Now King Narakesari came to hear that the territory bordering his own had been given by the king to his own son-in-law, a mere merchant. And so, burning with such rage that the very flames of anger seemed to leap from his mouth as he spoke, he told his own servants, ‘See with what contempt King Bhāmandala treats us! He has given the task of protecting our flanks to a veritable barbarian. Let us raid his territory and teach the king a lesson so that he will never do anything like that again. And as soon as he spoke they raided Devadhara’s territory and sent word to King Bhāmandala that they had done so.’ And no sooner did he get the news than, furious with this insult delivered him, the king caused the drums to beat to announce the departure of his own army. And so the king’s army set out,
Swift as the wind, swift as the mind, gold ornaments flashing like bursts of lightning, rut dripping like rain from their temples, the elephants went forward like new-formed rain clouds.
Filling the world with their neighing, kicking up heaps of dust as their sharp hooves dug into the earth, making terrifying noises from their mouths, gums drawn back, the horses went forward.
Having proved their prowess many a time by slaying their proud and wicked enemies, sauntering, shouting, the foot soldiers went forward.
The very heavens seemed rent asunder with the trumpeting of the elephants, the clanking of the chariots, the neighing of the horses, the shouts of the warriors and the beasts of all the war drums.
And when he heard this terrible noise, like the roar of the turbulent mighty ocean, Devadhara asked his chamberlain,
‘Are the very heavens being rent asunder? Has the earth split open? Are the mountains tumbling down? Or is this the very end of the world? Tell me sir, what is that noise?’
And the chamberlain, who knew exactly what was going on, told him in great detail about everything that had happened. At once Devadhara spoke up. And as he spoke his lips quivered in anger at the insult he had been dealt; his forehead was marked by three fierce lines of a frown, and his hand reached again and again for his sword. ‘Hurry, make ready my elephant so that I my follow my father-in-law into battle.’ And his men did exactly as he commanded.
Devadhara mounted his war elephant and rode to the king. He was freshly bathed and his body had been anointed with fragrant substances; he was adorned with garlands of white flowers and wearing his most costly clothes; his crown was surrounded by lotuses with fine long stalks; and he carried with him his sharp sword that was like the tongue of the God of Death. When the king saw him coming he thought to himself, ‘Lucky am I to have such a fine son-in-law. Or perhaps it is the good fortune of Devasiriī that she has found such a fine husband.’ And as the King was thinking this, Devadhara threw himself at the King’s feet and proclaimed, ‘King! Lions do not attack jackals, forgetting about maddened elephants that are their more worthy foes. And so I beg you, command me so that I may pacify this disobedient vassal Narakesari. Besides, it was because he thought of me as a mere merchant that he dared to attack my territory. And so, O King, it seems only fitting that it is I who should go there.’ The king, his body rippling with joy, said to him, ‘My son! Do not ask that of me. Truly I shall not feel satisfied if I do not go out against Narakesari myself.’ And Devadhara, realizing how the king felt, was silent. But a few moments later he asked again for permission to proceed, ‘O King! Command me!’ The king replied, Ask for what you wish.’ He said, ‘In that case I wish to proceed in the vanguard against Narakesari.’ The king said, ‘My son, I do not like what you ask. I cannot bear the thought of being without you even for a short time and we are yet hundreds of miles away from Narakesari.’ Devadhara told him, ‘Each day I shall come back by some swift conveyance and bow down to the king’s feet.’ And when he realized that Devadhara was not to be dissuaded, the King gave him permission to go. Devadhara left at once and soon reached the border of Narakesari’s territory.
His enemy, having learnt form spies that he had arrived, bellowed, ‘Seize that barbarian who does not know how powerful I am!’ And as soon as King Narakesari had uttered these words his army stood armed and ready. And it was a mighty army indeed that went forth from Narakesari’s domains. And when they saw it coming Devadhara’s soldiers armed themselves at once. And there ensued a terrible battle.
Here men’s heads lay cut off by sharp swords; there the headless corpses of warriors, jerking violently, put on a dancing show;
Here lay pearls fallen from the temples of elephants that had been torn open with sharp lances; there heaps of chariots that had been smashed to smithereens with strong maces lay clanking against each other;
Here she-goblins danced, drunk on blood; there jackals howled like ghouls, feeding on human entrails and flesh;
Here the sky was covered with streams of sharp arrows shot from taut bow-strings; there sparks shot out as weapons clashed and clanged together
Here horses, elephants, and chariots roamed aimlessly, no longer carrying riders; there hosts of gods showered flowers, pleased by the warriors’ brave acts;
Here ghosts laughed and hooted, each more terrible in form than the next; there terrifying demons brandished sharp cutting tools in their busy hands;
And as this terrible battle raged Devadhara, the prince, mounted on his elephant, shouted, ‘Lead my elephant towards Narakesari’s elephant.’
And taking up the command, the skillful elephant driver led Devadhara’s elephant so close to Narakesari’s mount that the two beasts could touch each other with their tusks.
And then Devadhara jumped onto the back of Narakesari’s elephant and taunted him, ‘Here I am, King, your barbarian! Stand tall now!
‘Take hold of your weapon now! You will see what prowess even a merchant’s son can have!’ And the king, thinking that such a lowly foe was beneath him, yet had no choice and took hold of his magnificent sword.
And each blow that the impatient king levelled Devadhara skilfully warded off. And he seized the king and he was filled with pride at his own act.
Devadhara’s minister sent word with a swift messenger to King Bhāmandala to inform him that Devadhara had met the enemy army. And he quickly rode out with his best soldiers. The prince Devadhara handed Narakesari over to him. Filled with joy, the king embraced the prince and then released Narakesari from his bonds. He honored him as was his due and then told him, ‘You should continue to rule your own lands as a servant of this prince.’ And Narakesari, giving to the prince his own daughter Mittasiri, too full of pride to serve under the prince, abandoned his kingdom and became a monk under the guidance of a good teacher. The king and the prince Devadhara crowned Narakesari’s son as king and then went back to their own city.
The king, realizing that the moment had come, then said to all his sons, ‘My sons! If you agree then I will crown your brother-in-law as king.’ They all said, ‘Do so. Whatever you wish is also our desire.’ And so he informed all his ministers and chief councillors and on an auspicious moment the prince Devadhara was made king of both kingdoms, his own and the kingdom of Bhāmandala. And King Bhāmandala became a Jain monk and looked after the matter of his own spiritual welfare.
Now Narakesari’s loyal retainers gave to King Devadhara their own daughters, two hundred and fifty of them, and many precious gifts. And his other vassal kings did the same. And so he came to have five hundred and five queens and he made Rāyasiriī the chief queen amongst them all. She enjoyed great wealth and splendour. And Devadhara the king became a great king, lord over a vast territory, his commands honored by all.
One day, recalling their previous poverty, the king and the queen began to carry out pious acts to further the Jain faith. They had Jain temples built; they had Jain images consecrated; they had the images bathed, anointed and properly worshipped; they sponsored great religious festivals; they proclaimed that no one in their kingdom should ever take the life of any creature; they had the chariots belonging to the temples led around the city with the sacred images in them; they gave to the poor and miserable, gifts of com
passion; they did honour to fellow Jains; they gave great gifts to the Jain nuns and monks, gifts of food and other necessities; they had books copied and properly worshipped; they listened to the words of the Jinas; they themselves observed the required daily duties of pious Jains; they fasted on the fast days; what more need I say? They spent their time doing just about everything conceivable that would further the cause of the Jain faith.
Now one day there came the Blessed Jasabhaddasūri, who was so wise he was almost omniscient. The king and his queen went to pay their respects to the monk. They bowed down to him, full of true devotion. They sat down on the ground, making sure that there were no living creatures there that they would crush. The Blessed One began his discourse:
‘Wealth is by nature fickle; this miserable body is ever subject to the ravages of old age and sickness. Love is like a dream. And so I say put your efforts into the practice of religion.
‘And in their best of teaching the Jinas have likened the difference between the life of a householder and the life of a monk to the difference between a mountain of gold and a mustard seed.
‘The happiness that monks know, having renounced all pleasures of the senses, and being free from having to carry out the orders of others, cannot be experienced even by the emperor of the entire world.
‘This religious practice which so many monks follow is like a thunder bolt to cleave the rock that is the accumulated effects of all of a person’s past deeds, evil, heavy, accumulated over many a lifetime.
‘Someone who has been a monk even for just one day is honoured by kings and queens alike. Behold the power of the religious life, O King!
‘A soul having been a monk even for a day, intently devoted to the monastic life, may not get absolute release, it is true, but for sure he becomes a god in heaven.
‘Practicing austerities brings even greater merit than building the most’magnificent of temples, with thousands of pillars, all of gold, silver and gemstones.
‘And so, O King, abandon the householder’s life, which is the abode of all suffering. Follow the course that monks follow, the one that destroys the cycle of rebirths.’
And when he heard these words the king Devadhara indeed felt a desire to renounce the world. He said, ‘Blessed One! As soon as I crown Rāyasiriī’s son Gunahara as king I shall accept the course that you describe. But I have one small request. Tell me, why did I and my queen have to suffer the loss of our parents when we were just children? Why were we oppressed by such terrible poverty?’ The Blessed One said, ‘Listen, great king.
‘Just one birth ago you were born to a good family in the village of Nandivaddhana. Your name was Kulavaddhana. And your queen was then also your wife; her name was Santimaī. By nature both of you had few faults, were little given to anger and other evil passions, and were devoted to giving to others. Now one day two Jain monks in the course of their wanderings chanced to come to your house. Seeing them you said to your wife, “Beloved! Just look at these monks. They never give anything to anyone and have abandoned their duties to take care of their immediate family, their friends and their other relatives. What use are any of the religious austerities they do anyway, since they ignore their own people?” Santimiaī said, “My lord! What you say is absolutely true. There can be no doubt that what you say is just so.” That is the deed that you both did that led later to your own loss of your relatives.’
‘Now there was also in that village a rich Jain temple. A certain wealth Jain layman, Jinadeva by name, was in charge of looking after the properties of the temple. Now one day you lost a quarrel with Jinadeva, which prompted the angry Santimaī to say, “Lord! That temple servant is blinded with all that wealth that belongs to the temple as sure as if he was drunk with wine. And he disregards everyone and everything. As far as I am concerned, we’d all be better off if all the wealth belonging to the temple just disappeared.” And you said, “Beloved! That would suit me just fine.” And with those bad thoughts you both insured that you would suffer poverty. And you died without repenting your bad deeds and were reborn as you now are.’
When they heard this account they both remembered their former births. And they said, ‘Your account is absolutely true. We remember everything now with the power to recollect our past lives. But what deed did we do then that enabled us to acquire this kingdom?’ The Blessed One said, ‘That you gave food with reverence to Jain monks and nuns in this birth of yours resulted in your enjoying the kingdom right in this very same life. As the sacred texts say,
Some deeds done in this birth give their fruit in this very same birth; some deeds done in this birth give their fruit in a future rebirth. Some deeds done in a different birth give their fruit in this birth; some deeds done in a different birth give their fruit in that very birth.
And so you must always endeavour to do good deeds.’ The king and his wife, agreeing, went back to their palace. Installing the prince on the throne, with great splendour the king and the queen renounced this world. They fulfilled the rest of their ordered days by living a pure life, and fasting to death they attained rebirth as gods. When they fall from heaven they will be reborn in the land of Mahāvideha where they will achieve final liberation.
(from the Mūlaśuddhiprakarana of Pradyumnasuri, p. 160)
30
DEVADIṆṆA
There is on our very own continent of Jambuddīve, in the land of Bhāraha, a city named Tihuyanapura, “The City of the Triple World”, which was indeed an ornament to the triple world of heaven, earth and the nether world. There reigned King Tihuyanasehara, “The Best in the Triple World,” who was a veritable sun to chase away the deep darkness of his stalwart enemies. And foremost amongst the women in his harem was Tihuyanā, his queen. From her womb came forth the prince Tihunahadatta, “Gift to the Triple World”.
Now in this very city there also lived a merchant named Sumaī, “The Clever,” who was the leader of all the eighteen minor and major guilds of merchants, who had fathomed the meaning of that best of all religious doctrines, the Jain doctrine, which teaches such things as the distinction between living beings and insentient matter. And this merchant was greatly honored by the king. He had a wife named Candapaha, “Moonlight,” who by her beauty surpassed all of the heavenly damsels. She and the queen Tihuyanā were devoted friends. One day the prince Tihuyanadatta, along with his retinue, went to see Candapaha, whom he called “auntie.” She bathed him tenderly, massaged him with fragrant ointments, adorned him with jewels and then sat him on her lap. She placed her lips to his head and breathed in gently, and as she did this she thought:
‘How fortunate is my friend and what good deeds she must have once done! Her life is fulfilled, she has accomplished her goal in having such a wonderful son!
‘Many are the women who have fulfilled themselves in this world, bantering softly to their handsome children, the fruit of their very own wombs. And sitting there on their laps, the children coo back to them, showering them with playful words of love.
‘But I am the most miserable of women, for I do not have even one child.
And as this thought ran through her mind, she let out a deep sigh and sent the prince back to his own home.
Now when the prince got home the queen asked, ‘Who put all these jewels on the prince?’ His servants told her, ‘Your friend. But you must quickly sprinkle the prince with salt and say the right prayers so that no harm will come to him, for she let out a deep sigh right over the prince.’ The queen said, ‘Don’t talk such nonsense. Her sigh will be like a blessing for the prince.’ At this the servants fell silent. And the queen thought, ‘Now why did she let out a sigh when she saw the prince? Oh, I know. She has no child, poor thing. Now what kind of friend would I be if I did not give her my own child and fulfill her deepest wish?’ As she was steeped in this thought, the king entered. He asked, ‘Queen, how is it that you seem to be disturbed by something?’ And so she told him everything that had happened. He said, ‘If that is the case, then do not be distressed. I sh
all find some means by which your friend will get a child.’ The queen said, ‘My Lord, your favour is great.’
The next day the king told the merchant, ‘You have no son. You must propitiate my clan deity, the Goddess Tihuyanadevī, in order to gain a child. She has great powers and when worshipped grants whatever she is asked.’ The merchant then said, ‘King! What good is it if my son is then taken away as a result of some bad deed that I have committed in a previous life?’ The king replied, ‘Never mind, even if that is so you must do as I insist.’ Considering in his mind that this was tantamount to an order from the king, the merchant went back home. He told Candapahā what had happened. She said, ‘My lord! If you do that you will insult the true faith, for we are Jains.’ Sumaī said, ‘Beloved! If I do it as an order of the king, then there can be no insult to my faith.’ And so the very next day the merchant, taking with him all the things that he needed to worship the goddess, went to the temple of Tihuyanadevī along with his wife. There they had the image of the Goddess bathed, anointed and worshipped, and when that was done the merchant addressed the Goddess, ‘O Blessed One! The king said that I should ask you for a son. So, give me a son.’ At this the Goddess thought, ‘He surely does not seem very enthusiastic about all this! But for the sake of my own reputation I cannot afford not to show myself to him.’ With this the Goddess said, ‘Sir! You will have a son.’ He said, ‘How do I know?’ And thinking, ‘I shall cause that unenthusiastic fellow a bit of trouble.’ the Goddess said again, ‘When your child enters your wife’s womb she will see this dream: she will go to a Jain temple to worship and she will behold the temple falling.’ The merchant, thinking, ‘Some harm is about to be befall the Jain faith.’ was indeed troubled in mind as he went home that day.
The Forest of Thieves and the Magic Garden: An Anthology of Medieval Jain Stories (Penguin Classics) Page 31
