Kumbhakāra Jātaka

Once upon a time when Brahmadatta was reigning in Benares, the Bodhisatta was born into a potter’s family in a suburb of Benares. When he grew up, he became a householder. He had a son and daughter, and he supported his wife and children with his potter’s handicraft.

At that time in the kingdom of Kaliṅga, in the city of Dantapura, the King was named Karaṇḍu. One day he went to his garden with a great entourage. There at the garden gate he saw a mango tree laden with sweet fruit. From his seat on the elephant, he stretched out his hand and seized a bunch of mangoes. Then he entered the garden where he sat on the royal seat. Where he ate a mango. He gave some mangoes to those worthy of favors.

From the time when the King took a mango, some ministers, brahmins, and householders, thinking that others should also do so, took down and ate mangoes from that tree. Over and over they climbed the tree. They beat it with clubs and broke many branches. And they ate all of the fruit, not leaving even the unripe mangoes.

The King amused himself in the garden for the day. And in the evening—as he left on the royal elephant—he dismounted at the mango tree. On seeing the tree and walking over to its roots, he looked up and thought, “In the morning this tree stood beautiful with its burden of fruit, and the gazers could not be satisfied. Now it stands looking terrible with its fruit all broken off.” He walked around the tree, examining the damage. He thought, “This mango tree stood beautiful like a mountain of jewels. But because of its bounty, it fell into misfortune. The householder’s life is like a fruitful tree. The holy life is like a barren tree. The wealthy have fear; the poor have no fear. I, too, would like to be a barren tree.”

So taking the fruit tree as his example, he stood at the root. He contemplated the three properties (suffering, impermanence, and non-self), and perfecting spiritual insight, he attained paccekabuddha-hood. He reflected, “The envelop of the womb is now fallen from me. Rebirth is ended. The stain of transmigration is cleansed. The ocean of tears has dried up. The wall of bones has broken down. There is no more rebirth for me.” He stood as if adorned with every ornament. Then his ministers said, “You stand too long, O great King.” “I am not a king,” he said, “I am a paccekabuddha.” “Paccekabuddhas are not like you, O King.” “Then what are they like?” he replied. Their hair and beards are shaved. They dress in yellow robes. They are not attached to family or tribe. They are like clouds torn by wind or the moon’s orb freed from Rāhu, and they live in the Himālaya Mountains in the Nandamūla cave. This, O King, is how the paccekabuddhas are.”

At that moment the King threw up his hand and touched his head. Instantly the marks of a householder disappeared, and the marks of a mendicant appeared:

Three robes, bowl, razor, needles, strainer, zone,

A pious monk those eight marks should own.

The requisites, as they are called, of a monk suddenly manifested. Then hovering in the air, he preached to the crowd. And then he flew through the sky to the mountain cave Nandamūla in the Upper Himālaya.

In the kingdom of Candahar in the city Takkasilā, the King Naggaji was sitting on a royal couch on the terrace. He saw a woman who had put a jeweled bracelet on each hand. She was grinding perfume as she sat nearby. He thought, “These jeweled bracelets do not rub or jingle when separate.” And he sat there, quietly observing. Then she put the bracelet from the right hand on the left hand, and collecting perfume with the right hand, she began to grind it. The bracelet on the left hand rubbed against the other bracelet and made a noise. The King observed that these two bracelets made a sound when rubbing against each other, and he thought, “When separate, that bracelet touched nothing. Now it touches the second bracelet and makes a noise. In just this way, living beings when separate do not touch or make a noise. But when they become two or three they rub against each other and make a noise. Now I rule the inhabitants in the two kingdoms of Cashmere and Candahar, and I, too, should be like the single bracelet, ruling only myself and no others.” So making the rubbing of the bracelets his example, seated where he was, he realized the three properties, attained spiritual insight, and gained paccekabuddha-hood. And the rest of the story is as has already been told.

In the kingdom of Videha, in the city of Mithila, the King was a man named Nimi. After breakfast, surrounded by his ministers, he stood looking down at the street through an open window of the palace. A hawk, having taken some meat from the market, was flying up into the air. Some vultures or other birds, surrounding the hawk on each side, went on pecking it with their beaks, striking it with their wings and beating it with their feet, in order to get the meat. Not wanting to be killed, the hawk dropped the meat. Another bird immediately took it. The rest of the birds left the hawk and attacked this other bird. When he, too, let go of the meat, a third bird took it. The other birds pecked at him, also, in the same way.

The King, seeing those birds, thought, “Whoever took the meat, sorrow came to him. Whoever let go of it, happiness came to him. Sorrow comes to anyone who pursues the five sense pleasures. Happiness comes to the other man. These occurrences are common to many. Now I have 16,000 women. I would be able to live in happiness if I abandon the five sense pleasures, just as the hawk let go of the piece of meat.” Considering this wisely, standing as he was, he realized the three properties, attained spiritual insight, and reached the wisdom of paccekabuddha-hood. And the rest of the story is as has already been told.

In the kingdom of Uttarapañcāla, in the city of Kampilla, the King was named Dummukha. After breakfast, with all his ornamentation and surrounded by his ministers, he stood looking down on the palace yard from an open window. At the moment they opened the door of a cow pen. The bulls rushed from the pen and set upon one cow in lust. One great bull with sharp horns saw another bull coming. And possessed by the jealousy of lust, he struck him in the thigh with his sharp horns. The force of the blow caused the entrails of the attacked bull to came out, and he soon died. The King, observing this, thought, “Living beings from the animals upwards experience sorrow from the power of lust. Because of lust this bull was killed. Other beings are also poisoned by lust. I should abandon the lusts that disturb beings.” And so standing as he was, he realized the three properties, attained spiritual insight, and reached the wisdom of paccekabuddha-hood. And the rest of the story is as has already been told.

Then one day those four paccekabuddhas, considering that it was time for their alms rounds, left the Nandamūla cave. They cleansed their teeth by chewing betel in the lake Anotatta. And after attending to their needs in Manosilā, they took their bowls and robes, and by magic flew through the air. They traveled on clouds of the five colors and landed not far from a suburb of Benares. In a convenient spot they put on their robes, took their bowls, and entered the suburb. They went on alms rounds until they arrived at the door to the Bodhisatta’s house. The Bodhisatta—seeing them—was delighted. He invited them to enter his house. He had them sit on seats that he prepared for them. He gave them water of respect and served them with excellent food, hard and soft. Then sitting on one side, he saluted the eldest of them, saying, “Sir, your holy life appears very beautiful. Your senses are very calm, and your complexion is very clear. What object of contemplation made you take to the holy life and become mendicants?” And in this way he asked the eldest of them, and then he also went up to the others and asked them the same question. Then those four all said, “I was so and so, king of such and such a city in such and such a kingdom” and so on. In that way each one of them told the reason they retired from the world. Each one spoke one stanza each in turn:

A mango in a forest did I see

Full-grown, and dark, fruitful exceedingly.

And for its fruit men did the mango break,

‘Twas this inclined my heart the bowl to take.

A bracelet, polished by a hand renowned,

A woman wore on each wrist without sound.

One touched the other and a noise did wake,

‘Twas this inclined my heart the bowl to take.

Birds in a flock a bird unfriended tore,

Who all alone a lump of carrion bore.

The bird was smitten for the carrion’s sake

‘Twas this inclined my heart the bowl to take.

A bull in pride among his fellows paced,

High rose his back, with strength and beauty graced.

From lust he died, a horn his wound did make.

‘Twas this inclined my heart the bowl to take.

The Bodhisatta, hearing each stanza, said, “Good, sir, your topic is commendable.” And so he praised each paccekabuddha. And having listened to the discourse delivered by those four, he became disenchanted with the life of a householder. Then the paccekabuddhas left.

After his breakfast he was sitting at ease. He called to his wife and said, “Wife, those four paccekabuddhas left kingdoms to be mendicants. Now they live without imperfections, without any hindrances. They live in the bliss of the holy life while I make a livelihood by earning money. Why do I want to have the life of a householder? Take the children and stay in this house.” And then he spoke two stanzas:

Kalṅga's King Karaṇḍu, Gandhāra's Naggaji,

Pañcāla's ruler Dummukha, Videha's great Nimi,

Have left their thrones and live the life of monks tarnish free.

Here their godlike forms they show

Each one like a blazing fire.

Bhaggavi, I, too, will go,

Leaving all that men desire.

Hearing his words, she said, “Husband, ever since I heard the discourse of the paccekabuddhas, I, too, have no contentment with the life of a householder.” And she spoke this stanza:

’Tis the appointed time, I know,

Better teachers may not be.

Bhaggava, I, too, will go,

Like a bird from hand set free.

The Bodhisatta on hearing her words was silent.

She decided to deceive the Bodhisatta. She was anxious to ordain before him. So she said, “Husband, I am going to the water tank. Look after the children.” She took a pot as if she was going to the water tank. Then she left and went to the paccekabuddhas outside the town where she was ordained by them.

When she did not return, the Bodhisatta attended to the children himself. After they had grown up a little and could understand for themselves, he decided on a way to teach them. When cooking rice, one day he would cook it hard and raw. On another day, he would cook it a little underdone. One day it would be well cooked, on another day it would be soggy. One day it would be without salt, and on another day he prepared it with too much salt.

The children would say, “Father, the rice is not boiled enough today.” Or “Today it is soggy, today it is well cooked. Today it is without salt, today it has too much salt.” The Bodhisatta said, “Yes, dears,” and thought, “These children now know what is raw and what is cooked, what has salt and what has none. Now they will be able to live on their own. It is time for me to ordain.” Then handing them over to their relatives, he was ordained to the holy life, and he lived outside the city.

Then one day the female mendicant was begging in Benares. She saw him, saluted him, and said, “Sir, I believe you killed the children.” The Bodhisatta said, “I don’t kill children. When they could understand for themselves, I ordained. You were indifferent to them and only pleased yourself by being ordained.” And then he spoke the last stanza:

Having seen they could distinguish salt from saltless, boiled from raw,

I became a monk. Leave me, we can follow each the law.

So exhorting the female mendicant, he took leave of her. She accepted his admonishment. She saluted the Bodhisatta and went to a place that pleased her. After that day they never saw each other. The Bodhisatta attained supernatural knowledge and became destined to be reborn in the Brahma heaven.