諸經要集 17.60

17.60

Furthermore, the Sutra of the Wise and the Foolish says: The Buddha told King Prasenajit: "Long ago in the remote past, incalculable kalpas ago, in this Jambudvīpa there was a great country named Vārāṇasī. At that time the king of the country was named King Brahmadatta. He led the four kinds of troops into the mountains to hunt for sport. When the king reached a marsh, he gave chase to birds and beasts, and riding completely alone, arrived by himself deep in the forest. The king was then utterly exhausted, so he dismounted to rest a little. At that time in the forest there was a lioness whose lustful desires were intensely aroused, and she was wandering about seeking a mate. Hard-pressed and unable to find one, she chanced upon the king in the midst of the forest and saw him sitting alone. Her lustful thoughts grew even stronger, and she desired to submit herself to the king. She approached his side, raised her tail, and turned her back to him. The king understood her intention and thought to himself: 'This is a fierce beast, capable of killing me. If I do not comply with her wish, I might be harmed.' Out of fear, the king then complied with the lioness and accomplished the act of desire, after which the lioness departed. The king's soldiers and retinue arrived soon after, and the king returned with his entourage to the palace city. At that time, the lioness became pregnant from this. When the months and days were fulfilled, she gave birth to a boy. His form was entirely like a human, except that his feet were spotted. The lioness remembered and knew that he belonged to the king, so she took him in her mouth and carried him before the king. The king also remembered and recognized him as his own son, took him in, and raised him. Because his feet were spotted, he was given the name Kalmāṣapāda ('Spotted-Foot'). As he was raised, he gradually grew up, endowed with heroic talents and a fierce will. When the father-king passed away, Kalmāṣapāda succeeded to the throne. At that time King Kalmāṣapāda had two consorts: one was of royal caste, and the other was of Brahmin caste. When Kalmāṣapāda went out on an excursion, he exhorted the two consorts: 'Follow behind me; whoever arrives first, I shall take immense pleasure with her for a whole day. The one who arrives later, I shall not see.' After the king departed, the two consorts adorned themselves splendidly, prepared their carriages, and set out together. When they reached the middle of the road, seeing a shrine of the gods, the one of Brahmin caste got down from her carriage to pay homage. Having paid homage, she arrived later. The king kept to his original word and did not admit her. Thereupon this consort resented the deity of the shrine: 'Because I paid homage to you, you caused the king to slight me! If you have divine power, why did you not protect me?' Later she destroyed the shrine, leveling it to the ground. The spirit guarding the shrine was grieved and distressed, and went to the palace, intending to harm the royal palace; but the palace-guarding gods barred the spirit and would not allow entry. There was a rishi living in the mountains whom the king constantly made offerings to. Every day at mealtime, he would fly into the palace. He did not eat rich delicacies, only plain food and coarse offerings. It so happened that one day the rishi did not come. The spirit of the shrine learned of this, transformed into the rishi's shape, sat in his usual place, and refused to eat the food, saying that he wanted fish and meat. It was immediately prepared according to his words, and after eating he departed. The next day, when the former rishi came, meat was served to him. The rishi was angry with the king, and the king said: 'Great Rishi, you ordered it to be made the other day, so why do you not eat it now?' The rishi said to him: 'Yesterday I was ill and did not come for a whole day. Who told you this? You are merely slighting and testing me! I cause you to constantly eat human flesh for the next twelve years.' Having spoken these words, he flew back into the mountains. After this, the master of the kitchen forgot to prepare meat. Facing the moment without a plan, he went out looking for meat and saw a dead infant lying on the ground, plump and fair. Thinking it would meet the emergency, he immediately cut off the head and feet, carried it to the kitchen, added various fine spices, prepared the food, and gave it to the king. When the king ate it, he found it twice as delicious as usual. He immediately asked the kitchen master: 'I have eaten meat all my life, but never had anything so delicious. What kind of meat is this?' The kitchen master was terrified, threw himself on his belly before the king, and said: 'If the king will pardon my offense, only then dare I tell the truth.' The king replied to him: 'Just speak the truth; I will not hold you guilty.' The kitchen master reported to the king, detailing the previous circumstance. The king said: 'This meat is exceedingly delicious. From now on, you shall seek and prepare it like this.' The kitchen master told the king: 'Before, I merely chanced upon a dead child; seeking another will be difficult.' The king further told him: 'Just take them secretly. Even if someone finds out, the judgment lies with me.' The kitchen master accepted the instruction and constantly took them secretly by night, killing them upon obtaining them to supply the king daily. At that time, among the populace in the city, people walked about crying here and there, saying their young children were missing. They asked one another back and forth how this could be happening. The ministers gathered to deliberate: 'We should try to watch discreetly.' So they stationed men everywhere in the streets and alleys. They saw the king's kitchen master abducting other people's young children, staked him out, captured him, bound him, and brought him before the king, reporting the whole affair. The king said: 'It was my instruction.' The ministers harbored resentment and conferred among themselves outside: 'The king is indeed a bandit who eats our children! How can we govern together with a man-eating king? We should eliminate him together and remove this disaster!' All of one mind and sharing the same plan, they assembled together at once and surrounded the king, intending to seize and kill him. Seeing the troops gather, the king asked in alarm and fear: 'For what reason do you surround and press upon me?' The ministers answered: 'One who is a king takes the nurturing of the people as his duty. Yet you have just dispatched your kitchen servant to kill people for food. We cannot bear such cruelty, and therefore we wish to kill you, O King.' The king said to the ministers: 'From now on I will never do it again. Only grant me forgiveness and release, and I will correct and reform myself.' The ministers said: 'We will never release you; there is no need for many words.' Hearing this, the king knew he was certain to die. He then said to the ministers: 'Though you must kill me, delay for a brief moment and hear one word from me.' He then made a vow himself: 'By whatever good deeds I have cultivated in my life, by ruling righteously as a king, and by making offerings to the rishi, let the collective merits be transformed today so that I become a flying rākṣasa!' When his words ended, following his words it was accomplished, and he immediately flew into the empty sky. He announced to the ministers: 'You united your strength wishing to kill me by force, but thanks to my great fortune, I was able to deliver myself. From now on, endure well! The wives and children you love, I shall eat them one by one!' Having spoken, he flew away. He stayed in the mountains and forests, flying to seize people and carrying them off for food. The populace hid and fled in terror. After this, he killed and devoured many people. Various rākṣasas attached themselves to him as his retinue; his followers grew gradually more numerous, and his harm spread ever wider. Later, the rākṣasas said to King Kalmāṣapāda: 'We serve you as king; we wish to hold an assembly.' The king then agreed to it: 'I shall capture various kings to make a full five hundred and hold an assembly for you.' Having promised this, he went one by one to capture them, locking them in the deep mountains. He had already obtained four hundred and ninety-nine kings, lacking just one person. Later he captured Sutasoma, who possessed great and eminent virtue. Sutasoma begged the rākṣasa king for a leave of seven days, and when the leave was up, he returned. Sutasoma expounded the Dharma extensively for him, distinguishing the sin of killing and its evil retribution, and further explained the merit of a compassionate mind that does not kill. Kalmāṣapāda was joyful, respectfully received him with obeisance, adopted his teachings, and no longer had a mind to harm. He immediately released the kings, each returning to his own country. Sutasoma then had his troops escort Kalmāṣapāda back and establish him in his own country. The twelve years of the former rishi's curse had been fulfilled; from that time on, he never devoured human flesh again, and ultimately returned as a reigning king, governing the people as before. The King Sutasoma of that time was my present self. King Kalmāṣapāda was the present Aṅgulimāla. Those people who were eaten by King Kalmāṣapāda during those twelve years were the people killed by Aṅgulimāla in this life. These people were killed by Aṅgulimāla life after life, and I also tamed him with goodness life after life. 'Aṅguli-māla' means the 'Finger-Garland Bhikṣu'." At that time King Prasenajit further said to the Buddha: "The Finger-Garland Bhikṣu killed so many people and has now attained the Way. Will he still undergo retribution or not?" The Buddha told the king: "Great King, deeds must have their retribution. Currently this bhikṣu is in his room, and the fires of hell are issuing from his pores; he suffers excruciating, piercing agony beyond words." The Buddha ordered a bhikṣu: "Take a door-bolt, go to Aṅgulimāla's room, and thrust it through the door-hole." The bhikṣu went immediately and did so according to the instruction. As the bolt entered the room, it immediately melted away on its own. The bhikṣu was astonished, and returned to report to the Buddha. The Buddha told the bhikṣu: "The retribution of deeds is like this." The king and the assembled multitude all believed and understood.