Maha Mora Jātaka

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was the King of Benares, the Bodhisatta was conceived by a peahen (a female peafowl, or peacock) in a border country. When the due time had passed, the mother laid her egg in the place where she was feeding and went away. Now the egg of a mother that is healthy comes to no harm if there is no danger from snakes or similar predators. This egg—therefore—being of a gold color like a kaṇikāra (Pterospermum acerifolium, or the bayur tree) bud when it was ripe, cracked of its own force. A golden peachick emerged from it. It had two eyes like gunja fruit. It had a coral beak. Three red streaks ran around his throat and down the middle of his back. When he grew up his body was as big as a tradesman’s wheelbarrow. He was fine to behold, and all the dark peafowl gathered and chose him to be their king.

One day as he was drinking water out of a pool, he saw his own beauty and thought, “I am the fairest of all peacocks. If I remain with them in the world of men, I will be in danger. I will go away to the Himalaya Mountains and live there alone in a pleasant place.”

So that night, when all the peafowl were in their secret retreats, unknown to any other, he departed to the Himalaya Mountains. He crossed three ranges of mountains, and then he settled in the fourth. This was in a forest where he found a vast natural lake covered with lotus. A huge banyan tree grew not far away near a hill. He landed in the branches of this tree. There was a delightful cave in the heart of the hill. He decided that he wanted to live there, so he landed on a flat spot just at the mouth of it.

Now it was impossible to climb up to this place, whether up from below or down from above. It was safe from birds, wildcats, serpents, or men. “Here is a delightful place for me!” he thought. He remained there that day. On the next day he emerged from the cave. Then he sat on the hilltop facing the east. When he saw the sunrise, he protected himself for the coming day by reciting the verse: “There he rises, king all-seeing.” After this he went out looking for food. In the evening, he returned and sat on the top of the hill facing the west. Then, when he saw the sun sinking out of sight, he protected himself against the coming night by reciting the verse: “There he sets, the king all-seeing.” In this manner his life passed.

One day a hunter who lived in the forest saw him as he sat on the hilltop. When his time came to die, he told his son about this. “My son, in the fourth range of the mountains, in the forest, there lives a golden peacock. If the King wants one, you know where to find him.”

One day the chief Queen of the King of Benares, whose name was Khemā, saw a vision during the sunrise. It was about a golden peacock who was preaching the Dharma. She was listening with approval. Then the peacock finished his discourse and arose to depart. She cried out, “The king of the peacocks is escaping, catch him!” And as she was uttering these words, she woke up. When she realized that it was a dream, she thought, “If I tell the King it was a dream, he will not pay any attention to it. But if I say it is the longing of a woman with child, then he will take notice.”

So she pretended as if she had the cravings that come to those who are pregnant. The King visited her and asked what was ailing her. “I have a craving,” she said. “What is it you desire?” “I wish, my lord, to hear the discourse of a golden peacock.” “But where can we get such a peacock, lady?” “If one cannot be found, my lord, I will die.” “Do not worry about it, my lady. If there exists such a bird, it will be acquired for you.” In this way he comforted her.

He sat down with his courtiers and asked, “My Queen wants to hear the discourse of a golden peacock. Are there such things as golden peacocks?” “The brahmins will know, my lord.” So the King asked the brahmins. They replied, “O great King! It is said in our verses of lucky marks, of water-beasts, fish, tortoises, and crabs, of land-beasts, deer, wild-geese, peacocks, and partridges, these creatures, and men, too, can all be of a golden color.” Then the King gathered all the hunters who were in his domains, and he asked them if had they ever seen a golden peacock? They all answered, no, except the one whose father had told him what he had seen. This one said, “I have never seen one myself, but my father told me of a place where a golden peacock is to be found.” Then the King said, “My good man, this means life and death to me and my Queen. Catch him and bring him here.”

He gave the man some money and sent him off. The man gave the money to his wife and son, and then he went to the mountains and saw the Great Being. He set snares for him, and each day he told himself that the creature would certainly be caught. And yet, the hunter died without catching him.

And the Queen, too, died without achieving her heart’s desire. The King was very angry and upset. He said, “My beloved Queen has died because of this peacock.” He had a story written on a golden plate. It was about a golden peacock who lives in the fourth range of Himalaya, and anyone who eats his flesh will be forever young and immortal. He placed this plate in his treasury, and afterwards he died.

After him another King came to power. He read what was written on the plate. And wanting to be immortal and forever young, he sent a hunter to catch him. But he first died just like the other. In this manner six Kings succeeded and passed away, and six hunters died, unsuccessful in the Himalaya Mountains.

A seventh hunter, sent by the seventh King, was unable to catch the bird after seven years, even though he expected to do it every day. He began to wonder why it was not possible to catch this peacock’s feet in a snare. So he watched the bird. He saw him saying his prayers for protection in the morning and in the evening. He concluded that since there is no other peacock here this must be a holy bird. “It is the power of his holiness and of the protecting charm that makes it impossible to catch his feet in my snare.”

Having come to this conclusion, he went to the borderland and caught a peahen there. He trained it to utter a note whenever he snapped his fingers. Taking her with him, he returned to the mountains. Then he set his snare before the Bodhisatta had recited his charm. The hunter snapped his fingers and made her utter a cry. The peacock heard it. At that instant, the lust that had laid dormant for 7,000 years reared itself up like a cobra spreading his hood at a blow. Being sick with lust, he could not recite his protecting charm. Instead, he flew towards her. He came down from the air with his feet right in the snare, that snare that for 7,000 years had no power to catch him. Now it caught his foot fast.

When the hunter saw him dangling at the end of the stick, he thought to himself, “Six hunters failed to catch this king of the peacocks, and for seven years I could not, either. But today, as soon as he became lustful for this peahen, he was unable to repeat his charm. He landed in the snare and was caught, and there he dangles head downwards. So virtuous is the being that I have hurt! To hand over such a creature to another for the sake of money is an unseemly thing. What will the King’s honors to me be? I will let him go.” But then he thought, “This is a mighty and strong bird. If I go up to him, he may think I want to kill him. He will fear for his life, and if he struggles, he may break a leg or a wing. I will not go near him, but I will stand in hiding and cut the snare with an arrow. Then he can go his ways at his own will.” So he stood hidden, and stringing his bow, he fitted an arrow to the string and drew it back.

Now the peacock was thinking, “This hunter has made me sick with lust, and when he sees me caught, he will not be careless around me. Where can he be?” He looked this way, and he looked that way, and then he saw the man standing with bow ready to shoot. “No doubt he wants to kill me and go,” he thought, and in fear of death, he repeated the first stanza asking for his life:

“If I being captured wealth to you shall bring,

Then wound me not, but take me still alive.

I pray you, friend, conduct me to the King,

I think a most rich reward he will give.”

Hereupon the hunter thought, “The great peacock imagines that I am going to shoot him with this arrow. I must relieve his mind,” to which he recited the second stanza:

“I have not set this arrow to the bow,

To do you harm, O peacock king, today.

I wish to cut the snare and let you go,

Then follow your own will and fly away.”

To this the peacock replied in two stanzas:

“Seven years, O hunter, first you did pursue,

Enduring thirst and hunger night and day.

Now I am in the snare, what would you do?

Why let me go free, let me fly away?

“Surely all living things are safe to be,

For ending the taking of life this day,

For I am in the snare, yet let me free,

And you would free me, let me fly away.”

Then this follows:

“When a man swears to hurt no living thing,

When all that live, for him, from fear are free.

What blessing in the next birth will this bring?

O royal peacock, answer this for me!”

“When all that live, for him, from fear are free,

When the man swears to hurt no living thing,

Even in the present world, well praised is he,

Him after death to heaven his worth will bring.”

“There are no gods, so many men do say,

The highest bliss this life alone can bring.

This yields the fruit of good or evil way,

And giving is declared a foolish thing.

So I snare birds, for holy men have said it,

Do not their words, I ask, deserve my credit?”

Then the Great Being determined to tell the man the reality of another world. And as he swung at the end of the rod head-downwards, he repeated a stanza:

“All clear to vision sun and moon both go

High in the sky along their shining way.

What do men call them in the world below?

Are they of this world or another, say!”

The hunter repeated a stanza:

“All clear to vision sun and moon both go

High in the sky along their shining way.

They are no part of this our world below,

But of another, that is what men say.”

Then the Great Being said to him:

“Then they are wrong, they lie who such things say,

Without all cause, who say this world can bring

Alone the fruit of good or evil way,

Or who declare giving a foolish thing.”

As the Great Being spoke, the hunter pondered, and then he repeated a couple of stanzas:

“Certainly this is true that you do say,

How can one say that gifts no fruit can bring?

That here one reaps the fruit of evil way

Or good, that giving is a foolish thing?

“How shall I act, what do, what holy way

Am I to follow, peacock king, O tell!

What manner of reclusive virtue—say,

That I be saved from sinking into hell!”

When he heard this the Great Being thought, “If I solve this problem for him, the world will seem empty and vain. For now, I will tell him the nature of upright and holy brahmins.” With this intention, he repeated two stanzas:

“They on the earth, who keep the holy vows,

In yellow clad, not living in a house,

Who go forth early on to get their food,

Not in the afternoon these men are good.

Visit in season such good men as these,

And question anyone who shall so please.

They will explain the matter, for they know,

About the other world and this below.”

So speaking, he terrified the man with the fear of hell. The other attained to the perfect state of a Pacceka Bodhisatta for he lived with his knowledge on the point of ripening, like a ripe lotus bud looking for the touch of the sun’s rays. As the hunter listened to his discourse, standing where he was, he understood in a moment all the component parts of existing things. He grasped their three properties (impermanence, suffering, non-self) and penetrated to the knowledge of a Pacceka Buddha. This comprehension of his and the setting free of the Great Being from the snare came together in one instant.

The Pacceka Buddha, having abandoned his lusts and desires, standing on the uttermost verge of existence (on the cusp of attaining nirvana), uttered his aspiration in this stanza:

“Like as the serpent sheds his withered skin,

A tree her dry leaves when the green begin,

So I renounce my hunter’s craft this day,

My hunter’s craft forever cast away.”

Having uttered this sublime aspiration, he thought, “I have just now been set free from the bonds of misconduct. But at home I have many birds held captive. How am I to set them free?” So he asked the Great Being, “King Peacock, there are many birds I left in bondage at home. How can I set them free?” Now the Bodhisattas have a better knowledge and comprehension of ways and means than a Pacceka Buddha. Therefore, he answered, “As you have overcome the power of lust and penetrated the knowledge of a Pacceka Buddha, on that basis make an Act of Truth, and in all India there shall be no creature left in bondage.” Then the other, entering by the door that the Bodhisatta had opened for him, repeated this stanza, making an Act of Truth:

“All those my feathered fowl that I did bind,

Hundreds and hundreds, in my house confined,

Unto them all I give their life today,

And freedom, let them homewards fly away.”

Then through his Act of Truth, though late, they were all set free from confinement. Twittering joyously, they went home to their own places. At the same moment throughout all India all creatures in bondage were set free so that not one was left in captivity, not so much as a cat. The Pacceka Buddha lifted his hand and rubbed his forehead. Immediately the family mark (probably a “tilaka”) disappeared, and the mark of the holy appeared in its place. Then, like an Elder of 60 years, fully dressed and carrying the eight requisite things (an outer garment, an under garment, a cloak, a begging bowl, belt, razor, needle, and a water strainer), he paid homage to the royal peacock. He walked around him clockwise, then he rose up in the air and went away to the cavern on the peak of Mount Nanda. The peacock also, rising from the snare, took his food and departed to the place where he lived.