Jataka 489

Suruci Jātaka

King Suruci

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 one of those stories where the men in the audience must request the forbearance of the women in the room. This is yet another ancient story where having a male child is at the heart of the story. What can I say? This is how things were. In fact, especially in Asia, this is still the case.

Having said that, realize what a radical thing it was for the Buddha to ordain women. He put all his emphasis on a person’ qualities. Nothing else matters. And in this story, it is the virtue of Sumedhā that is the beacon for the story. Her lengthy verse that describes her good qualities is an especially beautiful rendering.

This story recounts a famous episode in Buddhist history where the Buddha’s foremost female benefactor, Visākhā, requests a series of boons from him. They are all rooted in generosity and kindness, and as a result, the Buddha grants them. But he only grants them when he knows that her intention is pure.

Finally, isn’t it great to have a story in which the crowning moment is to make someone laugh. I always thought I would keep looking until I found a religion with a sense of humor.

“I am.” The Master told this story while he was living near Sāvatthi in the mansion of Migāra’s mother (the Buddha’s foremost lay female disciple whose real name was Visākhā). It is about how she, Visākhā the great lay Sister, received Eight Boons.

One day she had heard the Dharma taught at Jetavana. She returned home after inviting the Buddha and his followers for the next day. But late in that night a mighty tempest deluged the four continents of the world. The Blessed One addressed the Saṇgha as follows: “As the rain falls here in Jetavana, as well, monastics, it falls in the four continents of the world. Let yourselves be drenched to the skin. This is my last great world storm!” So, accompanied by the monks—whose bodies were already drenched—he used his supernatural power to disappear from Jetavana. They reappeared in a room of Visākhā’s mansion. She cried, “It is a marvel indeed! A mysterious thing! O the miracle done by the power of the Tathāgata! With floods running knee deep, aye, with floods running waist deep, not so much as the foot or the robe of a single monk will be wet!”

In joy and delight she waited upon the Buddha and his company. After the meal was over, she said to the Buddha, “Truly I wish for boons at the hands of the Blessed One.” “Visākhā, the Tathāgatas do not grant boons before they are known.” “But such as are permitted, such as are blameless?” “Speak on, Visākhā.” “I crave that all my life long I may have the right to give to the Saṇgha cloaks for the rainy season, food to all who come as guests, food to travelling priests, food to the sick, food to those who wait on the sick, medicine to the sick, a continual distribution of rice gruel, and to the nuns all my life long robes for bathing.” The Master replied, “What blessing have you in view, Visākhā, when you ask these eight boons of the Tathāgata?” She told him the benefit she hoped for, and he said, “It is well, it is well, Visākhā, it is well indeed, Visākhā, that this is the benefit you hope for in asking the eight boons of the Tathāgata.” Then he said, “I grant you the eight boons, Visākhā.” Having granted her the eight boons and thanked her, he departed.

One day when the Master was living in the Eastern park, they began to discuss this in the Dharma Hall. (Visākhā built the Eastern park monastery as a complement to Anāthapiṇḍika building the monastery at Jeta’s Grove.) “Brother, Visākhā the great lay Sister, notwithstanding her womanhood, received eight boons at the Dasabala’s hands. Ah, great are her virtues!” The Master came in and asked what they were discussing. They told him. He said, “This is not the first time this woman has received boons from me, for she received them before.” And he told them this story from the past.

Once upon a time, King Suruci reigned in Mithilā. This King had a son. He gave him the name of Suruci-Kumāra, or Prince Splendid. When he grew up, he resolved to study at Takkasilā University. So there he went. By and by he sat down in a hall at the city gate.

Now the son of the King of Benares, whose name was Prince Brahmadatta, also went to the same place. He took his seat on the same bench where Prince Suruci sat. They entered a conversation together and became friends. They both went together to the teacher. They paid the fee and studied, and before long their education was complete. Then they took leave of their teacher and traveled on the road together. After going a short distance, they came to a stop at a place where the road parted. Then they embraced, and to keep their friendship alive, they made a compact together: “If I have a son and you a daughter, or if you have a son and I a daughter, we will make a match between them.”

When they were on the throne, a son was born to King Suruci. He was also given the name Prince Suruci. Brahmadatta had a daughter whose name was Sumedhā, the Wise Lady. Prince Suruci in due time grew up. He went to Takkasilā University for his education, and once that was finished, he returned. Then his father, wishing to anoint his son as King by the ceremonial sprinkling, thought to himself, “My friend the King of Benares has a daughter, so they say. I will make her my son’s consort.” For this purpose, he sent an ambassador with rich gifts.

But before they had arrived, the King of Benares asked his Queen this question: “Lady, what is the worst misery for a woman?” “To quarrel with her fellow wives.” “Then, my lady, to save our only daughter the Princess Sumedhā from this misery, we will not give her to anyone who will not have her and no other.” So when the ambassadors came and named the name of his daughter, he told them, “Good friends, indeed it is true I promised my daughter to my old friend long ago. But we have no wish to cast her into the midst of a crowd of contending women. We will give her only to one who will wed her and no other.”

They brought this message back to the King. But the King was not pleased. “Ours is a great kingdom,” he said, “the city of Mithilā covers seven leagues, the measure of the whole kingdom is three hundred leagues. Such a king should have 16,000 women at the least.” But Prince Suruci, hearing about the great beauty of Sumedhā, fell in love just by hearing about it. So he sent word to his parents, saying, “I will take her and no other. What do I want with a multitude of women? Let her be brought.” They did not hamper his desire. They sent a rich present and a great ambassador to bring her home. Then she was made his Queen consort, and they were consecrated together by sprinkling.

He became King Suruci, and ruling in justice, he lived a life of great happiness with his Queen. But although she lived in his palace for 10,000 years, they were never able to conceive a son or daughter.

(According to the Pāli Canon, there are eras when the average length of lives grows or shrinks enormously.)

Then all the townsfolk gathered in the palace courtyard with grievances. “What is it?” the King asked. We do not find any other faults,” they said, “but you have no son to continue your line. You only have one Queen. But a royal prince should have 16,000 at least. Choose a company of women, my lord. Some worthy wife will bring you a son.” “Dear friends, what is this you say? I gave my word that I would take no other queen, and on those terms I got her. I cannot lie. There can be no host of women for me.” So he refused their request, and they departed.

But Sumedhā heard what was said. “The King refuses to choose other women for his integrity’s sake,” she thought. “Well, I will find him someone." Playing the part of mother and wife to the King, she chose a thousand maidens of the warrior caste, a thousand of the courtiers, a thousand daughters of householders, a thousand of all kinds of dancing girls—four thousand in all—and delivered them to him.

And all those who had lived in the palace for 10,000 years had never seen a son or daughter between them. Sumedhā brought 4,000 maidens three times, but still they had neither a son nor daughter. In this way she brought him 16,000 wives in all. 40,000 years went by, that is to say, 50,000 in all, counting the 10,000 he had lived with her alone. Then the townsfolk again gathered with grievances. “What is it now?” the King asked. “My lord, command your women to pray for a son.” The King consented and commanded those to pray.

After praying for a son, they worshipped all manner of deities and offered all kinds of vows, yet no son appeared. Then the King commanded Sumedhā to pray for a son. She consented. On the fast of the fifteenth day of the month, she took the eight Uposatha vows (against taking life, theft, sexual misconduct, lying, intoxication, eating at forbidden hours, worldly amusements, unguents and ornaments), and sat meditating on the virtues in a magnificent room on a pleasant couch. The others were in the park preparing to perform sacrifices with goats and cows. By the glory of Sumedhā’s virtue Sakka’s dwelling place began to tremble. Sakka pondered this. Then he understood that Sumedhā prayed for a son. Well, she will have one. “But I cannot give her this or that son without careful consideration. I will search for one who will be suitable.”

Then he saw a young god named Naḷākara, the Basket-weaver. He was a being endowed with merit. In a former life he lived in Benares when something happened to him. At seedtime, as he was on his way to the fields, he saw a Pacceka Buddha. He sent on his farmhands, instructing them to sow the seed. But he turned back and led the Pacceka Buddha home. He gave him something to eat and then took him back to the Ganges bank. He and his son built a hut together. They used the trunks of fig trees for the foundation and interwoven reeds for the walls. He built a door for it and made a path for walking. The Pacceka Buddha lived there for three months (the rains retreat). And after the rains were over, the two of them—father and son—gave him the three robes and let him go on his way.

In the same manner they entertained seven Pacceka Buddhas in that hut. They gave them the three robes and let them go their ways. So men still tell how these two, father and son, turned basket-weavers, hunted for osiers (reeds) on the banks of the Ganges. And whenever they saw a Pacceka Buddha, they did as we have said. When they died, they were born in the heaven of the Thirty-Three. Then they lived in the six heavens of sense one after the other in direct and in reverse succession, enjoying great majesty among the gods.

After dying these two aspired to the upper god world. Sakka saw that one of them would be the Tathāgata. He went to the door of their mansion. They saluted him when he arrived. He said, “Sir, you must go into the world of men.” But he said, “O King, the world of men is hateful and loathsome. They who live there do good and give alms longing for the world of the gods. What shall I do when I get there?” “Sir, you will enjoy in perfection all that can be enjoyed in that world. You will live in a palace made with stones of price, five and twenty leagues in height. Please consent.” (A league is about three miles or 4.83 kilometers.) He did so.

When Sakka had received his promise, he descended into the King’s park disguised as a sage. He soared above the women, to and fro in the air, while he chanted, “To whom shall I give the blessing of a son, who craves the blessing of a son?” “To me, sir, to me!” Thousands of hands were uplifted. Then he said, “I give sons to the virtuous. What is your virtue, what your life and conversation?” They drew down their uplifted hands, saying, “If you would reward virtue, go find Sumedhā.” He went his ways through the air and stayed at the window of her bedchamber. Then they went and told her, saying, “See, my lady, a king of the gods has come down through the air. He stands at your bedchamber window offering you the boon of a son!” With great pomp she went there. And opening the window, she said, “Is this true, sir, what I hear, that you offer the blessing of a son to a virtuous woman?” “It is, and so I do.” “Then grant it to me.” “What is your virtue. Tell me, and if you please me, I will grant you the boon.” Then declaring her virtue, she recited these fifteen stanzas.

“I am King Ruci’s consort Queen, the first he ever wed,

With Suruci ten thousand years my wedded life I led.

“Suruci King of Mithilā, Videha’s grandest place,

I never lightly held his wish, nor deemed him mean or base,

In deed or thought or word, behind his back, nor to his face.