經律異相 32

English (machine translation) 32

Language: English

32.6 — 4 parts

32.1

Compiled by the Liang dynasty śramaṇas Sengmin, Baochang, and others

Prince Able to Give entering the sea to gather jewels, 1
Kalyāṇamitra fond of giving, seeking a pearl, losing his eyes, and regaining sight, 2
Dīrghāyu wishing to avenge his father and later regaining the kingdom, 3
The crown prince of Caura, being ugly, losing his consort, and by using wisdom recovering her, 4
Mūkapakṣa not speaking, being buried, and afterwards speaking to cultivate the Path, 5
Prince Sattva sacrificing his body, 6
Prince Human Medicine curing diseases, 7
A prince hearing about his past lives, becoming terrified, and seeking to return to the Buddha, 8
Jīvaka, grandson of King Abhaya, learning the arts, 9

32.3

Prince Able to Give entering the sea to gather jewels, 1

32.4

In a previous lifetime, Śākyamuni Buddha was a great king of physicians who cured all illnesses. He did not seek fame or gain, but did so out of compassion for sentient beings. Because the sick were exceedingly numerous, his strength was not sufficient to save them all. Grieving for all beings yet unable to fulfill his wish, he died of distress and was immediately reborn in the Trāyastriṃśa heaven. He reflected to himself: 'Now that I have been reborn in heaven, I merely consume the karmic fruit of merit and bring no superior benefit.' He then made use of an expedient means to bring about the destruction of his own body, relinquished this heavenly lifespan, and was born in the palace of the nāga king Bhāgata as a nāga prince. His body was large and tall, and his parents deeply loved and cherished him. Wishing to bring about his own death, he approached the king of garuḍas. The bird immediately seized this nāga prince and swallowed him atop a śālmali tree. His parents wailed and wept in great grief. Having died, the nāga prince was reborn in Jambudvīpa as the crown prince of a great king, named Sarvadā (Able to Give). At birth, he could speak. He asked his attendants: 'What kind of goods are there in this kingdom today? Bring them all so that I may use them for giving.' The people were alarmed and terrified; they all abandoned him and fled. His mother, out of maternal love, alone stayed to protect him. He said to his mother: 'I am no rākṣasa. Why have the people fled? In my past lives I have always delighted in giving; I am a benefactor (dānapati) to all people.' Hearing his words, the mother told the people, and the people then returned. His mother raised him well, and when he grew up, all his own personal possessions were exhausted. He went to his father the king to ask for goods to give in charity. His father gave him his share, and he again exhausted it completely through giving. Seeing that the people of Jambudvīpa were destitute, afflicted, and suffering, he wished to provide for them through charity, but his wealth was insufficient, and so he wept. He asked the elders: 'By what expedient means can all beings be made completely satisfied with wealth?' The elders said: 'We have heard that there is a wish-fulfilling jewel (cintāmaṇi). If one obtains this jewel, one will be able to receive whatever one's heart desires without fail.' He informed his parents that he wished to enter the great ocean to seek the wish-fulfilling jewel atop the head of the nāga king. His parents replied: 'We have only you, an only son. If you enter the great ocean, its many perils will be difficult to cross. If we were to lose you, what would we live for? In our storehouses there are still goods; we will give them to you.' The son said: 'What is in the storehouses has an end, but my aspiration is boundless. I wish to fill all beings to abundance so that none are in want. Please grant me permission so that I may fulfill my original vow and make all the people of Jambudvīpa completely sufficient.' Knowing that his resolve was great, his parents did not dare to forbid him and finally let him go. At that time, five hundred merchants all gladly followed him. Knowing the day of his departure, they gathered at the entrance to the sea route. The prince asked the assembly: 'Who knows the way to that nāga palace?' There was a blind man named Daśa who had already entered the great ocean seven times and knew the sea routes thoroughly. The bodhisattva then bade him go together with them. He answered: 'I am already old and have lost my sight in both eyes. Although I have entered several times before, I cannot go now.' The bodhisattva said: 'My journey now is not for myself; it is universally for all beings that I seek the wish-fulfilling jewel, wishing to supply sentient beings to abundance so that their bodies lack nothing, and next, through conditions of the Dharma, to transform them. You are a wise man; how could you decline? If my vow is accomplished, will it not be through your effort?' Daśa considered it fully and replied: 'If I enter the sea now, my life will certainly not be preserved. Put my corpse upon the Island of Golden Sand.' The ship sped along as if galloping, arriving at the Isle of Many Jewels. The merchants vied with one another to load precious items until they were fully supplied. They asked the prince: 'Why do you not take any?' He replied: 'What I seek is the wish-fulfilling jewel. These finite things are of no use to me. You should each know contentment and measure, lest the ship become heavy and you cannot save yourselves.' At that time, the merchants addressed the bodhisattva: 'May the Great Worthy pronounce an auspicious blessing (dakṣiṇā) so that we may attain safety and peace.' Thereupon they took their leave. At that time, Daśa said to the bodhisattva: 'Keep a separate skiff, as you must follow a different path. Wait seven days for the wind to carry you toward the southern shore of the ocean, arriving at a perilous place. There will be a sheer cliff with a jujube forest whose branches completely overhang the water. When the great gale blows the boat, the boat will be smashed to pieces. You must reach upward and grasp the jujube branches; thereby you can save yourself. Having no eyes, I will surely die here. Past this narrow bank there will be the Island of Golden Sand. You can place my body within this sand. The golden sand is pure; this is my wish.' Following his words, when the wind came, they departed. When they arrived at the sheer cliff, just as Daśa had said, the bodhisattva reached up and grasped the jujube branches, thereby saving himself. He placed Daśa's corpse to rest in the golden earth. Thereupon he went on alone, according to his prior instructions: he floated in deep water for seven days; he walked in throat-deep water for seven days; he walked in waist-deep water for seven days; and he walked through mud for seven days. He saw fine lotus blossoms, fresh, pure, and supple. He thought to himself: 'These flowers are soft and fragile; I should enter the samādhi of space, lighten my body, and walk atop the lotus flowers.' After seven days, he saw venomous snakes. He thought: 'Creatures bearing venom are exceedingly fearsome.' He immediately entered the samādhi of loving-kindness and walked atop the heads of the venomous snakes for seven days. The snakes all raised their heads and offered them to the bodhisattva, allowing him to step over them and pass. Having crossed this difficulty, he saw a sevenfold jewel-walled city with sevenfold moats, and the moats were completely filled with venomous snakes. Two great nāgas guarded the gate. Seeing that the bodhisattva was upright and handsome, adorned with the physical marks and dignified bearing, and had been able to cross numerous perils to arrive here, the nāgas thought: 'This is no ordinary person; he must be a bodhisattva, a person of great merit.' They immediately permitted him to proceed, and he was able to enter the palace directly. The nāga king and queen had lost their son not long before and were still weeping in sorrow. Seeing the bodhisattva arrive, the nāga possessed supernatural knowledge and knew he was their son. Milk flowed from the queen's two breasts. She bade him sit and asked him: 'You are my son. Having abandoned me and died, where were you reborn?' The bodhisattva also remembered his past lives and knew they were his parents. He answered his mother: 'I was born in Jambudvīpa as the crown prince of a great king. Taking pity on the poor, who suffer from hunger, cold, and toil without self-mastery, I came here wishing to seek the wish-fulfilling jewel.' The mother said: 'Your father has this jewel atop his head as a crest ornament; it is difficult to obtain. He will surely take you into the jewel storehouses and grant you whatever you desire. You should reply: "I have no need for the other assorted jewels; I only wish to obtain the jewel atop the Great King's head. If you have pity on me, please give it to me." In this way, you may obtain it.' He then went to see his father. His father felt great sorrow and boundless joy, commiserating that his son had traveled far through hardship to arrive here. He pointed out the wonderful jewels: 'Take whatever you wish and need.' The bodhisattva said: 'I have come from afar, wishing to see the Great King to seek the wish-fulfilling jewel atop the King's head. If you have pity on me, please give it to me. If you do not give it to me, I have no need for other things.' The nāga king replied: 'I have only this one jewel, which always serves as my crest ornament. The people of Jambudvīpa are of meager merit and base; they should not see it.' The bodhisattva addressed him: 'It is for this very reason that I have traveled far through hardship, risking death to come from afar. Because the people of Jambudvīpa are of meager merit, poor, and base, I wish to use the wish-fulfilling jewel to fulfill their wishes, and then, through the causes and conditions of the Buddha Path, to transform them.' The nāga king gave him the jewel and made an agreement with him, saying: 'I now give this jewel to you. When you have departed from the world, you must return it to me.' He answered: 'I shall respectfully do as the King says.' Having obtained the jewel, the bodhisattva soared into the sky and, in the time it takes to bend and stretch an arm, reached Jambudvīpa. The human king and queen saw their son return auspiciously, and leaping with joy, embraced him and asked: 'What did you obtain?' He answered: 'I obtained the wish-fulfilling jewel.' They asked: 'Where is it now?' He said: 'It is here inside the hem of my garment.' His parents said: 'Why is it so small?' He said: 'Its power lies in its divine virtue, not in its size.' He addressed his parents: 'Command that the inside and outside of the city be swept and sprinkled, that incense be burned, silk banners and canopies hung, and that the people observe the fast and take the precepts. Tomorrow at dawn, set up a tall pole as a standard and place the jewel upon it.' The bodhisattva then made a vow: 'If I am to achieve the Buddha Path and deliver all beings, may the jewel, according to my will and vow, bring forth all manner of treasures, so that whatever people need is fully provided.' At that time, overcast clouds spread everywhere, raining down various treasures, clothing, food and drink, bedding, and medicines. Everything people said they needed was fully supplied, continuing thus without cessation until the end of their lives. Deeds such as this are called a bodhisattva's giving giving rise to the perfection of vigor (vīryapāramitā). (Taken from the twelfth fascicle of the *Dazhidulun*).

32.5

2. Kalyāṇamitra delights in giving, loses his eyes while seeking the jewel, and recovers his sight

32.6.1

In the past, in Jambudvīpa, there were once two kings: the king of the kingdom of Ṛṣivadana was named Moon (Candra), and the king of the kingdom of Vārāṇasī was named Candracchatra (Moon Canopy). They were of one mind and socialized closely without any estrangement. They made a pact together: “If we have children, we shall form an alliance by marriage.” King Candracchatra had neither son nor daughter. In order to seek a son, he sacrificed to the water deity and even to all kinds of ghosts and spirits. Beside the *Surāṣṭra River there were two rṣis possessing the five supernatural knowledges. The river deity said to the king, “If the two rṣis are willing to be born in the royal house, the king will have sons.” The king went to where the rṣis were and said, “If you are born in my house, you may indulge your five desires at will and enjoy delight without lack.” The rṣi replied, “It may be so.” After seven days, one of the rṣis ended his life (the Damamūka-nidāna-sūtra says: the Golden Rṣi) and entered the womb of the first queen. After another seven days, the other rṣi also ended his life and dwelt in the womb of the second queen. When the first queen had completed nine full months, she gave birth to a male child whose appearance was upright and handsome. On the day he was born, five hundred merchants returned from the sea, five hundred hidden treasuries emerged spontaneously without cause, and five hundred condemned prisoners were released from prison. When the second queen gave birth, there were many strange portents: jackals howled, an asura seized the sun, and five hundred people sentenced to die went of their own accord to their deaths (from the Vinayavibhaṅga of the Dharmaguptaka Vinaya, Fascicle 9). The king was greatly pleased. He immediately invited and summoned diviners of physiognomy to prognosticate good and bad fortune and give them names. The diviners asked, “What auspicious signs were there when these children were born?” [The king] answered, “The mother of the first prince was previously vicious, jealous, arrogant, and conceited. Ever since she conceived the child, her disposition became gentle and good, with a pleasant expression and delightful speech, feeling compassion for sentient beings.” The diviner answered, “The child's merits have caused it to be so. His name shall be Kalyāṇamitra (Good Friend) (the Dharmaguptaka Vinaya says 'Good Conduct' [Kalyāṇacārin], the Damamūka-nidāna-sūtra says Kalyāṇa, which in Liang language means 'Good Affair').” When asked about the auspicious signs for the one born of the second queen, [the king] answered, “His mother was formerly gentle and good, her speech pleasing to everyone. Ever since she became pregnant, her disposition has been violent and irascible, uttering coarse and evil words.” The diviner answered, “It is this child's conduct that has made his mother like this. His name shall be Pāpamitra (Evil Friend) (the Dharmaguptaka Vinaya says 'Evil Conduct' [Pāpacārin], the Damamūka-nidāna-sūtra says Pāpakāri, which in Liang language means 'Evil Affair').” When they reached the age of fourteen, Prince Kalyāṇamitra was intelligent, compassionate, benevolent, and fond of giving. His parents were especially fond of him, looking upon him as their own eyes. Pāpamitra was violent and evil; his parents despised him and took no pleasure in seeing him. He was jealous of his elder brother and always wished to ruin and harm him; in every matter he was disobedient, contrary, and perverse. [Once,] Prince [Kalyāṇamitra], escorted before and behind by musicians playing music, surrounded by a great crowd, went out of the city to sightsee. Seeing a plowman tilling the soil and unearthing worms, which crows followed and pecked at to eat, he felt pity and sorrow for them. He asked his attendants, “What are they doing here, harming one another?” They replied, “The state relies on the people; the people rely on food and drink; and food relies on plowing and planting.” The prince said, “How bitter! How bitter!” Going further, he also saw men and women spinning and weaving. He asked again, “What are they doing here?” They replied, “Spinning and weaving to make garments, in order to cover their shame and clothe their five bodily limbs.” The prince said, “This too is multiple toilsome suffering!” Moving further along, he saw people butchering oxen and skinning sheep. He asked again, “What is this again?” They replied, “Slaughtering and selling meat in order to provide for clothing and food.” The prince said, “How monstrous! How bitter! The strong and the weak harm one another, accumulating misfortune across multiple kalpas.” Moving further along, he saw netting birds and baiting fish. He asked again, and they replied again: “Spreading nets for birds and catching fish.” The prince's eyes filled with tears of grief. [He thought:] “Sentient beings in the world create all the roots of evil, and manifold sufferings never cease.” Depressed and unhappy, he immediately turned his chariot back to the palace. The king asked, “Why are you sorrowful?” The prince answered fully as above. The king said, “It has never not been so; why is it worth grieving over?” The prince said, “I now wish to seek one boon from the king: I wish to obtain the wealth and jewels of the state treasuries to bestow on all.” The king said, “As you please.” The prince then ordered his attendants to open the royal storehouses, and loaded five hundred large elephants with precious jewels to go out through the four city gates. He proclaimed to the kingdom that whatever they desired, they might take freely at will. Prince Kalyāṇamitra's fame was heard in the eight directions, and all assembled together. Before long, one third was expended. The treasury official said to the king, “The king ought to consider this.” The king said, “I do not wish to go against him.” After a short while, the ministers conferred together: “The state depends on the storehouses; if the storehouses are emptied and exhausted, the state will also become hollowed out.” They went again to report to the king, “Two thirds of all the wealth and jewels have been expended. The king ought to consider this deeply.” The king said, “I do not wish to go against him. You gentlemen may delay slightly; do not let him have everything his heart desires.” When the prince wanted to open the storehouse, the treasury keeper happened to be away on business; repeatedly pursued, there were mismatches and [the request] could not be fulfilled. The prince said, “How dare a petty man oppose my will? This must be father the king's instruction. A filial son should not completely empty his parents' storehouses. I now ought to seek wealth and jewels myself to fully provide for sentient beings. If I cannot fully supply all sentient beings with clothing, bedding, food, and drink, giving to their hearts' content, how can I be called a great king?” The prince immediately assembled all the ministers and officials to confer together, saying, “In seeking wealth and profit, what occupation is supreme?” Some said farming and planting; some said animal husbandry. One great minister said, “In this world, in seeking profit nothing surpasses going out to sea to gather wonderful gems. If one obtains a maṇi jewel, one will be able to fully supply all sentient beings to their hearts' content.” The prince said, “Indeed!” and immediately reported this to the king. When the king heard it, he choked and could not speak. Later he said to the prince, “The state belongs to you. Take and use the precious jewels of the storehouses at will; why enter the great sea? You are my son, born and raised deep within the palace; when sleeping you have curtains and canopies, and when eating you indulge your palate. Now if you travel far upon the road, experiencing hunger, thirst, cold, and heat, who will know of it? In the midst of the great ocean, manifold difficulties are not just one: there are vicious ghosts, poisonous dragons, fierce winds, surges and waves, mountains the colour of water, and giant makara fish. Among those who go, there are thousands and tens of thousands, but those who arrive are only one or two. How can you now wish to enter the great ocean?” The prince thereupon threw his five limbs to the ground, spreading out his hands and feet, and made this vow: “If my parents do not grant permission, I will abandon my life and never rise again!” The king and queen stepped forward to remonstrate with him, but [the prince] refused to eat or drink for up to six days. His parents were anxious and fearful, dreading that he would not survive. On the seventh day they took his hand, coaxing and reasoning with kind words. The prince said, “If my parents do not allow it, I must perish here.” The first queen said to the king, “Our son's determination is difficult to shake and cannot be opposed. How can we bear to watch our son abandon his life here? May the king show compassion and permit him to enter the great sea. Thus there is one hope in ten thousand. If you do not permit him now, he will surely die right here.”

32.6.2

The king then granted permission. The prince was delighted and bowed with his head to the ground before the king. The great king issued an order: "Who wishes to go to the ocean?" When the multitude heard this, they gathered joyfully. Five hundred men all said, "Great King, we shall now follow the prince." There was a sea captain who had previously gone into the great ocean several times and was well acquainted with the signs of passable and obstructed routes, yet he was eighty years old and blind in both eyes. The king said to the guide, "I have only one son, who has never before stepped outside our gates. I trouble and impose upon you, Great Master, to accompany him into the great ocean; I pray you will accompany him." The guide then said, "In the great ocean the perils and hardships are not of a single kind; among those who set out by the tens of millions, those who reach their goal are but one or two. How can the Great King send the prince to travel afar upon such a perilous path?" The king replied to the guide, "Out of pity I have acceded to his wish and given my permission." The guide said, "I dare not disobey." The prince prepared travel equipment for the five hundred men, loading everything to set off for the seashore. Bad Friend thought to himself, "Good Friend is favored and beloved by our parents. Now he goes into the great ocean to gather wondrous treasures. If he succeeds in returning, our parents will surely cast me aside." He said to his parents, "I wish to follow Good Friend into the ocean to gather treasures." The parents replied, "Do as you wish; when crises and perils arise on the road, brothers traveling together must surely rescue and protect each other." When they reached the great ocean, they locked the ship with seven iron chains and halted for seven days. At sunrise each day, the prince beat a drum and proclaimed: "All of you people, who wishes to enter the ocean? Those who will enter, remain silent; if you yearn for your beloved relatives, you may turn back now! In the great ocean the perils are not of a single kind." The multitude remained silent. Thereupon he severed one chain and drew it up onto the ship. Day after day he made this proclamation, and on the seventh day he severed the seventh chain, watched for the wind, and hoisted the sails. By virtue of the prince's compassionate mind and the power of his merit, there were no perils or hindrances, and they succeeded in reaching an ocean isle, arriving at a mountain of rare treasures. The prince beat the drum and proclaimed: "The way is distant; quickly load the rare treasures. At most we shall halt for seven days." He further said, "These treasures are extremely heavy, yet in Jambudvīpa they are of no great value. Do not load them so heavily that the ship sinks and fails to reach its destination; yet do not take too little, lest on this distant road it fails to repay your toil." When the preparations were complete, he parted from the crowd, saying, "May you all return safely and in peace. I am now about to press forward to gather a maṇi jewel." The prince and the blind guide then advanced further. They traveled the road for one week, with water reaching up to their knees. They traveled on for another week, with water reaching up to their necks. They pressed forward again for another week, swimming across, and thereupon reached the treasure land. The guide asked, "What kind of land is this?" The prince answered, "This land is made purely of white silver sand." The guide said, "Looking in all four directions, there should be a white mountain; have you seen it yet?" The prince said, "In the southeast there is a white silver mountain." They reached the foot of this mountain, and the guide said, "Next should come gold sand." The guide, exhausted and faint, collapsed to the ground and said to the prince, "My life is short; I must surely perish here. Prince, if you go east from here for one week, there will be a gold mountain. Advancing another week from that mountain, it is purely blue lotus flowers. Advancing another week, the ground is purely red lotus flowers. Passing another week, there is a great jewel-city, adorned purely with the seven treasures, where the nāga king resides. In the nāga king's ear is a wish-fulfilling maṇi jewel. Go and beg it of him. If you obtain this jewel, it can fulfill [all wishes] throughout Jambudvīpa, raining down the various seven treasures, clothing, food and drink, medicines, music, and entertainment according to one's desires; it is called the wish-fulfilling jewel." Having spoken, the guide's breath ceased and he died. The prince embraced him, weeping aloud with grief: "How unfortunate I am to lose you in this life!" He then buried him in the earth, covered him with golden sand, circumambulated him to the right seven times, paid reverence, and departed. Proceeding past the gold mountain, he saw blue lotus flowers, beneath which were blue serpents. These serpents possessed three kinds of venom: biting venom, touching venom, and breath venom. These venomous serpents coiled their bodies around the lotus flowers, opening their eyes and panting as they glared at the prince. The prince immediately entered the samādhi of loving-kindness, rose, advanced along the path, and stepped on the lotus leaves. At that time, none of the venomous serpents harmed or injured him, and he reached the nāga king's dwelling place. There were sevenfold city walls and moats, filled with venomous nāgas coiled together, raising their heads and intertwining their necks to guard the city gate. When the prince reached the outside of the city gate, seeing the venomous nāgas, he gave rise to a mind of loving-kindness and thought of all sentient beings in Jambudvīpa: "If my body is harmed now by these venomous nāgas, all of you sentient beings will lose a great benefit!" He immediately raised his right hand and announced to the venomous nāgas: "You should know that for the sake of all sentient beings I wish to see the nāga king." The venomous nāgas cleared a path to let the prince enter. He saw two jade maidens spinning crystal thread. The prince asked, "Who are you?" They answered, "We are the maidservants of the nāga king guarding the outer gate." Entering to the middle gate, he saw four jade maidens spinning white silver thread. The prince asked again, "Are you the nāga king's wives?" They answered, "No, we are only the maidservants of the nāga king guarding the middle gate." The prince entered to the inner gate and saw eight jade maidens spinning yellow gold thread. The prince said to them, "Who are you?" They answered, "We are only the maidservants of the nāga king guarding the gate." The prince said, "Announce me to the great ocean nāga king, saying: 'Good Friend, crown prince of the king of Vārāṇasī in Jambudvīpa, wishes to meet with you and is now at the gate.'" The gatekeeper immediately informed the king. The king was greatly astonished: "Unless he were a person of merit and pure goodness, there would be no way for him to travel so far along this perilous path." He immediately invited him into the palace, and the king came out to receive him. The ground was made of deep blue lapis lazuli, and the seven treasures emitted various rays of light dazzling to the eye. The prince expounded the Dharma, instructing, encouraging, and delighting him; he praised discourses on giving, discourses on morality, and discourses on heaven. The nāga king was delighted in his heart: "Having wearily traversed such a distant journey, what is it that you desire?" The prince said, "Great King, all sentient beings in Jambudvīpa suffer endless hardships on account of clothing, food, and drink. I now wish to beg of the king the maṇi jewel in your left ear." The nāga king said, "Accept my humble offerings for one week, and I shall bestow it upon you." The prince accepted the nāga king's invitation. After seven days had passed, he took the jewel to return to Jambudvīpa. (The Damamūka-nidāna-sūtra says: When he reached the seven-jewel city, the gate was firmly shut. He saw a vajra pestle beside the gate, and following his master's instructions, took the pestle and struck the gate. At the gate were five hundred heavenly maidens holding jewel pearls who came to present them to the prince; the foremost woman's pearl was lapis lazuli in color, and he accepted it and tied it to the hem of his robe.) The nāga king sent various nāga deities to escort him through the air, and he reached this shore. Seeing his younger brother Bad Friend, he asked, "Where are your companions now?" Bad Friend replied, "The ships sank, and all of them perished."

32.6.3

"[I] your younger brother alone dragged and held onto a corpse, and thereby was saved alive. All the wealth and goods are now entirely lost." Kalyāṇamitra said, "Of all the great treasures under heaven, none precedes one's own body." The younger brother said, "It is not so. A person would rather die rich than live poor. How do I know this is so? I once went to a cemetery and heard the dead spirits holding such a discussion." Kalyāṇamitra was guileless and spoke truthfully to his brother: "Although you have lost your treasures, it is of no consequence. I have now obtained the wish-fulfilling jewel of the dragon king." The younger brother said, "Where is it now?" Kalyāṇamitra said, "It is now in my topknot." Hearing this, the younger brother felt jealousy and said to Kalyāṇamitra, "Splendid! Excellent! Having obtained this precious jewel, you should guard it with great care." Kalyāṇamitra untied the jewel, gave it to his brother, and admonished him, saying, "If you are tired and lie down, I shall guard it; when I sleep, you must guard it." Then it was Pāpamitra's turn to guard the jewel. When his elder brother was fast asleep, he got up, took two dry bamboo thorns, pierced both of his elder brother's eyes (The Dharmaguptaka Vinaya says: "He pierced them with thorns from a khadira tree"), seized the jewel, and went away. Kalyāṇamitra called out to Pāpamitra, "There is a thief here who has pierced both my eyes and gone off with the precious jewel!" Pāpamitra did not answer. The elder brother was then overcome with sorrow, fearing that he might be killed by the thief. Calling out loudly like this, his voice moved the spirits and deities, but after a long time there was no response. Then a tree spirit spoke, saying, "Your younger brother Pāpamitra is your evil thief. He pierced both your eyes and took the precious jewel away." The prince was dejected, grieved, and distressed. Pāpamitra brought the jewel back to his kingdom and reported to his parents, saying, "By the power of my own merit, I alone was saved alive. Kalyāṇamitra and the companions all sank into the water and perished." The parents wept bitterly, fainted, and fell to the ground. They said to Pāpamitra, "How could you have the face to come back?" Having heard these words, Pāpamitra felt anguish in his heart, and he immediately buried the precious jewel in the earth. Kalyāṇamitra had been pierced, but there was no one to pull out the thorns for him. He wandered around, rolling about, not knowing where to go. At that time, in his distress, he suffered greatly from hunger and thirst; he could neither manage to live nor manage to die. Gradually walking forward, he arrived in the kingdom of Ṛṣivadana. Its king had a daughter who had previously been promised to Kalyāṇamitra, the prince of Vārāṇasī. There was a cowherd tending five hundred cows for the king, following after water and grass. The prince was sitting in the middle of the road. The herd of cows approached and crowded around him. The bull king stood over the prince to let the herd of cows pass by. Afterwards, it shifted its feet, circled clockwise, turned its head back, stretched out its tongue, and licked the prince's two eyes, pulling out the bamboo thorns. Seeing this, the cowherd asked, "Who are you?" Kalyāṇamitra did not recount what had happened from beginning to end, but answered, "I am only a blind beggar." The cowherd observed him carefully; he had the signs of an extraordinary man. He said to him, "My home is nearby; I will provide for you." He then took him back to his home and gave him various kinds of food and drink. He instructed his family members, saying, "You must attend upon him just as you would attend upon me." After more than a month, the family grew weary and annoyed. Kalyāṇamitra felt dejected, and the next morning he said to the master, "I wish to leave now." The master said, "What was not to your liking?" Kalyāṇamitra said, "The etiquette between guest and host cannot last indefinitely." Kalyāṇamitra said, "If you care for me, please give me a sounding zither and send me to a place where many people gather." The master then provided for him as requested and escorted him to a crowded place in the city of Ṛṣivadana. Kalyāṇamitra played the zither; its notes were harmonious and elegant, pleasing to the hearts of the multitude. The entire crowd joined together to provide him with food and drink. The king had an orchard. The orchard was lush, but always troubled by birds. The keeper of the orchard said to Kalyāṇamitra, "Protect it from the birds for me, and I will provide for you. I will tie ropes to the tops of the trees and hang bronze bells from them. You will sit under the trees, and when you hear the sounds of birds, pull on the ends of the ropes." Kalyāṇamitra said, "Very well. I can sit comfortably under the trees and also play the zither to entertain myself." At that time, the princess of Ṛṣivadana entered the orchard with her attendants. Seeing this blind man, she went to his place and asked, "Who are you?" He replied, "Only a blind beggar." The princess felt love in her heart and could not bear to part from him. The king again sent an envoy to summon his daughter back. The daughter said, "I will not go back. Send food to me." Having finished providing the blind man with food and drink, she said to the great king, "If the king now gives me to this blind man, it will suit my wishes very well." The king said, "A demonic ghost has possessed you; your mind is delirious and deranged! How could you wish to live together with a blind man? Your parents previously promised you to Kalyāṇamitra, the crown prince of the king of Vārāṇasī. Kalyāṇamitra went to the ocean and has not yet returned. How can you now become the wife of a beggar?" The daughter said, "Even so, even to the end of my life, I will never part from him." When the king heard these words, he could not oppose her. He immediately sent an envoy to welcome the blind man and locked them in a quiet room. The princess said to the blind man, "I will now become husband and wife with you." Kalyāṇamitra replied, "Whose family's daughter are you that you wish to be my wife?" She replied, "I am the daughter of the king of Ṛṣivadana." Kalyāṇamitra replied, "You are a king's daughter, and I am a beggar; how could we pay each other due respect?" The woman said, "I will serve you with all my heart." Later, the wife went out without informing her husband and returned only after a long time. Kalyāṇamitra rebuked her, saying, "You went out privately without telling me; where did you go and come back from?" The wife said, "I did not go out illicitly." The husband said, "Whether illicit or not, who could know for sure about you?" The wife made a vow of truth on herself: "If I went out illicitly, may both your eyes never heal. If it is not so, may one of your eyes be restored as before." After she had made this vow, [one eye] became fully restored as before, clear and brightly luminous. The wife said, "Do you believe me or not?" Kalyāṇamitra smiled. The wife said, "You do not recognize kindness and care! I am the daughter of the king of a great country, and you are a lowly man, yet I serve you with all my heart; why do you not understand and trust me?" The husband said, "Do you recognize me?" She answered, "I recognize that you are a beggar." The husband said, "That is not so. I am Prince Kalyāṇamitra of the king of Vārāṇasī." The wife said, "You foolish man! How could you utter such words? The crown prince of the king of Vārāṇasī went to the ocean and has not yet returned. Now you speak falsehoods; I do not believe you." Kalyāṇamitra said, "Since I was born, I have never spoken a falsehood." The wife said, "Whether false or true, who could believe it?" The husband said, "If I am deceiving you, may my other eye never be healed. If I speak the truth, may my other eye be restored as before, so that you may see." Thereupon, just as he had sworn, his eye shone with brilliance, no different from how it had originally been. Both eyes of Prince Kalyāṇamitra were restored; his countenance and head were handsome, and his exquisite appearance was extraordinary. Seeing this, the wife rejoiced, as though blessed by a sage; she looked over his entire body, her gaze not leaving him for an instant. She immediately went into the palace and said to her father, the king, "My husband now is none other than Prince Kalyāṇamitra." The king said, "Foolish person!"

32.6.4

"Kalyāṇamitra has not yet returned; how could you call a beggar the prince?" The girl replied, "No! If you do not believe me, you may come and take a look." The king then went to look, recognised that it was Kalyāṇamitra, and grew fearful, saying, "If the king of Vārāṇasī hears of this, his displeasure with me will be no small matter!" He immediately stepped forward and repented, "Prince Kalyāṇamitra, I truly did not know!" The prince said, "It is no trouble; as a gift to me, make a generous provision for this cowherd." The king at once gave him gold, silver, rare gems, clothing, bedding, food, and drink, as well as the five hundred cattle he had been grazing. That man rejoiced and praised him boundlessly, [saying], "And yet I have done so little to repay this kindness!" He proclaimed in a loud voice, "Verily, hidden giving receives open recompense, vast and boundless!" All among the great assembly who heard it gave rise to the aspiration to practice giving. Before Kalyāṇamitra went to sea, he had raised a white goose; in clothing, bedding, food, and drink, in walking, standing, sitting, and lying down, they were always together. The queen said to this goose, "When the prince was here, he was always together with you. Now, with his life and death still unknown, do you feel no longing for the prince?" The goose at once cried sorrowfully, rolled about, wept, and answered, saying that it wished to seek the prince. The queen wrote a letter with her own hand and tied it to the goose's neck. It soared into the empty sky and flew away. It flew to the great ocean and searched for him, but did not see him. Proceeding further, it came to the kingdom of Rṣivadana. From afar, it saw Kalyāṇamitra in front of the palace. The goose flew towards him, crying sorrowfully and rejoicing. The prince took his mother's letter, bowed in reverence with it touching his head, opened the seal, unfolded it, and read it. He then knew that his parents wept sorrowfully and longed for him day and night, and that [he himself], the prince, was blind in both eyes. The prince wrote a letter with his own hand fully explaining the above events, tied the letter to the goose's neck, and sent it back to Vārāṇasī. When the parents received the letter, they leaped for joy and praised it boundlessly. They fully learned that the prince had been tormented by Pāpamitra and had his jewel stolen. The parents put Pāpamitra in fetters and locked him in prison. They sent an envoy to inform the king of Rṣivadana: "Why do you now detain the prince and cause us sorrow and anguish?" The king of Rṣivadana became fearful. He immediately adorned the prince with fine clothing, sent him to the border, and dispatched an envoy to announce that he had given his daughter to him as wife and sent him back to his kingdom. The parents rode a great renowned elephant, played music, swept and sprinkled the ground, burned incense, and hung silk banners and canopies, going far out to welcome the prince. Hearing that the prince had returned, the men, women, husbands, and wives of the kingdom all came out to welcome him. The prince came forward and bowed to his parents. His parents' eyes were dark and they could not see the prince; they felt him with their hands, [saying], "Are you Kalyāṇamitra? Because we longed for you, we suffered such sorrow and anguish!" After the prince had finished inquiring after his parents' well-being, the prince addressed his father the king, saying, "Where is Pāpamitra?" The king said, "He is now in prison." The prince said, "I pray that you release Pāpamitra so that I may meet with him," repeating this up to three times. The king could not bear to refuse and ordered him released. [The prince] at once went forward, embraced him, consoled him with kind words, and asked gently, "You must have suffered great hardship. Where is the jewel you took from me now?" He asked thus up to three times, and only then did [Pāpamitra] answer, "It is buried in the earth there." The prince recovered the jewel. Going before his parents, he knelt, burned various wonderful incenses, and made an oath, saying, "If this jewel is a wish-fulfilling jewel, let both eyes of my parents become bright and clear as before!" Instantly their sight was restored, and seeing their son, they rejoiced. On the morning of the fifteenth day of the month, the prince bathed himself cleanly, put on fresh, immaculate clothing, and burned exquisite, precious incense. On a high pavilion, holding a censer in his hands, he bowed with his head to the ground to the maṇi jewel and made a vow, saying, "For the sake of all sentient beings in Jambudvīpa, I endured this great suffering to seek this jewel!" At that time, a great wind arose from the east, blowing away the clouds and mist until all was clear and bright. All the filth, excrement, urine, ashes, dirt, weeds, and brush throughout Jambudvīpa were blown away and washed clean by the pure wind. Through the majestic power of the jewel, ripe, naturally grown non-glutinous rice rained down everywhere upon Jambudvīpa, fragrant, sweet, soft, and delicate, perfect in colour and flavour. The ditches and channels were filled, piling up knee-deep. Next, it rained down clothing, pearl rings, hairpins, and bracelets. Next, it rained down the seven treasures and various wonderful musical instruments. All that sentient beings needed was fully provided. Later, King Candrāvabhāsa passed away, and [the prince] succeeded to the throne. Pāpamitra addressed [him], saying, "I beg for food to sustain myself." The king said, "You shall guard my neck, and I will give you food." The king went back to sleep. [Pāpamitra] drew a sword intending to cut off the king's head, but his own head fell off on its own. The king awoke and asked him about it; he answered, "Heaven wrought its karma." The father of that time is now Śuddhodana; the mother of that time is now Lady Māyā; Pāpamitra is Devadatta; King Candra's daughter is Gopā; Kalyāṇamitra is myself. (Extracted from the fourth fascicle of the Sūtra on Repaying Kindness; also found in the second fascicle of the Sūtra of the Wise and the Foolish; the Jātaka Sūtra is largely similar with minor differences.)

32.7

3. Dīrghāyu Wishing to Avenge His Father and Later Recovering His Kingdom

32.8

Anciently, there was a bodhisattva who was the king of a great country, named Dīrghāyus. The king had a prince named Dīrghāyu. The king ruled with righteousness, inflicting no suffering of knives or staves upon his officials or people. Wind and rain came in their proper season, and the five grains were abundant. The king of a neighbouring country behaved violently and cruelly, not cultivating righteous governance, so that his people were impoverished. He said to his ministers, "I hear that King Dīrghāyus has vast abundance and joy, with no military preparations; I wish to seize it." The ministers said, "Very good!" and raised troops to attack him. King Dīrghāyus addressed his ministers, saying, "He covets my wealth. If we do battle with him, it will surely harm my people. To fight over a kingdom and kill people is something I cannot bear." The ministers would not comply; they dispatched troops out of the borders to meet and resist him. The king and the prince scaled the city wall and went into hiding. The covetous king entered the kingdom and offered a reward for the capture of Dīrghāyus, granting a thousand catties of gold and ten million coins. Later, the king walked along the road under a tree and met a brāhmaṇa, asking, "Where have you come from?" He replied, "I am a poor practitioner of the Way. Hearing that King Dīrghāyus loves giving, I have come from afar to beg from him." The king thought in silence, "He meets me just when I have lost my kingdom." Shedding tears, he said, "I am that very king. Meeting me in this state, I have nothing to give you." Both of them wept. The king said, "I hear that the new king offers a great reward for me. If you take my head to him, you will surely obtain a rich reward." The brāhmaṇa said, "I have little merit and dare not accept this order." The king said, "You have come from afar only to meet me in destitute straits. A person's life must come to death; I wish to bestow this upon you, why do you refuse?" He replied, "How could I bear to kill you? If you truly wish to bestow a gift, I pray that you accompany me back to the kingdom." Thereupon they returned together, and upon reaching the city gate, the king had him bind him and announce it to the covetous king. The covetous king immediately rewarded him with gold and money and sent him away. At the crossroads, he wished to burn Dīrghāyus to death. In the cities, towns, and countryside, there was no one who did not cry out to Heaven. Hearing of this, the prince came forward before his father, his heart full of grief. The father, fearing that his son would seek vengeance, looked up to heaven, sighed, and said, "This death is what I delight in. If you wish to show utmost filial piety and let your father die without regret, do not avenge this wrong!" Dīrghāyu could not bear to see his father die, and returned into the mountains. After the king was dead, Dīrghāyu thought, "My father's benevolence and righteousness were deep and steadfast, unwavering unto death. The covetous king is vile, not distinguishing between good and evil; he unjustly killed my father, and I cannot bear it. If I do not kill him, I will not live on in vain!" He then went out to hire himself out as a labourer. A chief minister employed him to grow vegetables, and the vegetables flourished. The chief minister asked the overseer of the garden, and the overseer replied, "I hired a man who is exceedingly diligent and capable." The chief minister summoned Dīrghāyu and asked, "Can you prepare food and drink?" He replied, "I can." Later, he hosted the king with sweet and delicious food and drink. The king asked, "Who made this?" He replied, "A labourer." The king immediately summoned him back to the palace to have him prepare food and drink. Later the king asked, "Can you practice the military arts?" He replied, "I am most skilled in them." The king had him attend at his side, telling him, "I have an enemy and am always afraid of meeting him. Now I rely on you to assist me in guarding against him." He replied, "Yes, I will exert my strength and dedicate my life for the king." On a later day, the king asked, "Do you like hunting?" He replied, "Your servant has been fond of hunting since youth." The king then ordered the royal carriage prepared outside and went out hunting together with Dīrghāyu. As soon as they entered the mountain forest, they saw running beasts. The king and Dīrghāyu galloped in pursuit of them, veered deep into the mountains, and lost their way for three days, eventually becoming starved and exhausted. The king then dismounted, unbuckled his sword, handed it to Dīrghāyu, and said, "I am utterly exhausted; you sit down, and I wish to rest my head on your knee to sleep." Dīrghāyu drew his sword, wishing to kill the covetous king, but remembering his father's command, he sheathed the sword and stopped. This happened three times. The king then awoke in alarm and asked Dīrghāyu, "I dreamed that King Dīrghāyus's prince came wishing to harm me." Dīrghāyu said, "It is merely a fierce demon here coming to frighten you." Finally, [the king] spoke of the wish to kill. Dīrghāyu said, "I am indeed the prince of King Dīrghāyus, and came here wishing to kill the Great King. On the verge of death, my father earnestly enjoined me not to avenge the wrong done by the king. Remembering my father's instruction, I cast my sword to the ground to obey my father's command. Even so, I still fear that in days to come I may become confused and lose my judgment. I pray that the Great King kill me now." The king then felt remorse, saying, "I have been fierce and rebellious, not distinguishing between good and evil. The worthy father and son practiced benevolence, pure and solid, unwavering unto death, yet I, covetous and cruel, was oblivious to it from the start. Today my life was in your hands; you still harboured benevolence, recalled your father's words, and preferred not to harm me. Truly, I am deeply moved by this great kindness. Now, wishing to return to the kingdom, which path should we take?" Dīrghāyu said, "I know the path; earlier I intentionally led the king astray, wishing to avenge my father's death." Thereupon they emerged from the forest together and saw the royal retinue. The king returned to his original kingdom, gave this kingdom back to the prince, and together they became sworn brothers, vowing never to invade each other. They sent tributes to one another and aided each other in emergencies. King Dīrghāyus was myself; the prince was Ānanda; the covetous king was Devadatta. (Extracted from the King Dīrghāyus Sūtra.)

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經律異相 — Classical Chinese