Jataka 459
Pānīya Jātaka
The Water Draft
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 an interesting little story in which a succession of five people have similar paths to enlightenment. Each of them commits a minor—very minor—misdeed. But they all take responsibility for their misdeeds, and they use them as a springboard to enlightenment. It is an interesting point that misconduct can itself be the motivation and the inspiration for full awakening. This is where reflection and contemplation play an important role in Buddhist practice.
“The water-draft.” The Master told this story while he was living at Jetavana,. It is about abandoning defilements.
At one time, we learn, 500 citizens of Sāvatthi, being householders and friends of the Tathāgata, had heard the Dharma. They renounced the world and ordained as monastics. They lived together in the House of the Golden Pavement. One day at midnight they indulged in thoughts of sensual desire. (All the details are to be understood as in Jātaka 412.) At the command of the Blessed One, the Saṇgha was assembled by the Venerable Ānanda. The Master sat in the appointed seat, and without asking them, “Do you indulge in thoughts of sense desire?” he addressed them comprehensively and in general terms. “Brothers, there is no such thing as a petty misdeed. A monk must check all defilements as they arise. Wise men of old, before the Buddha came, abandoned their sense desires and attained to the knowledge of a Pacceka Buddha.” With these words, he told them this story from the past.
Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was the King in Benares, there were two friends in a certain village in the kingdom of Kāsi. They had gone into the fields, taking with them vessels for drinking. They put these out of the way as they broke the soil, and when they were thirsty, they went and drank water out of them. One of them went for a drink, and in order to conserve the water in his own pot, he drank out of the pot of the other. In the evening, when he came out from the woodland and had bathed, he wondered, “Have I done any misdeed today, either by an action of the body or by thought?” Then he remembered how he drank the stolen water. He was overcome by grief. He cried, “If this desire grows within me, it will bring me to some evil birth! I will abandon my misdeed.” So with this stolen drink of water as motivation, he gradually acquired supernatural insight, and he attained the knowledge of a Pacceka Buddha. And there he stood, reflecting on the knowledge that he had attained.
Now the other man, having bathed, got up, saying, “Come, friend, let us go home.” The other man said, “You go home. Home is nothing to me. I am a Pacceka Buddha.” “Pooh! Are Pacceka Buddhas like you?” “What are they like, then?” “They have hair two fingers long. They wear yellow robes, and they live high up in the Himalaya in Nandamūla cave.” The other man stroked his head, and in that very moment, the marks of a layman disappeared. A pair of red cloths were wrapped round him. A yellow waist band like a flash of lightning was tied around him. An upper robe the color of red lac was thrown over one shoulder, a dust heap ragged cloth as dingy as a storm cloud lay on his other shoulder. A bee-brown earthen bowl dangled from over his left shoulder. There he stood poised in mid-air, and having delivered a discourse, he rose up and flew to the mountain cave of Nandamūla.
Another man, who also lived in a village of Kāsi, was a land owner. He was sitting in the bazaar when he saw a man approach leading his wife. She was a woman of exceptional beauty. Seeing her, he broke the moral precepts and looked at her with lust. Then he thought, “This desire, if it increases, will cast me into some evil birth.” Being awakened in mind, he developed supernatural insight and attained the knowledge of a Pacceka Buddha. Then, poised in the air, he delivered a discourse, and he also went to the Nandamūla cave.
There were two villagers in Kāsi, a father and a son. They were going on a journey together. When they entered a forest, there were robbers posted there. These robbers, if they took a father and son together, would keep the son with them and send the father away, saying, “Bring back a ransom for your son.” If there were two brothers, they kept the younger brother and sent the elder one away. Or if it was a teacher and pupil, they kept the teacher and sent the pupil. And the pupil, for love of learning, would bring money and release his teacher. Now when this father and son saw the robbers lying in wait, the father said, “Don't you call me ‘father,’ and I will not call you ‘son.’” And so they agreed. So when the robbers came up and asked how they were related to one another, they replied, “We are nothing to each other,” thus telling a premeditated lie. (Honesty is held in especially high regard in the Buddhist tradition.) When they came out of the forest and were resting after the evening bath, the son reflected on his own actions. And remembering this lie, he thought, “This defilement, if it increases, will plunge me in some evil birth. I will abandon my misdeed!” Then he developed supernatural insight and attained to the knowledge of a Pacceka Buddha. And poised in the air, he delivered a discourse to his father, and he, too, went to the Nandamūla cave.
In a village of Kāsi there also lived a landowner, who declared a prohibition against all killing. Now when the time came when an offering was supposed to be made to the spirits, a great crowd gathered and said, “My lord! This is the time for a sacrifice. Let us kill deer and pigs and other animals and make an offering to the goblins.” He replied, “Do as you have done in the past.” The people made a great sacrifice. The man, seeing a great quantity of fish and flesh, thought to himself, “The men have killed all these living creatures, and it is all because of my word alone!” He felt great remorse for what he had done. And as he stood by the window, he developed supernatural insight and attained to the knowledge of a Pacceka Buddha. He poised in the air, delivered a discourse, and then he, too, went to the Nandamūla cave.
Another landowner who lived in the kingdom of Kāsi prohibited the sale of strong drink. A crowd of people cried out to him, “My lord, what shall we do? It is the time-honored drinking festival!” He replied, “Do as you have always done in the past.” The people celebrated their festival. They drank strong drink and fell to fighting. There were broken legs and arms and cracked heads. There were ears torn off, and great suffering occurred because of it. The landowner, seeing this, thought to himself, “If I had not permitted this, they would not have suffered this misery.” Even for this small misdeed he felt remorse. Then he developed supernatural insight and attained the knowledge of a Pacceka Buddha. Poised in the air, he gave a discourse. He instructed them to be vigilant. Then he, too, went to the Nandamūla cave.
Some time afterwards, the five Pacceka Buddhas traveled to the gate of Benares seeking alms. Their upper robe and lower robes neatly arranged, they went on their rounds with a gracious demeanor. They arrived at the gate of the King’s palace. The King was very pleased to see them. He invited them into his palace where he washed their feet, anointed them with fragrant oil, and set before them savory food both hard and soft. Then sitting on one side, he addressed them: “Sirs, that you in your youth have embraced the holy life, is beautiful. At this age, you have become ascetics, and you see the misery of evil desires. What was the cause of your action?” They replied as follows:
“The water-draft of my own friend, although a, friend, I stole,
Loathing the misdeed I had done, I afterwards was fain
To leave the world, an ascetic, lest I should err again.”
“I looked upon another’s wife, lust rose within my soul.
Loathing the misdeed I had done, I afterwards was fain
To leave the world, an ascetic, lest I should err again.”
“Thieves caught my father in a wood, to whom I did forth tell
That he was other than he was—a lie, I knew it well.
Loathing the misdeed I had done, I afterwards was fain
To leave the world, an ascetic, lest I should err again.”
“The people at a drinking feast, great many beasts did kill,
And not against my will.
Loathing the misdeed I had done, I afterwards was fain
To leave the world, an ascetic, lest I should err again.”
“Those persons who in former times of liquors drank their fill,
Now carried out a drinking bout, where many suffered ill,
And not against my will.
Loathing the misdeed I had done, I afterwards was fain
To leave the world, an ascetic, lest I should err again.”
These five stanzas they repeated one after the other.
When the King had heard the explanation of each one of them, he uttered his praise, saying, "Sirs, your asceticism becomes you well."
The King was delighted at the discourse of these men. He gave them cloth for outer and inner garments, and he gave them medicines. Then he let the Pacceka Buddhas go on their away. They thanked him and returned to the place from which they came. Forever after that the King loathed sensual pleasures. He was free from desire. He ate his choice and dainty food, but he would not speak to women. He would not look at them, but rose up, disgusted at heart, and retired to his magnificent chamber. And there he sat, staring at a white wall until he fell into a deep meditation. And the rapture of mystic meditation arose within him. In this rapture, he recited a stanza in criticism of desire:
“Out on it, out on lust, I say, unsavory, thorn-beset!
Never, though I long followed wrong, such joy as this I met!”
Then his chief Queen thought to herself, “That King heard the teaching of the Pacceka Buddhas and now he never speaks to us. He buries himself despondent in his magnificent chamber. I must take him in hand.” So she went to the door of that lordly chamber. And standing at the door, she heard the King’s rapturous utterances in criticism of desire. She said, “O mighty King, you speak ill of desire! But there is no joy like the joy of sweet desire!” Then in praise of desire she repeated another stanza:
“Great is the joy of sweet desire, no greater joy than love,
Who follow this attain the bliss of paradise above!”
Figure: “Now he never speaks to us.”
Hearing this, the King replied, “Perish, vile jade! What are you saying? From where comes the joy of desire? There are miseries which come to pay for it.” Then he uttered the remaining stanzas in dispraise:
“Ill-tasting, painful is desire, there is no lower woe.
Who follows wrong are sure to win the pains of hell below.
“Than sword well whetted, or a blade implacable, athirst,
Than knives deep driven in the heart, desires are more accursed.
“A pit as deep as men are tall, where live coals blazing are,
A ploughshare heated in the sun, desires are worse by far.
"A poison very venomous, an oil of little ease,
Or that vile thing to copper clings, desires are worse than these.”
(The last line refers to poison.
I know this is a tough sell in the conventional world, but anyone who has experienced the bliss, peace, and contentment of deep meditation will feel the same way that the King does here.)
Thus the Great Being instructed his consort. Then he gathered his courtiers, and he said, “O courtiers, you manage the kingdom. I am about to renounce the world.” And amidst the wailing and lamentation of a great multitude, he rose before them. And poised in the air, he delivered a discourse. Then along the path of the wind, he passed to furthest Himalaya. And there, in a delightful spot, he built a hermitage. There he lived the life of a sage, until at the end of his days, he became destined for the world of Brahma.
The Master, having ended this discourse, added, “Brothers, there is no such thing as a petty misdeed. The very smallest misdeed must be abandoned by a wise person.” Then he taught the Four Noble Truths, at the conclusion of which the 500 monks became fully enlightened. Then he identified the birth: “At that time the Pacceka Buddhas attained Nirvāna. Rāhula's mother was the Queen consort, and I was the King.”
