The monk explained, ‘O Prince, the torments of hell or rebirth as an animal await a person who slays a living being. In no way can that lead to the happiness of heaven. What more need I say? This goat right here will dispel your doubt.’ With this the monk turned to the goat.
‘You had this tank dug yourself; you had the trees planted yourself; you made a sacrifice yourself. Now why do you go on bleating in this idiotic way?’
When it heard these words the goat fell silent. The astonished prince said, ‘Blessed One! Why did this goat become silent as soon as you recited that verse?’ The monk said, ‘Noble sir! This man’s father was named Ruddasamma. He had this tank dug and he had these trees planted around its borders. Every year he performed a sacrifice in which goats were slain. In time Ruddasamma died. He was reborn as a goat. He was killed by this very man, his very own son, right here in a sacrifice. He was again reborn as a goat and again he was killed. This happened five times. This is his sixth rebirth. Now he does not have that much karma left, having exhausted much of his karma through his repeated suffering. Seeing his own son this goat has remembered his former births; it has been crying, “Son! Why do you kill me? I am your father Ruddasamma. If you do not believe me, I will give you a sign. I will show you a treasure that I buried and hid from you.”’
The man said, ‘Blessed One! If what he says is true, then let him show me the treasure.’ When it heard these words, the goat went inside the house to where the treasure was buried. It began to dig up the ground with its hooves. When it dug at a certain spot the treasure was revealed. The man was convinced; he listened to the Jain doctrine from the monk and became a pious lay Jain. The prince said, ‘Blessed One! If this is the result of killing an animal, even when it is enjoined in some religious texts, then I must always show compassion to all living beings.’ The goat also heard the true doctrine from the monk and renounced all food. It kept on repeating the words of praise to the five Jain worthies, to the Jinas, to those who have attained Liberation, to the leaders of the monks, to the teachers among the monks and to all the Jain ascetics. It died in meditation and was reborn among the gods. With his supernatural knowledge this god knew his previous births; he recognized the great service the prince Amarasīha had done him and constantly kept watch over the prince. Thus did time pass.
Now one night the goat that had become a god, adorned with a shining crown of jewels and glittering earrings, appeared in the sky and spoke to Prince Amarasīha:
‘The king is extremely cruel hearted and cannot bear to see how much all the people love you. He is planning to kill you. You must leave this city and go elsewhere. In time you must return and save the kingdom.’
When the prince heard these words of the god, he left the city with Vimala, the son of the minister, and wandered the earth.
Everywhere he went he received honour from the people on account of his most excellent virtues, as sandalwood is appreciated for its special properties, wherever it may be. In time Prince Amarasīha came to the city Kundinapur.
There the only thieves were the eyes of the lovely fawn-eyed women, which stole the hearts of the young men, for the citizens of that town were to a man all honest.
In that city reigned King Bhānu. He cut down his enemies with his dark sword, that was like the lotus the Goddess of Kingship twirls playfully in her hand.
At that time a great plague raged in the city. The king asked the brahmin priests how the plague might be stopped.
They told him, ‘Worship the city gods by sacrificing animals to them.’ The king’s men proceeded to slay the sacrificial beasts.
When Prince Amarasīha saw that slaughter he was moved by compassion and he told the killers, ‘Do not kill these animals.’
They replied, ‘Who are you to stop us? We are killing these animals on the orders of the king; you would stop us merely by your own say-so?’
With those words, the men set to their task with even greater determination. The prince implored the goat-god, ‘Stop this slaughter.’
The god then caused the men’s arms with swords poised to strike to stop in mid-air; when the people saw this miracle they quickly reported it to the king.
Astonished King Bhānu rushed to the scene. He saw the prince, as handsome as a god.
The prince bowed down to the king and asked, ‘Why are these animals being killed? Killing these animals will not stop the plague; the plague will only spread more, just as a fire spreads when fed with grass and chaff.’
King Bhānu said, ‘Good man, what will put an end to this plague?’ The prince replied, ‘Lord of men! The power of my magic spell will make a god descend into a suitable receptacle; the god will then tell us clearly how to stop the plague. There is no need for me to say anymore.’
The king had a young virgin brought there and the prince positioned her inside a magic circle. After she was worshipped with various flowers and sandalwood, she pronounced these words:
‘This will stop the plague: the water that was used to wash the feet of a person, in whose mind there dwells compassion for all living beings, as the royal swan dwells in a lotus pond.’
At that King Bhānu said, ‘Good man! How will we know in whose mind dwells compassion for all living beings?’ The prince answered, ‘There is a way. Call a gathering of people of different religious persuasions.’ The king did so.
The prince gave them this portion of a verse to complete:
‘… whether the eyes of the woman, though she was right in front of me, were marked with collyrium or not.’
Because they had lust in their hearts, all the representatives of religions other than the doctrine of the Jinas completed the verse in such a way as to make it describe the body of the young woman; for example:
‘My eyes and lips were on her full round breasts; that is why I did not notice whether the eyes of the woman, though she was right in front of me, were marked with collyrium or not.’
Now as fate would have it, it just so happened that the Jain monk Soma, who had told Amarasīha about the previous births of the goat, arrived on the scene. Here is how he completed the verse:
‘Intent as I was on watching where I stepped lest I bring harm to any living being, moving or not moving, I did not notice whether the eyes of the woman, though she was right in front of me, were marked with collyrium or not.’
The prince asked, ‘In the mind of which one of these men do you think there is compassion for living beings?’
The king replied, ‘If compassion for living beings existed in the minds of any of these, except for the Jain monk, then their words would not be filled with the sentiment of erotic love, as indeed they are.’
And so the entire city was sprinkled with water that had been used to wash the feet of the Jain monk. The plague stopped. The king was pleased.
He said to the prince, ‘I can tell in a general way that you are exceptional. But now I would like to know more specific things about you, for example, your place of origin and your family history.’
Vimala then told the king all about the prince, the city he came from, his family, his father and so on. The king gave to the prince his own daughter Kanagavaī in marriage.
The king also gave him gifts of horses, elephants, gold and fine cloth. The prince lived there happily, enjoying the pleasures of the senses.
One day messengers came from the city of Amarapura. This is what they told the prince: ‘Prince! After you left the city, that Samarasīha, addicted to the vice of hunting, failed to protect the kingdom and it was overwhelmed by our enemies. The king was a tyrant and the people turned against him. One day, the ministers, pretending to take aim at a wild beast, let fly their javelins at the greedy king and killed him. You must come now and rescue your kingdom that has no king to protect it.’
When he heard these words, the prince set out for Amarapura, accompanied by a complete army of elephants, horses, footsoldiers and chariots:
When he got there the ministers placed him on the throne. He ruled for a long t
ime, intent on following the doctrine of the Jinas, and when he died he attained a good rebirth.
Samarasīha, devoid of compassion for living beings in this world, was himself slain.
Amarasīha, practicing compassion for all living beings, obtained hundreds and hundreds of pleasures.
(from the Kumārapālapratibodha of Somaprabhasūri, p.23)
8
ABHAYASĪHA
The person whose mind trembles at the thought of sin and who protects all living beings out of compassion for them never has anything to fear himself, just like Abhayasīha.
The king Kumārapāla asked the monk Hemacandra,’ ‘Blessed One! Tell me, who is this Abhayasīha?’ The monk explained, ‘O lord of men! Listen and I will tell you.’
‘Right here in the land of Bharaha, in the charming village of Kusatthala, was a man of good family, who was in character and in name Bhadda, “Noble”. It was a time of great famine and Bhadda was unable to survive. He thought, “I can sustain myself by killing deer and other living beings.” And so he took a club and went out of the city. There he saw a rabbit. He rushed at the rabbit to kill it and threw the club straight at it. When the rabbit saw the club coming, it fled in terror. Bhadda threw the club at the rabbit again and again, determined to kill the creature. The rabbit kept running and finally, having no other refuge, it hid between the feet of a monk who was meditating there in the middle of the forest. Now the Forest Goddess, won over by the ascetic’s severe austerities, had made a slab of purest transparent crystal and had placed it in front of the monk. The club struck that slab of crystal and with a sound it quickly bounced back and smacked Bhadda right on the forehead. At once Bhadda was knocked unconscious; his eyes shut and he fell to the ground; blood streamed from the wound; his whole body was wracked by pain. Revived by the forest breeze, Bhadda saw the monk in front of him. He said to the monk, ‘The evil deed that I committed has borne fruit right here in this very birth. Or perhaps some meritorious deed that I once did has now come to fruition, for somehow this club bounced back and hit me on the forehead; otherwise it might have struck this sage who is deep in meditation. If it had, I would not have found a place even in the seventh hell, after committing such an evil act.’
‘At that moment the monk, an ocean of compassion, came out of his meditative state. He said to Bhadda, “O Glorious One, why do you do this sinful deed? Cruel-hearted, why do you kill living beings out of a lust for the taste of their flesh? That sinful act will be the fuel that feeds the fires of hell.” Bhadda bowed down to the monk and said, “Blessed One! From now on as long as I live I will never kill a single living being for the sake of its flesh.” The monk said to Bhadda, “You are a good soul, destined in the future for release, for you have made a vow never to harm living beings; this is the seed of the tree of the religious life.”’
‘Bhadda again bowed down to the monk and then returned home. He felt that now that his mind was totally free from any desire to kill a living being, his life was complete. Because of the great merit that he had thus acquired, he somehow managed to get something to eat every day. Now listen to me as I tell you where he was reborn when at the end of his life span he died.
‘Here on Jambūdīva, in the central region of the land of Bhāraha, is a city called Seyaviyā, “Made White”, which indeed is made white by the rows of its whitewashed mansions. There the golden globes atop the temples look like so many ripe yellow fruits hanging from the trees in heaven.
‘Vīrasena was king in that city. He won the affection of all of his subjects with all of his excellent virtues, his fairness, his handsome appearance, his willingness to forgive and his prowess in battle; his virtues were as pleasing to the people as is fine white sandal paste.
‘He had a queen named Vappā, who put to shame the women of the gods by her own great beauty. The soul of Bhadda descended into her womb, announced by her dreaming of a lion. She devoted herself to serving all three goals of a human life, the pursuit of wealth, sexual pleasure and religion, and in time gave birth to a son, who brought delight to the minds of the people. The king decreed a lavish celebration be held in honor of the child’s birth. When the month of celebration was not yet over, King Mānabhanga attacked King Vīrasena with a mighty army of elephants, horses, chariots and footsoldiers. Vīrasena went out to meet him with his own army. The battle commenced. As Fate would have it, Vīrasena was killed by Mānabhanga. Mānabhanga seized Vīrasena’s elephants, horses and encampment. He took possession of the kingdom of Seyaviyā. When Queen Vappā learned of the defeat of the kingdom, she took her son and fled into the forest. There a single footsoldier came upon her. He thought to himself, “I surely am a lucky one; now I have found this fawn-eyed woman, who is as beautiful as a divine damsel. I’ll get rid of the child; then I can have all of her love just for myself.” And so he said to her, “Lovely lady, abandon this child.” Her eyes brimming with tears, she replied, “How could I abandon this child, born from my own womb, the single crowning jewel of all the three worlds?” The soldier told her, “You will have many more children with me.” She replied, “If that is to be, it will only be in another birth.” And with that she began to weep. The cruel soldier forced her to put the child down. He then grabbed her arm and pushed her forward. He said to her,
‘“Why do you cry, O slender-waisted damsel? Forget your despair. Take me as your husband. Do not let your youth go to waste, as useless as a cry uttered in the wilderness.”’
‘Hearing these cruel words that stung her ears, the queen wept bitterly, tears flowing onto her breasts. She lamented,
‘“Alas, O God! What did I do against you in a previous birth, that now you show me no pity and cause me to suffer like this.
‘“First there was the death of my husband, the king, who was a treasure of jewel-like virtues, and who was dearer to me than my life.
‘“Second was the destruction of the kingdom that was endowed with abundant wealth and a mighty army of elephants, horses, chariots and footsoldiers, that kingdom that was a source of every pleasure a person might desire.
‘“Then came the loss of all of those who surrounded me, friends and relatives, whose hearts were full of affection and warmth, and who were imbued with such virtues as humility and goodness.
‘“Add to all of this, my wandering alone, afflicted by hunger, thirst and heat, in this desolate forest filled with hundreds of wild beasts, nothing but a torture.
‘“But my greatest torment surely was when my jewel of a son was forcibly wrested from my lap and abandoned in that forest.
‘“But wicked Fate you were still not satisfied with all those sufferings you had caused me. Now you want to cast a stain on my chastity, which is as pure as the moon.
‘“O my heart! Shameless, heart, unworthy heart! You must truly be made of diamond not to burst into pieces on hearing the disgusting words this man has said to me.”
‘As the queen uttered her lament, her heart did indeed break and her breaths left her body.
‘The queen died that very instant and became a demi-goddess. With her supernatural knowledge she knew her previous birth.
‘She saw her son licking at the base of a rose-apple tree; a ripe fruit, struck by the wind, fell into his mouth.
‘That demi-goddess, moved by her love of her child from her previous birth, took the form of a cow and gave him her milk to drink. She protected him from harm.
‘A few days later a trader from Seyaviyā named Piyamitta, returning from his journey, stopped his caravan in that forest. He saw the child under the rose-apple tree. He took the child, realizing from the fact that the shadow of the tree did not change its position that the child must have great merit, and realizing from his fair complexion that he was the child of some wealthy and noble family. Delighted, he handed the child over to his own wife Rajjā, who was barren. He let it be known among his friends and relatives that his wife had concealed her pregnancy but had now given birth to a son. When he got back to Seyaviyā he held a celebration in honor
of the baby’s birth. Thinking that he had found the child, like a lion, unafraid in the forest, he named him Abhayasīha, “Fearless Lion”.’
‘Sheltered, the child grew up, like a campaka tree in a mountain cave. In time he was entrusted to a teacher, who made him skilled in all of the traditional arts. He reached adolescence, which is like a pleasure grove in which the God of Love roams freely. One night as the boy slept on his golden couch, the demi-goddess, who had once been his mother, spoke to him, “Child! I was once Queen Vappā, the wife of Vīrasena, who was the lord of this city. You are the child born of my womb. Your father, Vīrasena, was killed by this Mānabhanga. I died too, and became a demi-goddess. This King Mānabhanga is your enemy, for you are the son of his enemy. Let me give you this magic formula, which will make you invisible as soon as you recite it.’ Abhayasīha accepted the magic formula, saying, ‘Blessed One, you are very kind to me.’ The demi-goddess vanished.
The Forest of Thieves and the Magic Garden: An Anthology of Medieval Jain Stories (Penguin Classics) Page 9
