Jataka 449
Maṭṭa Kuṇḍali Jātaka
Wheels of Moon and Sun
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
The language in this story is particularly poetic and beautiful. The theme is a common one: the inevitability of death and the futility of grieving for those who have passed on. But it is the gentle, loving, kind, and compassionate tone of the language that is so noteworthy. This is truly a lovely rendering of the theme.
“Why in the woodland?” The Master told this story while staying at Jetavana. It is about a landowner whose son had died. At Sāvatthi, we learn that death took a beloved son of a certain landowner who used to wait upon the Buddha. Afflicted with grief for his son, the man did not bathe or eat. He did not attend to his business, and he did not wait upon the Buddha. He only cried, “O my beloved son, you have left me and gone away!”
In the morning the Master was looking abroad upon the world, and he perceived that this man was ripe for attaining the Fruit of the First Path (stream-entry). So on the next day, having led his followers through the city of Sāvatthi in search of alms, after his meal was done, he sent the monks away. Attended by Elder Ānanda, he walked to the place where this man lived. They told the landowner that the Master had come. Then those of his household prepared a seat, and they had the Master sit down on it. Then they led the landowner into the Master’s presence.
After greeting him, as he sat on one side, the Master addressed the man in a voice tender with compassion: “Do you mourn, lay brother, for an only son?” He answered, “Yes, sir.” The Master said, “Long, long ago, lay brother, wise men who went about afflicted with grief for a son’s death listened to the words of the wise. And clearly seeing that nothing could bring back those who are lost, they felt no grief, not even a little.” So saying, at his request the Master told this story from the past.
Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was reigning in Benares, the son of a very wealthy brahmin, at the age of fifteen or sixteen years, was overcome by a disease. He died and was reborn in the world of the gods (devas). From the time of his son’s death, the brahmin would go to the cemetery. There he moaned and walked around the heap of ashes. He left all of his duties undone and walked about overwhelmed with grief.
A son of the gods, as he went about, saw the father. He devised a plan to console his misery. He went to the cemetery when he was mourning and took on the appearance of the man’s son. And adorned with all sorts of ornaments, he stood on one side. He held his head in both hands and lamented with a loud voice. The brahmin heard the sound and looked, and full of the love that he had for his son, he stopped before him, saying, “My son, dear lad, why do you stand mourning in the midst of this cemetery?” He put this question to him in the following stanza:
“Why in the woodland are you standing here,
Ornamented, with earrings in each ear,
Fragrant of sandal, holding out your hands?
What sorrow makes you drop the falling tear?”
And then the youth told his tale by repeating the second stanza:
“Made of fine gold, and shining brilliantly
My chariot is, wherein I use to lie.
For this a pair of wheels I cannot find,
Therefore I grieve so much that I must die!”
The brahmin listened, and repeated the third stanza:
“Golden, or set with jewels, any kind,
Brazen or silver, that you have in mind,
Speak but the word, a chariot shall be made,
And I thereto a pair of wheels will find!”
Now the Master himself, in his perfect wisdom, having heard the stanza repeated by the young man, repeated the first line of another:
“The brahmin youth replied, when he had done…”
while the young man repeated the remainder:
“Brothers up there are the moon and sun!
By such a pair of wheels as far off two
My golden car new radiance has won!”
And immediately after:
“You are a fool for this that you have done,
To pray for that which should be craved by none.
I think, young sir, you have to perish soon,
For you will never get the moon or sun!”
Then—
“Before our eyes they set and rise, color and course unfailing,
None sees a ghost; then who is now more foolish in his wailing?”
So said the youth. And the brahmin—understanding—repeated a stanza:
“Of us two mourners, O most judicious youth,
I am the greater fool—you say the truth,
In craving for a spirit from the dead,
Like a child crying for the moon, forsooth!”
Figure: “I am the greater fool—you say the truth!”
Then the brahmin, consoled by the youth’s words, gave thanks to him by reciting the remaining stanzas:
“Blazing was I, as when a man pours oil upon a fire,
You did bring water, and did quench the pain of my desire.
“Grief for my son—a cruel shaft was lodged within my heart,
You have consoled me for my grief, and taken out the dart.
“That dart extracted, free from pain, tranquil and calm I keep,
Hearing, O youth, your words of truth no more I grieve, nor weep.”
Then the youth said, “I am that son, brahmin, for whom you weep. I have been born in the world of gods. From now on, do not grieve for me. But give alms and observe virtue and keep the holy fast day.” And with this admonition, he went back to his own realm. The brahmin lived by his advice, and after much almsgiving and other good deeds, he died and was reborn in the world of gods.
The Master, having ended this discourse, taught the Four Noble. At the conclusion of the teaching, the landowner was established in the fruit of the First Path. Then the Master identified the birth: “At that time, I was the son of the gods who gave this admonition.”
