Dhammapada 2.1: 1. Sāmāvatīvatthu

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Appamādo amatapadanti imaṃ dhammadesanaṃ satthā kosambiṃ upanissāya ghositārāme viharanto sāmāvatippamukhānaṃ pañcannaṃ itthisatānaṃ, māgaṇḍiyappamukhānañca etissā pañcannaṃ ñātisatānaṃ maraṇabyasanaṃ ārabbha kathesi.

Heedfulness is the Way to the Deathless. This religious instruction was given by the Teacher while he was in residence at Ghosita monastery near Kosambi, and it was with reference to the loss by death of the five hundred women led by Sāmāvatī and of Māgandiyā and her five hundred kinswomen. From beginning to end the story is as follows:

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Tatrāyaṃ anupubbikathā – atīte allakapparaṭṭhe allakapparājā nāma, veṭhadīpakaraṭṭhe veṭhadīpakarājā nāmāti ime dve daharakālato paṭṭhāya sahāyakā hutvā ekācariyakule sippaṃ uggaṇhitvā attano attano pitūnaṃ accayena chattaṃ ussāpetvā āyāmena dasadasayojanike raṭṭhe rājāno ahesuṃ. Te kālena kālaṃ samāgantvā ekato tiṭṭhantā nisīdantā nipajjantā mahājanaṃ jāyamānañca jīyamānañca mīyamānañca disvā ‘‘paralokaṃ gacchantaṃ anugacchanto nāma natthi, antamaso attano sarīrampi nānugacchati, sabbaṃ pahāya gantabbaṃ, kiṃ no gharāvāsena, pabbajissāmā’’ti mantetvā rajjāni puttadārānaṃ niyyādetvā isipabbajjaṃ pabbajitvā himavantappadese vasantā mantayiṃsu – ‘‘mayaṃ rajjaṃ pahāya pabbajitā, na jīvituṃ asakkontā. Te mayaṃ ekaṭṭhāne vasantā apabbajitasadisāyeva homa, tasmā visuṃ vasissāma. Tvaṃ etasmiṃ pabbate vasa, ahaṃ imasmiṃ pabbate vasissāmi. Anvaḍḍhamāsaṃ pana uposathadivase ekato bhavissāmā’’ti. Atha kho nesaṃ etadahosi – ‘‘evampi no gaṇasaṅgaṇikāva bhavissati, tvaṃ pana tava pabbate aggiṃ jāleyyāsi, ahaṃ mama pabbate aggiṃ jālessāmi, tāya saññāya atthibhāvaṃ jānissāmā’’ti. Te tathā kariṃsu.

Once upon a time King Allakappa ruled over the kingdom of Allakappa and King Veṭhadīpaka ruled over the kingdom of Veṭhadīpaka. They had been intimate friends since their boyhood-days and had received their education in the house of the same teacher. On the death of their fathers they raised the royal parasol and became rulers of kingdoms, each of which was ten leagues in extent.

As they met from time to time, and stood and sat and lay down to sleep together, and watched the multitudes being born into the world and dying again, they came to the conclusion, "When a man goes to the world beyond he can take nothing with him: he must leave everything behind him when he goes thither; even his own body does not follow him; of what use to us is the life of the householder? Let us retire from the world."

Accordingly they resigned their kingdoms to son and wife, retired from the world, adopted the life of ascetics, and took up their residence in the Himālaya country. And they took counsel together, saying, "Although we have renounced our kingdoms and retired from the world, we shall encounter no difficulty in gaining a living; but if we reside together in the same place, our life will be quite unlike the life of ascetics; therefore let us live apart. You live on this mountain; I will live on that. Every fortnight, on fast-day, we will meet together." Then this thought occurred to them, "Under this arrange-

ment neither of us will be in regular communication with the other; but in order that each of us may know whether the other is living or not, you light a fire on your mountain, and I will light a fire on mine.” And this they did.

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Atha aparabhāge veṭhadīpakatāpaso kālaṃ katvā mahesakkho devarājā hutvā nibbatto. Tato aḍḍhamāse sampatte aggiṃ adisvāva itaro ‘‘sahāyako me kālakato’’ti aññāsi. Itaropi nibbattakkhaṇeyeva attano devasiriṃ oloketvā kammaṃ upadhārento nikkhamanato paṭṭhāya attano tapacariyaṃ disvā ‘‘gantvā mama sahāyakaṃ passissāmī’’ti taṃ attabhāvaṃ vijahitvā maggikapuriso viya tassa santikaṃ gantvā vanditvā ekamantaṃ aṭṭhāsi. Atha naṃ so āha – ‘‘kuto āgatosī’’ti? ‘‘Maggikapuriso ahaṃ, bhante, dūratova āgatomhi. Kiṃ pana, bhante, ayyo imasmiṃ ṭhāne ekakova vasati, aññopi koci atthī’’ti? ‘‘Atthi me eko sahāyako’’ti. ‘‘Kuhiṃ so’’ti? ‘‘Etasmiṃ pabbate vasati, uposathadivase pana aggiṃ na jāleti, mato nūna bhavissatī’’ti. ‘‘Evaṃ, bhante’’ti? ‘‘Evamāvuso’’ti. ‘‘Ahaṃ so, bhante’’ti. ‘‘Kuhiṃ nibbattosī’’ti? ‘‘Devaloke mahesakkho devarājā hutvā nibbattosmi, bhante, ‘ayyaṃ passissāmī’ti puna āgatomhi. Api nu kho ayyānaṃ imasmiṃ ṭhāne vasantānaṃ koci upaddavo atthī’’ti? ‘‘Āma, āvuso, hatthī nissāya kilamāmī’’ti. ‘‘Kiṃ vo, bhante, hatthī karontī’’ti? ‘‘Sammajjanaṭṭhāne laṇḍaṃ pātenti, pādehi bhūmiyaṃ paharitvā paṃsuṃ uddharanti, svāhaṃ laṇḍaṃ chaḍḍento paṃsuṃ samaṃ karonto kilamāmī’’ti. ‘‘Kiṃ pana tesaṃ anāgamanaṃ icchathā’’ti? ‘‘Āmāvuso’’ti. ‘‘Tena hi tesaṃ anāgamanaṃ karissāmī’’ti tāpasassa hatthikantavīṇañceva hatthikantamantañca adāsi. Dadanto ca pana vīṇāya tisso tantiyo dassetvā tayo mante uggaṇhāpetvā ‘‘imaṃ tantiṃ paharitvā imasmiṃ mante vutte nivattitvā oloketumpi asakkontā hatthī palāyanti, imaṃ tantiṃ paharitvā imasmiṃ mante vutte nivattitvā pacchato olokentā olokentā palāyanti, imaṃ tantiṃ paharitvā imasmiṃ mante vutte hatthiyūthapati piṭṭhiṃ upanāmento āgacchatī’’ti ācikkhitvā, ‘‘yaṃ vo ruccati, taṃ kareyyāthā’’ti vatvā tāpasaṃ vanditvā pakkāmi. Tāpaso palāyanamantaṃ vatvā palāyanatantiṃ paharitvā hatthī palāpetvā vasi.

After a time the ascetic Veṭhadīpaka died and was reborn as a prince of deities of mighty power. A fortnight later Allakappa saw no fire on the mountain and knew that his comrade was dead. As soon as ever Veṭhadīpaka was reborn, he surveyed his own heavenly glory, considered the deeds of his former existence, reviewed the austerities he had performed from the day when he retired from the world, and said to himself, “I will go see my comrade.” Accordingly he laid aside his form as a deity, disguised himself as a wayfarer, went to Allakappa, paid obeisance to him, and stood respectfully on one side.

Allakappa said to him, “Whence have you come?” “I am a wayfarer, Reverend Sir; I have come a long distance. But, Reverend Sir, does your honor reside entirely alone in this place? Is there no one else here?” “I have a single comrade.” “Where is he?” “He resides on that mountain; but as he failed to light a fire on fast-day, I know he must be dead.” “Is that so, Reverend Sir?” “That is so, brother.” “I am he, Reverend Sir.” “Where were you reborn?” “Reverend Sir, I was reborn in the World of the Gods as a prince of deities of mighty power. I have returned to see your honor. Does your honorable self reside in this place undisturbed, or are you subject to some annoyance?” “Yes, brother, I am bothered to death by the elephants.” “Reverend Sir, what do the elephants do to trouble you?” “They drop dung on the ground I have swept clean, and they stamp with their feet and kick up the dust. What with removing the dung and smoothing the ground, I am all worn out.” “Well, would you like to keep them away?” “Yes, brother.” “Well then, I will provide you with means whereby you can keep them away.”

Accordingly Veṭhadīpaka gave Allakappa a lute to charm elephants with and likewise taught him spells for charming elephants. Now as he presented the lute to him, he showed him three strings and taught him three spells. “Strike this string,” said he, “and utter this spell, and the elephants will turn and run away without so much as daring even to look at you; strike this string and utter this spell, and they will turn and run away, eyeing you at every step; strike this string and utter this spell, and the leader of the herd will come up and offer you his back. Now do as you like.” With these words he departed. Thereafter the ascetic lived in peace, driving the elephants away by uttering the proper spell and striking the proper string.

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Tasmiṃ samaye kosambiyaṃ pūrantappo nāma rājā hoti. So ekadivasaṃ gabbhiniyā deviyā saddhiṃ bālasūriyatapaṃ tappamāno abbhokāsatale nisīdi. Devī rañño pārupanaṃ satasahassagghanikaṃ rattakambalaṃ pārupitvā nisinnā raññā saddhiṃ samullapamānā rañño aṅgulito satasahassagghanikaṃ rājamuddikaṃ nīharitvā attano aṅguliyaṃ pilandhi. Tasmiṃ samaye hatthiliṅgasakuṇo ākāsena gacchanto dūrato rattakambalapārupanaṃ deviṃ disvā ‘‘maṃsapesī’’ti saññāya pakkhe vissajjetvā otari. Rājā tassa otaraṇasaddena bhīto uṭṭhāya antonivesanaṃ pāvisi. Devī garugabbhatāya ceva bhīrukajātikatāya ca vegena gantuṃ nāsakkhi. Atha naṃ so sakuṇo ajjhappatto nakhapañjare nisīdāpetvā ākāsaṃ pakkhandi. Te kira sakuṇā pañcannaṃ hatthīnaṃ balaṃ dhārenti. Tasmā ākāsena netvā yathārucitaṭṭhāne nisīditvā maṃsaṃ khādanti. Sāpi tena nīyamānā maraṇabhayabhītā cintesi – ‘‘sacāhaṃ viravissāmi, manussasaddo nāma tiracchānagatānaṃ ubbejanīyo, taṃ sutvā maṃ chaḍḍessati. Evaṃ sante saha gabbhena jīvitakkhayaṃ pāpuṇissāmi, yasmiṃ pana ṭhāne nisīditvā maṃ khādituṃ ārabhissati, tatra naṃ saddaṃ katvā palāpessāmī’’ti. Sā attano paṇḍitatāya adhivāsesi.

At this time Parantapa was king of Kosambi. One day he was sitting out in the open air basking himself in the rays of the newly risen sun, and beside him sat his queen, great with child. The queen was wearing the king’s cloak, a crimson blanket worth a hundred thousand pieces of money; and as she sat there conversing with the king she removed from the king’s finger the royal signet, worth a hundred thousand pieces of money, and slipped it on her own.

Just at that moment a monster bird with a bill as big as an elephant’s trunk came soaring through the air. Seeing the queen and mistaking her for a piece of meat, he spread his wings and swooped down. When the king heard the bird swoop down, he sprang to his feet and entered the royal palace. But the queen, because she was great with child and because she was of a timid nature, was unable to make haste. The bird pounced upon her, caught her up in the cage of his talons, and soared away with her into the air. (These birds are said to possess the strength of five elephants; they are therefore able to convey their victims through the air, settle wherever they wish, and devour their flesh.)

As the queen was being carried away by the bird, terrified though she was with the fear of death, she preserved her presence of mind and thought to herself, “Animals stand in great fear of the human voice. Therefore if I cry out, this bird will drop me the instant he hears the sound of my voice. But in that case I should accomplish only my own destruction and that of my unborn child. If, however, I wait until he settles somewhere and begins to eat, then I can make a noise and frighten him away.” Through her own wisdom, therefore, she kept patience and endured.

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Tadā ca himavantapadese thokaṃ vaḍḍhitvā maṇḍapākārena ṭhito eko mahānigrodho hoti. So sakuṇo migarūpādīni tattha netvā khādati, tasmā tampi tattheva netvā viṭapabbhantare ṭhapetvā āgatamaggaṃ olokesi. Āgatamaggolokanaṃ kira tesaṃ dhammatā. Tasmiṃ khaṇe devī, ‘‘idāni imaṃ palāpetuṃ vaṭṭatī’’ti cintetvā ubho hatthe ukkhipitvā pāṇisaddañceva mukhasaddañca katvā taṃ palāpesi. Athassā sūriyatthaṅgamanakāle gabbhe kammajavātā caliṃsu. Sabbadisāsu gajjanto mahāmegho uṭṭhahi. Sukhedhitāya rājamahesiyā ‘‘mā bhāyi, ayye’’ti vacanamattampi alabhamānāya dukkhaparetāya sabbarattiṃ niddā nāma nāhosi. Vibhātāya pana rattiyā valāhakavigamo ca aruṇuggamanañca tassā gabbhavuṭṭhānañca ekakkhaṇeyeva ahosi. Sā meghautuñca pabbatautuñca aruṇautuñca gahetvā jātattā puttassa utenoti nāmaṃ akāsi.

Now there stood at that time in the Himālaya country a banyan-tree which, although of brief growth, had attained great size and was like a pavilion in form; and to this tree that bird was accustomed to convey the carcasses of wild animals and eat them. To this very tree, therefore, the bird conveyed the queen, lodged her in a fork of the tree, and watched the path leading to the tree. (It is the nature of these birds, we are told, to watch the path leading to their tree.) At that moment the queen, thinking to herself, “Now is the time to frighten him away,” raised both her hands, clapped them together and shouted, and frightened the bird away.

At sunset the pains of travail came upon her, and at the same time from all the four quarters of heaven arose a great storm. The delicate queen, half dead with suffering, with no one beside her to say to her, “Fear not, lady,” slept not at all throughout the night. As the night grew bright, the clouds scattered, the dawn came, and her child was born at one and the same moment. Because the child was born at the time (utu) of a storm, at the time when she was upon a mountain, and at the time when the sun rose, she named her son Udena.

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Allakappatāpasassapi kho tato avidūre vasanaṭṭhānaṃ hoti. So pakatiyāva vassadivase sītabhayena phalāphalatthāya vanaṃ na pavisati, taṃ rukkhamūlaṃ gantvā sakuṇehi khāditamaṃsānaṃ aṭṭhiṃ āharitvā koṭṭetvā rasaṃ katvā pivati. Tasmā taṃ divasaṃ ‘‘aṭṭhiṃ āharissāmī’’ti tattha gantvā rukkhamūle aṭṭhiṃ pariyesento upari dārakasaddaṃ sutvā ullokento deviṃ disvā ‘‘kāsi tva’’nti vatvā ‘‘mānusitthimhī’’ti. ‘‘Kathaṃ āgatāsī’’ti? ‘‘Hatthiliṅgasakuṇenānītāmhī’’ti vutte ‘‘otarāhī’’ti āha. ‘‘Jātisambhedato bhāyāmi, ayyā’’ti. ‘‘Kāsi tva’’nti? ‘‘Khattiyāmhī’’ti. ‘‘Ahampi khattiyoyevā’’ti. ‘‘Tena hi khattiyamāyaṃ kathehī’’ti. So khattiyamāyaṃ kathesi. ‘‘Tena hi āruyha puttaṃ me otārehī’’ti. So ekena passena abhiruhanamaggaṃ katvā abhiruhitvā dārakaṃ gaṇhi. ‘‘Mā maṃ hatthena chupī’’ti ca vutte taṃ achupitvāva dārakaṃ otāresi. Devīpi otari. Atha naṃ assamapadaṃ netvā sīlabhedaṃ akatvāva anukampāya paṭijaggi, nimmakkhikamadhuṃ āharitvā sayaṃjātasāliṃ āharitvā yāguṃ pacitvā adāsi. Evaṃ tasmiṃ paṭijaggante sā aparabhāge cintesi – ‘‘ahaṃ neva āgatamaggaṃ jānāmi, na gamanamaggaṃ jānāmi, imināpi me saddhiṃ vissāsamattampi natthi. Sace panāyaṃ amhe pahāya katthaci gamissati, ubhopi idheva maraṇaṃ pāpuṇissāma, yaṃkiñci katvā imassa sīlaṃ bhinditvā yathā maṃ na muñcati, tathā taṃ kātuṃ vaṭṭatī’’ti. Atha naṃ dunnivatthaduppārutadassanena palobhetvā sīlavināsaṃ pāpesi. Tato paṭṭhāya dvepi samaggavāsaṃ vasiṃsu.

Not far from that tree was the place of residence of the ascetic Allakappa. Now on rainy days it was the custom of the ascetic not to go into the forest for fruits and berries, for fear of the cold. Instead he used to go to the foot of the tree and gather up the bones from which the birds had picked the flesh; then he would pound the bones, make broth of them, and drink the broth. On that very day, therefore, he went there to get bones. As he was picking up bones at the foot of the tree, he heard the voice of a child in the branches above.

Looking up, he saw the queen. “Who are you?” said he. “I am a woman.” “How did you get there?” “A monster bird brought me here.” “Come down,” said he. “Your honor, I am afraid to come down on account of difference of caste.” “Of what caste are you?” “Of the Warrior caste.” “I am also of the Warrior caste.” “Well then, give me the password of the Warrior caste.” He did so. “Well then, climb up and set down my boy.” Finding a way to climb the tree on one side, he climbed up and took the boy in his arms; obeying the queen’s behest not to touch her with his hand, he set the boy down; then the queen herself came down.

The ascetic conducted the queen along the path to his hermitage and cared for her tenderly without in any way violating his vow of chastity. He brought honey free from flies and gave it to her; he brought rice grown in his own field and prepared broth and gave it to her. Thus did he minister to her needs.

After a time she thought to herself, “For my part I know neither the way to come nor the way to go, nor can I repose absolute confidence even in this ascetic. Now if he were to leave us and go elsewhere, we should both perish right here. I must by some means seduce him to violate his vow of chastity, so that he will not abandon us. Accordingly she displayed herself before him with under and upper garments in disarray, and thus seduced him to violate his vow of chastity; thenceforth the two lived together.

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Athekadivasaṃ tāpaso nakkhattayogaṃ ullokento pūrantappassa nakkhattamilāyanaṃ disvā ‘‘bhadde kosambiyaṃ pūrantapparājā mato’’ti āha. ‘‘Kasmā, ayya, evaṃ vadesi? Kiṃ te tena saddhiṃ āghāto atthī’’ti? ‘‘Natthi, bhadde, nakkhattamilāyanamassa disvā evaṃ vadāmī’’ti, sā parodi. Atha naṃ ‘‘kasmā rodasī’’ti pucchitvā tāya tassa attano sāmikabhāve akkhāte āha – ‘‘mā, bhadde, rodi, jātassa nāma niyato maccū’’ti. ‘‘Jānāmi, ayyā’’ti vutte ‘‘atha kasmā rodasī’’ti? ‘‘Putto me kulasantakassa rajjassa anucchaviko, ‘sace tatra abhavissa, setacchattaṃ ussāpayissa. Idāni mahājāniko vata jāto’ti sokena rodāmi, ayyā’’ti. ‘‘Hotu, bhadde, mā cintayi, sacassa rajjaṃ patthesi, ahamassa rajjalabhanākāraṃ karissāmī’’ti. Athassa hatthikantavīṇañceva hatthikantamante ca adāsi. Tadā anekāni hatthisahassāni āgantvā vaṭarukkhamūle nisīdanti. Atha naṃ āha – ‘‘hatthīsu anāgatesuyeva rukkhaṃ abhiruhitvā tesu āgatesu imaṃ mantaṃ vatvā imaṃ tantiṃ pahara, sabbe nivattitvā oloketumpi asakkontā palāyissanti, atha otaritvā āgaccheyyāsī’’ti. So tathā katvā āgantvā taṃ pavattiṃ ārocesi. Atha naṃ dutiyadivase āha – ‘‘ajja imaṃ mantaṃ vatvā imaṃ tantiṃ pahareyyāsi, sabbe nivattitvā olokentā palāyissantī’’ti. Tadāpi tathā katvā āgantvā ārocesi. Atha naṃ tatiyadivase āha – ‘‘ajja imaṃ mantaṃ vatvā imaṃ tantiṃ pahareyyāsi, yūthapati piṭṭhiṃ upanāmento āgamissatī’’ti. Tadāpi tathā katvā ārocesi.

One day, as the ascetic was observing a conjunction of a constellation with one of the lunar mansions, he saw the occultation of Parantapa’s star. “My lady,” said he, “Parantapa, king of Kosambi, is dead.” “Noble sir, why do you speak thus? Why do you bear ill-will against him?” “I bear him no ill-will, my lady. I say this because I have just seen the occultation of his star.” She burst into tears. “Why do you weep?” he asked. Then she told him that Parantapa was her own husband. The ascetic replied, “Weep not, my lady; whoever is born is certain to die.” “I know that, noble sir.” “Then why do you weep?” “I weep, noble sir, because it pains me to think, ‘To my son belongs the sovereignty by right of succession; had he been there, he would have raised the white parasol; now he has become one of the common herd.’” “Never mind, my lady; be not disturbed. If you desire that he shall receive the sovereignty, I will devise some means by which he shall receive it.” Accordingly the ascetic gave the boy the lute to charm elephants with and likewise taught him the spells for charming elephants.

Now at that time many thousands of elephants came and sat at the foot of the banyan-tree. So the ascetic said to the boy, “Climb the tree before the elephants come, and when they come, utter this spell and strike this string, and they will all turn and run away, without even so much as daring to look at you; then descend and come to me.” The boy did as he was told, and then went and told the ascetic. On the second day the ascetic said to him, “To-day utter this spell and strike this string, if you please, and they will turn and run away, eyeing you at every step.” On that day also the boy did as he was told, and then went and told the ascetic.

2.1.p8

Athassa mātaraṃ āmantetvā, ‘‘bhadde, puttassa te sāsanaṃ vadehi, ettova gantvā rājā bhavissatī’’ti āha. Sā puttaṃ āmantetvā, ‘‘tāta, tvaṃ kosambiyaṃ pūrantapparañño putto, maṃ sagabbhaṃ hatthiliṅgasakuṇo ānesī’’ti vatvā senāpatiādīnaṃ nāmāni ācikkhitvā ‘‘asaddahantānaṃ imaṃ pitu pārupanakambalañceva pilandhanamuddikañca dasseyyāsī’’ti vatvā uyyojesi. Kumāro tāpasaṃ ‘‘idāni kiṃ karomī’’ti āha. ‘‘Rukkhassa heṭṭhimasākhāya nisīditvā imaṃ mantaṃ vatvā imaṃ tantiṃ pahara, jeṭṭhakahatthī te piṭṭhiṃ upanāpetvā upasaṅkamissati, tassa piṭṭhiyaṃ nisinnova raṭṭhaṃ gantvā rajjaṃ gaṇhāhī’’ti. So mātāpitaro vanditvā tathā katvā āgatassa hatthino piṭṭhiyaṃ nisīditvā kaṇṇe mantayi – ‘‘ahaṃ kosambiyaṃ pūrantapparañño putto, pettikaṃ me rajjaṃ gaṇhitvā dehi sāmī’’ti. So taṃ sutvā ‘‘anekāni hatthisahassāni sannipatantū’’ti hatthiravaṃ ravi, anekāni hatthisahassāni sannipatiṃsu. Puna ‘‘jiṇṇā hatthī paṭikkamantū’’ti hatthiravaṃ ravi, jiṇṇā hatthī paṭikkamiṃsu. Puna ‘‘atitaruṇā hatthī nivattantū’’ti hatthiravaṃ ravi, tepi nivattiṃsu. So anekehi yūthahatthisahasseheva parivuto paccantagāmaṃ patvā ‘‘ahaṃ rañño putto, sampattiṃ patthayamānā mayā saddhiṃ āgacchantū’’ti āha. ‘‘Tato paṭṭhāya manussānaṃ saṅgahaṃ karonto gantvā nagaraṃ parivāretvā ‘yuddhaṃ vā me detu, rajjaṃ vā’’’ti sāsanaṃ pesesi. Nāgarā āhaṃsu – ‘‘mayaṃ dvepi na dassāma. Amhākañhi devī garugabbhā hatthiliṅgasakuṇena nītā, tassā atthibhāvaṃ vā natthibhāvaṃ vā mayaṃ na jānāma. Yāva tassā pavattiṃ na suṇāma. Tāva neva yuddhaṃ dassāma, na rajja’’nti. Tadā kira taṃ paveṇirajjaṃ ahosi. Tato kumāro ‘‘ahaṃ tassā putto’’ti vatvā senāpatiādīnaṃ nāmāni kathetvā tathāpi asaddahantānaṃ kambalañca muddikañca dassesi. Te kambalañca muddikañca sañjānitvā nikkaṅkhā hutvā dvāraṃ vivaritvā taṃ rajje abhisiñciṃsu. Ayaṃ tāva utenassa uppatti.

Then the ascetic addressed the mother, saying, “My lady, give your son his message and he will go hence and become king.” So she addressed her son, saying, “You must say, ‘I am the son of King Parantapa of Kosambi; a monster bird carried me off.’ Then you must utter the names of the commander-in-chief and the other generals. If they still refuse to believe you, you must show them this blanket which was your father’s cloak and this signet-ring which he wore on his finger.” With these words she dismissed him.

The boy said to the ascetic, “Now what shall I do?” The ascetic replied, “Seat yourself on the lowest branch of the tree, utter this spell and strike this string, and the leader of the elephants will approach and offer you his back. Seat yourself on his back, go to your kingdom, and take the sovereignty.” The boy did reverence to his parents, and following the instructions of the ascetic, seated himself on the back of the elephant and whispered in his ear, “I am the son of King Parantapa of Kosambi. Get me and give me the sovereignty which I have inherited from my father." When the elephant heard that, he trumpeted, "Let many thousands of elephants assemble;" and many thousands of elephants assembled. Again a second time he trumpeted, "Let the old, weak elephants retire;" and the old, weak elephants retired. The third time he trumpeted, "Let those that are very young retire;" and they also retired.

So the boy went forth, surrounded by many thousands of warrior-elephants, and reaching a village on the frontier, proclaimed, "I am the son of the king; let those who desire worldly prosperity come with me." Levying forces as he proceeded, he invested the city and sent the following message to the citizens, "Give me battle or the kingdom." The citizens answered, "We will give neither. Our queen was carried off by a monster bird when she was great with child, and we know not whether she is alive or dead. So long as we hear no news of her, we will give neither battle nor the kingdom." (At that time, we are told, the kingdom was handed down from father to son.) Thereupon the boy said, "I am her son." So saying, he uttered the names of the commander-in-chief and the other generals, and when they still refused to believe him, showed the blanket and the ring. They recognized the blanket and the ring, opened the gates, and sprinkled him king.

2.1.p9

Allakapparaṭṭhe pana dubbhikkhe jīvituṃ asakkonto eko kotuhaliko nāma manusso kāpiṃ nāma taruṇaputtañca kāḷiṃ nāma bhariyañca ādāya ‘‘kosambiṃ gantvā jīvissāmī’’ti pātheyyaṃ gahetvā nikkhami. ‘‘Ahivātarogena mahājane marante disvā nikkhamī’’tipi vadantiyeva. Te gacchantā pātheyye parikkhīṇe khudābhibhūtā dārakaṃ vahituṃ nāsakkhiṃsu. Atha sāmiko pajāpatiṃ āha – ‘‘bhadde, mayaṃ jīvantā puna puttaṃ labhissāma, chaḍḍetvā naṃ gacchāmā’’ti. Mātu hadayaṃ nāma mudukaṃ hoti. Tasmā sā āha – ‘‘nāhaṃ jīvantameva puttaṃ chaḍḍetuṃ sakkhissāmī’’ti. ‘‘Atha kiṃ karomā’’ti? ‘‘Vārena naṃ vahāmā’’ti. Mātā attano vāre pupphadāmaṃ viya naṃ ukkhipitvā ure nipajjāpetvā aṅkena vahitvā pituno deti. Tassa taṃ gahetvā gamanakāle chātakatopi balavatarā vedanā uppajji. So punappunaṃ āha – ‘‘bhadde, mayaṃ jīvantā puttaṃ labhissāma, chaḍḍema na’’nti. Sāpi punappunaṃ paṭikkhipitvā paṭivacanaṃ nādāsi. Dārako vārena parivattiyamāno kilanto pitu hatthe niddāyi. So tassa niddāyanabhāvaṃ ñatvā mātaraṃ purato katvā ekassa gacchassa heṭṭhā paṇṇasanthare taṃ nipajjāpetvā pāyāsi. Mātā nivattitvā olokentī puttaṃ adisvā, ‘‘sāmi, kuhiṃ me putto’’ti pucchi. ‘‘Ekassa me gacchassa heṭṭhā nipajjāpito’’ti. ‘‘Sāmi, mā maṃ nāsayi, puttaṃ vinā jīvituṃ na sakkhissāmi, ānehi me putta’’nti uraṃ paharitvā paridevi. Atha naṃ nivattitvā ānesi. Puttopi antarāmagge mato hoti. Iti so ettake ṭhāne puttaṃ chaḍḍetvā tassa nissandena bhavantare satta vāre chaḍḍito. ‘‘Pāpakammaṃ nāmetaṃ appaka’’nti na avamaññitabbaṃ.

Once upon a time there was a famine in the kingdom of Ajita, and a man named Kotūhalaka, unable to get a living, took his young son Kāpi and his wife Kāḷi, and thinking, "I will go to Kosambi and get a living there," set out with provisions for the journey. (There are also those who say that he left his home because the people were dying of intestinal disease.) As they proceeded on their journey, their provisions gave out, and finally they were so overcome with hunger that they were not able to carry the boy. Thereupon the husband said to his wife, "Wife, if we live, we shall have another son. Let us cast this child away and continue our journey alone."

There is a proverb, "A mother's heart is tender," and so it was with this woman. She replied, "I could never cast away a living child." "Well, what shall we do?" "Carry him by turns." When the mother's turn came, she would lift the child like a wreath of flowers, clasp him to her breast, or carry him on her hip, finally giving him back to his father. When the father took the child, no matter where he held him he suffered more intense pain than ever from hunger. Again and again he said to his wife, "Wife, if we live, we shall have another son. Let us cast this child away." But this the mother steadfastly refused to do.

Finally the child became so tired from being passed back and forth that he fell asleep in the arms of his father. When the father observed that he was asleep, allowing the mother to precede him, he went and laid the child on a couch of leaves under a bush, immediately resuming his journey. The mother turned, looked back, and not seeing the child, asked, "Husband, where is my son?" "I laid him down under a certain bush." "Husband, do not kill me. Without my son I cannot live. Bring my son back to me." And she smote upon her breast and wept. So the husband retraced his steps, recovered the child, and brought him back to her. (In consequence of having cast away his child on this one occasion, Kotūhalaka was himself cast away seven times in a later existence. Let no one regard an evil deed lightly, saying, "It is only a small matter.")

2.1.p10

Te gacchantā ekaṃ gopālakulaṃ pāpuṇiṃsu. Taṃ divasañca gopālakassa dhenumaṅgalaṃ hoti. Gopālakassa gehe nibaddhaṃ eko paccekabuddho bhuñjati. So taṃ bhojetvā maṅgalamakāsi. Bahu pāyāso paṭiyatto hoti. Gopālako te āgate disvā, ‘‘kuto āgatatthā’’ti pucchitvā sabbaṃ pavattiṃ sutvā mudujātiko kulaputto tesu anukampaṃ katvā bahukena sappinā pāyāsaṃ dāpesi. Bhariyā ‘‘sāmi, tayi jīvante ahampi jīvāmi nāma, dīgharattaṃ ūnodarosi, yāvadatthaṃ bhuñjāhī’’ti sappiñca dadhiñca tadabhimukhaññeva katvā attanā mandasappinā thokameva bhuñji. Itaro bahuṃ bhuñjitvā sattaṭṭhadivase chātatāya āhārataṇhaṃ chindituṃ nāsakkhi. Gopālako tesaṃ pāyāsaṃ dāpetvā sayaṃ bhuñjituṃ ārabhi. Kotuhaliko taṃ olokento nisīditvā heṭṭhāpīṭhe nipannāya sunakhiyā gopālakena vaḍḍhetvā diyyamānaṃ pāyāsapiṇḍaṃ disvā ‘‘puññā vatāyaṃ sunakhī, nibaddhaṃ evarūpaṃ bhojanaṃ labhatī’’ti cintesi. So rattibhāge taṃ pāyāsaṃ jīrāpetuṃ asakkonto kālaṃ katvā tassā sunakhiyā kucchimhi nibbatti.

Continuing their journey, they came to the house of a certain herdsman. On that day, as it happened, one of the herdsman's cows had calved, and the herdsman was about to hold the customary festival in honor of the event. Now a certain Private Buddha was accustomed to take his meals in the house of the herdsman. The herdsman, after providing the Private Buddha with food, celebrated the cow-festival with an abundant supply of rice-porridge. When the herdsman saw the visitors, he asked them, "Whence have you come?" They told him the whole story, whereupon the tender-hearted youth took pity on them and saw to it that they were given rice-porridge with a plentiful supply of ghee. The wife said to the husband, "Husband, if only you can live, I can live. For a long time you have not had sufficient food. Now eat to your heart's content." So saying, she set the ghee and curds before him, eating only a little of the ghee herself. The husband ate heartily; but so intense was the hunger from which he had suffered during the preceding seven or eight days that he was unable to satisfy it.

When the herdsman had seen to it that they were provided with rice-porridge, he began himself to eat. Now under the herdsman's stool lay a bitch he had raised, and as the herdsman sat there eating, he fed her with morsels of rice-porridge. Kotūhalaka watched him feed her and thought to himself, “Fortunate indeed is that bitch to get such food to eat!” Kotūhalaka was unable to digest the rice-porridge he had eaten, died during the night, and received a new existence in the womb of that very bitch.

2.1.p11

Athassa bhariyā sarīrakiccaṃ katvā tasmiṃyeva gehe bhatiṃ katvā taṇḍulanāḷiṃ labhitvā pacitvā paccekabuddhassa patte patiṭṭhāpetvā, ‘‘dāsassa vo pāpuṇātū’’ti vatvā cintesi – ‘‘mayā idheva vasituṃ vaṭṭati, nibaddhaṃ, ayyo, idhāgacchati, deyyadhammo hotu vā, mā vā, devasikaṃ vandantī veyyāvaccaṃ karontī cittaṃ pasādentī bahuṃ puññaṃ pasavissāmī’’ti. Sā tattheva bhatiṃ karontī vasi. Sāpi sunakhī chaṭṭhe vā sattame vā māse ekameva kukkuraṃ vijāyi. Gopālako tassa ekadhenuyā khīraṃ dāpesi. So na cirasseva vaḍḍhi. Athassa paccekabuddho bhuñjanto nibaddhaṃ ekaṃ bhattapiṇḍaṃ deti. So bhattapiṇḍaṃ nissāya paccekabuddhe sinehamakāsi. Gopālakopi nibaddhaṃ dve vāre paccekabuddhassupaṭṭhānaṃ yāti. Gacchantopi antarāmagge vāḷamigaṭṭhāne daṇḍena gacche ca bhūmiñca paharitvā ‘‘susū’’ti tikkhattuṃ saddaṃ katvā vāḷamige palāpeti. Sunakhopi tena saddhiṃ gacchati.

His wife performed the funeral ceremonies over his body, and remaining in that very house, worked for hire. Receiving a pint-pot of rice, she cooked it and placed it in the bowl of the Private Buddha, saying, “May these grains of rice bring a reward to your servant.” And she thought to herself, “It would be well for me to remain right here. The Private Buddha comes here regularly; and whether there be alms or not, I shall have the privilege of paying obeisance to him each day and of ministering to him. By so doing I shall obtain peace of mind and earn much merit.” And she remained right there working for hire.

After six or seven months the bitch gave birth to a single pup. The herdsman reserved the milk of one cow for the pup, and in no long time he grew to be a fine big dog. When the Private Buddha ate his meal, he invariably gave him a portion of his rice; and because of this the dog became deeply attached to the Private Buddha.

Now the herdsman was accustomed to go regularly twice each day to wait upon the Private Buddha, and the dog always went with him. On the way was a lair of wild beasts, and the herdsman used to frighten the wild beasts away by striking bushes and ground with a stick and calling out three times, “Su! su!” One day he said to the Private Buddha, “Reverend Sir, in case at any time I should be unable to come, I will send this dog for you. Therefore if I send him, please understand that I wish you to come.”

2.1.p12

So ekadivasaṃ paccekabuddhaṃ āha – ‘‘bhante, yadā me okāso na bhavissati, tadā imaṃ sunakhaṃ pesessāmi, tena saññāṇena āgaccheyyāthā’’ti. Tato paṭṭhāya anokāsadivase, ‘‘gaccha, tāta, ayyaṃ ānehī’’ti sunakhaṃ pesesi. So ekavacaneneva pakkhanditvā sāmikassa gacchapothanabhūmipothanaṭṭhāne tikkhattuṃ bhussitvā tena saddena vāḷamigānaṃ palātabhāvaṃ ñatvā pātova sarīrapaṭijagganaṃ katvā paṇṇasālaṃ pavisitvā nisinnassa paccekabuddhassa vasanaṭṭhānaṃ gantvā paṇṇasāladvāre tikkhattuṃ bhussitvā attano āgatabhāvaṃ jānāpetvā ekamante nipajjati, paccekabuddhe velaṃ sallakkhetvā nikkhante bhussanto purato gacchati. Antarantarā paccekabuddho taṃ vīmaṃsanto aññaṃ maggaṃ paṭipajjati. Athassa purato tiriyaṃ ṭhatvā bhussitvā itaramaggameva naṃ āropeti. Athekadivasaṃ aññaṃ maggaṃ paṭipajjitvā tena purato tiriyaṃ ṭhatvā vāriyamānopi anivattitvā sunakhaṃ pādena paharitvā pāyāsi. Sunakho tassa anivattanabhāvaṃ ñatvā nivāsanakaṇṇe ḍaṃsitvā ākaḍḍhanto itaramaggameva naṃ āropesi. Evaṃ so tasmiṃ balavasinehaṃ uppādesi.

A few days later the herdsman found it inconvenient to go in person. He therefore sent the dog in his place, saying, “Boy, go bring his reverence back.” At the mere word of the herdsman the dog started off. Where he had seen his master stop and strike bushes and ground, the dog also stopped and barked three times; and when he was sure that his barking had frightened away the wild beasts, he went on. Early in the morning, having attended to nature’s needs, he entered the hut of leaves and grass, went to the place where the Private Buddha sat, barked three times by way of announcing his arrival, and then lay down at one side. By this the Private Buddha knew that it was time for him to go, and therefore started out. The dog ran before him, barking constantly. From time to time the Private Buddha tested the dog by taking the wrong path; but every time he did so the dog, by standing across the path and barking, intimated to him to take the other path.

One day the Private Buddha took the wrong path, and when the dog tried to stop him, without turning back, he pushed away the dog with his foot and went on. The dog, perceiving that he did not intend to turn back, took the hem of his undergarment in his teeth and dragged him along until he brought him to the right path. Such was the strength of the affection of the dog for the Private Buddha.

2.1.p13

Tato aparabhāge paccekabuddhassa cīvaraṃ jīri. Athassa gopālako cīvaravatthāni adāsi. Tamenaṃ paccekabuddho āha – ‘‘āvuso, cīvaraṃ nāma ekakena kātuṃ dukkaraṃ, phāsukaṭṭhānaṃ gantvā kāressāmī’’ti. ‘‘Idheva, bhante, karothā’’ti. ‘‘Na sakkā, āvuso’’ti. ‘‘Tena hi, bhante, mā ciraṃ bahi vasitthā’’ti. Sunakho tesaṃ kathaṃ suṇantova aṭṭhāsi, paccekabuddhopi ‘‘tiṭṭha, upāsakā’’ti gopālakaṃ nivattāpetvā vehāsaṃ abbhuggantvā gandhamādanābhimukho pāyāsi. Sunakhassa taṃ ākāsena gacchantaṃ disvā bhukkaritvā ṭhitassa tasmiṃ cakkhupathaṃ vijahante hadayaṃ phalitvā mato. Tiracchānā kira nāmete ujujātikā honti akuṭilā. Manussā pana aññaṃ hadayena cintenti, aññaṃ mukhena kathenti. Tenevāha – ‘‘gahanañhetaṃ, bhante, yadidaṃ manussā, uttānakañhetaṃ, bhante, yadidaṃ pasavo’’ti (ma. ni. 2.3).

Later on the Private Buddha’s robe wore out. When the herdsman provided him with materials for a new set of robes, the Private Buddha said to him, “Brother, it is difficult for a person all alone to make a robe. I will go to a convenient place and have it made for me.” “Make it right here, Reverend Sir.” “No, brother, I cannot.” “Well then, Reverend Sir, do not take up your residence far from here.” The dog stood listening to every word they said. The Private Buddha said, “Wait a moment, brother.” Thereupon, leaving the herdsman behind, he flew up into the air and departed in the direction of Gandhamādana.

When the dog saw him flying through the air, he began to bark and howl, and he kept this up until the Private Buddha gradually faded from view, whereupon his heart broke. (Animals, they say, are straightforward and not given to deceit; men, however, think one thing in their heart, but say another with their lips. Therefore said the Exalted One to a monk, “The ways of men are past finding out, but the ways of the beasts are easy to discover.”) So when the dog died, he was reborn, because of his straightforwardness and lack of deceit, in the World of the Thirty-three with a retinue of a thousand celestial nymphs, and there he enjoyed glory and bliss unspeakable. When he but whispered, his voice carried a distance of sixteen leagues; when he spoke in an ordinary tone, he could be heard all over the city of the gods, a city ten thousand leagues in extent. (Do you ask, “Of what was this the consequence?” It was because he barked and howled for love of the Private Buddha.)

2.1.p14

Iti so tāya ujucittatāya akuṭilatāya kālaṃ katvā tāvatiṃsabhavane nibbatto accharāsahassaparivuto mahāsampattiṃ anubhosi. Tassa kaṇṇamūle mantayantassa saddo soḷasayojanaṭṭhānaṃ pharati, pakatikathāsaddo pana sakalaṃ dasayojanasahassaṃ devanagaraṃ chādeti. Tenevassa ‘‘ghosakadevaputto’’ti nāmaṃ ahosi. ‘‘Kissa panesa nissando’’ti. Paccekabuddhe pemena bhukkaraṇassa nissando. So tattha na ciraṃ ṭhatvā cavi. Devalokato hi devaputtā āyukkhayena puññakkhayena āhārakkhayena kopenāti catūhi kāraṇehi cavanti.

Remaining in the World of the Thirty-three for no long time, he passed from that state of existence. (Deities pass from the World of the Gods through four causes: exhaustion of life, exhaustion of merit, exhaustion of food, and anger. He that has earned much merit is reborn in the World of the Gods, remains there during the term allotted to him, and is then reborn higher and higher. Thus he passes through “exhaustion of life.” He that has earned little merit soon exhausts that merit, just as three or four pint-pots of rice tossed into a royal storehouse disappear; and he therefore soon dies. Thus he passes through "exhaustion of merit." Still a third, while enjoying the pleasures of sense, fails through confusion of memory to partake of food, and the strength of his body being thereby impaired, dies. Thus he passes through "exhaustion of food." A fourth, jealous of the glory of another, becomes angry and dies. Thus he passes through "anger.")

2.1.p15

Tattha yena bahuṃ puññakammaṃ kataṃ hoti, so devaloke uppajjitvā yāvatāyukaṃ ṭhatvā uparūpari nibbattati. Evaṃ āyukkhayena cavati nāma. Yena parittaṃ puññaṃ kataṃ hoti, tassa rājakoṭṭhāgāre pakkhittaṃ ticatunāḷimattaṃ dhaññaṃ viya antarāva taṃ puññaṃkhīyati, antarāva kālaṃ karoti. Evaṃ puññakkhayena cavati nāma. Aparopi kāmaguṇe paribhuñjamāno satisammosena āhāraṃ aparibhuñjitvā kilantakāyo kālaṃ karoti. Evaṃ āhārakkhayena cavati nāma. Aparopi parassa sampattiṃ asahanto kujjhitvā kālaṃ karoti. Evaṃ kopena cavati nāma.

2.1.p16

Ayaṃ pana kāmaguṇe paribhuñjanto muṭṭhassati hutvā āhārakkhayena cavi, cavitvā ca pana kosambiyaṃ nagarasobhiniyā kucchimhi paṭisandhiṃ gaṇhi. Sāpi jātadivase ‘‘kiṃ eta’’nti dāsiṃ pucchitvā, ‘‘putto, ayye’’ti vutte – ‘‘handa, je, imaṃ dārakaṃ kattarasuppe āropetvā saṅkārakūṭe chaḍḍehī’’ti chaḍḍāpesi. Nagarasobhiniyo hi dhītaraṃ paṭijagganti, na puttaṃ. Dhītarā hi tāsaṃ paveṇī ghaṭīyati. Dārakaṃ kākāpi sunakhāpi parivāretvā nisīdiṃsu. Paccekabuddhe sinehappabhavassa bhukkaraṇassa nissandena ekopi upagantuṃ na visahi. Tasmiṃ khaṇe eko manusso bahi nikkhanto taṃ kākasunakhasannipātaṃ disvā, ‘‘kiṃ nu kho eta’’nti gantvā dārakaṃ disvā puttasinehaṃ paṭilabhitvā ‘‘putto me laddho’’ti gehaṃ nesi. Tadā kosambakaseṭṭhi rājakulaṃ gacchanto rājanivesanato āgacchantaṃ purohitaṃ disvā, ‘‘kiṃ, ācariya, ajja te tithikaraṇanakkhattayogo olokito’’ti pucchi. ‘‘Āma, mahāseṭṭhi, amhākaṃ kiṃ aññaṃ kiccanti? Janapadassa kiṃ bhavissatī’’ti? ‘‘Aññaṃ natthi, imasmiṃ pana nagare ajja jātadārako jeṭṭhakaseṭṭhi bhavissatī’’ti. Tadā seṭṭhino bhariyā garugabbhā hoti. Tasmā so sīghaṃ gehaṃ purisaṃ pesesi – ‘‘gaccha bhaṇe, jānāhi naṃ vijātā vā, no vā’’ti. ‘‘Na vijāyatī’’ti sutvā rājānaṃ disvāva vegena gehaṃ gantvā kāḷiṃ nāma dāsiṃ pakkositvā sahassaṃ datvā, ‘‘gaccha je, imasmiṃ nagare upadhāretvā sahassaṃ datvā ajja jātadārakaṃ gaṇhitvā ehī’’ti. Sā upadhārentī taṃ gehaṃ gantvā dārakaṃ disvā, ‘‘ayaṃ dārako kadā jāto’’ti gahapatāniṃ pucchitvā ‘‘ajja jāto’’ti vutte, ‘‘imaṃ mayhaṃ dehī’’ti ekakahāpaṇaṃ ādiṃ katvā mūlaṃ vaḍḍhentī sahassaṃ datvā taṃ ānetvā seṭṭhino dassesi. Seṭṭhi ‘‘sace me dhītā vijāyissati, tāya naṃ saddhiṃ nivesetvā seṭṭhiṭṭhānassa sāmikaṃ karissāmi. Sace me putto vijāyissati, māressāmi na’’nti cintetvā taṃ gehe kāresi.

Ghosaka, while enjoying the pleasures of sense, became forgetful, passed, through exhaustion of food, from the World of the Thirty-three, and was conceived in the womb of a courtezan of Kosambī. On the day when the courtezan gave birth to the child, she asked her slave-woman, "What is it?" "A son, my lady." "Very well, put this boy into an old winnowing basket and cast him away on the dust-heap." Thus she caused him to be cast away. (Courtezans will bestow care on a daughter, but not on a son, for it is through a daughter that their line of business is maintained.) Crows and dogs surrounded the child and huddled about him; but in consequence of his barking and howling for love of the Private Buddha, not one dared to approach him.

At that moment a man came out and saw the crows and dogs all huddled together. "What does this mean?" thought he to himself, going nearer. When he saw the boy, he immediately took a fancy to him, and saying to himself, "I have gained a son," he picked the boy up and took him home with him.

Now the treasurer of Kosambī happened at that time to go to the royal palace. Seeing the house-priest returning from the royal residence, he asked him, "Teacher, have you observed a conjunction of a constellation with one of the lunar mansions to-day?" "Yes, great treasurer. What else have we to do?" "What will happen to the country?" "Only this: a boy has been born in this city to-day who will one day become the principal treasurer." As the treasurer's wife was at that time great with child, he immediately sent a messenger to his house, saying, "Go find out whether or not she has given birth to a child."

He received the answer that she had not yet given birth to a child. Therefore, as soon as he had seen the king, he went home quickly, summoned a slave-woman named Kāḷī, gave her a thousand pieces of money, and said, "Go scour this city, find the boy that was born to-day, and bring him hither to me." While she was scouring the city, she came to the house where the child was and asked the mistress of the house, "When was this boy born?" "To-day." "Give him to me," said she, first offering a penny and gradually increasing the amount until finally, by offering a thousand pieces of money, she obtained him. Then she took him with her and presented him to the treasurer.

The treasurer gave him a home in his house, thinking to himself, "If a daughter is born to me, I will marry her to this boy and make him treasurer; but if a son is born to me, I will kill him." After a few days his wife gave birth to a son. Thereupon the treasurer thought to himself, "If only this foundling did not exist, my own son would obtain the post of treasurer. I had best kill him immediately." So he said to Kāḷī, "Carry this child to the cattle-pen, and when it is time for the cattle to come out, lay him across the doorway, and the cattle will trample him to death. Observe whether or not they trample him to death, and then come back and tell me."

2.1.p17

Athassa bhariyā katipāhaccayena puttaṃ vijāyi. Seṭṭhi ‘‘imasmiṃ asati mama puttova seṭṭhiṭṭhānaṃ labhissati, idāneva taṃ māretuṃ vaṭṭatī’’ti cintetvā kāḷiṃ āmantetvā, ‘‘gaccha, je, vajato gunnaṃ nikkhamanavelāya vajadvāramajjhe imaṃ tiriyaṃ nipajjāpehi, gāviyo naṃ madditvā māressanti, madditāmadditabhāvaṃ panassa ñatvā ehī’’ti āha. Sā gantvā gopālakena vajadvāre vivaṭamatteyeva taṃ tathā nipajjāpesi. Gogaṇajeṭṭhako usabho aññasmiṃ kāle sabbapacchā nikkhamantopi taṃ divasaṃ sabbapaṭhamaṃ nikkhamitvā dārakaṃ catunnaṃ pādānaṃ antare katvā aṭṭhāsi. Anekasatagāviyo usabhassa dve passāni ghaṃsantiyo nikkhamiṃsu. Gopālakopi ‘‘ayaṃ usabho pubbe sabbapacchā nikkhamati, ajja pana sabbapaṭhamaṃ nikkhamitvā vajadvāramajjhe niccalova ṭhito, kiṃ nu kho eta’’nti cintetvā gantvā tassa heṭṭhā nipannaṃ dārakaṃ disvā puttasinehaṃ paṭilabhitvā, ‘‘putto me laddho’’ti gehaṃ nesi.

She carried the child to the cattle-pen, and as soon as the door was opened, laid him across the doorway. Now at other times the leader of the herd, the bull, came out last of all; but on this particular day he came out first, inclosed the boy with his four feet, and stood stock still. Several hundred cows came out on either side of the bull, rubbing against his flanks as they passed. The herdsman thought to himself, "Hitherto this bull has always gone out last of all, but to-day he went out first and stood stock still in the doorway of the pen. What can this mean?" Going near, he saw the boy lying under the bull. Immediately taking a fancy to him, he said to himself, "I have gained a son," and picking him up, he carried him home.

2.1.p18

Kāḷī gantvā seṭṭhinā pucchitā tamatthaṃ ārocetvā, ‘‘gaccha, naṃ puna sahassaṃ datvā ānehī’’ti vuttā sahassaṃ datvā puna ānetvā adāsi. Atha naṃ āha – ‘‘amma, kāḷi imasmiṃ nagare pañca sakaṭasatāni paccūsakāle uṭṭhāya vāṇijjāya gacchanti, tvaṃ imaṃ netvā cakkamagge nipajjāpehi, goṇā vā naṃ maddissanti, cakkā vā chindissanti, pavattiṃ cassa ñatvāva āgaccheyyāsī’’ti. Sā taṃ netvā cakkamagge nipajjāpesi. Tadā sākaṭikajeṭṭhako purato ahosi. Athassa goṇā taṃ ṭhānaṃ patvā dhuraṃ chaḍḍesuṃ, punappunaṃ āropetvā pājiyamānāpi purato na gacchiṃsu. Evaṃ tassa tehi saddhiṃ vāyamantasseva aruṇaṃ uṭṭhahi. So ‘‘kiṃ nāmetaṃ goṇā kariṃsū’’ti maggaṃ olokento dārakaṃ disvā, ‘‘bhāriyaṃ vata me kamma’’nti cintetvā, ‘‘putto me laddho’’ti tuṭṭhamānaso taṃ gehaṃ nesi.

Kāḷī went back to the treasurer and in answer to his question told him what had happened. Said the treasurer, "Go to the herdsman, give him these thousand pieces of money, and bring the child back to me again." So she brought the child back again and gave him to the treasurer. Then he said to her, "Good Kāḷī, five hundred carts start from this city at dawn on a trading expedition. Take this child and lay him in the track of the wheels. Either the oxen will trample him under their feet or the wheels will crush him to death. Observe what happens to him, and then return to me."

She took the child and laid him down in the track of the wheels. The leader of the caravan came first; but when his oxen reached the place where the child lay, they threw off the yoke. Again and again the leader replaced the yoke and tried to drive the oxen forwards; but as often as he did so, they threw off the yoke and refused to move. He was still struggling with them when the sun rose. "Why have the oxen acted thus?" thought he. He looked at the road and saw the boy. "Oh, what a grievous wrong I have done!" thought he. His heart was filled with joy at the thought, "I have gained a son," and picking up the boy, he carried him off.

2.1.p19

Kāḷī gantvā seṭṭhinā pucchitā taṃ pavattiṃ ācikkhitvā, ‘‘gaccha, naṃ puna sahassaṃ datvā ānehī’’ti vuttā tathā akāsi. Atha naṃ so āha – ‘‘idāni naṃ āmakasusānaṃ netvā gacchantare nipajjāpehi, tattha sunakhādīhi vā khādito, amanussehi vā pahaṭo marissati, mātāmatabhāvañcassa jānitvāva āgaccheyyāsī’’ti. Sā taṃ netvā tattha nipajjāpetvā ekamante aṭṭhāsi. Taṃ sunakho vā kāko vā amanusso vā upasaṅkamituṃ nāsakkhi. ‘‘Nanu cassa neva mātā na pitā na bhātikādīsu koci rakkhitā nāma atthi, ko taṃ rakkhatī’’ti? Sunakhakāle paccekabuddhe sinehena pavattitabhukkaraṇamattameva taṃ rakkhati. Atheko ajapālako anekasahassā ajā gocaraṃ nento susānapassena gacchati. Ekā ajā paṇṇāni khādamānā gacchantaraṃ paviṭṭhā dārakaṃ disvā jaṇṇukehi ṭhatvā dārakassa thanaṃ adāsi, ajapālakena ‘‘he he’’ti sadde katepi na nikkhami. So ‘‘yaṭṭhiyā naṃ paharitvā nīharissāmī’’ti gacchantaraṃ paviṭṭho jaṇṇukehi ṭhatvā dārakaṃ khīraṃ pāyantiṃ ajiṃ disvā dārake puttasinehaṃ paṭilabhitvā, ‘‘putto me laddho’’ti ādāya pakkāmi.

Kāḷī went back to the treasurer and in answer to his question told him what had happened. Said the treasurer, "Go to the caravan-leader, give him a thousand pieces of money, and bring the child back to me again." When she had so done, he said to her, "Now carry him to the burning-ground and lay him in the bushes. There he will either be eaten by dogs or attacked by demons, and he will die. As soon as you know whether or not he is dead, return to me."

She took the child, laid him in the bushes, and stood at one side. But neither dog nor crow nor demon dared to approach him. (Pray, if he had neither mother nor father nor brother nor other kinsman to protect him, what was it that did protect him? All that protected him was his howling for love of the Private Buddha in his former existence as a dog.)

Just then a goatherd passed on one side of the burning-ground, leading several thousand goats to pasture. A certain she-goat made her way into the bushes eating leaves and grass, and seeing the boy, knelt down and gave him suck. The goatherd called, "He! he!" but she did not come out. Thereupon he said to himself, "I will beat her with my stick and bring her out." So saying, he made his way into the bushes. And there he saw the she-goat on her knees, giving suck to the boy. He immediately took a fancy to the boy, and saying to himself, "I have gained a son," picked him up and carried him off.

Kāḷī went back to the treasurer and in answer to his question told him what had happened. Said the treasurer, "Go to the goatherd, give him a thousand pieces of money, and bring the child back to me again." When she had so done, he said to her, "Good Kāḷī, take this child with you, climb the mountain that is known as Robbers' Cliff, and throw him down the precipice. He will strike against the sides of the ravine and be dashed to pieces when he reaches the bottom. As soon as you know whether or not he is dead, return to me."

2.1.p20

Kāḷī gantvā seṭṭhinā pucchitā taṃ pavattiṃ ācikkhitvā, ‘‘gaccha, taṃ puna sahassaṃ datvā ānehī’’ti vuttā tathā akāsi. Atha naṃ āha – ‘‘amma kāḷi, imaṃ ādāya corapapātapabbataṃ abhiruhitvā papāte khipa, pabbatakucchiyaṃ paṭihaññamāno khaṇḍākhaṇḍiko hutvā bhūmiyaṃ patissati, matāmatabhāvañcassa ñatvāva āgaccheyyāsī’’ti. Sā taṃ tattha netvā pabbatamatthake ṭhatvā khipi. Taṃ kho pana pabbatakucchiṃ nissāya mahāveḷugumbo pabbatānusāreneva vaḍḍhi, tassa matthakaṃ ghanajāto jiñjukagumbo avatthari. Dārako patanto kojavake viya tasmiṃ pati. Taṃ divasañca naḷakārajeṭṭhakassa veḷubali patto hoti. So puttena saddhiṃ gantvā taṃ veḷugumbaṃ chindituṃ ārabhi. Tasmiṃ calante dārako saddamakāsi. So ‘‘dārakasaddo viyā’’ti ekena passena abhiruhitvā taṃ disvā, ‘‘putto me laddho’’ti tuṭṭhacitto ādāya gato.

She carried the child to Robbers' Cliff, and standing at the top of the mountain, threw him down. Now there grew along the mountain near that abyss a dense bamboo thicket, and the top of the mountain was covered with a thick growth of guñjā shrub. As the boy fell, he dropped into this bamboo thicket as into a coverlet of goat's hair. Now that very day the leader of the reed-makers had received a gift of bamboo and accompanied by his son, he had gone to chop that thicket down. As he began his work, the bamboo shook and the boy cried out. "That sounds like the voice of a boy," thought he. Climbing up on one side, he saw the boy. His heart was filled with joy at the thought, "I have gained a son," and picking up the boy, he carried him off.