Jataka 313
Khantivādi Jātaka
The Story of Khantavādi
as told by Eric Van Horn
originally translated by H.T. Francis and R.A. Neil, Cambridge University
originally edited by Professor Edward Byles Cowell, Cambridge University
In this rather violent tale, we see an extreme example of the patience of the Bodhisatta. Once again, Devadatta is the villain from a previous life.
Buddhism is famous for denouncing violence of any kind. But in his usual way with words, the Buddha once praised one type of killing:
“
As she was standing to one side, a devata recited this verse to the Blessed One:
Having killed what
do you sleep in ease?
Having killed what
do you not grieve?
Of the slaying
of what one thing
does Gotama approve?
[The Buddha:]
Having killed anger
you sleep in ease.
Having killed anger
you do not grieve.
The noble ones praise
the slaying of anger
— with its honeyed crest
and poison root —
for having killed it
you do not grieve.
— [SN 1.71]
“
“Who cuts off…” The Master told this story while living at Jetavana. It is about an angry monk. The incident that gave rise to the story has been already described. The Master asked the monk, “Why after taking orders under the dispensation of the Buddha—who does not know anger—do you show anger? Wise men in bygone days, though they suffered a thousand lashes and had their hands and feet and ears and nose cut off, showed no anger against another.” And he then told this story from the past.
Once upon a time a King of Kāsi named Kalābu reigned at Benares. At that time the Bodhisatta was reborn into a brahmin family that was endowed with 80 crores of treasure (one crore equals 10 million rupees). He was named Kuṇḍakakumāra. And when he was of age, he acquired a knowledge of all the sciences at Takkasilā University and afterwards settled down as a householder.
When his parents died, he looked at his pile of treasure and thought, “My family who amassed this treasure are all gone without taking it with them. Now it is for me to give it away and in my turn to depart.” Then he carefully selected people who by virtue of their almsgiving deserved it. He gave all his wealth to them, and—entering the Himālaya country—he adopted the life of a recluse.
He lived there for a long time living on wild fruits. Finally he descended into the inhabited regions in order to procure salt and vinegar. Gradually he made his way to Benares where he took up his residence in the royal park. On the next day, he went on his alms rounds in the city. He came to the door of the commander-in-chief. The commander-in-chief was pleased with the recluse for his demeanor. So he brought him into the house and gave him the food that had been prepared for himself. And having gained the consent of the recluse, he got him to take up residence in the royal park.
Now one day King Kalābu—being inflamed with alcohol—came into the park in a great spectacle. He was surrounded by a company of dancers. He had a couch spread out on the royal seat of stone. There he lay with his head on the lap of a favorite of his harem, while the girls who were skillful in vocal and instrumental music and in dancing provided musical entertainment. His magnificence was like that of Sakka, Lord of heaven.
Then the King fell asleep. The women said, “The King for whom our music is intended has fallen asleep sleep. There is no need for us to sing.” Then they cast their lutes and other musical instruments here and there and set out for the garden. There they were tempted by the flowers and fruit-bearing shrubs, and soon they were frolicking about and enjoying themselves.
At this moment the Bodhisatta was seated in this garden like a royal elephant in the prime of his life He sat at the foot of a flowering Sāl tree enjoying the bliss of retirement from the world. These women—wandereing about—and came upon him. They said, “Come here, ladies, and let us sit down and hear from the holy man who is resting at the foot of this tree until the King wakes up.” Then they went and saluted him and sitting in a circle round about him, they said, “Tell us something worth hearing.” So the Bodhisatta taught the Dharma to them.
Meanwhile the royal favorite moved and woke up the King. And the King, when he woke up and did not see the women, asked, “Where have those wretches gone?” “Your Highness,” she said, “they have gone away and are in attendance with a certain rscluse.” In a rage the King seized his sword and went off in haste, saying, “I will give this fake recluse a lesson.”
Then those women who were most in favor, when they saw the King coming in a rage, went and took the sword from the King’s hand and pacified him. Then he went and stood by the Bodhisatta and asked, “What doctrine are you preaching, monk?” “The doctrine of patience, Your Majesty,” he replied. “What is this patience?” said the King. “To not be angry, even when men abuse you and strike you and revile you.” The King said, “I will now see the reality of your patience.”
The King summoned his executioner. The executioner, in the way of his occupation, took an axe and a scourge of thorns. And wearing a yellow robe and a red garland, came, he saluted the King and said, “What is your pleasure, sire?” “Take and deceit off this vile rogue of an ascetic,” said the King. “Throw him on the ground. With your lash of thorns beat him before and behind and on both sides and give him 2,000 lashes."
The executioner did this.
The Bodhisatta’s outer and inner skins were cut through to the flesh, and the blood flowed. The King again asked, “What doctrine do you preach, monk?” “The doctrine of patience, Your Highness,” he replied. “You think that my patience is only skin deep. It is not skin deep, but it is fixed deep within my heart where it cannot be seen by you, sire.”
Again the executioner asked, “What is your pleasure, Sire?” The King said, “Cut off both the hands of this false recluse.” So he took his axe, and placing the victim within the fatal circle, he cut off both his hands. Then the King said, “Off with his feet,” and his feet were chopped off. And the blood flowed from the extremities of his hands and feet like juice from a leaking jar. Again the King asked what doctrine he preached. “The doctrine of patience, Your Highness,” he replied. “You imagine, sire, that my patience lives in the extremities of my hands and feet. It is not there, but it is deep seated somewhere else.”
The King said, “Cut off his nose and ears.” The executioner did so. His whole body was now covered with blood. Again the King asked of his doctrine. And the recluse said, “Think not that my patience is seated in the tips of my nose and ears. My patience is deep seated within my heart.” The King said, “Lie down, false monk, and then exalt your patience.” And so saying, he kicked the Bodhisatta above the heart with his foot, and then he left.
When he had left, the commander-in-chief wiped the blood off from the body of the Bodhisatta. He bandaged the extremities of his hands, feet, ears, and nose, and then—having gently placed him on a seat—he saluted him. And sitting on one side he said, “If, reverend sir, you would be angry with anyone who has wronged you, be angry with the King but with no one else.” And making this request, he repeated the first stanza:
Who has cut off your nose and ear and lopped off foot and hand,
With him be riled, heroic soul, but spare, we pray, this land.
The Bodhisatta on hearing this uttered the second stanza:
Long live the King, by whose cruel hand my body is marred,
Pure souls like mine such deeds as these with anger ne’er regard.
Just then the King was leaving the garden, and at the very moment when be passed out of the range of the Bodhisatta’s vision, the mighty earth split in two like a strong, stout cloth garment. A flame spewed forth from Avīci (one of the hell realms) and seized the King, wrapping him up as it were with a royal robe of scarlet wool. In this way the king sank into the earth just by the garden gate and was firmly fixed in the great Hell of Avīci.
The Bodhisatta died on that same day. And the King’s servants and the citizens came with perfumes and wreaths and incense in their hands and performed the Bodhisatta’s funeral rites. Some said that the Bodhisatta had gone straight back to the Himālayas. But in this they were mistaken:
A saint of old, as men have told,
Great courage did display:
That saint so strong to suffer wrong
The Kāsi King did slay.
Alas! the debt of vain regret
That King will have to pay;
When doomed to dwell in lowest Hell,
Long will he rue the day.
Figure: Long will he rue the day.
These two stanzas were inspired by Perfect Wisdom.
The Master, his lesson ended, taught the Four Noble Truths, at the conclusion of which the angry brother became a Once Returner, while many others attained stream-entry. Then he identified the birth: “At that time Devadatta was King Kalābu of Kāsi, Sāriputta was the Commander-in-Chief, and I was the recluse, the Preacher of Patience.”
