Saṅgha; and by the merit I have performed from the past to the present, I do not seek the cyclic rebirth of a cakravartin or Śakra, but vow that in my next place of birth I may swiftly realize the fruit of the Way." He placed the letter in a box, stamped the seal, addressed it, and entrusted it to Radhagupta. Thereupon his breath ceased, and he passed away. He was adorned and buried in the manner of a cakravartin. In this way, the venerable Upagupta awakened the king's mind and increased his faith; he possessed skillful means to teach and transform sentient beings. Later, at another time, in the city of Śūra, there was a merchant chief named Devagupta, who had great reverence and faith. Intending to enter the great ocean to gather rare jewels, [he made a vow]: "If I return safely from the sea, I will hold a pañcavārṣika assembly for the Saṅgha." Having gone to the sea, gathered the jewels, and returned safely, he set his mind on hosting this great gathering of giving. A bhikṣuṇī who was an arhat observed who in the assembly served as a field of merit, and further considered who held the head of the Saṅgha. She saw that the arhats and trainees had severed the defilements and impurities and were worthy of receiving offerings. Observing a bhikṣu named Āṣāḍha, who had not yet attained liberation but sat at the very head of the Saṅgha, the bhikṣuṇī went to him and said: "Bhadanta, you should now adorn yourself." At that time, this bhikṣu did not grasp her meaning, so he put on clean robes, shaved his hair, and bathed. Later, this bhikṣuṇī again spoke to Āṣāḍha, instructing him to adorn himself. Āṣāḍha became extremely enraged: "Following your words, I have thoroughly cleansed and adorned myself. What ugliness is there that you repeatedly utter such words?" The bhikṣuṇī said: "Bhadanta, you should know that this is a worldly adornment, not that of the Buddhadharma. The adornment of the Buddhadharma refers to attaining the four fruits. How strange, bhadanta, that you are so frivolous and base! The elder Devagupta wishes to host a great assembly; those receiving the offerings are mostly worthy and noble ones. Yet you, as the head of the Saṅgha, have not escaped cyclic existence, and with a mind subject to outfluxes you would be the first to receive the offering. Therefore, I now wished to awaken you." When Āṣāḍha heard this, he wept mournfully and thought to himself: "Old and decrepit as I am, how can I exhaust the outfluxes?" The bhikṣuṇī said: "The Buddhadharma has no [fixed] time—how could it depend on youth, vigor, or old age? You should go and pay homage to Upagupta; he will surely cause you to be freed from all suffering." The bhikṣu immediately went to Upagupta. He arrived just as the monks were bathing and jointly manifesting supernormal transformations. Delighted, Āṣāḍha spoke a verse:

4.7

Harmonious and gathered in one place, / cross-legged like coiled dragons, / they have all entered quiescent concentration, / still and unmoving. / Universally emitting pure radiance, / like hundreds of thousands of suns, / though sharing the form of humans, / their virtues are exceedingly lofty and profound.

4.8

Upagupta, seeing that he was subdued and tractable, then preached the Dharma to him, and he became an arhat. At that time there was also an upāsaka who said to a brāhmaṇa, "There is no self." The brāhmaṇa said, "Who taught this?" He replied, "Gupta always proclaims that there is no self; it is only based on provisional combination that one speaks of 'self.'" The brāhmaṇa then went to the Venerable One's dwelling. Upagupta knew his thoughts and at once proclaimed to him that all things are without self: "It is like an echo arising in an empty mountain: if one closely observes and contemplates it, it is utterly unobtainable. It is formed merely through the combination of the five aggregates. What wise person would deem it to be real?" The brāhmaṇa was immediately awakened and became a srotāpanna. [Upagupta] caused him to go forth from the household life, and he attained the path of an arhat. There was a son of good family who went to Upagupta to go forth from the household life and train in the path. He was constantly fond of sleeping, indolent, and lazy. Although [Upagupta] preached the Dharma for him, he attained nothing at all. The Venerable One instructed him to sit in meditation under a tree, but under the tree he soon fell asleep again. Gupta magically created a deep pit of a thousand fathoms. When the monk saw it, he was filled with terror and single-mindedly concentrated on Upagupta. The Venerable One then magically created a small path and had the monk pass through it. [The monk] thought to himself, "My master has saved me from this peril!" Upagupta then said to him, "This terror is minor and not worth speaking of. The suffering of birth, aging, sickness, and death in the three realms of existence constantly attends the practitioner and never departs. The sufferings in the hells are of hundreds of thousands of kinds; fear of those far exceeds this pit." Thereupon the monk slept no more; vigorously contemplating, he attained arhatship. In an eastern country there was a son of good family who had faith and delight in the Buddha's Dharma, went forth from the household life, and trained in the path. He was skilled in managing affairs, leaving nothing undone. After a long time he grew weary, so he went to the Venerable Upagupta's dwelling. The Venerable One observed him and knew that because this monk's merit was not yet complete, he had not attained the path. He therefore had him wander and instruct [beings] for the sake of the Saṅgha. Receiving the instruction, he entered the city and begged from place to place. An elder saw him and asked him [about it]. He replied, "Elder, the Venerable Gupta sent me to instruct [beings]. Who in this city is of staunch faith?" The elder said again, "Take care not to go anywhere else. Whatever is needed, I shall provide it all to you." He then prepared everything. Having obtained it, the monk knelt before the senior elder holding the food. The entire Saṅgha all recited verses of blessing for him. When the blessing was finished, he became an arhat. There was a monk who by nature was fond of food and drink; because of this greed, he could not attain the path. Upagupta invited him to his cell and gave him fragrant milk gruel, telling him to wait until it cooled before eating. The monk blew on the gruel with his mouth, and it soon cooled. He said to the Venerable One, "The gruel has already cooled." The Venerable One told him, "Although this gruel is cool, the fire of your desire is hot. You should extinguish the fire of your mind with the water of contemplation." He then had him vomit the food out into an empty vessel. After he had vomited the food, [Upagupta] had him eat it again. The monk answered, "It is mixed with saliva; how could it be eaten?" The Venerable One said to him, "All food and drink is no different from this. Because you do not examine it, you falsely give rise to greedy attachment. You should now contemplate the notion of the impurity of food." He then preached the Dharma for him, and [the monk] attained the path of an arhat. There was a monk who deeply loved and cherished his body. Because he loved and cherished his body, he wished to return home. Taking leave of Upagupta, he spent the night on the road in a deva shrine. The Venerable One then magically created a yakṣa carrying a corpse to this deva shrine. Another ghost came from behind, and the two ghosts then fought over the corpse. In a tumultuous dispute, they could not settle it themselves. The ghost in front said, "I have a witness," and they together asked him, "Whose corpse is this?" The man was terrified and thought to himself, "Today I shall certainly die without doubt. Better to speak the truth and be slaughtered." He said to the ghost in front, "This is your corpse." The ghost behind was enraged and tore off his hands and feet. The ghost in front then took the corpse's [limbs] and replaced them; his body was restored, no different from before. Thereupon the two ghosts together ate the remaining flesh, and having finished eating, they went away. This man's self-love immediately ceased. He returned to the Venerable One, went forth from the household life, and practiced vigorously; shortly thereafter, he attained arhatship. In South India there was a son of good family who went forth from the household life and trained in the path. Attached to his own body, he bathed, smeared it with perfumes, and was fond of delicious food and drink, so that his body grew fat and robust; he was unable to attain the path. He went to the Venerable One's dwelling to seek the supreme Dharma. Upagupta observed that this person, because of attachment to the body, could not exhaust the outflows. He said to the monk, "If you can receive my teaching, I shall impart the Dharma to you." He magically created a large tree and had him climb it; the four sides turned into a deep pit of a thousand fathoms. He had him release his right hand, and eventually release everything. At that time, this person gave up his body and life, letting go of both hands and feet, and immediately arrived at the ground, seeing neither the deep pit nor the large tree. [Upagupta] preached the essential Dharma for him, and he attained the path of an arhat. There was a monk whose mind was extremely stingy and greedy; because of this cause, he could not attain stream-entry. Upagupta instructed him to practice giving. He answered, "I am poor; what can I use to give?" Upagupta sent two disciples to sit to his left and right, their bodies emitting light. The monk was delighted and gave a little food. Later, when he obtained good food, he gave rise to joy and thought, "A small gift still brings a great reward; if one gives much, the reward will be immeasurable!" His stingy mind was immediately broken. [Upagupta] preached the profound Dharma for him, and at that moment he attained the fruit of an arhat. There was a son of good family who went forth from the household life and trained in the path. Upagupta preached the essential Dharma for him, and he soon saw the truth and became a srotāpanna. He thought to himself, "Having severed the three fetters, what further progress should I seek? I can roam freely at will for at most seven lifetimes." The Venerable One said to him, "The phenomenon of saṃsāra is utterly detestable and vile, just like excrement, which is foul whether little or much." He then took him to a caṇḍāla village, where he saw a young child whose body was covered with malignant sores, with worms and blood flowing out together, suffering greatly. He asked, "Monk, do you see this child? This young child is a srotāpanna. Long ago, when the Buddha was in the world, there was an arhat whose body suffered slightly from sores, which made a sound when he scratched them. The karmadāna angrily said, 'Are there maggots and sores on your body now? You should go out to the caṇḍāla village!' The arhat said to him, 'Now you have incurred a transgression; do not utter such words.' The karmadāna then repented, cultivated with vigor, and became a srotāpanna. Later, he grew lax and did not seek to advance further, and therefore was born into this household to suffer this torment." Walking a little further, he saw a person being burned by fire, his body scorched and putrefied, the pain unbearable. Advancing still further, he saw another person who, having violated the king's law, had his body impaled upon a large wooden stake, uttering cries of lamentation and experiencing extreme suffering. The Venerable One then asked the monk, "Do you see these two people?" The monk said, "Indeed, I have seen them." The Venerable One told him, "The former person is a sakṛdāgāmin; the one seen later is an anāgāmin. They were both indolent and did not seek to advance further, and therefore were born among humans to undergo these bitter torments. Therefore you should now be diligent and seek liberation quickly." Having heard this, the monk cultivated and trained day and night, and before long attained the path of an arhat. The Venerable One then preached the essentials of the Dharma for the caṇḍāla's son, who became an anāgāmin, died, and was reborn in the Śuddhāvāsa heaven. In the country of Mathurā, an elder had a son who died at just one year of age. In this manner, [the same thing happened] successively up to six elders: [a son] was born, reached one year of age, and died again. Finally, he was born again in an elder's house, and when he had just reached seven years of age, he was carried off by robbers. Upagupta observed that this child was destined to attain the path in this lifetime. He magically created an army of four divisions to capture the robbers. When the robbers saw it, they were terrified, begged for mercy, and paid homage. He preached the essential Dharma for them, and they became srotāpannas; they took this child and gave him to Upagupta. The Venerable One then ordained this child and the robbers, causing them all to go forth from the household life. He preached the wondrous Dharma for them, and they attained the path of an arhat. He said to the child, "You may now observe your relatives and transform and deliver them." He then observed and saw his parents from seven lifetimes weeping in sorrow and longing for their son. He went to their house and said, "Elders, I am your son; do not be so sorrowful." He proclaimed the essential Dharma for them, and they attained the first fruit of the path. The successive six families were all likewise. There was a son of good family who had faith in the Buddha and went forth from the household life. Sitting in meditation, he attained the four mundane dhyānas and considered himself to have achieved the ultimate fruit of an arhat. Upagupta had skillful means: he sent that monk to another settlement, and midway on the road he magically created a merchant, and also manifested a band of robbers, five hundred in all, who gathered as a gang to rob the merchant, slaying, hacking, and stabbing so that [corpses] lay everywhere on the ground. The monk was seized with great terror and immediately knew that he was not an arhat. He then thought, "I am not an arhat, but an anāgāmin." When the merchant had been destroyed, an elder's daughter said to the monk, "I only pray that the Venerable One will go together with me." The monk answered, "The Buddha does not permit me to travel with a woman." The elder's daughter said, "I will keep the Venerable One in sight and follow behind." The monk took pity on her and walked keeping each other in sight. The Venerable One then magically created a great river. The woman said, "Venerable One, you may cross together with me." The monk was downstream and the woman was upstream. Afterwards, this woman sank and fell into the river, calling out, "Venerable One, save me from this peril!" The monk then pulled her out, gave rise to the thought of smooth softness, and aroused the mind of sensual desire. He immediately knew that he was not an anāgāmin. He gave rise to extreme lustful attachment to this woman and wished to have intercourse with her; taking her to a secluded place, he only then saw that it was Upagupta. He was filled with great shame and stood with head bowed. The Venerable One said to him, "Formerly you considered yourself an arhat; why do you wish to commit such an evil deed?" He took him to the monastery and taught him to repent. He preached the essential Dharma for him, and [the monk] attained the path of an arhat. There was a monk who practiced the contemplation of impurity; because the defilements temporarily did not arise, he considered himself to have attained the holy path. Upagupta said to him, "Monk, you may go to the country of Gandhāra." Receiving the instruction, he traveled to that country. In this country there was an elder named Kālava who had a daughter of extraordinary beauty. The monk went to their house to beg for food. The daughter brought out the food and smiled, showing her teeth. When the monk saw this, he gave rise to thoughts of greed and desire. Due to his prior habit of contemplating impurity, he grasped the sign of the woman's teeth and contemplated that all was white bones. Due to this contemplation, he attained the path of an arhat. Reproaching his original mind, he spoke a verse:

4.9

Outwardly appearing virtuous and good,
Inwardly, in truth, full of defiling attachment;
Because I have seen their true nature,
My mind has instantly attained liberation.

4.10

In the country of Mathurā, there was an elder's son who, shortly after marrying a wife, thought to himself: 'I wish to leave home in the Buddha's Dharma.' He then took leave of his parents. His parents answered him: 'We have only one son; even if you died, we would not let you go, how much less while you live!' The son then said: 'If you do not let me go, I will never eat.' Thereupon he fasted, from the first day until seven full days had passed. His parents, fearing he would die, then told him: 'We shall grant your wish, provided that after leaving home you see us again.' The son rejoiced greatly, took his leave, and departed. He went to Upagupta to implore to leave home, and the Venerable One immediately ordained him into the Way. But he thought to himself: 'Formerly I made an agreement with my parents.' He then took leave of the Venerable One and went to his home, where he saw his parents and his former wife. The wife said to him: 'If you do not return, I shall throw myself away in death.' The monk felt regret in his heart and wished to abandon the precepts. He went to his master and said he wished to return home. Upagupta told him: 'Just wait until tomorrow.' He accepted his master's instruction and stayed the night in the monastery. During the night, the Venerable One manifested a dream for him, making this monk see himself arrive at his former home. His wife had died that very day; her parents and relatives were preparing funeral goods and carrying her corpse to place it in the burial ground. In an instant it stank, rotted, and maggots emerged; bones and flesh came apart, and foxes and wolves fought to feed on it. He immediately woke up in alarm and went to tell his master. The master told him: 'You may go and observe whether it is truly as in your dream or not.' Relying on his master's supernormal power, he suddenly reached his home. His wife was already dead at the time, just as seen in the dream. Contemplating and observing this, he gave rise to deep disgust and instantly attained the path of an arhat. On Mount Urumuṇḍa, there was a tigress that had given birth to two cubs; starved, impoverished, and exhausted to the extreme, she consequently died. Having lost their mother, the two cubs were in utmost distress. Upagupta went to where they were, gave them food, and spoke a verse for them:

4.11

All conditioned things are impermanent, / they are phenomena that arise and perish; / when arising and perishing have perished, / quiescent extinction is bliss.

4.12

Day after day he gave them food and spoke this verse for them. These two tiger cubs soon afterward died, and were reborn in Mathurā in the house of a brāhmaṇa. Upagupta went to his residence, alone without a companion. The brāhmaṇa said: 'Why do you walk alone?' He replied: 'Danapati, I am one who has left home and lack attendants.' The brāhmaṇa said: 'My wife is pregnant; if she gives birth to a boy, I shall present him to you.' Later she gave birth to two sons, upright and handsome in countenance. Upagupta went and asked for them. The brāhmaṇa said: 'The children are still young; when they grow older, I will surely give them to you.' When they reached the age of eight, he went again and asked for them. The brāhmaṇa then gave the elder son to the Venerable One. The younger one then said: 'You can let me go!' They contended with each other, each wishing to leave home. Upagupta said: 'Both of these two boys ought to attain the Way.' Thereupon the brāhmaṇa entrusted both sons to the Venerable One, who ordained them to leave home, and both attained arhatship. He then sent them to gather campaka flowers. They answered: 'Great master, this tree is tall and steep; I cannot reach it.' The Venerable One told them: 'You are devas; do you not possess the supernormal power of flight?' Then the two śrāmaṇeras ascended into empty space, gathered the flowers, and offered them. The Venerable One stood together with all his disciples, who, seeing their supernormal virtue, sighed at what was unprecedented. Upagupta told them: 'These two śrāmaṇeras were formerly hungry tiger cubs. You originally resented me for giving food to these tigers; today you may properly observe their supernormal transformations.' Hearing this, the disciples gave rise to wonder. In South India there was a man who engaged in adulterous lust with another person's wife. His mother thereupon bitterly and sternly reprimanded him: 'You should know now: the way of lust has many faults and perils, and because of this there is no evil one will not commit; in the future you will surely be born in places of severe pain and hardship.' The son then became enraged and killed his mother. He went to the other person's house to seek that woman, but in the end failed to obtain her. Deeply regretting and disgusted, he left home in the Buddha's Dharma to practice the Way. Before long he recited and mastered the Tripiṭaka fluently, was skilled in eloquence, and had many followers. Together with his assembly of disciples, he went to the Venerable One's place. Upagupta, observing that this man had personally committed a heinous offense and had no share in the fruits of the Way, remained silent and would not speak with him. The Tripiṭaka monk knew his sin was profound, and seeing that he received no answer, returned to his dwelling. There was a monk who, sitting in meditation and contemplation, attained mundane concentration (samādhi) and thereupon considered himself to have realized the four attainments of the Way. Afterward, while sitting under a tree for a short while, Upagupta transformed into a monk and went to his place. They greeted each other and sat to one side. The transformed person asked: 'Under whom did you leave home?' He replied: 'My master's name is Upagupta.' He praised him, saying: 'Bhadanta, how excellent! Your master is a Buddha without the marks.' He spoke again: 'Monk, what sūtras do you recite?' He replied: 'I recite the scriptures of the Tripiṭaka.' The transformed person asked again: 'What path have you realized?' He replied: 'I have attained the fruit of arhatship.' 'By means of what did you realize the fruit?' He replied: 'Mundane concentration.' The transformed monk said: 'If you realized the Way by mundane concentration, that is false.' Hearing this, the monk gave rise to deep remorse; single-mindedly diligent, he attained arhatship. In the country of Kaśmīra, there was a monk named Sudarśana who had attained mundane concentration and possessed the five supernormal knowledges. When there was no rain, he could make it pour down. Giving rise to excessive pride, he claimed to have realized the holy Way. Upagupta then conjured a drought of twelve years. The people, alarmed and terrified, implored the Venerable One for mercy. The Venerable One told them: 'I cannot do it. In the country of Kaśmīra there is the monk Sudarśana, whose supernormal powers are supreme and who is fully capable of praying for rain.' The people all went and petitioned him. Then this monk, using his supernormal power, flew through the air and arrived, praying for sweet rain which poured down in due season. The people rejoiced and set out great offerings. Having received the offerings, he gave rise to arrogance; but then he reflected: 'An arhat has no prideful mind.' He then went to the Venerable One to implore repentance. [Upagupta] expounded the essentials of the Dharma for him, and he attained the path of an arhat. In South India there was a monk of few desires who was easily satisfied, fond of coarse, worn-out clothing; his body was emaciated and weak, and he could not attain the Way. Upagupta observed that this person ought to attain the Way in his present life, but was hindered by his physical debility; he provided clothing for him and anointed his feet with fragrant oil. He immediately attained the path of an arhat. In this way he transformed and liberated immeasurable sentient beings, all of whom obtained the fruit of arhatship. For each person who attained the Way, there was one counting-tally; each tally was four inches long, and they filled a stone chamber. The chamber was sixty feet high, and its length and width were the same. Thereupon his fame filled Jambudvīpa, and the world all hailed him as a 'Buddha without the marks'. His conditions for converting beings being finished, he thought to himself: 'I have now completed my offering of the Dharma to the Buddha, bringing benefit, peace, and joy to my fellow practitioners of brahma-conduct, causing the four groups [of disciples] to obtain great welfare, and continuing the prosperity of the correct Dharma so that it is not cut off. The time for nirvāṇa has arrived; I should enter extinction.' He told the great assembly: 'Seven days from now, I shall enter nirvāṇa.' At that time, arhats of the ten directions and various learners, pure keepers of precepts beyond number, and immeasurable hundreds of thousands of upāsakas gathered. The Venerable One thereupon flew into empty space and manifested the eighteen miraculous transformations, causing the four assemblies to give rise to great faith. In the nirvāṇa without remainder, he attained extinction. Using the tallies in the chamber, they cremated him. The arhats of the ten directions also entered nirvāṇa. Humans and devas wept, wailed, and grieved; they all collected the relics (śarīra) and erected stūpas to make offerings to them.

4.13

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

Linked texts (1)

付法藏因緣傳 — Classical Chinese