Jataka 382
Sirikālakaṇṇi Jātaka
Siri and Kālakaṇṇī
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
This is a story about two goddesses, the daughters of two of the Four Heavenly Kings. One of them, as we will see, rather obviously has very poor taste in her companions. The other one admires and surrounds herself with virtuous people.
The last verse of Siri is also interesting in that it says that we are all responsible for our karma. No one else can give us good or bad fortune.
It is likewise interesting that the kings in the deva realms defer to a human to pass judgment on the daughters. This shows that even gods may not have as much merit as a human. It all depends on one’s virtue, not their status in the cosmology.
“Who is this.” The Master told this story while he was at Jetavana. It is about Anāthapiṇḍika. From the time when he became established in the fruition of the First Path (stream-entry), he kept all of the Five Precepts unbroken, as did his wife, his sons and daughters, his hired servants, and his workpeople. One day in the Dharma Hall they began to discuss whether Anāthapiṇḍika was pure in himself and his household as well. The Master came in and they told him what they were discussing. He said, “Brothers, the wise men of old had pure households.” And he told them this story from the past.
Once upon a time when Brahmadatta was the King in Benares, the Bodhisatta was a merchant. He gave charitable gifts, kept the Precepts, and performed his duties on fast (Uposatha) days. His wife also kept the Five Precepts, as did his sons, his daughters, his servants, and workpeople. As a result, he was called “Suciparivāra” (pure household). He thought, “If one of purer morals than I should come along, it would not be proper to give him my couch to sit on or my bed to lie on, but to give him one that is pure and unused.” So he had an unused couch and bed prepared on one side in his sitting room.
At that time in the Heaven of the Four Kings (Dhataraṭṭha, King of the North, Virūḷha of the South, Virūpakkha of the West, and Vessavaṇa of the East. It is the lowest of the deva realms.), Kālakaṇṇī, the daughter of Virūpakkha, and Sirī, the daughter of Dhataraṭṭha, took many perfumes and garlands and went to the lake Anotatta to play there.
Now on that lake there are many bathing places. The Buddhas bathe at their own place, the paccekabuddhas at theirs, the monastics at theirs, the recluses at theirs, the gods of the six Kāma heavens (of which the Heaven of the Four Kings is the first) at theirs, and the goddesses at theirs. So the two daughters went there, and they began to quarrel about which of them should bathe first. Kālakaṇṇī said, “I rule the world. it is proper that I bathe first.” Sirī said, “I preside over the course of conduct that gives lordship to mankind. It is proper that I bathe first.” Then they both said, “The Four Kings will know which of us ought to bathe first.”
So they went to the Four Kings, and they asked which of the two was worthy to bathe first in Anotatta. Dhataraṭṭha and Virūpakkha said, “We cannot decide,” and they deferred to Virūḷha and Vessavaṇa. They too said, “We cannot decide, either. We will send it to our Lord’s feet.” So they sent the question to Sakka. He heard their tale and thought, “Those two are the daughters of my vassals. I cannot decide this case.” So he said to them, “There is a merchant in Benares called Suciparivāra. In his house he has prepared an unused couch and bed. She who can first sit or lie there is the proper one to bathe first.”
On hearing this, Kālakaṇṇī put on blue raiment and used blue ointment and decked herself with blue jewels. She descended from the heaven as on a stone from a catapult. And just after the mid-watch of night, she stood in the air diffusing a blue light. She was not far from the merchant, who was lying on a couch in the sitting room of his mansion.
The merchant saw her, but to his eyes she was ungracious and unlovely. Talking to her, he spoke the first stanza:
Who is this so dark of hue,
So unlovely to the view?
Who are you, whose daughter, say,
How are we to know you, pray?
Hearing him, Kālakaṇṇī spoke the second stanza:
The great King Virūpakkha is my sire.
I am Misfortune, Kālakaṇṇī dire.
Give me the house-room near you I desire.
Then the Bodhisatta spoke the third stanza:
What the conduct, what the ways,
Of the folk with whom you dwell?
This is what my question prays.
We will mark the answer well.
Then she, explaining her own qualities, spoke the fourth stanza:
The hypocrite, the wanton, the morose,
The folk of envy, greed, and treachery.
Such are the friends I love; and I dispose
Their gains that they may perish utterly.
She spoke also the fifth, sixth, and seventh stanzas:
And dearer still are ire and hate to me,
Slander and strife, libel, and cruelty.
The useless spirit who does not know good,
Resenting counsel, to his betters rude.
The one whom folly drives, whom friends despise,
That is my friend, in whom my pleasure lies.
Then the Great Being, chastising her, spoke the eighth stanza:
Kāli, depart. There’s nothing for you here.
To other lands and cities disappear.
Kālakaṇṇī, hearing him, was sorrowful and spoke another stanza:
I know you well. There’s nothing for me here.
Others are luckless, who amass much gear.
My brother god and I will make it disappear.
After she left, Sirī the goddess arrived with raiment and ointment of a golden hue, and ornaments of golden brightness to the door of the sitting room. She diffused yellow light, rested with even feet on level ground, and stood respectful. The Bodhisatta, seeing her, repeated the first stanza:
Who is this, divine of hue,
On the ground so firm and true?
Who are you, whose daughter, say,
How are we to know you, pray?
Sirī, hearing him, spoke the second stanza:
The great King Dhataraṭṭha is my sire.
Fortune and Luck am I, and Wisdom folk admire.
Grant me the house-room with you I desire.
Then
What the conduct, what the ways
Of the folk with whom you dwell?
This is what my question prays.
We will mark your answer well.
Siri responded:
One who in cold and heat, in wind and sun,
Mid thirst and hunger, snake and poison-fly,
Whose present duty night and day has done.
Is someone I dwell and love faithfully.
Gentle and friendly, righteous, liberal,
Guileless and honest, upright, winning, bland,
Meek in high places. I bathe those fortunes all,
Like waves their hue through ocean that expand.
To friend or unfriend, better, like, or worse,
Helper or foe, by dark or open day,
Who e’er is kind, without harsh word or curse,
I am their friend, living or dead, alway.
But if a fool have won some love from me,
And waxes proud and vain,
Their perverse path of recklessness I flee,
Like filthy stain.
Each one’s fortune and misfortune are their own work, not another’s.
Neither fortune nor misfortune can one make for any other.
Such was Sirī’s answer when questioned by the merchant.
Figure: Siri displays her virtue
The Bodhisatta rejoiced at Sirī's words. He said, “Here is the pure seat and bed. They are proper for you. Sit and lie down there.” She stayed there, and in the morning she returned to the Heaven of the Four Great Kings and bathed first in lake Anotatta. The bed used by Sirī was called “Sirisaya.” This is the origin of “Sirisayana,” (Siri’s bed) and it is so called to this day.
After the lesson the Master identified the birth: “At that time the goddess Sirī was Uppalavaṇṇā, and I was the merchant Suciparivāra.”
