‘Soon the rainy season was upon them; the entire universe was filled with the roaring thunder of the clouds; rainbows appeared in the sky, while flocks of peacocks danced in joy; the heavens were covered with thick dark clouds, and the torrents of rain made everything feel cool; the earth was adorned with streams of running water. It rained without a stop for three days and three nights. Damayaṃtī, staying with the caravan leader, felt no inconvenience. When the rain finally let up she left the caravan and went on her way. She soon saw a frightful demon with yellow hair; he looked like a mountain ablaze with forest fires; he was black like a cloud; he was like a second embodiment of the God of Death; in his hideous hand he brandished a sword that flashed like lightning across the dark cloud of his body. He said to her, “I am hungry for flesh and blood; you will be my dinner. I will eat you.” She said, “Sir! Death comes to every living being. Only the person who has not fulfilled his life’s goal fears death. I have fulfilled my goal by worshipping the gods and my elders. I do not fear death. What is more:
‘“Afflicted with so many sufferings I seek death as a way out of my misery.
‘“Eat your fill of me, for I burn with the fire of longing for Nala.
‘“Eat me; why do you hesitate? I give myself to you. How can I put an end to my sufferings if not by dying?”’
‘The demon was pleased by her fortitude. He said, “Lady! I am pleased. What can I do for you?” She said, “If you are pleased with me, then tell me, when shall I meet my husband again?” The demon used his supernatural knowledge and then said this to her, “When twelve years have elapsed since the day that you went into exile, you will be reunited with your husband while you are staying in your father’s house.” Then he added, “Why should you tire yourself with such an arduous journey? Just say the word and I will deliver you to your father’s home in the wink of an eye.” She replied, “It is enough for me that you have told me that I will see Nala again. I do not want to go anywhere with a man who is not my husband. Go home.” Displaying a divine body, ablaze with countless rays of light, the demon vanished.
Damayaṃtī now knew that her husband’s period of exile would be twelve years; she undertook to renounce certain things. She vowed, ‘I give up wearing red clothes and eating betel; I will not wear jewellery or apply fragrant unguents to my body; I renounce eating rich foods like ghee until I am with my husband Nala again.’ Damayaṃtī devoted herself to practicing severe penances; she would break her fasts by eating only fruits devoid of seeds. In a mountain cave she meditated on the image of Sāmtinātha that was always in her thoughts.
‘The caravan leader was worried when he realized that she was gone; he searched everywhere for her and found the mountain cave. She emerged from her state of meditation and spoke to him. Some ascetics overheard their conversation; they too came to her cave. They were transfixed; they stood there, intent on listening, mesmerized by the sound of her voice as deer are said to be mesmerized by song. It had begun to rain; indeed rain fell in torrents. Pelted by the heavy downpour, which struck them as mercilessly as a shower of arrows, the ascetics began to ask each other, “Where can we go to get out of the rain?” Moved by compassion Damayaṃtī said to them, “Sirs! Do not be afraid.” She dug a trench all around them and then made this truth-oath that was a proclamation of her chaste conduct, “If my chastity has never been sullied, then let the clouds rain down outside this trench.” As soon as she said this, water stopped falling inside the area of the trench, as if the area were protected by a roof. Everywhere else even the rocks were washed away in the rush of the falling water. When they saw this, the ascetics were astonished. They said, “Her beauty is not that of a mortal woman and the power of her chastity goes beyond mortal power. She must be some goddess.”’
‘The caravan leader asked her, “On whom do you meditate? How is that you are not afraid to be here?” She answered, “I meditate on the Jina, who is my god. Through his power I am not afraid.” She told the caravan leader all about the nature of god, the teachers, and the religious doctrine according to the Jinas, and thus brought the caravan leader to accept the Jain faith. Those ascetics too accepted the doctrine of the Jinas and cast their own doctrine aside with contempt, as a person who has tasted sweet milk scorns a drink of sour gruel. The caravan leader had a city built on the spot. It became known as “Tāvasapura”, “City of the Ascetics”, since the five hundred ascetics were awakened to the truth there. He had a beautiful temple made for the image of Sām tinaātha. And they all spent their time together there, devoted to the doctrine of the Jinas.
‘One night Damayaṃtī saw a light like all the rays of the rising sun coming from a mountain peak. She also saw gods descending to the peak and ascending back into the sky. Their shouts of joy woke everyone up. Damayaṃtī and the people of Tīvasapura climbed the mountain. The gods were celebrating the occasion of the achievement of Omniscience by the monk Simhakesari. Damayaṃtī and the others bowed down to the monk and then sat down in front of him. The teacher of that monk, named Jasabhadda, had also come to see Simhakesari. He, too, bowed down to the Omniscient One and sat down. The Omniscient One gave a sermon on the Jain doctrine, in which he described the true nature of transmigratory existence as without inherent worth.
‘A god joined them, lighting up the heavens with his radiance. He said to Damayaṃtī, “Lady! In this very penance grove I was once the disciple of the chief of these ascetics. I devoted myself to the practice of the severest penances. My name was Kappara. Although I practiced the five-fire penance, exposing myself to the sun and to burning fires all around me, the other ascetics did not appreciate me. That made me angry and I decided to go elsewhere. At night, when dense darkness covered the world, I stumbled in a declivity of the mountain. I struck my teeth on the hard surface of the rock and broke them. Overwhelmed by the pain of breaking my teeth, I dropped to the ground right there. I lay there like that for seven days and seven nights. The other ascetics did not even try to find out what had happened to me, let alone try to take care of me; they were no more eager to know where I was than a person is to know where a nightmare has gone once he awakens from it. I imagine the ascetics were perfectly content there in the penance grove without me, the way a person breathes a sigh of relief when a snake has been chased from his house. My anger at the ascetics smouldered inside me; I died and was reborn as a snake in their penance grove. Once, raising my hood, I even made a dash to strike you. When you saw me you immediately recited the Jain prayer to the five groups of people worthy of honour. I was stopped dead in my tracks when those words reached my ears. I went back into my hole. On another occasion I heard you expounding the Jain doctrine to the ascetics.
The creature who kills a living being because he is under the influence of anger, pride, deceitfulness or greed, attains the most terrible suffering in his next birth.
“That made me think, Oh, what will happen to me? I live by. killing living beings. I also had the feeling that I had seen these ascetics before. I reasoned it all out and came to remember my past birth. Disgusted with worldly desires and worldly gains, I confessed my sins, voluntarily renounced all food, and died a pious death. I was reborn in the realm of the gods as the god named Kusumappaha. I came here now because I wanted to see you; you had done me the greatest service, for it was only because I heard you preach the Jain doctrine that I became a god. I am your son in the faith.” The god then said to the ascetics, “Forgive me for what I did in my anger. Observe with care the vow you took to be pious lay Jains.” He then dragged the dead body of the snake out of the mountain cave and hung it on a tree. He declared, “Whoever harbors anger, like Kappara, will become a snake in his next birth.”’
‘The leader of those ascetics, his mind trembling in fear and loathing of this worldly existence, said to the Omniscient One, “Blessed One! Ordain me as a monk.” The Omniscient One replied, “My teacher Jasabhadda will ordain you.” The head of the ascetics again spoke up, “Why did you become a monk?” The Omniscient One answe
red, “I am the son of Kūvara from the city Kosalā. Kesari, the lord of the city Bhamgā, gave his daughter Bandhumaī to me in marriage. My father advised me to marry her and so I did. When I was on my way back home with her, I saw an ascetic who was preaching to a gathering of people. I bowed down to him and then listened with great faith to his sermon, which was like a river of heavenly nectar. I asked him, ‘Blessed One! How long do I have to live?’ The teacher used his supernatural knowledge and replied, ‘Son! You have only five days to live.’ Having learned that I was soon to die, I asked again, ‘Blessed One! I have little time left to live. What should I do now?’ The teacher felt pity for me and said, ‘Son! Do not despair. Renounce the world and become a monk, for even one day as a monk is the cause of a sojourn in heaven or Final Release.’ And so I became a monk. My teacher instructed me to come here. Through the fire of my final pure state of meditation, I burned off all the fuel of my karma and attained Omniscience.” With those words, Simhakesari stopped the influx of further karma, and having now put an end to all of the karma that causes a person to be reborn, he attained Final Release. The gods cremated the body of that Omniscient Sage. The chief of the ascetics renounced the world under the guidance of the Jain monk Jasabhadda.
‘Damayaṃtī also asked Jasabhadda, “Please ordain me, too.” Jasabhadda replied,
‘Lady! You still have pleasures to enjoy with Nala. You should not renounce the world yet.’
The next morning Jasabhadda descended the mountain and went to Tāvasapura.
‘Damayaṃtī spent seven years in the mountain cave, devoted to the practice of religion, her body covered in dirt. One day she heard some traveller say, “Damayaṃtī! I saw your husband in such and such a place.” She was satisfied; she left the cave. She ran in the direction of the voice, covering a vast distance. She stumbled back into a forest. When she did not see Nala, she began to cry. She lamented, “Alas, What shall I do? Where shall I go?” When she turned to go back to her mountain cave she saw a demoness, mouth wide open, ready to eat her. But because of the great power of Damayaṃtī’s chastity, the demonness was not able to devour her. The demoness vanished like something seen in a dream. As Damayaṃtī went on she came to a river without water. She was parched with thirst and struck the dry river bed with her foot; through the force of her chastity water appeared in the river. She drank her fill and then went on again.
‘Damayaṃtī grew exhausted and stopped to rest under a fig tree. Some merchants from a passing caravan saw her there. “Lady!” they asked, “who are you? You look like a goddess.” She told them, “I am a mortal woman. I was separated from the caravan in which I was travelling and have been wandering here in this forest. Show me the way to Tāvasapura.” They replied, “We have come in search of water. The sun has reached the peak of Sunset Mountain; we cannot show you the way right now, but if you come with us you can join our caravan and we will take you to some city or other.” She agreed. When the leader of the caravan, a merchant named Dhanadeva, saw her, he asked, “Who are you?” She replied, “I am the daughter of a merchant. I was on my way to my father’s house. I fell asleep in the forest and my husband abandoned me. Your men brought me here to the caravan, treating me with the affection and respect due a family member.” The caravan leader said, “I am on my way to Acalapura. My daughter, come along with us. I will take care of you and see that you come to no harm.” She was given a place of honor in the main wagon.
‘The caravan set off. They stopped for the night in a mountain grove that was redolent with pollen from the blossoms of the flowering trees. That night Damayaṃtī heard a member of the party reciting the Jain prayer to the five beings worthy of honor. She said to the caravan leader,
‘The person who recites this prayer is a lay Jain. I am also a Jain. I wish to speak to him.” The caravan leader, feeling for her the affection a father feels for his own child, took her to the person who was praying. She saw the Jain lay devotee worshipping a painted likeness of the Jina that was dark like the color of the leaves of the tamāla tree. Damayaṃtī, too, bowed down to the likeness. She then paid her respects to her fellow Jain and said, “Sir! Which Jina’s likeness is this?” He replied, “Let me tell you. I am a merchant from the city of Kaṃcī, ‘Bodice’, which is indeed like the jewelled bodice of the Lady Earth. One day a Jain monk named Dhamagutta, who was possessed of extraordinary knowledge, came to Kaṃcī. I bowed down to him and asked him, ‘When will I achieve Final Release?’ He replied, ‘After a sojourn in heaven, you will descend from there and be born as King Pasannacanda in the city Mihilā. You will conceive a desire to renounce the world in the presence of the nineteenth Tirthamkara, the Jina Mallināha, and you will then attain Liberation.’ From that day on I have felt great devotion for the Jina Mallināha. I worship this painted likeness of the Jina Mallināha.” He asked Damayaṃtī about herself and she told him all that had happened to her. He then said, “This caravan leader is like your own father and I am your brother. You must not despair.”
‘The next morning the caravan reached the city Acalapura. They left her there and went on. Damayaṃtī was thirsty and went to the town reservoir. The women who saw her there thought she must be the Water Goddess.
‘As she stood there on the bank, a crocodile grabbed her by the left foot.
‘Suffering follows upon suffering; everything in nature is eager to be with its own kind!
She recited the Jain prayer to the five who are worthy of honor. She freed her foot and got out of the water. Depressed, she sat down at the water’s edge.
‘The king of Acalapur was Riupanna, and true to his name he was like a Supanna bird to destroy the snakes, his enemies. His queen was named Candajasā, ‘The One whose Fame is like the Moon’, and her fame was indeed as glowing as the moon. Her serving maids saw Damayaṃtī. They were astonished by her great beauty and told the queen about her. She had Damayaṃtī brought to her. When she saw Damayaṃtī she exclaimed, “Oh, there is such a sweetness in her beauty!” She embraced her. Damayaṃtī fell at the queen’s feet. The queen asked her, “Lady! Who are you?” She answered, “I am the daughter of a merchant; I was abandoned by my husband in the forest.” The queen told her, “You will be like my own daughter, Candavaī. You must stay here in the palace with me. Do not worry about anything.”
‘Now every day just outside the city the queen arranged for food and other things to be given to the poor and the needy. One day Damayaṃtī said to the queen, “I want to give out the food in the poorhouse; I think that maybe my husband just might show up there some day in search of something to eat.” The queen agreed to let Damayaṃtī serve in the poorhouse. Eager to see her husband, Damayaṃtī distributed the food. She would ask all the people who came to receive alms, “Have you ever seen a man who looks like this?” Now one day when she was working in the poorhouse, she saw a thief bound and being led in by guards. She asked the guards, “What did he steal?” They told her, “He stole the jewel box that belongs to the princess Candavaī. He has been sentenced to death.” The thief, biting on his fingers, bowed to Damayaṃtī and said, “I am at your mercy. Make them release me.” Damayaṃtī was moved by compassion and made a truth statement about her chastity. Through the power of her chastity, the fetters that bound the thief broke. The guards were perplexed.
‘When the king heard about the event he rushed to the poorhouse. He asked Damayaṃtī, “Daughter! Why did you do what you did? It was wrong A thief should not be spared. It is the duty of kings to punish the wicked and protect the good. If kings do not do this, then there will be chaos and anarchy; the big will swallow up the little and there will be no regard for justice.” Damayaṃtī replied, “King! Forgive my wrongdoing; I acted out of compassion. For like some contagious disease, his pain touched my heart and I was stricken.” The king then freed the thief. Every day the thief bowed down to Damayaṃtī and said to her, “You are my mother.” One day she asked him, “Who are you? Where did you come from?” He told her, “I am the servant of
the caravan leader Vasanta from Tāvasapura. My name is Pińgala. I was addicted to gambling and I broke into Vasanta’s house and stole his most valuable possessions.
‘“With his valuables in my hand I ran for my life, but I was then robbed myself. True it is that the wicked have scant luck.
“’I came here and entered the service of the king; somehow I happened to see Candavaī’s jewel box.
“’I felt temptation in my heart; there arose in my mind a desire to steal the jewel box. It is generally true what they say, that a wicked person never changes.
The Forest of Thieves and the Magic Garden: An Anthology of Medieval Jain Stories (Penguin Classics) Page 20
