經律異相 41.4

41.4

In the kingdom of Śrāvastī, there was a brāhmaṇa named Piṇḍola-dhvaja. His wife was ugly and vicious, with both eyes piercingly blue. They had seven daughters and no sons. He was impoverished and his daughters destitute; his wife was wicked and fond of scolding. Whenever the daughters came asking for their needs, she glared and wept angrily. In his field, there was ripe grain, so he borrowed an ox from another to go and thresh it; but it was lost in the marshland. Then the brāhmaṇa sat and reflected to himself: 'What evil did I sow? Pressed by my wife and daughters, I have now lost another's ox.' Exhausted from searching, he happened to enter a forest. He encountered the Tathāgata, and observing him, the thought arose: 'The śramaṇa Gautama is now at the utmost peace and happiness, free of all my afflictions.' The Buddha knew his mind and said to him: 'It is just as you think.' The Buddha asked him: 'Do you wish to leave the household life?' He immediately addressed the Buddha: 'Bhagavat, if you permit it, it would fulfill my humble wish.' The Buddha said: 'Welcome, monk.' His beard and hair fell off naturally, and the clothes on his body turned into kāṣāyas. The Buddha preached the Dharma for him, and he became an arhat. The Buddha told Ānanda: In the past there was a king named Avaratimukha (which in the Liang language means 'Upright'). He converted beings through the Way. At that time, there was a brāhmaṇa named Daṇḍin. His household was destitute, and he had a little ripe grain. He borrowed an ox to thresh it, drove it back to its owner, but forgot to entrust it to him. Although the owner saw it, he assumed Daṇḍin was not yet done using it and did not take it in; both families neglected it, and it was lost. The owner of the ox took Daṇḍin to the king for judgment. As they went out, they encountered a horse of the royal household running loose. Someone shouted to Daṇḍin: 'Block the horse for me!' He reached down, picked up a stone, and threw it; it struck the horse's leg, which immediately broke. Next, walking to a river, he did not know where to cross. He encountered a carpenter who, holding an adze in his mouth, hitched up his clothes and was about to cross. Daṇḍin asked the man: 'Where can one cross?' Responding to the call, his mouth opened, and the adze fell into the water. Pressed by his creditors, and moreover hungry and thirsty, he begged a little white wine from a wineshop. Climbing onto a couch, he drank it; unexpectedly, beneath the blanket lay a small child, and he crushed the child, bursting its belly. Going to the side of a wall, he thought in terror of his crimes, threw himself over, and leaped down the wall. Below was a weaver; Daṇḍin landed on him, killing him instantly. The weaver's son caught him and, together with the crowd, took him before the king, shouting: 'This man killed my father!' The creditors brought him before the king. At that time, the owner of the ox came forward and said to the king: 'This man borrowed an ox from me, did not return and hand it over, lost it, and will not compensate me.' The king asked for the reason. Daṇḍin said: 'I indeed borrowed the ox. Having finished using it, I hurried back with it. The owner also saw it. Although I did not verbally hand it over, the ox was at his gate.' The king said to that man: 'Both of you are in the wrong. Because Daṇḍin did not verbally hand it over to you, his tongue should be cut off. Because you saw the ox and did not take it in yourself, your eyes should be gouged out.' The man said to the king: 'I beg to abandon this ox; I take no pleasure in having my eyes gouged out and another's tongue cut off.' The king immediately permitted them to settle. The horse officer said again: 'His unprincipled action broke my horse's leg.' The king then asked: 'This is a royal horse; why did you break its leg?' Kneeling, he said to the king: 'My creditor was bringing me along the road, and that man called to me to block the royal horse. I reached down, found a stone, and threw it, mistakenly breaking the horse's leg.' The king said: 'Because you called to him, your tongue should be cut off; because he struck the horse, his hand should be cut off.' The horse officer said to the king: 'I beg that we each settle peacefully.' The carpenter came forward and said: 'Daṇḍin caused me to lose my adze.' The king said to the carpenter: 'Because he called to you, his tongue should be cut off. But by propriety, carrying things should be done with hands; because you held it in your mouth, two of your teeth should be broken.' The carpenter said to the king: 'I would rather give up the adze than undergo this punishment.' Then the wine-selling mother pulled him forward and said to the king: 'He wrongfully killed my child!' Kneeling, he said to the king: 'I was pressed by hunger and thirst and begged for a little wine to drink. I did not realize there was a child lying under the blanket. May the king examine this.' The king said to the woman: 'Your house sells wine, and guests crowd it in great numbers. Why did you place a sleeping child in a seating area? Both of you are at fault. Your child is already dead. I will give Daṇḍin to you to be your husband; once you have a child again, he shall be released.' The woman kowtowed and said: 'Allow us each to settle peacefully. I have no use for a husband.' Then the weaver's son stepped forward: 'This man, violent and rash, trampled my father to death!' The king asked: 'Did you kill his father?' Daṇḍin said: 'The crowd was pressing and demanding from me; in terror I leaped from the wall and happened to fall on him. Truly it was not intentional.' The king said to that man: 'Both of you are in the wrong. Your father is already dead; I will give Daṇḍin to you to be your father.' The man said to the king: 'My father is now dead, but I will never accept this brāhmaṇa as my father! Allow us to settle peacefully.' The king then permitted it. When Daṇḍin's affairs were all concluded, while he was still before the king, he saw two women disputing over one child. The king, being bright and clever, devised a skillful expedient: 'There is now only one child, and two mothers dispute it. I permit the two of you each to pull one hand. Whoever can pull him away shall have him.' The one who was not the mother had no compassion for the child and pulled with all her might; the birth mother had deep compassion for the child and could not bear to drag him. The king discerned the true from the false, interrogated the impostor who had forcefully claimed another's child, and she immediately bowed her head to the king, returning the child to its mother. Both were then dismissed. Then Daṇḍin said to the king: 'At that time, beside the road, a venomous snake asked me to tell the king: it does not know why, when it emerges from its hole, it is soft and flexible, but when returning to the hole, it is hindered and pained.' The king answered him: 'When emerging from its hole, it has no vexations; its mind is gentle and its body corresponds. Outside, birds and beasts stir and disturb it; its wrath surges, and its body becomes swollen and coarse. You may tell it: if it guards its mind and does not get angry, it will not have this affliction.'