Catu Dvāra Jātaka

Once upon a time, in the days of the Buddha Kassapa, a merchant lived in Benares. (Buddha Kassapa was the Buddha previous to Gautama Buddha.) His wealth was 80 crores of money (800 million rupees). He had a son named Mittavindaka. The mother and father of this boy had entered upon the First Path (attained stream-entry), but he was wicked and a non-believer.

When bye and bye the father was dead and gone, the mother, who in his stead managed their property, said to her son, “My son, the human realm is hard to attain. Give alms, practice virtue, keep the holy day, and listen to the Dharma.” Then said he, “Mother, there will be no almsgiving for me. As I live, so I shall fare hereafter.”

On a certain full-moon holy day, as he spoke in this fashion, his mother answered, “Son, this day is set apart as a high holy day. Today take the Precepts. Visit the monastery and listen to the Dharma all night long. And when you come back, I will give you a thousand gold coins.”

Because of his desire for money, the son consented. As soon as he had broken his fast, he went to the monastery, and there he spent the day. But at night—so that not one word of the Dharma should reach his ear—he lay down and fell asleep. On the next day, very early in the morning, he washed his face, went to his own house, and sat down.

Now the mother thought to herself, “Today, after hearing the Dharma, my son will come back early in the morning, and he will bring with him the Elder who has preached the Dharma.” So she made ready porridge and food hard and soft. She prepared a seat and awaited his arrival.

When she saw her son coming all alone, she said, “Son, why have you not brought the teacher with you?” “No teacher for me, mother!” he said. “Here then,” the mother said, “you eat this porridge.” “You promised me a thousand gold coins, mother,” he said. “Give this to me first, and then I will eat.” “Eat first, my son, and then you shall have the money.” But he said, “No, I will not eat until I get the money.” So his mother gave him a purse with a thousand gold coins. He ate the porridge, took the purse with the thousand gold coins, and went about his business. He continued this routine until in no long time he had gained two million gold coins.

Then he decided to provision a ship and do business with it. So he provisioned a ship, and he said to his mother, “Mother, I mean to do business with this ship.” She said, “You are my only son, and in this house there is plenty of wealth. The sea is full of dangers. Do not go!” But he said, “I will go, and you cannot prevent me.” “Yes, I will prevent you,” she answered. She grabbed hold of his hand, but he pushed it away. He struck her down, and in a moment he was gone and under way.

Seven days later, because of Mittavindaka, the ship stood becalmed upon the sea. Lots were cast, and three times the lot was found in the hand of Mittavindaka. (This showed that Mittavindika was the cause of their being becalmed.) They put him on a raft and said, “Let not many perish for the sole sake of this one.” They cast him adrift upon the sea, and in an instant the ship sprang forth with speed over the deep.

His raft eventually landed on an island. There was a crystal palace there in which he saw four female spirits of the dead. They used to spend seven days in sorrow and seven in happiness. For his first seven days in their presence, he experienced divine bliss. Then, when the time came for them to experience sorrow, they said, “Master, we are going to leave you for seven days. While we are gone, stay here, and do not be distressed.” So saying they departed.

But he was full of longing, so once again he embarked on his raft. And passing over the ocean, he came to another island. There he saw eight other spirits in a palace of silver. In the same way, he saw another island with sixteen spirits in a palace all of jewels, and on yet another, thirty-two spirits that were in a golden hall. With these spirits, as before, he lived in divine bliss. And when they went away for their time of sorrow, he sailed away once more over the ocean until at last he found a city with four gates surrounded by a wall. That, they say, is the Ussada Hell, the place where many beings were condemned to hell and endured the results of their own misdeeds.

But to Mittavindaka it appeared as a beautiful city. He thought, “I will visit this city and be its king.” So he entered, and there he saw a being in torment supporting a wheel as sharp as a razor. But to Mittavindaka it seemed as though that razor-wheel upon his head was a lotus bloom. The five-fold fetters upon his breast seemed as if it were a splendid and rich vesture. (The five-fold fetters are probably the lower five fetters: identity view, doubt in the Buddha’s teaching, belief in rites and rituals, sense desire, and ill will.) The blood dripping from his head seemed to be the perfumed powder of red sandal wood. The sound of groaning was the sound of sweetest song. So approaching the being he said, “Ho, man! You have been carrying that lotus flower long enough. Give it to me!” He replied, “My lord, this is no lotus; it is a razor-wheel.” “Ah,” Mittavindaka said, “you say this because you do not want to give it to me.” The condemned wretch thought, “My past misdeeds must be exhausted. No doubt this fellow, like me, is here for hitting his mother. Well, I will give him the razor-wheel.” Then he said, “Here then. Take the lotus.” And with those words he cast the razor-wheel upon his head. It fell on his head, smashing it in. In an instant Mittavindaka knew that it was a razor-wheel, and he said, “Take your wheel. Take back your wheel!” He groaned aloud in his pain, but the other being had disappeared.

At that moment the Bodhisatta was making his rounds through the Ussada Hell with a great following. He arrived at that spot. Mittavindaka saw him and cried out, “Lord king of the gods, this razor-wheel is piercing and tearing me like a pestle crushing mustard seeds! What sin have I committed?” And in asking this question he repeated these two stanzas:

“Four gates this iron city has, where I am trapped and caught,

A rampart is all around me, what evil have I wrought?

Now fast are closed the city gates, this wheel destroying me,

Why like a caged bird am I caught? Why, Goblin, should it be?”

Then the King of the Gods, to explain the matter to him, uttered these stanzas:

“A hundred thousand you, good sir, did own, and twenty more,

Yet to a friend you would not listen, when he did implore.

Swift did you flee across the sea, a perilous thing, I’ve seen,

The four, the eight, did visit straight, and with the eight, sixteen,

And with sixteen the thirty-two, and lust did ever feel,

See now, results of utter greed upon your head, this wheel.

Who tread the highway of desire that spacious thoroughfare,

That highway great, insatiate, ‘tis theirs this wheel to bear.

Who will not sacrifice their wealth, nor to the Path repair,

Who do not know this should be so, ’tis theirs this wheel to bear.

Ponder the issue of your deeds, and see

How great your wealth, and do not crave to be

Master of ill-got gains, what friends advise

Do, and the wheel shall never come near thee.”

Hearing this, Mittavindaka thought to himself, “This son of the gods has explained exactly what I have done. No doubt he knows also the length of my punishment.” And he repeated the ninth stanza:

“How long, O Goblin, shall this wheel upon my head remain?

How many thousand years? reveal, don’t let me ask in vain!”

Then the Great Being declared the matter in the tenth stanza:

"The wheel shall roll, and on shall roll, no savior shall appear,

Fixed on your head till you be dead—O Mittavinda, hear!”

Thus saying, the Divine Being returned to his own place, and Mittavindaka fell into great misery.