Buddhist Legends: Books 1–26

11 b. Story of the Present: Sukha the novice

His mother received the treatment usual for the protection of her unborn babe, and after a few days the longing of pregnancy came upon her. Thought she, “Oh, that I might give food of rich flavor to the Elder Sāriputta and his five hundred monks! Oh, that I might put on yellow robes, take a golden vessel in my hand, sit down in the outer circle of the congregation, and partake of the food left uneaten by those monks!” Thus she did, and satisfied her longing. And on other festival occasions also she gave like offerings. Finally she gave birth to a son, and on the day appointed for the naming of the child she said to the Elder Sāriputta, “Reverend Sir, confer the precepts on my son.” Said the Elder, “What shall be his name?” Said the mother, “Reverend Sir, from the day when he was conceived, no one in this house has experienced pain; therefore his name shall be Happy, Sukha Kumara.” The Elder gave him that name, and then conferred the precepts upon him.

Now at that time the following thought arose in the mother’s mind, “I will not interfere with the desire of my son.” On the feast of the piercing of the child’s ears and on the other festival days she gave offerings in like manner. When the boy was seven years old, he said to his mother, “Mother, I desire to retire from the world and become a monk under the Elder.” “Very well, my dear son,” replied the mother; “I will not interfere with your desire.” Accordingly she invited the Elder to her house and said to him, “Reverend Sir, my son desires to become a monk; I will therefore bring him to the monastery in the evening.” Having so said, she dismissed the Elder and assembled her kinsfolk, saying, “This very day we shall do for my son everything that should be done for him while he is yet living the life of a layman.” So saying, she dressed her son in rich apparel, conducted him to the monastery in state, and committed him into the hands of the Elder. The Elder said to him, “My dear son, the monastic life is a hard life; [96] shall you be able to take delight therein?” The youth replied, “Reverend Sir, I will keep your admonitions.” Thereupon the Elder gave him a Subject of Meditation, and having so done, received him into the Order.

For seven days his mother and father bestowed rich offerings within the monastery in honor of his reception into the Order, giving food of a hundred flavors to the Congregation of Monks presided over by the Buddha, returning in the evening to their own home. On the eighth day, while the Congregation of Monks were making the rounds of the village, the Elder Sāriputta performed various duties about the monastery. Afterwards, directing the novice to take his bowl and robe, he himself entered the village for alms.

On the way the novice noticed watercourses and so forth, just as had the novice Pandita, and asked the Elder about them. The Elder answered his questions just as he had answered the questions of the novice Pandita. When the novice had heard all these matters explained, he said to the Elder, “If you will be so good as to take your bowl and robe, I should like to turn back.” The Elder offered no opposition to his wishes, but said, “Very well, novice, bring me my bowl and robe.” When the Elder had taken his bowl and robe, the novice bowed to him and turned back. As he did so, he said to the Elder, “Reverend Sir, when you bring me my food, pray bring me food of a hundred flavors.” “Whence shall we obtain such food?” “If you cannot obtain it through your own merit, Reverend Sir, you can obtain it through mine.” The Elder gave him a key and entered the village for alms. The novice returned to the monastery, opened the Elder’s cell, closed the door, and having seated himself, strove to obtain in his own person a conception of the nature of the body.

Through the power of the novice’s virtue Sakka’s seat manifested signs of heat. Sakka considered within himself, “What can this mean?” Looking about him, he saw the novice and became aware of the following, “The novice Sukha has given his preceptor his bowl and robe, and has returned with this resolution in his mind, ‘I will strive diligently for the attainment of Arahatship.’ It is my duty to go to him.” Accordingly Sakka summoned the Four Great Kings and sent them forth, saying to them, “Go to the monastery park [97] and drive the noisy birds away.” The Four Great Kings did so and guarded the approaches from all quarters. Then Sakka gave orders to the moon and the sun, saying, “Stop the movement of your cars and stand still;” and they did so. Sakka himself stood guard over the rope of the door. The monastery became quiet and] noiseless.

With well-focussed mind the novice developed Spiritual Insight and attained the Three Paths and Fruits. The Elder, recalling that the novice had requested him to bring him food of a hundred flavors, considered within himself, “In whose house, pray, will it be possible to obtain such food?” Straightway beholding the household of a supporter of his who was endowed with the requisite disposition, he went thither. When the members of this household saw the Elder, they were pleased at heart and said to the Elder, “Reverend Sir, it is well that you came here to-day.” And they took his bowl and provided him with a seat and presented him with broth and hard food. They then requested the Elder to preach the Law to them until mealtime, and the Elder, responding to their request, preached the Law to them informally until he perceived that meal-time had come, whereupon he brought his discourse to an end. The members of the household then gave him food of a hundred flavors, and the Elder indicated that he wished to depart, taking the food with him. But they said to him, “Reverend Sir, eat this food yourself, and we will then give you a second portion to take with you.” Thus they prevailed upon him to eat the food which they had given him; and when he had so done they filled his bowl again and gave it to him. The Elder took the bowl of food, and reflecting, “The novice must be hungry,” set out post-haste for the monastery.

On that very day, as the Teacher, who had gone out early in the morning, sat in the Perfumed Chamber, he considered within himself, “To-day the novice Sukha gave his preceptor his bowl and robe and turned back, saying, ‘I will strive earnestly for the attainment of Arahatship;’ has he yet completed his task?” Straightway he perceived that the novice had attained the Three Paths and Fruits. Considering the matter further, the Teacher became aware of the following, “To-day the novice will succeed in attaining Arahatship. [98] But the Elder Sāriputta has just set out post-haste with food for the hungry novice, and if he arrives with the food before the novice has attained Arahatship, it will impede the attainment thereof. It is therefore my duty to go thither and stand guard over his chamber near the gate.” With this thought in his mind, the Teacher went forth from the Perfumed Chamber, and posting himself at the gateway, stood on guard.

The Elder brought the food. The Teacher asked the Elder four questions as on a similar occasion before, and when the Elder had answered the last of the questions, the novice attained Arahatship. Then the Teacher addressed the Elder, saying, “Go, Sāriputta, give the novice his food.” The Elder went and forced the door, whereupon the novice came out and paid his respects to the Elder. “Eat the food I have brought you,” said the Elder. Thereupon a mere seven-year-old boy, who had but a moment before attained Arahatship, persuaded of the utter uselessness of the food which the Elder had brought him, contemplating the estate of Nibbāna, ate the food and washed the bowl.

At that moment the Four Great Kings left their posts, the moon and the sun started up their cars, Sakka left his post at the rope of the door, and the sun passed beyond the zenith before the eyes of all. Said the monks, “Evening is now come on, and the novice has just finished his meal. Why was the morning so long to-day, and the evening so tardy?” Just then the Teacher approached and asked the monks, “Monks, what is it that you are sitting here talking about now?” The monks replied, “Reverend Sir, to-day the morning seemed very long, and the evening was tardy. [99] The novice has but just finished his meal. Moreover the sun has just passed beyond the zenith before our very eyes.” The Teacher replied,

“Monks, that is what always happens when they that possess merit engage in meditation. For to-day the Four Great Kings kept guard on all sides; the moon and the sun stopped their cars and stood still; Sakka kept guard at the rope of the door; and I myself stood guard at the gateway. To-day the novice Sukha saw ditch-diggers leading the water in a watercourse, arrow-makers straightening their arrows, and carpenters fashioning wheels and so forth. And having seen these things, he subdued himself and attained Arahatship.” And so saying, he pronounced the following Stanza,

145. Ditch-diggers lead the water, arrow-makers bend their shafts,

Carpenters bend the wood, good men control themselves.

BOOK XI.

OLD AGE

JARĀ VAGGA

XI. 1. VISĀKHĀ’S COMPANIONS INTOXICATE THEMSELVES

Why laughter? why exultation? This religious instruction was given by the Teacher while he was in residence at Jetavana with reference to Visākhā’s companions. [100]

The story goes that five hundred young men of respectable families living at Sāvatthi intrusted their wives to the care of the eminent female lay disciple Visākhā, confident that under such auspices they would live the life of Heedfulness. From that time forth, whether they went to the pleasure garden or to the monastery, they went always with Visākhā. Now on a certain occasion proclamation was made of a drinking festival to last seven days. Accordingly those women prepared strong drink for their husbands, and their husbands took part in the festival, carousing for a period of seven days. On the eighth day the drum went forth to announce the resumption of work, and they returned to their work.

Those women thought to themselves, “We have not been permitted to drink strong drink in the presence of our husbands. Yet plenty of strong drink remains. Let us therefore drink it, but let us take care that our husbands shall know nothing about it.” Accordingly they went to Visākhā and said to her, “Noble lady, we desire to visit the pleasure garden.” “Very well, dear friends, perform your various duties first; then you may go out.” They went with Visākhā, [101] causing strong drink to be removed surreptitiously, drank it in the garden, and roamed about in a state of intoxication. Visākhā thought to herself, “These women have committed a gross impropriety. Now the heretics also will find ground of reproach and will say, ‘The female lay disciples of the monk Gotama go about drinking strong drink.’” So she said to those women, “Dear friends, you have committed a gross impropriety and have brought disgrace upon me

1 This story is a very free version of the Introduction to Jātaka 512: v. 11. Text: N iii. 100-103.

also. Your husbands also will be enraged at you. Now what will you do?” “Noble lady, we shall pretend to be sick.” “Very well, you will acquire notoriety by your own doings.” The women went home and pretended to be sick.

Now their husbands inquired, “Where is So-and-so? Where is So-and-so?” “Sick.” “They undoubtedly drank the strong drink that remained,” concluded their husbands. Therefore they beat them and brought distress and unhappiness upon them. At a subsequent drinking festival those same women desired to drink strong drink in the same manner as before. So they went to Visākhā and said to her, “Noble lady, conduct us to the pleasure garden.” But Visākhā refused to do so, saying, “The last time I did so, you brought disgrace upon me. Go by yourselves; I will not conduct you thither.” The women decided, “We will not act so this time.” So they went to Visākhā again and said to her, “Noble lady, we desire to do honor to the Buddha; conduct us to the monastery.” “What you propose to do now is quite proper; go make preparations.”

So taking perfumes and garlands in caskets, carrying in their hands jugs filled with strong drink, wearing great cloaks, they approached Visākhā, and accompanied her to the monastery. Then they went off by themselves and drank strong drink out of their jugs. And throwing away their jugs, they seated themselves in the Hall of Truth in the presence of the Teacher. [102] Said Visākhā to the Teacher, “Reverend Sir, preach the Law to these women.” But those same women were so drunk that their bodies swayed back and forth, and suddenly they took it into their heads to dance and sing.

Now a certain deity belonging to the host of Māra thought to herself, “I will possess the bodies of these women and cause them to commit gross improprieties in the presence of the monk Gotama.” And straightway she took possession of their bodies. Thereupon some of them clapped their hands before the Teacher and laughed, while others began to dance. The Teacher considered within himself, “What does this mean?” Immediately perceiving the cause, he said to himself, “I shall not now permit the deities of the host of Māra to descend. For during all the time I was fulfilling the Perfections, it was certainly not for the purpose of allowing the deities of the host of Māra to descend that I fulfilled them.”

Accordingly, that he might frighten those women, the Teacher sent forth a dark-blue ray from the hair of his eyebrow. Straightway there was black darkness. Those women were terrified with the fear of death. So intense was their fear that the strong drink within their bellies dried up. Then the Teacher vanished from the couch on which he sat, stood on the top of Mount Sineru, and sent forth a ray of light from the hair between his eyebrows. At that moment it was as though a thousand moons had risen. Then he addressed those women, saying, “When you approach and come into my presence, you must not approach in heedlessness. For in consequence of your heedlessness a deity of the host of Māra got possession of you, and at a time when you should not have laughed or behaved lightly, he caused you to laugh and to misbehave. You should henceforth [103] make every effort to quench the fire of lust and of the other evil passions.” So saying, he pronounced the following Stanza,

146. Why laughter? why exultation? For the world is ever aflame.

Will ye not seek a light, ye that are shrouded in darkness?

The Teacher, knowing that the women were established in faith that cannot be shaken, descended from the summit of Mount Sineru and seated himself in the Seat of the Buddha. Thereupon Visākhā said to him, “Verily strong drink is an evil thing. Women of such quality as these women, seating themselves before a Buddha like you, were unable to control their movements, but springing to their feet, clapped their hands and began to laugh and sing and dance.” The Teacher replied, “Yes, Visākhā, strong drink is indeed an evil thing, for because of it numberless living beings have come to distress and unhappiness.” “But, Reverend Sir, at what time did this episode have its beginning?” In response to this question the Teacher, desiring to relate in detail the circumstances that led to this episode, told a Story of the Past, relating the Kumbha Jataka. 1

XI. 2. THE TEACHER CURES A MONK OF LOVE

See this painted image. This religious instruction was given by the Teacher while he was in residence at Veluvana with reference to Sirimā. [104]

1 Jataka 512: v. 12-20.

2 From this story is derived Vimāna-Vatthu Commentary, i. 16: 74-78. Vv. cm. 75--77- is almost word for word the same as Dh. cm. iii. 104---109-. This story is referred to at Milindapanha, 350--. See Cunningham’s Stupa of BkarhuU Plate xxiii. 1. Text: N iii. 104-109.

Sirimā, the story goes, was a very beautiful courtezan of Rājagaha who had during a certain rainy season offended against the female lay disciple Uttarā, wife of the treasurer’s son Sumana and daughter of the treasurer Puṇṇaka. Desiring to be on good terms with her again, she went to her house when the Teacher and the Congregation of Monks were within, and after the Teacher had finished his meal, asked him for pardon. Now on that day He that is Possessed of the Ten Forces pronounced within the hearing of Sirimā the following words of thanksgiving,

223. One should overcome anger with kindness, one should overcome evil with good.

One should overcome the niggard with gifts, and the speaker of falsehood with truth.

At the conclusion of the Stanza Sirimā obtained the Fruit of Conversion. (This is a brief synopsis of the story; as for the complete story, it will be found related at length in the Commentary on the Stanza of Thanksgiving in the Kodha Vagga.) 1

Having thus attained the Fruit of Conversion, Sirimā invited the Possessor of the Ten Forces to be her guest, and on the following day presented rich offerings. From that time on she gave regularly the Eight Ticket-foods, and from that time on eight monks came regularly to her house. “Accept ghee, accept milk,” she would say, filling their bowls; what she gave to one monk would have sufficed for three or four; every day sixteen pieces of money were expended on the alms which were presented to the monks who visited her house.

Now one day a certain monk who had eaten the Eight Ticket-foods in her house went a journey of three leagues and stopped at a certain monastery. In the evening, as he sat in the monastery, the monks asked him, “Brother, where [105] did you obtain food just before you came here?” “I have just eaten Sirimā’s Eight Ticket-foods.” “Is the food which she gives pleasing to the taste, brother?” “It is impossible to describe her food; it is the choicest of choice food that she gives. But a single portion would suffice even for three or four. But good as her food is, she herself is still more pleasing to look upon; such and such are the marks of beauty which she possesses.” Thus did the monk describe her good qualities.

A certain monk heard the visiting monk describe her good qualities, and in spite of the fact that he had never seen her, nevertheless fell in love with her. Said he to himself, “I ought to go see her.”

1 Story xvii. 3.

So announcing that he was about to enter upon residence, he asked the monk who lived by her alms some questions. The visiting monk replied, “To-morrow, brother, remain in that house, assume the post of Elder of the Assembly, and you will receive the Eight Ticket-foods.” The monk immediately took bowl and robe and went out early in the morning, as the dawn rose, he entered the Ticket-hall, assumed the post of Elder of the Assembly, and received the Eight Ticket-foods in the woman’s house.

Now it so happened that on the day before, just as the monk who had received food in her house went out, the female lay disciple became aflflicted with a disease, and therefore removed her jewels and lay down. When the monks came to receive the Eight Ticket-foods, her female slaves, seeing them, informed their mistress. Since she was unable to take their bowls in her own hands, provide them with seats, and wait upon them, she gave orders to her slaves, saying, “Women, take the bowls and provide the noble monks with seats; give them broth to drink and hard food to eat. [106] When it is time to present boiled rice, fill their bowls and give them to the monks.” “Very well, noble lady,” replied the slaves. So they invited the monks within, gave them broth to drink and hard food to eat; and when it was time to present boiled rice, they filled their bowls and gave them to the monks. When they had so done, they went and informed their mistress. She said, “Take me and carry me with you, that I may pay my respects to the noble monks.” So they took her and carried her with them; and when they brought her into the presence of the monks, she paid obeisance to them, her body all of a tremble.

When that monk looked upon her, he thought to himself, “Even in sickness this woman possesses wonderful beauty. What manner of beauty must she not possess when she is well and strong and adorned with all her adornments?” Thereupon human passion, accumulated during many millions of years, arose within him. He became indifferent to all about him and was unable to take food. He took his bowl and went back to the monastery; covering his bowl, he put it away; then he lay down, spreading out the skirt of his robe. A certain monk who was a companion of his tried to persuade him to eat, but without success, for he refused absolutely to take food.

On that very day in the evening Sirimā died. Thereupon the king sent word to the Teacher, “Reverend Sir, Jivaka’s youngest sister Sirimā is dead.” When the Teacher received that message, he sent back the following message to the king, “Sirimā’s body should not be burned. Have her body laid in the burning-ground, and set a watch, that crows and dogs may not devour it.” The king did so. Three days passed, one after another. On the fourth day the body began to bloat, and from the nine openings of her body, which were like to sores, there oozed forth maggots. [107] Her whole body looked like a cracked vessel of boiled rice.

The king caused a drum to go through the city and the following proclamation to be made, “Let all approach to behold Sirimā. Except watchmen of houses, all who refuse to do so shall be fined eight pieces of money.” And he sent the following message to the Teacher, “Let the Congregation of Monks presided over by the Buddha approach to behold Sirimā.” The Teacher made proclamation to the monks, “Let us go forth to behold Sirimā.”

Now that young monk had lain for four days without touching food, paying no attention to anything anyone said to him; the rice in his bowl had rotted, and his bowl was covered with mildew. The rest of the monks who were his fellows approached him and said to him, “Brother, the Teacher is going forth to behold Sirimā.” When the young monk, lying thus, heard the name Sirimā, he leaped quickly to his feet. Someone said to him, “The Teacher is going forth to behold Sirimā; will you also go?” “Indeed I will go,” he replied. And tossing the rice out of his bowl, he washed it and put it in his net and then set out with the company of monks.

The Teacher surrounded by the Congregation of Monks stood on one side of the corpse; the Congregation of Nuns and the king’s retinue and the company of lay disciples, both male and female, stood on the other side of the corpse, each company in its proper place. [108] The Teacher then asked the king, “Great king, who is this woman?” “Reverend Sir, it is Jivaka’s sister Sirimā.” “Is this Sirimā?” “Yes, Reverend Sir.” “Well! send a drum through the town and make proclamation, ‘Those who will pay a thousand pieces of money for Sirimā may have her.’” Not a man said “hem” or “hum.” The king informed the Teacher, “They will not take her, Reverend Sir.” “Well then, great king, put the price down.” So the king had a drum beaten and the following proclamation made, “If they will give five hundred pieces of money, they may have her.” But nobody would take her at that price. The king then proclaimed to the beating of a drum that anyone might have her who would give two hundred and fifty pieces of money, or two hundred, or a hundred, or fifty, or twenty-five, or ten, or five. Finally he reduced the price to a penny, then to a half-penny, then to a quarter of a penny, then to an eighth of a penny. At last he proclaimed to the beating of a drum, “They may have her for nothing.” Not a man said “hem” or “hum.” Then said the king to the Teacher, “Reverend Sir, no one will take her, even as a gift.” The Teacher replied, “Monks, you see the value of a woman in the eyes of the multitude. In this very city men used to pay a thousand pieces of money for the privilege of spending one night with this woman. Now there is no one who will take her as a gift. [109] Such was her beauty who now has perished and gone. Behold, monks, this body diseased and corrupt.” So saying, he pronounced the following Stanza,

147. See this painted image, this mass of sores, huddled together,

Corrupt, once possessed of many thoughts, but now possessing neither strength nor stability.

XL 3. THE AGED NUN

This body is worn out. This religious instruction was given by the Teacher while he was in residence at Jetavana with reference to the nun Uttarā. [110]

The story goes that this nun continued her alms-pilgrimages until she was a hundred and twenty years old. One day as she was returning from her alms-pilgrimage with food in her bowl, she met a certain monk in the street. She asked permission of him to give him the food in her bowl, and he consented to accept it. So she gave him all she had, and then she had none. On the second day and again on the third day she met the same monk in the same place, gave him all the food she had, and then had none left for herself.

Now on the fourth day, as she was going her round, she met the Teacher in a certain place which was much crowded. She stepped back, and as she did so, the skirt of her robe slipped down and she trod on it. Unable to keep her feet, she tumbled and fell down. The Teacher came up to her and said, “Sister, your body is worn out with old age; at a time not far distant it will suffer dissolution.” So saying, he pronounced the following Stanza,

148. This body is worn out, this nest of disease, this fragile body;

This mass of corruption dissolves; for life ends in death.

1 Text: N iii. 110-111.

XI. 4. A COMPANY OF OVER-CONFIDENT MONKS

Like yonder gourds. This religious instruction was given by the Teacher while he was in residence at Jetavana with reference to a company of over-confident monks. [111]

The story goes that five hundred monks received a Subject of Meditation from the Teacher, retired to the forest, and after striving and struggling, induced a state of trance. Thereupon they thought to themselves, “By not practicing the Depravities, we have fulfilled our religious duties. Let us inform the Teacher of the virtues we have acquired.” With this thought in mind, they set out. When they arrived outside the gate, the Teacher said to Elder Ānanda, “Ānanda, these monks have no occasion for entering and seeing me. [112] Let them first go to the burning-ground and then come back and see me.” The Elder went and told those monks what the Teacher had said.

Instead of asking, “Why should we have to go to the burning-ground?” they said to each other, “The far-seeing Buddha must have seen a reason.” Accordingly they went to the burning-ground and viewed the corpses there. For the corpses which had lain for one or two days, they conceived a repugnance; but the bodies laid there immediately after death, fresh and moist, excited their passions. At that moment they realized that the Depravities still existed within them. Thereupon the Teacher, still remaining seated in the Perfumed Chamber, sent forth a luminous image of himself, and as it were spoke face to face with those monks, saying, “Monks, is it fitting that upon beholding such an assemblage of bones you should take pleasure in the evil passions?” So saying, he pronounced the following Stanza,

149. Like yonder gourds cast away in the autumn

Are these gray bones; what pleasure can there be in looking at them?

1 Text: N iii. 111-112.

XI. 5, THE NUN AND THE PHANTOM

It is a city made of bones. This religious instruction was given by the Teacher while he was in residence at Jetavana with reference to the nun Janapada-Kaḷyānī Rupānandā. [113]

The story goes that one day Janapada-Kaḷyānī thought to herself, “My eldest brother has renounced the glory of dominion, has become a monk, and has now become the foremost being in the world, even the Buddha; his son, Rahula Kumara, has become a monk; my husband has become a monk; so also has my mother become a nun. Seeing that all these kinsfolk of mine have adopted the religious life, why should I continue any longer to live the house-life? I too will become a nun.” Accordingly she went to the community of nuns and became a nun, not at all because of faith, but solely because of love for her kinsfolk. Because of her wondrous beauty, she became known as Rūūpa-Nandā (‘Beauty-Nandā’).

One day she heard that the Teacher had said, “Beauty of form is impermanent, involved in suffering, unreal; so likewise are sensation, perception, the aggregate of mental states, consciousness, impermanent, involved in suffering, unreal.” Thereupon she said to herseff, “In that case he would find fault even with my own form, so beautiful to look upon and so fair to see.” Therefore she avoided meeting the Teacher face to face.

Now the residents of Sāvatthi, having given alms early in the morning, took upon themselves the obligations of fast-day. In the evening, clad in spotless upper garments and bearing garlands and flowers in their hands, they assembled at Jetavana to hear the Law. And the community of nuns also, desiring to hear the Law, went to the monastery and heard the Law. And having heard the Law, they entered the city, praising the virtues of the Teacher as they entered.

(For there are four standards of judgment prevailing among persons who dwell together in the world. However, there are very few persons in whom the sight of the Tathāgata does not arouse a feeling of satisfaction. Those who judge by what they see, look upon

1 Parallels: SUrry of Nandd: Aṅguttara Commentaryy JRAS., 1893, 763-766; Theri-Gdthd Comm,entaryy xli: 80-86, xix: 24-25. Story of Khemd: Dhammapada Commentary, xxiv. 5: iv. 57-59; Aṅguttara Commentary, JRAS., 1893, 527-532; Theri-Gdthd Commentary, Hi: 126-128. On the literary relations of all these stories, see Introduction, § 7 d, pages 48-51. Text: N iii. 113-119.

the golden-hued body of the Tathāgata, adorned with the Major Marks and the Minor Marks, and are satisfied with what they see. [114] Those who judge by what they hear, listen to the report of the Teacher’s virtues through many hundreds of births, and to his voice, endowed with the Eight Excellences, in the preaching of the Law, and are satisfied with what they hear. Those who judge by austerities are satisfied with his austere robes and so forth. Those whose standard of judgment is righteousness reflect, “Such is the uprightness of the Possessor of the Ten Forces, such is his tranquillity, such is his wisdom; in uprightness and tranquillity and wisdom the Exalted One is without an equal, is without a peer.” Thus they also are satisfied. Indeed those who praise the virtues of the Tathāgata lack words wherewith to tell their praises.)

Rupānandā listened to the nuns and the female lay disciples as they recited the praises of the Tathāgata, and having listened, said to herself, “In extravagant terms do they tell the praises of my brother. Suppose he were to find fault with my beauty of form during one single day. How much could he say in that length of time? Suppose I were to go with the nuns, and without letting myself be seen, look upon the Tathāgata, hear him preach the Law, and then return?” So she said to the nuns, “To-day I too will go and hear the Law.” [115] Said the nuns, “It has taken a long time to arouse in Rupānandā a desire to wait upon the Teacher. To-day, by reason of her, the Teacher will preach the Law with details many and various.” And with delighted hearts, taking her with them, they set out.

From the moment Rupānandā started out, she kept thinking to herself, “I will not let him see who I am.” The Teacher thought to himself, “To-day Rupānandā will come to pay her respects to me; what manner of lesson will do her the most good?” As he considered the matter further, he came to the following conclusion, “This woman thinks a great deal of her beauty of form and is deeply attached to her own person. It will therefore be of advantage to her if I crush out the pride she feels in her beauty of form, by beauty of form itself, even as one draws out one thorn with another thorn.” Accordingly, when it was time for her to enter the monastery, the Teacher put forth his supernatural power and created a young woman about sixteen years of age. Surpassing beauty did she possess; she wore crimson garments; she was adorned with all her ornaments, and stood before the Teacher with fan in hand, swinging the fan back and forth.

Now both the Teacher and Rupānandā beheld this woman. As Rupānandā entered the monastery with the nuns, she took her place behind the nuns, saluted the Teacher with the Five Rests, and sat down among the nuns. Having so done, she surveyed from head to foot the person of the Teacher, richly brilliant with the Major Marks, resplendent with the Minor Marks, surrounded by a halo a fathom in extent. Then she saw the phantom of a woman standing near the Teacher and surveyed her face, glorious as the full moon. [116] Having surveyed this woman, she surveyed her own person and compared herself to a crow standing before a royal goose of golden hue. For from the moment she looked upon this phantom, created by supernatural power, her eyes rolled back and forth. “Oh, how beautiful is her hair! Oh, how beautiful is her forehead!” she exclaimed. She was fascinated by the glorious beauty of every part of her body, and she became possessed with intense desire for equal beauty herself. The Teacher, observing that she was fascinated by the beauty of the woman, proceeded to teach her the Law.

First he transformed the woman from a maiden about sixteen years of age to a woman about twenty years of age. Rupānandā surveyed her form again, was quickly filled with a feeling of disappointment, and said to herself, “This form is by no means the same as it was before.” Gradually the Teacher transformed her, first into a woman who had given birth to one child, then into a woman of middle life, finally into a decrepit old woman. Rupānandā watched every stage of the transformation, saying to herself, “Now this has disappeared, now that has disappeared.” When, however, she saw her transformed into a decrepit old woman, and surveyed her standing there, teeth broken, hair gray, body bent, crooked as a A-shaped rafter, forced to lean on a cane, trembling in every limb, she was filled with utter disgust.

Then the Teacher caused disease to overmaster the woman. Casting away her cane and her palm-leaf fan, she screamed aloud, fell upon the ground, and rolled over and over, wallowing in her own urine and excrement. Rupānandā looked upon her and was filled with utter disgust. [117] Then the Teacher showed the death of that woman. Straightway her body began to bloat. From its nine wound-like openings oozed pus in the shape of lamp-wicks, and also worms. Crows and dogs fell on her and tore her. Rupānandā looked and thought, “In this very place this woman has come to old age, has come to disease, has come to death. Even so, to this body of mine will come old age, disease, and death.” Thus did she come to behold her own body in its impermanence; and as a result of beholding her own body in its impermanence, she likewise saw her body as involved in suffering, and the unreality thereof.

Straightway the Three Modes of Existence, like houses set on fire, or like carrion tied to her neck, uprose before her, and her mind sprang forth to meditation. The Teacher, perceiving that she had beheld her own body in its impermanence, considered within himself, “Will she, or will she not, by herself be able to get a firm footing?” Straightway he became aware of the following, “She will not be able; she must have support from without.” Accordingly, out of consideration for her welfare, he taught her the Law by pronouncing the following Stanzas,

Behold, Nandā, this assemblage of elements called the body;

It is diseased, impure, putrid; it oozes and leaks; yet it is desired of simpletons.

As is this body, so also was that; as is that body, so also will this body be.

Behold the elements in their emptiness; go not back to the world;

Cast away desire for existence and thou shalt walk in tranquillity. [118]

Thus, with reference to the nun Nanda, did the Exalted One pronounce these Stanzas.

Directing her thoughts in a way conformable to his teaching, Nanda attained the Fruit of Conversion. Thereupon the Teacher, desiring that she should dwell upon the Three Paths and the Three Fruits, and desiring to teach her to meditate upon the Void, said to her, “Nanda, think not that there is reality in this body; for there is not the least reality in this body. This body is but a city of bones, made by building up three hundred bones.” So saying, he pronounced the following Stanza,

150. It is a city made of bones, plastered with flesh and blood.

Where lodge old age and death and pride and deceit. [119]

At the conclusion of the lesson the nun attained Arahatship; the multitude also profited by the lesson.

XI. 6. QUEEN MALLIKĀ AND HER DOG

The gayly painted chariots of kings wear out. This religious instruction was given by the Teacher while he was in residence at Jetavana with reference to Queen Mallikā.

The story goes that one day Queen Mallikā entered the bathhouse, and having bathed her face, bent over and began to bathe her leg. Now her pet dog entered the bath-house with her, and when he saw her standing there with body thus bent over, he began to misbehave with her and she let him continue. The king looked out of a window on the upper floor of the palace and saw her. On her return he said to her, “Perish, vile woman; why did you do such a thing as that?” “Why, your majesty, what have I done?” “You have behaved most wrongly with a dog.” “It is not true, your majesty.” “I saw you with my own eyes. I will not believe anything you say. Perish, vile woman.” “Great king, it is a remarkable fact that whoever enters that bath-house appears double to whoever looks out of that window.” “You utter falsehood.” “If you will not believe me, enter the bath-house yourself, and I will look out of that window.” [120]

The king was such a simpleton as to believe what she said, and entered the bath-house. The queen stood at the window and looked out. Suddenly she cried out to him, “You foolish king, what do you mean by misbehaving with a she-goat?” “Dear wife, I am doing no such thing.” The queen replied, “I saw you with my own eyes; I will not believe you.” When the king heard her reply, he said, “It must be true that whoever enters this bath-house appears double.” Therefore he believed the explanation she gave him.

1 At Vimāna-Vatthu Commentary, 165---’, Dhammapala refers to the Story of Mallikā in the Dhammapada-Vannand. He then gives a brief outline of the story, which is to the effect that after the death of the Buddha, Mallikā the wife of Bandhula went in state and did honor to his relics. The Dhammapada-Atthakathd contains no such story about Mallikā the wife of Bandhula, or about Mallikā the wife of Pasenadi. It will be observed that Dhammapala refers, not to the Dhammapada-Atthakathd, but to the Dfiammapada-Vannand. Perhaps the Dhammapada-Vannand to which he refers is a different work from the Dhammapada-Attkakathd; but if so, we know nothing of the existence of any such work. It seems probable that Dhammapala here gives a wrong reference. For references in the Dhammapada-Attkakathd to Mallikā the wife of Bandhula, see i. 349, 412; to Mallikā the wife of Pasenadi, i. 382, ii. 1-19, iii. 119-123, iii. 183-189. Cf. Jātaka, iii. 405, Khuddaka Pdtha Commentary, 1292°, and Milin-dapanha, 291”--- Text: N iii. 119-123.

Mallikā thought to herself, “I have deceived this king, because he is such a simpleton. I have committed a great sin. Moreover I have accused him falsely. The Teacher will come to know of this sin of mine, and likewise the Two Chief Disciples, and the Eighty Chief Elders. Oh, what a grievous sin have I committed!” (According to tradition it was Mallikā who was associated with the king in the presentation to the Teacher of the Gifts beyond Compare) On this occasion gifts valued at fourteen crores of treasure were bestowed upon the Teacher, and the Tathāgata was presented with four priceless gifts; namely, a white parasol, a couch whereon to rest, a stand, and a stool for the feet.) When Mallikā died, forgetful at the moment of death of those mighty gifts, but with full recollection of the evil deed she had committed, she was reborn in the Avici Hell.

Now Queen Mallikā was greatly beloved by the king. Therefore when she died, the king was completely overcome with grief. When he had duly performed the funeral rites over her body, he said to himself, “I will ask the Teacher where she has been reborn.” Accordingly he went to the Teacher. The Teacher so contrived that he should not remember the reason why he had come to him. [121] After listening to the pleasing discourse of the Teacher he returned to his home. As soon, however, as he entered the house, he remembered why he had gone to visit the Teacher. Thought he to himself, “Assuredly it was my intention, when I set out, to ask the Teacher where Mallikā had been reborn. But as soon as I entered the Teacher’s presence, I forgot all about it. To-morrow I shall not fail to ask him.” On the following day, therefore, he visited the Teacher again. But for seven days in succession the Teacher so contrived that he should not remember why he had come. As for Mallikā, after she had been tormented for seven days in hell, she came out thence, and was reborn in the World of the Tusita gods.

(Now why was it that the Teacher caused the king to forget his question for seven days in succession? Tradition tells us that Mallikā was greatly beloved by the king, the very joy of his heart. Therefore had the king learned that she had been reborn in Hell, he would have said to himself, “If a woman endowed with faith so perfect has been reborn in Hell after presenting offerings so abundant, what chance is there for me?” He would therefore have adopted false views, would have discontinued the constant offerings of food to the five hundred

1 See story xiii. 10.

monks, and would finally have been reborn in Hell himself. For this reason the Teacher caused the king to forget his question for seven days in succession.)

On the eighth day the Teacher set out alone on an alms-pilgrimage, and went to the door of the king’s residence. When the king heard that the Teacher was come, he went forth and took his bowl and began to mount up to the terrace of the palace. But the Teacher made as if he desired to sit down in the chariot-hall. Therefore the king provided him with a seat in the chariot-hall and reverently served him with food both hard and soft. Having so done, he paid obeisance to him and sat down. “Reverend Sir,” said he; “when I visited you, this thought was in my mind, ‘I will ask the Teacher where Mallikā my queen has been reborn.’ Reverend Sir, tell me where she was reborn.” “In the World of the Tusita gods, great king.”

“Reverend Sir,” said the king, “had Queen Mallikā not been reborn in the World of the Tusita gods, who else could ever have been reborn there? Reverend Sir, there never lived a woman like her; wherever she sat, wherever she stood, [122] these words were ever on her lips, ‘To-morrow I will give this to the Tathāgata; to-morrow I will do this for the Tathāgata.’ She cared for naught else but to make provision of offerings. Reverend Sir, ever since she went to the other world, my own person has been non-existent.” Said the Teacher, “Great king, do not grieve; this is the immutable law of all living beings.”

Then the Teacher asked the king, “Great king, whose chariot is this?” “My grandfather’s, Reverend Sir.” “Whose is this?” “My father’s, Reverend Sir.” “But whose chariot is this?” “My own, Reverend Sir.” When the king had thus answered his questions, the Teacher said, “Great king, just as your father’s chariot has outlasted your grandfather’s chariot, so also has your own chariot outlasted your father’s chariot. Thus does decay draw nigh unto this worthless chaff. But even more does decay wear away this body. Great king, righteousness alone does not wear away, but of living beings there are none that wear not away.” So saying, he pronounced the following Stanza,

151. The gayly painted chariots of kings wear out; likewise does the body wear out.

But the state of the good wears not away; the good proclaim this to the good.

XI. 7. THE MONK WHO ALWAYS SAID THE WRONG THING

A man who has learned but little. This religious instruction was given by the Teacher while he was in residence at Jetavana with reference to Elder Lāḷudāyi. [123]

The story goes that Elder Lāḷudāyi used to go to a house where people were making holiday and recite stanzas appropriate to a funeral, such as, “They stand outside the walls.” 2 Likewise he would go to a house where a funeral was in progress, and instead of saying the appropriate words, “They stand outside the walls,” 3 he would recite such holiday stanzas as, “Almsgiving and piety.” 4 Or else he would recite the Jewel Sutta, 5 containing such stanzas as, “Whatever riches exist, either in this world or in the next.” 6

In fact, no matter where he went, even though he set out with the intention of saying one thing, he would invariably say something entirely different. Nor was he in the least aware that he ever said anything different from what he intended to say. Monks who heard him talk reported the matter to the Teacher, saying, “Reverend Sir, what is the use of Lāḷudāyi’s going either to places where festivities are in progress or to places where funerals are in progress? Where the right thing should be said, he always says the wrong thing.” [124] The Teacher replied, “Monks, this is not the first time he has so spoken; in a previous existence also he always said the wrong thing instead of the right thing.” So saying, he told the following

7 a. Story of the Past: Aggidatta, Somadatta, and the king

The story goes that in times long gone by, there was a Brahman named Aggidatta who lived in Benāres. The Brahman had a son named Somadatta Kumara who waited upon the king, and Somadatta was the king’s darling and delight. Now the Brahman gained his livelihood by tilling the soil, and he had two oxen, and only two. One day one of his two oxen died. Thereupon the Brahman said to his son, “Dear Somadatta, ask the king for a single ox and fetch him back to me.” Somadatta thought to himself, “If I make such

1 A free version of JcOaka 211: ii. 164-167. Cf. story xviii. 4. Text: N iii. 123-127.

2 Khvddaka Pdtha, vii. » From the Mangala-sutta, Khuddaka Patha, v. 6. 4 Khuddaka Pdtha, vi. « Stanza 3.

a request of the king, he will think that I am presuming on him.” So he said to his father, “Dear father, you go yourself and ask the king.” “Very well, dear son, take me with you.”

Somadatta thought to himself, “This Brahman is of slow wit. He knows neither the proper words to use in approaching, nor the proper words to use in retiring; when the right thing should be said he says the wrong thing; I will give him some instruction before I take him with me.” So Somadatta led his father to a burning-ground named Cuscus-clump. Having so done, he gathered some grass, tied the grass in bundles, set the bundles on end, and pointing them out to his father one after another, said, “This is the king, this is the viceroy, this is the commander-in-chief of the army. When you go to the king’s palace, you must advance in this manner and you must withdraw in this manner. Thus you must address the king and thus you must address the viceroy. When you approach the king, you must say, ‘Long live his gracious majesty the king!’ And standing thus, [125] and reciting this Stanza, you must then ask the king for the ox.” So saying, he taught his father the following Stanza,

I had two oxen, mighty king, with which I plowed my field;

But one of the two is dead; pray give me another, Warrior-prince.

The Brahman spent a year perfecting himself in this Stanza. When he had finally learned it by heart, he told his son. “Very well, father,’ replied Somadatta, “take some present or other and follow after me. I will go ahead and stand in my accustomed place beside the king.” “Very well, dear son,” replied the Brahman. So as soon as Somadatta had taken his accustomed place beside the king, the Brahman summoned all his resources, and taking a present with him, went to the royal palace. The king was delighted to see him and greeted him in a cordial manner, saying, “Dear friend, you have come a long way. Seat yourself on this couch and tell me what you have need of.” Thereupon the Brahman pronounced the following Stanza,

I had two oxen, mighty king, with which I plowed my field;

But one of the two is dead; pray take my other. Warrior-prince.

Said the king, “What say you, dear friend? Say it again.” So the Brahman repeated the Stanza once more exactly as before. The king, perceiving that by a slip of the tongue the Brahman had said the exact opposite of what he intended to say, smiled and said, “Somadatta, you have a great many oxen at home, I presume.” “Your majesty,” replied Somadatta, “there must be just as many as you have given us.” The king, pleased with the answer given by the Future Buddha, presented the Brahman with sixteen oxen, and in addition thereto, jewels and household wares and a village wherein to dwell. Thus did the king present the Brahman with gifts appropriate to his station. Having so done, he dismissed the Brahman with high honor.

When the Teacher had completed this story, he identified the births as follows: “At that time the king was Ānanda, the Brahman was Lāḷudāyi, and Somadatta was I myself.” [126] And he added, “Monks, this is not the first time he failed, because of his own stupidity, to say the right thing at the right time. Indeed a man who has learned but little resembles nothing so much as he does an ox.” So saying, he pronounced the following Stanza,

152. A man who has learned but little, grows old like an ox;

His flesh increases, but his wisdom, not.

XI. 8. ELDER ĀNANDA’S STANZAS

Through a round of countless existences. This religious instruction was breathed forth by the Teacher while he sat at the foot of the Bo-tree, by way of Solemn Utterance; and at a later time was recited to the Elder Ānanda in answer to a question. [127]

For the Teacher, sitting at the foot of the Bo-tree, before the set of sun, overcame the force of Māra; in the first watch, drove away the darkness that veils previous states of existence; in the middle watch, acquired Supernatural Vision; and in the last watch, out of pity for living beings, by focussing his thoughts on Dependent Originations and meditating on it both forwards and backwards, at sunrise he obtained Complete Enlightenment. Thereupon he breathed forth a Solemn Utterance common to countless thousands of Buddhas, pronouncing the following Stanzas,

153. Through a round of countless existences have I run to no purpose.

Seeking the Builder of the House. Repeated birth is suffering. [128]

154. I see you. Builder of the House. You shall not build the house again.

All your rafters are broken, and your ridge-pole is shattered.

The mind, at rest in Nibbāna, has attained extinction of cravings.

1 Niddnakathd, Stanzas 278-279 {Jatakd, i. p. 76). The “Builder of the House” is of course Craving, Tanhd, the cause of rebirth and suffering. Text: N iiL 127-129.

XI. 9. GREAT-WEALTH, THE TREASURER’S SON

They that have not led. This religious instruction was given by the Teacher while he was in residence at Isipatana with reference to Great-Wealth, Mahādhana, the treasurer’s son. [129]

Great-Wealth, it appears, was reborn at Benāres in a household worth eighty crores. Now his mother and father thought to themselves, “We have a vast store of wealth in our house, and there is no necessity that our son should do anything else than enjoy himself according to his own good pleasure.” Accordingly they had him instructed in singing and in the playing of musical instruments, and that was all the instruction he received. Likewise in that same city, in a household worth eighty crores of treasure, a daughter also was reborn. The same thought occurred to her mother and father also, and they had her instructed only in dancing and singing. When the two reached the proper age, they were married with the customary ceremonies. In the course of time both their mothers and fathers died, and then there were twice eighty crores of treasure in the same house.

It was the custom of the treasurer’s son to go thrice a day to wait upon the king. One day a company of knaves who lived in that city thought to themselves, “If this treasurer’s son would only get drunk, it would be a fine thing for us. Let us show him how to get drunk.” Accordingly they procured strong drink, put roast meat, [130] salt, and sugar in the skirts of their clothing, and taking roots and bulbs, seated themselves in a convenient place, watching the path by which he would approach from the royal palace. When they saw him approaching, they began to drink strong drink, placed particles of salt and sugar in their mouths, and took the roots and bulbs in their teeth and chewed them. And they said, “Live for a hundred years, master, treasurer’s son! With your help may we be enabled to eat and drink to our heart’s content!” Hearing their words, the youth asked the little page who followed him, “What are these men drinking?” “A certain drink, master.” “Does it taste good?” “Master, in this world of the living there is no kind of drink to be had comparable to this.” “In that case,” said the youth, “I must have some too.” So he caused the page to bring him first a little and then a little more, and all this he drank.

1 Text: N iii. 129-133.

Now in no long time those knaves discovered that he had taken up the habit of drinking. Then they flocked around him. As time went on, the crowd that surrounded him increased in numbers. He would spend a hundred or two hundred pieces of money at a time on strong drink. It became a habit with him after a time, wherever he happened to be, to pile up a heap of coins and call out as he drank, “Take this coin and fetch me flowers! take this coin and fetch me perfumes! This man is clever at dicing, and this man at dancing, and this man at singing, and this man at the playing of musical instruments! Give this man a thousand and this man two thousand!” Thus did he spend his money.

In no long time he squandered all the eighty crores of treasure that formerly belonged to him. Then those knaves said to him, “Master, your wealth is all spent.” “Has my wife no money?” “Yes, master, she has.” [131] “Well then, fetch that too.” And he spent his wife’s money in precisely the same way. As time went on, he sold his fields and his parks and his gardens and his carriages. He even disposed of the vessels he used at meals, of his coverlets and his cloaks and couches. All that belonged to him, he sold, and the proceeds he spent in riotous living. In old age he sold his house, the property of his family. And those to whom he sold his house took possession of it and straightway put him out. Thereupon, taking his wife with him, he found lodging near the house-wall of other people’s houses. With a broken potsherd in his hand, he would go about begging alms. Finally he began to eat the leavings of other people’s food.

One day he stood at the door of a rest-house, receiving leavings of food presented to him by novices and probationers. The Teacher saw him and smiled. Thereupon Elder Ānanda asked him why he smiled. The Teacher explained the reason for his smile by saying, “Ānanda, just look here at Great-Wealth, the treasurer’s son! In this very city he has squandered twice eighty crores of treasure. Now, accompanied by his wife, he is begging alms. For if, in the prime of life, this man had not squandered his wealth, but had applied himself to business, he would have become the principal treasurer in this very city; and if he had retired from the world and become a monk, he would have attained Arahatship, and his wife would have been established in the Fruit of the Third Path. If in middle life he had not squandered his wealth, but had applied himself to business, he would have become the second treasurer; and if he had retired from the world and become a monk, he would have attained the Fruit of the Third Path, and his wife would have been established in the Fruit of the Second Path. If in the latter years of his life he had not squandered his wealth, but had applied himself to business, he would have become the third treasurer; and if he had retired from the world and become a monk, he would have attained the Fruit of the Second Path, [132] and his wife would have been established in the Fruit of Conversion. But now he has fallen away from the wealth of a layman and he has likewise fallen away from the estate of a religious. He has become like a heron in a dried-up pond.” So saying, he pronounced the following Stanzas,

155. They that have not led the holy life, they that have not obtained wealth in time of youth.

Perish like worn-out herons in a pond from which the fish have disappeared.

156. They that have not led the holy life, they that have not obtained wealth in time of youth.

Lie like worn-out bows, bewailing the times that are past.

BOOK XII.

SELF

ATTA VAGGA

XII. 1. PRINCE BODHI AND THE MAGIC BIRD

If a man value his life. This religious instruction was given by the Teacher while he was in residence at Bhesakalavana with reference to Prince Bodhi. [134]

1 a. The prince, the builder, and the magic bird

The story goes that Prince Bodhi had a palace erected unlike any other palace on the face of the earth. It seemed almost to float in the air. Its name was Red Lotus, Kokanada. When it was finished, the prince asked the builder, “Have you ever built a palace like this anywhere else, or is this the first work of the sort you have done?” The builder replied, “Your majesty, this is the first work of the sort I have ever done.” The prince, hearing his reply, thought to himself, “If this man should build a palace like this for anyone else, there would no longer be anything wonderful about this palace. I had best kill this man, or cut off his hands and feet, or tear out his eyes; for if I do this, he will never build a palace like this for anyone else.”

Prince Bodhi went to an intimate friend of his, a youth named Sanjikaputta, and told him what was in his mind. Sanjikaputta straightway thought to himself, “Without a doubt this prince intends to kill the builder. But I shall not look on quietly and see an artisan who possesses so priceless a gift killed before my very eyes; I will give him a hint of what is in store for him.” So Sanjikaputta went to the builder and asked him, “Have you, or have you not, finished your work on the palace?” “My work is finished,” replied the builder. Then said Sanjikaputta, “The prince is seeking to kill you; look out for yourself.” [135] The builder replied, “Master, you did me a

1 In the Introduction to Jātaka 353: iii. 157-158, the brief statement is made that Prince Bodhi put out the builder’s eyes for fear that he might build a similar palace for another. There is no reference, however, to the story of the magic bird. The story of the Buddha’s visit to Prince Bodhi is derived either from the Vinaya, Culla Vagga, v. 21: ii. 127-129, or from MajjhiTna, 85: ii. 91-97. Text: N iii. 134-139.

great kindness in telling me. Now I know exactly what to do to avoid trouble.”

The prince asked the builder, “Friend, have you finished your work on our palace?” “No, your majesty,” replied the builder, “my work is not yet finished; a good deal still remains to be done.” “Just what work still remains to be done?” asked the prince. “Your majesty, I will tell you all about it afterwards. Just now, send me some timber.” “What kind of timber?” “Seasoned timber, with the sap well dried out, your majesty.” The prince immediately caused it to be procured and delivered to him. Then the builder said to the prince, “Your majesty, from this time forward, no one should be permitted to come to me, for when I am engaged in a delicate piece of work, it distracts my mind to be obliged to converse with anyone else. At meal-time my wife alone will bring me my food.” “Very well,” said the prince, consenting to this arrangement.

Thereupon the builder sat down in a certain room, and out of that timber fashioned a wooden Garuda-bird large enough to contain himself and his son and his wife. And when meal-time came, he said to his wife, “Go sell everything in the house and bring back to me the money you receive, the yellow gold.” Now the prince, in order to make sure that the builder should not leave the house, surrounded the house with a strong guard. But the builder, as soon as the bird was finished, having previously said to his wife, “To-day bring all the children and wait,” immediately after breakfast placed his children and his wife inside of the bird, whereupon the bird soared out of the window and was gone. Thus did the builder escape. When the guards saw the bird winging its flight away, they cried out, “Your majesty, the builder has escaped!” But even as they cried out, the builder made good his escape, and alighting in the Himalaya country, created by magical power a city to dwell in. Thereafter he was known as King Wooden-horse. [136]