法苑珠林 93.59

93.59

Furthermore, the Sutra of the Wise and the Foolish says: The Buddha said to King Prasenajit: "Long ago in the past, an asaṃkhyeya of kalpas ago, there was a great country in this Jambudvīpa named Vārāṇasī. At that time the king was named Brahmadatta. Leading the four types of troops, he entered the mountains on a hunt. When the king reached a marsh, he gave chase to beasts on a single carriage alone, reaching the deep woods by himself. The king was utterly exhausted, dismounted from his horse, and rested briefly. At that time, in the woods, there was a lioness whose desire was intense and who was roaming in search of a mate. Unable to find one, she saw the king sitting alone in the woods. Her lust grew even stronger, and she wished to couple with the king. Approaching his side, she raised her tail and presented her back. The king understood her intent and reflected: 'This is a fierce beast whose strength can kill me. If I do not comply with her wish, I might be harmed.' Out of fear, the king complied with the lioness. Having completed the act of desire, the lioness left. The troops and attendants then arrived, and the king returned to the royal city together with his people. At that time, the lioness conceived from this. When the months and days were fulfilled, she gave birth to a child whose appearance was entirely human, except that his feet were dappled. Remembering and knowing that he belonged to the king, the lioness carried him in her mouth and set him down before the king. The king also remembered and knew that he was his own child. He took him in and raised him. Because his feet were dappled, he was named Kalmāṣapāda. He was raised and gradually grew up, endowed with heroic talent and a fierce will. When his royal father passed away, Kalmāṣapāda succeeded to the throne. At that time King Kalmāṣapāda had two consorts: one was of royal lineage, and the second was of brāhmaṇa lineage. Kalmāṣapāda went on an excursion and urged the two consorts: 'Follow behind me; whichever arrives first, I will take pleasure with her for a whole day. The one who comes behind, I will not see her.' After the king departed, the two consorts adorned themselves splendidly, outfitted their carriages, and went together. On the road they saw a shrine of the gods. The one of brāhmaṇa lineage dismounted her carriage and paid homage. Having paid homage, she arrived late. The king kept his original word and did not receive her. Thereupon the consort was enraged and resented the heavenly deity: 'Because I paid homage to you, the king despised me! If you have divine power, why did you not protect me?' Later she destroyed the shrine of the gods, making it as level as the ground. The spirit guarding the shrine was grieved and resentful, and went to the palace intending to harm the royal apartments. The heavenly deity obstructed him and would not let him enter. There was an immortal dwelling in the mountains whom the king always made offerings to. Every day at mealtime, he would fly into the palace. He did not eat fine viands, taking only coarse food as coarse offerings. By chance, one day the immortal did not come. The heavenly deity knew this, transformed into his shape, and sat in his usual place. He refused to take food, saying he wanted fish and meat. The food was prepared as requested, and having eaten, he left. The next day, the original immortal came. When meat was served to him, the immortal was furious with the king. The king said: 'The Great Immortal ordered it yesterday; why do you not eat it today?' The immortal said: 'Yesterday I was ill and did not come for a day. Who told you this? You merely scorn and test me! I cause the king, for the next twelve years, to constantly eat human flesh!' Having spoken these words, he flew back into the mountains. Later, the overseer of the kitchen forgot to prepare meat. In an urgent fix without a plan, he went out looking for meat. He saw a dead infant, plump and fair, lying on the ground. Thinking it met the emergency, he removed its head and feet, carried it to the kitchen, added fine condiments, cooked it, and served it to the king. When the king ate it, he found it twice as delicious as usual. He asked the overseer of the kitchen: 'I have never eaten meat so delicious. What kind of meat is this?' The overseer of the kitchen was terrified and said to the king: 'Only if the king pardons my crime will I dare speak the truth.' The king answered him: 'Just speak the truth; you shall not be charged with a crime.' The overseer of the kitchen reported to the king, giving a full account of the earlier event. The king said: 'This meat is very delicious. From now on, seek and prepare it like this.' The overseer of the kitchen reported to the king: 'The earlier one was a dead child I happened upon by chance; I cannot find another.' The king told him again: 'You must just take them secretly. If someone discovers it, the judgment lies with me.' The overseer of the kitchen received the command and secretly captured them by night, killed them when caught, and supplied the king daily. At that time, the people in the city went about weeping, saying their children were lost. They asked one another back and forth: 'What could be the cause of this?' The ministers gathered in counsel: 'We should try to spy secretly.' Thereupon they investigated in the streets and alleys everywhere and saw the king's overseer of the kitchen dragging away another person's child. They ambushed and captured him, bound him, and brought him to the king, reporting the earlier matter in full to the king. The king said: 'It was my command.' The ministers harbored resentment and conferred among themselves outside: 'The king is an outlaw who eats our children! How can we govern together with a king who eats people? We must eliminate him together to rid ourselves of this scourge!' With one heart, they all plotted together. Combining at once, they surrounded the king to seize and kill him. Seeing the gathering of troops, the king asked in alarm: 'Why do you surround and press upon me?' The ministers answered: 'To be a king is to care for the people. Yet you dispatch the royal cook to kill people for food! We cannot bear such cruelty, and therefore wish to kill the king.' The king told the ministers: 'From now on I will never do it again. If you will only pardon me, I will reform and exert myself.' The ministers said: 'We will never spare you; there is no need to speak further.' Hearing this, the king knew he was certain to die. He said to the ministers: 'Though you are to kill me, delay for a brief moment and allow me one word.' He then made a vow: 'Whatever good deeds I have cultivated so far in this life, governing uprightly as king, and making offerings to the immortal—may all these accumulated virtues turn so that today I become a flying rākṣasa!' No sooner had his words ended than it was accomplished as he spoke. He flew into the empty sky and told the ministers: 'You united your forces wishing to force my death. Fortunate am I that I can deliver myself! From now on, look well after your beloved wives and children: I will devour them in turn.' Having spoken, he flew away and dwelt among the mountain forests, flying and snatching people to carry off for food. The people hid in terror. After this, he killed and devoured many people. Various rākṣasas joined him as retinue, his followers grew gradually more numerous, and his harm spread ever wider. Later, the rākṣasas said to King Kalmāṣapāda: 'We serve you, O King, and wish for a great gathering.' The king consented: 'I will capture kings to fill the number of five hundred, and hold the gathering with you.' Having consented, he went and took them one by one, confining them in the deep mountains. He had obtained four hundred ninety-nine kings, lacking only one. Later, he captured Sutasoma, who had great and lofty virtue. Sutasoma asked the rākṣasa king for a seven-day leave, and when the leave expired, he returned. Sutasoma expounded the Dharma at length for him, distinguishing the crime of killing and its evil retribution, and also explained the blessings of loving-kindness and non-killing. Kalmāṣapāda was delighted, respectfully honoured him, and accepted his teaching, no longer harbouring a mind to harm. He then released all the kings, each returning to his own country. Sutasoma helped him with troops to bring Kalmāṣapāda back and settle him in his original country. The twelve years of the earlier immortal's curse were fulfilled. From then on, he no longer devoured human flesh, and ultimately returned as a sovereign king, governing the people as before. At that time, King Sutasoma was none other than myself; King Kalmāṣapāda was Aṅgulimāla; and the people who were devoured by King Kalmāṣapāda during those twelve years were those killed by Aṅgulimāla now. In life after life, these people were constantly killed by Aṅgulimāla, and in life after life, I subdued him with goodness. Aṅgulimāla is Bhikṣu Finger-Garland." King Prasenajit then said to the Buddha: "Bhikṣu Finger-Garland killed so many people, yet having attained the path, will he receive retribution or not?" The Buddha told the great king: "Actions must have retribution. Now, while this bhikṣu is in his cell, the fire of hell emerges from his pores, causing him extreme suffering and pain too bitter to describe." The Buddha ordered a bhikṣu: "Take a door-bolt, go to Finger-Garland's cell, and thrust it through the keyhole." The bhikṣu went and did as instructed. As the bolt entered the room, it immediately melted away. The bhikṣu, astonished, returned to report to the Buddha. The Buddha told the bhikṣu: "The retribution of deeds is like this." The king and the assembly gave rise to faith.