Dasaratha Jātaka

Once upon a time in Benares, a great King named Dasaratha renounced the ways of evil and reigned in righteousness. Of his 16,000 wives, the eldest and his Queen Consort bore him two sons and a daughter. The elder son was named Rama-paṇḍita, or “Rama the Wise,” the second son was named Prince Lakkhaṇa, or “Lucky,” and the daughter's name was the Lady Sītā. (“Sītā” means “cool,” which has the same pleasant associations in India as “warm” has in the West.)

In the course of time, the Queen Consort died. At her death the King was crushed by sorrow for a long time. But he was urged by his courtiers to perform her funeral ceremonies and to put someone else in her place as Queen Consort. She became dear to the King and beloved. In time she also conceived a child, and all due attention having been given to her, she brought forth a son, and they named him “Prince Bharata.”

The King loved his son much. He said to the Queen, “Lady, I offer you a boon. Choose.” She accepted the offer, but put it off for the time being. When the lad was seven years old, she went to the King and said to him, “My lord, you promised a boon for my son. Will you give it to me now?” “Choose, lady,” he said. “My lord,” she said, “give my son the kingdom.” The King snapped his fingers at her. “Out, vile wretch!” he said angrily. “My other two sons shine like blazing fires. Would you kill them and ask the kingdom for a son of yours?” She fled in terror to her magnificent chamber.

On the following days she repeatedly asked the King for this boon. But the King would not give it to her. He thought to himself, “This woman is ungrateful and treacherous. She might use a forged letter or a treacherous bribe to get my sons murdered.” So he sent for his sons and told them all about it, saying, “My sons, if you live here some mischief may come to you. Go to some neighboring kingdom or to the woodland, and when my body is burned, then return and inherit the kingdom that belongs to your family.” Then he summoned soothsayers and asked them the limits of his own life. They told him he would live 12 years longer. Then he said, “Now, my sons, after 12 years you must return and uplift the umbrella of royalty.” (A white umbrella is the symbol of royal authority.) They promised, and after taking leave of their father, they left the palace weeping. The Lady Sītā said, “I, too, will go with my brothers.” She bade her father farewell and went forth weeping.

These three departed amidst a great company of people. They sent the people back and proceeded until at last they came to the Himalaya Mountains. There they built a hermitage. It was in a spot that was well-watered. It was convenient for gathering wild fruits, and there they lived, feeding on the wild fruits.

Lakkhaṇa-paṇḍita and Sītā said to Rāma-paṇḍita, “You are taking the place of a father to us. Remain in the hut, and we will bring wild fruit and feed you.” He agreed, and from then on Rāma-paṇḍita stayed where he was, and the others brought the wild fruit and fed him.

In this way they lived there, feeding upon the wild fruit. But King Dasaratha pined for his sons, and so he died in the ninth year. When his funeral rites had been performed, the Queen gave orders that the umbrella should be raised over her son, Prince Bharata. But the courtiers said, “The lords of the umbrella are dwelling in the forest,” and they would not allow it. Prince Bharata said, “I will go fetch my brother Rāma-paṇḍita from the forest and raise the royal umbrella over him.”

Taking the five emblems of royalty (Sword, umbrella, crown, slippers, and fan), he proceeded with a complete host of the four arms (the four branches of the military: elephants, cavalry, chariots, infantry) to their dwelling place. He pitched camp not far away, and then with a few courtiers he visited the hermitage. At the time Lakkhaṇa-paṇḍita and Sītā were away in the woods. Rama-paṇḍita sat at the door of the hermitage, undismayed and at ease, like a figure of fine gold firmly set. The Prince approached him with a greeting, and standing on one side, he told him all that had happened in the kingdom. And falling at his feet along with the courtiers, he burst into weeping. But Rama-paṇḍita neither sorrowed nor wept. There was no emotion in his mind. When Bharata had finished weeping, he sat down. Towards evening the other two returned with wild fruits. Rama-paṇḍita thought, “These two are young. They lack the all-comprehending wisdom like mine. If they are suddenly told that our father is dead, the pain will be greater than they can bear, and who knows but that their hearts may break. I will persuade them to go down into the water, and I will find a way of telling them the truth.” Then pointing out a place in front where there was water, he said, “You have been gone too long. Let this be your penance. Go into that water and stand there.” Then he repeated a half-stanza:

“Let Lakkhaṇa and Sītā both into that pond descend.”

One word sufficed. Into the water they went, and there they stood. Then he told them the news by repeating the other half-stanza:

“Bharata says, King Dasaratha’s life is at an end.”

When they heard the news of their father’s death, they fainted. Again he repeated it, and again they fainted, and when even a third time they fainted away, the courtiers picked them up and carried them out of the water where they set them on dry ground. When they had been comforted, they all sat weeping and wailing together. Then Prince Bharata thought, “My brother Prince Lakkhaṇa and my sister the Lady Sītā cannot restrain their grief on news of our father’s death. But Rama-paṇḍita neither wails nor weeps. I wonder what can be the reason that he does not grieve? I will ask.” Then he repeated the second stanza, asking the question:

“Say by what power you do not grieve, Rāma, when grief should be?

Though it is said your sire is dead, grief overwhelms not thee!”

Then Rāma-paṇḍita explained the reason that he felt no grief by saying,

“When man can never keep a thing, though loudly he may cry,

Why should a wise intelligence torment itself thereby?

“The young in years, the older grown, the fool, and e’en the wise,

For rich, for poor one end is sure, each man among them dies.

“As sure as for the ripened fruit there comes the fear of fall,

So surely comes the fear of death to mortals one and all.

“Who in the morning light are seen by evening oft are gone,

And seen at evening time, is gone by morning many a one.

“If to a fool infatuate a blessing could accrue

When he torments himself with tears, the wise this same would do.

“By this tormenting of himself he waxes thin and pale,

This cannot bring the dead to life, and nothing tears avail.

“Even as a blazing house may be put out with water, so

The strong, the wise, the intelligent, who well the scriptures know,

Scatter their grief like cotton when the stormy winds do blow.

“One mortal dies—to kindred ties born is another straight,

Each creature’s bliss dependent is on ties associate.

“The strong man therefore, skilled in sacred text,

Keen-contemplating this world and the next,

Knowing their nature, not by any grief,

However great, in mind and heart is vexed.

“So to my kindred I will give, them will I keep and feed,

All that remain I will maintain, such is the wise man’s deed.”

In these stanzas he explained the impermanence of things.

When the company heard this discourse of Rāma-paṇḍita illustrating the doctrine of impermanence, they lost all their grief. Then Prince Bharata saluted Rāma-paṇḍita, begging him to receive the kingdom of Benares. “Brother,” said Rāma, “take Lakkhaṇa and Sītā with you and administer the kingdom yourselves.” “No, my lord, you take it.” “Brother, my father commanded me to receive the kingdom at the end of 12 years. If I go now, I will not carry out his wishes. After three more years I will come.” “Who will administer the government for all that time?” “You do it.” “I will not.” “Then until I come, these slippers shall do it,” said Rāma. And taking off his slippers of straw, he gave them to his brother. So these three persons took the slippers, and bidding the wise man farewell, they went to Benares with their great crowd of followers.

For three years the slippers ruled the kingdom. The courtiers placed these straw slippers upon the royal throne when they judged a cause. If the cause were decided incorrectly, the slippers beat on each other, and at that sign the case was examined again. When the decision was right, the slippers lay quiet.

When the three years were up, the wise man came out of the forest. He went to Benares and entered the park. The Princes heard of his arrival. They proceeded with a great company to the park. And making Sītā the Queen Consort, they gave both of them the ceremonial sprinkling. The sprinkling thus performed, the Great Being stood in a magnificent chariot. And surrounded by a vast company, he entered the city, making a solemn circuit right-wise. Then mounting to the great terrace of his splendid palace Sucandaka, he reigned there in righteousness for 16,000 years. Then he went to swell the hosts of heaven.