Sabbadāṭha Jātaka

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was the King of Benares, the Bodhisatta was his chaplain. He had mastered the three Vedas and the eighteen branches of knowledge (also called the 18 vidhyasthanams). He knew the spell entitled “Of subduing the World.” (Now this spell is one which involves meditation.)

One day, the Bodhisatta thought that he would recite this spell. He sat down in a special place on a flat stone, and there he proceeded with his recitation. It is said that this spell could be taught to no one without the use of a special ritual. For this reason he recited it in the place just described. It so happened that a jackal who was lying in a hole heard the spell and memorized it by heart. We are told that this jackal had been some brahmin in a previous lifetime, and in that lifetime he had learned the charm “Of subduing the World.”

The Bodhisatta ended his recitation and got up, saying, “Surely I have learned that spell by heart now.” Then the jackal came out of his hole and cried, “Ho, brahmin! I have learned the spell better than you know it yourself!” and off he ran. The Bodhisatta ran after him and followed him for a long way, crying, “You, jackal, will do a great mischief. Catch him! Catch him!” But the jackal got away and ran off into the forest.

The jackal found a she-jackal, and he gave her a little pinch on the body. “What is it, master?” she asked.

“Do you know me,” he asked, “or do you not?”

“I do not know you.”

He repeated the spell, and as a result gained command over several hundred jackals. And then there gathered around him all the elephants and horses, lions and tigers, pigs and deer, and all other four-footed creatures. He became their king under the title “Sabbadāṭha” or “All-tusk,” and he made the she-jackal his consort. A lion stood on the back of two elephants, and Sabbadāṭha stood on the lion’s back, the jackal king, along with his consort the she-jackal. And great honor was paid to them.

Now the jackal was tempted by his great honor. He became puffed up with pride, and he resolved to capture the kingdom of Benares. So with all the four-footed creatures in his domain, he went to a place near Benares. His multitude covered twelve leagues of ground. From his position there he sent a message to the King: “Give up your kingdom or fight for it.” The citizens of Benares were overcome with terror. They shut the city gates and stayed within the fortified walls.

Then the Bodhisatta went to the King. He said to him, “Fear not, mighty King! Leave the task of fighting the jackal king Sabbadāṭha to me. But leave this fight only to me. No one else will be able to fight with him.”

Thus he gave heart to the King and the citizens.

“I will ask him at once,” he went on, “what he will do in order to take the city.”

So he mounted the tower over one of the gates and cried out, “Sabbadāṭha, what will you do to gain possession of this realm?”

“I will cause the lions to roar, and with the roaring I will frighten the people. Thus will I take it!”

“Oh, that’s it,” thought the Bodhisatta. He went down from the tower. He made a proclamation by the beat of drums that all of the people in the great city of Benares, over all its twelve leagues, must plug up their ears with flour. The people heard the command. They stopped up their ears with flour so that they could not even hear each other speak. They even did this to their cats and other animals.

Then the Bodhisatta went up a second time into the tower and cried out “Sabbadāṭha!”

“What is it, Brahmin?” he said.

“How will you take this realm?” he asked.

“I will cause the lions to roar, and I will frighten the people and destroy them. This is how I will take it!” he said.

“You will not be able to make the lions roar. These noble lions, with their tawny paws and shaggy manes, will never do the bidding of an old jackal like you!” The jackal, stubborn with pride, answered, “Not only will the lions obey me, but I will even make this one here, upon whose back I sit, roar alone!”

“Very well,” the Bodhisatta said, “do it if you can.”

So he tapped the lion on which he sat with his foot in order to make him roar.

The lion, with his mouth resting on the elephant’s temple, roared three times. The elephants were terrified and threw the jackal down at their feet. They trampled his head and crushed it to bits. Then and there Sabbadāṭha died. And all of the other elephants, hearing the roar of the lion, were frightened to death. They beat one another, and they all died then and there. The rest of the creatures, deer and swine, down to the hares and cats, also died then and there. They all died except for the lions who ran off into the woods. There was a heap of carcasses covering the ground for twelve leagues.

The Bodhisatta went down from the tower. He had the gates of the city thrown open. By the beat of the drums he caused a proclamation to be made throughout the city: “Let all the people take the flour from out of their ears. Those who want meat take as much as they like!” The people all ate what meat they could fresh, and the rest they dried and preserved.

It was at this time, according to tradition, that people first began to dry meat.