Aṭṭhasadda Jātaka

Once on a time when Brahmadatta was reigning in Benares, the Bodhisatta was born into a brahmin family worth eighty crores (800 million rupees). When he grew up, he learned the arts at Takkasilā University. After his parents’ death, he reviewed all their wealth, gave all of it away to charity, abandoned sensual desires, went to the Himālaya Mountains, and became a recluse. There he learned how to enter into mystic meditation (jhāna).

After a time he returned to the world of men for salt and vinegar. When he reached Benares, he lived in a garden. At that time the King of Benares—when he was seated on his royal bed at midnight—heard eight sounds. The first was a crane who made a noise in a garden near the palace. The second—which came immediately after the crane—was a female crow who made a noise from the gateway of the elephant house. The third was an insect who was settled on the peak of the palace. The fourth noise came from a tame cuckoo in the palace. The fifth was a tame deer in the same place. The sixth came from a tame monkey. A gnome living in the palace made the seventh noise. And the eighth noise came from a paccekabuddha who was passing along the roof of the King’s palace next to the garden. He uttered a sound of ecstasy.

The King was terrified when he heard these eight sounds. On the next day, he consulted the brahmins. The brahmins said, “Great King, these sounds mean that there is danger for you. Let us offer a sacrifice at the palace.” They got the King’s permission to do so. They left in joy and delight (because they would be well paid for such a ceremony) and began the work of sacrifice.

Now a young pupil of the oldest sacrificial brahmin was wise and learned. He said to his master, “Master, do not cause such a harsh and cruel slaughter of so many creatures.” “Pupil, what do you know about it? Even if nothing else happens, we shall get much fish and flesh to eat.” “Master, do not, for the belly’s sake, perform an action that will cause rebirth in hell.” Hearing this, the other brahmins were angry with the pupil for endangering their gains. In fear the pupil said, “Very well, devise a means then of getting fish and flesh to eat.” And he left the city looking for some pious recluse who would be able to prevent the King from performing the sacrifice.

He entered the royal garden, and seeing the Bodhisatta, he saluted him and said, “Have you no compassion for creatures? The King has ordered a sacrifice that will bring death on many animals. Shouldn’t you try to bring about the release of such a multitude?” “Young brahmin, I do not know the King of this land, and he does not know me.” “Sir, do you know the meaning of those sounds the King heard?” “I do.” “If you know, why don’t you tell the King?” “Young brahmin, how can I go with a horn fastened (an emblem of pride) on my forehead to say, “I know?” But if the King comes here to question me, I will tell him.”

The young brahmin went swiftly to the King’s court. When he was asked his business, he said, “Great King, a certain recluse knows the meaning of those sounds you heard. He is sitting on the royal seat in your garden. He says he will tell you their meaning if you ask him. You should do so.”

The King went swiftly. He saluted the recluse, and after friendly greeting he sat down and asked, “Is it true that you know the meaning of the sounds I have heard?” “Yes, great King.” “Then please tell me.”

“Great King, there is no danger connected with those sounds. There is a crane in your old garden. It was without food. It was half dead with hunger. It made the first sound.” And with his knowledge—giving precisely the crane’s meaning—he uttered the first stanza:

A pool so deep and full of fish they called this place of yore,

The crane king’s residence it was, my ancestors’ before.

And though we live on frogs today, we never leave its shore.

“That, great King, was the sound the crane made in the pangs of hunger. If you wish to set it free from hunger, have the garden cleaned and fill the tank with water.”

The King told a minister to have this done.

“Great King, there is a female crow who lives in the doorway of your elephant house. She made the second sound, grieving for her son. You need have no fear from it.” And so he uttered the second stanza:

Oh! Who of wicked Bandhura? The single eye will rend

My nest, my nestlings and myself, oh! who will now befriend?

Then he asked the King for the name of the chief groom in the elephant house. “His name, sir, is Bandhura.” “Does he have only one eye, O King?” “Yes, sir.” “Great King, a crow has built her nest over the doorway of your elephant house. There she laid her eggs. There her young hatched in due time. Every time the groom enters or leaves the stable of his elephant, he strikes at the crow and her nestlings with his hook and destroys the nest. The crow in her distress wants to tear his eye, so spoke as she did. If you are well-disposed to her, send for Bandhura and prevent him from destroying the nest.” The King sent for Bandhura, rebuked and removed him, and gave the elephant to someone else.

“On the peak of your palace roof, great King, there is a wood insect. It has eaten all the fig wood there and could not eat the harder wood. Lacking food and unable to get away, it made the third sound in grief. You need have no fear from it.” And so, by his knowledge, giving precisely the insect’s meaning, he spoke the third stanza:

I’ve eaten all the fig wood round as far as it would go,

Hard wood a weevil does not like, though other food runs low.

The King sent a servant and had the weevil set free.

“In your palace, great King, is there a certain tame cuckoo?” “There is, sir.” “Great King, that cuckoo was pining for the forest when it remembered its former life. He said ‘How can I leave this cage, and go to my dear forest?’ And so he made the fourth sound. You need have no fear from it.” And so he spoke the fourth stanza:

Oh to leave this royal dwelling! oh to gain my liberty,

Glad at heart to roam the wood, and build my nest upon the tree.

So saying, he added, “The cuckoo is pining, great King. Set her free.” The King did so.

“Great King, is there a tame deer at your palace?” “There is, sir.” “He was chief of the herd. Remembering his mate and pining for the love of her, he made the fifth sound. You need have no fear from it.” And he spoke the fifth stanza:

Oh to leave this royal dwelling! Oh to gain my liberty,

Drink pure water of the fountain, lead the herd that followed me!

The Great Being caused this deer, too, to be set free. Then he went on: “Great King, is there a tame monkey in your palace?” “There is, sir.” “He was chief of a herd in the Himālaya. He was fond of the company of female monkeys. He was brought here by a hunter named ‘Bharata.’ Pining and longing for his old haunts, he made the sixth sound. You need have no fear from it.” And he spoke the sixth stanza:

Filled and stained was I with passions, with desire infatuate,

Bharata the hunter took me, may I bring you happy fate!

The Great Being caused the monkey, too, to be set free. Then he went on: “Great King, is there a gnome living in your palace?” “There is, sir.” “He is thinking of what he did with his sylph (a spirit of the air), and in the pain of desire, he made the seventh sound. One day he climbed the peak of a high mountain with her. They picked and decked themselves with many flowers of choice hue and scent. As a result, they never noticed that the sun was setting. Darkness fell as they were descending. The sylph said, ‘Husband, it is dark. Come down carefully without stumbling.’ And taking him by the hand, she led him down. It was in memory of her words that he made the sound. You need have no fear from it.” By his knowledge he stated and made known the circumstance properly, and then he spoke the seventh stanza:

When the darkness gathered thickly on the mountain summit lone,

“Stumble not,” she gently warned me, “with your foot against a stone.”

So the Great Being explained why the gnome had made the sound. And having him set free, he went on: “Great King, there was an eighth sound. It was one of ecstasy. A certain paccekabuddha in the Nandamūla cave, knowing that the conditions of life were now at an end for him, came to the world of man, thinking, ‘I will enter Nirvāna in the King of Benares’ park. His servants will bury me. They will hold a sacred festival and venerate my relics, and in this way they will be reborn in heaven.” He was arriving using his supernatural power, and just as he reached your palace roof, he threw off the burden of life and sung in ecstasy the song that lights up the entrance into the city of Nirvāna.” And so he spoke the stanza uttered by the paccekabuddha:

Surely I see the end of birth,

I ne’er again the womb shall see.

My last existence on the earth

Is o’er, and all its misery.

“With these words of ecstasy he reached your park and passed into Nirvāna at the foot of a sál tree in full flower. (This is how the Buddha died.) Come, great King, and perform his funeral rites.” So the Great Being took the King to the place where the paccekabuddha had entered into Nirvāna. He showed him the body. Seeing the body, the King—with a great multitude—paid honor with perfumes and flowers and the like. By the Bodhisatta’s advice he stopped the sacrifice. He gave all the creatures their lives. He made a proclamation by drum through the city that there should be no slaughter,. Then he caused a sacred festival to be held for seven days. He had the paccekabuddha’s body cremated with great honor on a pyre heaped with perfumes, and he built a stupa where four high roads meet. The Bodhisatta preached virtue to the King and exhorted him to diligence. Then he went to the Himālaya, and there he did works in the Perfect States (jhānas), and without a break in his meditations, he became destined for the Brahma Heaven.