Jataka 482
Ruru Jātaka
The Deer
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
There are a number of these charming stories in which an animal—usually a deer—convinces a king to protect all living animals and birds.
But the message of this story is about ingratitude. It is important to be careful about how this message is understood in the Buddha’s teaching. For the benefit of all living beings the Buddha teaches us to be virtuous and kind. This is the law of karma, i.e., that skillful, kind acts benefit the individual as well as everyone around that person.
But this is the real world, not some rose colored version of it. Sometimes you do something very kind for someone, and they can be cruel in return. From the standpoint of the Dharma this falls under the category of the First Noble Truth. So be it. You still get the benefit of good karma, and the cruel person still has some work to do.
“I bring you tidings.” The Master told this story when he was living in the Bamboo Grove (Veluvana). It is about Devadatta. If you were to say to him, “The Master is most useful to you, friend Devadatta. You received holy orders from the Tathāgata. You learned the Three Baskets from him, and you obtained gifts and honor.” (The Three Baskets are the monastic code, the suttas, and the Abhidhamma. However, at the time of the Buddha, the Abhidhamma did not yet exist.) When such things were said, it is credibly reported that he would reply, “No, friend. The Master has done me no good, not so much as a blade of grass is worth. From my own actions I received holy orders. I learned the Three Baskets by myself, and by myself I gained gifts and honor.”
In the Dharma Hall the monastics discussed this. “Devadatta is ungrateful, my friend, and he forgets when a kindness is done on his behalf.” The Master entered and asked what they were discussing. They told him. He said, “It is not just now, brothers, that Devadatta is ungrateful. He was ungrateful before as well. And in days long gone by, I saved his life, yet he did not appreciate the greatness of my merit.” So saying, he told them this story from the past.
Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was the King of Benares, a great merchant who had a fortune of eighty crores (one crore is 10 million rupees), had a son born to him. He gave the son the name of “Mahā-dhanaka,” or “Moneyman.” But he never taught his son anything, for he said, “My son will pursue pleasures of the flesh.” Other than singing and dancing, eating, and feasting, the lad knew nothing.
When he came of age, his parents provided him with a wife who was appropriate for him, and soon after, the parents both died. After their death, the youth was always surrounded by profligates, drunkards, and gamblers. He squandered all his money with all manner of waste and excess. Then he borrowed money, but he could not repay it and was harassed by his creditors. At last he thought, “What is my life to me? In this one existence it is as if I were already condemned into another being. It is better to simply die.”
So he went to his creditors and said, “Bring your bills and come with me. I have a family treasure laid up and buried on the bank of the Ganges. You shall have it.” They went along with him. He pretended to point out here and there a hiding place for the treasure. But all along he intended to fall into the river and drown. Finally, he did so. He threw himself into the Ganges, and as the torrent bore him away, he cried aloud with a pitiful cry.
Now at that time the Great Being had been born as a deer. And having abandoned the herd, he was living near a bend of the river all by himself. He was in a clump of sal trees mixed with fair-flowering mangoes. The skin of his body was the color of a gold plate that had been burnished. His forefeet and hindfeet were as if covered with lac. His tail was like that of a wild ox. His horns were like spirals of silver; his eyes like bright polished gems. When he turned his mouth in any direction, it looked like a ball of red cloth.
At about midnight he heard a sad outcry and thought, “I hear the voice of a man. Let him not die while I still live! I will save his life for him.” Arising from his resting place in the bush, he went down to the riverbank. He called out in a soothing voice, “Ho man! Have no fear. I will save you.” Then he split the current and swam out to him. There he placed the man on his back and brought him back to the bank and his own living place. For two or three days he fed him with wild fruits. After this he said to the man, “O man, I will now escort you out of this wood. I will set you on your way to Benares, and you will go in peace. But I pray you, do not let your greed make you tell the King or some great man where there is a golden deer to be found.” The man promised to observe his words, and the Great Being—having received his promise—took him on his back. He carried him to the road to Benares, where he sent him on his way.
On the day after he reached Benares, the Queen Consort—Khemā—had a dream in the morning. It was about a deer of golden color who preached the Dharma to her. She thought, “If there were no such creature as this, I would not have seen him in my dream. Surely there must be one. I will announce it to the King.”
Then she went to the King and said, “Great King! I am anxious to hear the discourse of a golden deer. If I may, I will have a reason to live, but if not, there is no reason for me to live.” The King comforted her, saying, “If such a creature exists in the world of men, you will have it.” Then he sent for the brahmins and put the question to them: “Are there such things as gold-colored deer?” “Yes, there are, my lord.” The King laid on the back of an elephant richly decorated with a purse of a thousand pieces of gold. They were enclosed in a casket of gold. The King was willing to give anyone who could bring word of such a golden deer the casket of gold. He would also give away the elephant with all its possessions. He commanded that a stanza be engraved on a tablet of gold and delivered to a member of his court. Then he urged him to cry the stanza in his name among all the townsfolk. He recited that stanza which comes first in this birth:
“Who brings me tidings of that deer, choicest of all the breed?
Fair women and a village choice who wins him for his steed?”
The courtier took the golden plate and proclaimed its message throughout the city.
Just then this young merchant’s son was entering Benares. When he heard the proclamation, he approached the courtier and said, “I can bring the King news of such a deer. Take me into his presence.” The courtier dismounted from his elephant and led him before the King. Then he said, “This man, my lord, says he can give you word of the deer.” The King said, “Is this true, man?” He answered, “It is true, O great King! You shall give me that honor.” And he recited the second stanza:
“I bring you tidings of that deer, choicest of all the breed,
Fair women and a village choice then give me for my steed.”
The King was glad when he heard these words of the treacherous friend. “Come now,” he said, “where is this deer to be found?” “In a certain place, my lord,” he replied, and he pointed out the direction in which they should go. With a great following he made the traitor guide him to the place. Then he said, “Order the army to halt.” When the army was brought to a halt, he went on, pointing with his hand. “There is the golden deer, in that place there,” and he repeated the third stanza:
“Within that clump of flowering sal and mango, where the ground
Is all as red as cochineal, this deer is to be found.”
When the King heard these words, he said to his courtiers, “Do not let the deer escape. Circle the grove with all speed, the men with their weapons in hand.”
They did so as they made an outcry. The King with some others was standing apart, and this man also stood not far off. The Great Being heard the sound, and he thought, “It is the sound of a great host. Therefore, I must beware of them.” He rose, and seeing the company, he saw the place where the King stood. “Where the King stands,” he thought, “I will be safe, and so it is there I must go.”
He ran towards the King. When the King saw him coming, he said, “A creature that is as strong as an elephant would knock down everything in its path. I will sling an arrow to frighten the beast. If he wants to run, I will shoot him and make him weak. In that way I will take him.” Then—stringing his bow—he stood facing the Bodhisatta.
To explain this matter, the Master repeated a couple of stanzas:
“Forward he went, the bow was bent, the arrow on the string
When from afar the deer called out, as he beheld the King.
“O lord of charioteers, great King, stand still! and do not wound,
Who brought the news to you, that here this deer was to be found?”
The King was enchanted with his honey-voice. He let his bow fall, and he stood still in reverence. The Great Being went up to the King and talked pleasantly with him, standing (respectfully) on one side. All of those in the great gathering also dropped their weapons. They ran up and surrounded the King. At that moment the Great Being asked his question of the King with a sweet voice that was like the tinkling of a golden bell: “Who brought the news to you that here this deer was to be found?” Just then the wicked man crept closer, standing within hearing range. The King pointed him out, saying, “There is he that informed me,” and the King recited the sixth stanza:
“That wicked man, my worthy friend, that o’er there stands his ground,
He brought the news to me, that here the deer was to be found.”
On hearing this, the Great Being rebuked his treacherous friend. And addressing the King, he recited the seventh stanza:
“Upon the earth are many men, of whom the proverb’s true,
‘Twere better save a drowning log than such a one as you.”
When he heard this, the King repeated another stanza:
“Who is it you would blame in this, O deer?
Is it some man, or is it beast or bird?
I am possessed with an unbounded fear
At this your human speech which late I heard.”
Hereupon the Great Being replied, “O great King, I blame no beast and I blame no bird, but a man.” And to explain this he repeated the ninth stanza:
“I saved him once, when soon to drown
On the swift swelling tide that bore him down.
And now I am in danger through it.
Go with the wicked, and you will regret it.”
When he heard this the King was angry with the man. “What?” the King said, “not to recognize his merit after such a good service! I will shoot him and kill him!” Then he repeated the tenth stanza:
“This four-winged flyer I’ll let fly,
And pierce him to the heart! So let him perish,
The evildoer in his treachery,
Who for such kindness done no thanks did cherish!”
Then the Great Being thought, “I would not have him perish on my account,” and he uttered the eleventh stanza:
“Shame on the fool, O King, indeed!
But no good men approve a killing.
Let the wretch go, forgive his deed,
All that you promised him fulfilling,
And I will serve you at your need.”
The King was very happy to hear this. He praised him and uttered the next stanza:
“Surely this deer is good indeed,
To pay back ill for ill unwilling.
Let the wretch go! Forgive his deed,
All that I promised him fulfilling.
And you go where you will—with speed!”
At this the Great Being said, “O mighty King, men say one thing with their lips, and yet they do quite another.” And to expound on this matter, he recited two stanzas:
“The cry of jackals and of birds is understood with ease,
Yes, but the word of men, O King, is harder far than these.
“A man may think, ‘This is my friend, my comrade, of my kin,’
But friendship goes, and often hate and enmity begin.”
Figure: “…men say one thing with their lips, yet they do quite another.”
When the King heard these words, he answered, “O king of the deer! Do not suppose that I am like that. And I will not deny the boon I have promised you, not even if I lose my kingdom because of it. Trust me.” Then he gave him the choice of a boon. The Great Being accepted this boon at his hands, and he chose this: That all creatures, beginning with himself, should be free from danger. The King granted this boon.
Then he took him back to the city of Benares, and having adorned and decorated the city as well as the Great Being, he asked him to give a discourse to his wife the Queen. The Great Being gave a discourse to the Queen, and afterwards to the King and all his court. He spoke in a human voice as sweet as honey. He admonished the King to hold fast to the Ten Virtues of Kings (generosity, morality, renunciation, honesty, gentleness, asceticism, non-violence, patience, uprightness). He comforted the great multitude, and then he returned to the woodland where he lived among a herd of deer.
The King sent a drum beating about the city with this proclamation: “I give protection to all creatures!” From that time onwards no one dared so much as raise hand against beast or bird.
But this meant that herds of deer devoured the men’s crops, and no one was able to drive them away. A crowd assembled in the King’s courtyard to complain.
To make this clear, the Master repeated the following stanza:
“The country-folk and townsfolk all straight to the King they went,
‘The deer are eating up our crops, this let the King prevent!’”
Hearing this, the King recited a couple of stanzas:
“Be it the peoples’ wish or no, e’en if my kingdom cease,
I cannot wrong the deer, to whom I promised life and peace.
“The boon I gave that royal deer I never will deny.
The people may desert me all, my royal power may die.”
The people listened to the King’s words, and finding themselves unable to say anything, they departed. This saying was spread abroad. The Great Being heard of it. He assembled all the deer, and he gave them this rule: “From this time forward you must not eat the crops of men.” He then sent a message to the men. He said that each of them should set up a sign on his own lands. The men did so. And to this day, the deer do not eat the crops.
When the Master had ended this discourse, he said, “This is not the first time, monastics, that Devadatta has been ungrateful.” And then he identified the birth: “At that time, Devadatta was the merchant’s son, Ānanda was the King, and I was the deer.”
