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Jataka 499
Siva Jātaka
King Siva
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 over-the-top stories about generosity. I always try to warn people that the importance of the story is not in it being literal, but in the message. Over the centuries the Buddhist tradition has had its occasionally overly enthusiastic practitioners, and sometimes they carry the message to far in the extreme. Still, the importance is, in fact, the message. As the Buddha said:
“Practitioners, if people knew, as I know, the fruits of sharing gifts, they would not enjoy their use without sharing them, nor would the taint of stinginess obsess the heart. Even if it were their last bit, their last morsel of food, they would not enjoy its use without sharing it if there was someone else to share it with.” — [Iti 18]
“If there be any human.” The Master told this story while he was living at Jetavana. It is about a generous gift. The circumstances have been told in the Sovīra Jātaka (Jataka 424, Āditta Jātaka). But here the King, on the seventh day, gave all the monastics the requisites and asked for their thanks. But the Master went away without thanking him. After breakfast the King went to the monastery, and he said, “Why did you not return thanks, sir?” The Master said, “The people were unpurified, your majesty.” He went on to teach the Dharma. He recited the stanza that begins: “The avaricious shall not go to heaven.” (Dhammapada 177) The King, pleased at heart, paid respect to the Tathāgata by presenting an outer robe of the Sivi country. It was worth a thousand gold coins. Then he returned to the city.
On the next day they were discussing this in the Dharma Hall. “Friends, the King of Kosala gave a generous gift. And, not content with that, when the Dasabala (Buddha) spoke to him, the King gave him a Sivi garment worth a thousand gold coins! How gracious the King is in giving, sure enough!” The Master came in and asked what they were discussing as they sat there. They told him. He said, “Friends, external objects are acceptable, true. But wise men of old, who gave gifts until all India rang out with their fame, gave away each day as much as six hundred thousand gold coins. Yet they were unsatisfied with these external gifts. And, remembering the proverb, ‘Give what you prize and love will arise,’ they even pulled out their eyes and gave them to those who asked.” With these words, he told them this story from the past.
Once upon a time, when the mighty King Sivi reigned in the city of Ariṭṭhapura in the kingdom of Sivi, the Great Being was born as the King’s son. They called him Prince Sivi. When he grew up, he went to Takkasilā University and studied there. Upon returning, he proved his knowledge to his father the King, after which he was made viceroy. When his father died, he became King himself, and, forsaking the ways of evil, he kept the Ten Royal Virtues (generosity, morality, renunciation, honesty, gentleness, asceticism, non-violence, patience, uprightness) and ruled in righteousness. He ordered six alms-halls to be built. They were at the four gates, in the middle of the city, and at his own door. He was generous in distributing six hundred thousand gold coins each day. On the eighth, fourteenth, and fifteenth days (lunar phase or “uposatha” days) he never missed visiting the alms-halls to see the distribution being made.
Once on the day of the full moon, the state umbrella had been uplifted early in the morning. He sat on the royal throne thinking about the gifts he had given. He thought to himself, “Of all worldly things there is nothing I have not given. But this kind of giving does not satisfy me. I want to give something that is a part of myself. Well, on this day when I go to the alms-hall, I vow that if anyone asks me for something that is not outside of me but that what is part of myself, if he should mention my very heart, I will cut open my breast with a spear. And as though I were drawing up a water lily, stalk and all, from a calm lake, I will pull forth my heart dripping with blood clots and give it him. If he should name the flesh of my body, I will cut the flesh off my body and give it, as though I were graving with a graving tool (“graving” as in burial). I will let him name my blood. I will give him my blood, dropping it in his mouth or filling a bowl with it. Or—again—if one says, I can't get my household work done, come and be a slave to me at home, then I will leave my royal dress and go there, proclaiming myself a slave, and I will do a slave’s work. Should anyone demand my eyes, I will tear out my eyes and give them, as one might take out the pit of a palm tree.” He thought to himself:
“If there be any human gift that I have never made,
Be it my eyes, I’ll give it now, all firm and unafraid.”
Then he bathed himself with 16 pitchers of perfumed water and adorned himself in magnificence. And after a meal of choice food, he mounted a richly decorated, elephant and went to the alms-hall.
Sakka, perceiving his resolution, thought, “King Sivi has determined to give his eyes to any chance comer who may ask. Will he be able to do it or not?” He decided to test him. And, in the form of an old and blind brahmin, he perched himself on a high place. And when the King came to his alms-hall, he stretched out his hand and stood crying, “Long live the King!” The King drove his elephant towards him, and he said, “What do you say, brahmin?” Sakka said to him, “O great King! In all the inhabited world there is no spot where the fame of your generous heart has not sounded. I am blind, and you have two eyes.” Then he repeated the first stanza, asking for an eye:
“To ask an eye the old man comes from far, for I have none,
O give me one of yours, I pray, then we shall each have one.”
When the Great Being heard this, he thought, “Why that is just what I was thinking in my palace before I came! What a fine chance! My heart’s desire will be fulfilled today. I will give a gift that no man has ever given.” And he recited the second stanza:
“Who taught you from afar to come your way,
O mendicant, and for an eye to pray?
The greatest portion of a man is this,
And hard for men to part with, so they say.”
(The succeeding stanzas are to be read two and two, as may easily be seen.)
“Sujampati among the gods, the same
Here among men called Maghavā by name,
He taught me from afar to come this way,
Begging, and for an eye to urge my claim.
“’Tis the all-greatest gift for which I pray.
Give me an eye! O do not say me nay!
Give me an eye, that greatest gift of gifts,
So hard for men to part with, as they say!”
“The wish that brought you from afar, the wish that did arise
Within you, be that wish fulfilled. Here, brahmin, take my eyes.
“One eye you did request of me. Behold, I give you two!
Go with good sight, in all the people’s view,
So be your wish fulfilled and now come true.”
So the King said.
But, thinking that it was not appropriate that he should root out his eyes and give them away there and then, he brought the brahmin indoors with him. And sitting on the royal throne, he sent for a surgeon named Sīvaka. “Take out my eye,” he said.
Now all the city rang out with the news that the King wished to tear out his eyes and give them to a brahmin. Then the commander-in-chief and all the other officials and those who loved the King gathered from city and harem. They recited three stanzas to try and convince the King to change his mind:
“O do not give your eye, my lord. Do not desert, O King!
Give some money, pearls and coral, and many a precious thing.
“Give fine horses decorated, bring forth the chariots rolled,
O King, drive up the elephants all fine with cloth of gold.
“Give these, O King! That we may all preserve you safe and sound,
Your faithful people, with our carts and chariots ranged around.”
Hereupon the King recited three stanzas:
“The one that, having sworn to give, is then unfaithful found,
Puts his own neck within a snare low hidden on the ground.
“The one that, having sworn to give, is then unfaithful found,
More vile than wicked, and then he to Yama’s house is bound.
“Unasked give nothing. Neither give the thing he asks or not,
This therefore which the brahmin asks, I give it on the spot.”
(Yama’s house is a hell realm.)
Then the courtiers asked, “Why do you want to give up your eyes?” repeating a stanza:
“Life, beauty, joy, or strength—what is the prize,
O King, the motive for your deed supplies?
Why should the King of Sivi-land supreme
For the next world’s sake to give up his eyes?”
The King answered them in a stanza:
“In giving this, glory is not my goal,
Not sons, not wealth, or kingdoms to control.
This is the way where the ‘holy’ are called,
Giving gifts makes my good heart feel enthralled.”
The courtiers did not respond to the Great Being’s words, so he addressed Sīvaka the surgeon in a stanza:
“A friend and comrade, Sīvaka, you will
Do as I bid you—you that have the skill,
Take out my eyes, for this is my desire,
And in the beggar’s hands bestow them now.”
But Sīvaka said, “Think about this, my lord! To give one’s eyes is no light thing.” “Sīvaka, I have considered this. Do not delay or talk too much in my presence.” Then Sīvaka thought, “It is not fitting that a skillful surgeon like me should pierce a King’s eyes with the lancet.” So, he pounded together several medicines, rubbed a blue lotus with the powder, and brushed it over the right eye. The eye rolled around. It was very painful. “Reflect, my King, I can make it all right.” “Go on, friend. Please do not delay.” Again, he rubbed in the powder and brushed it over the eye. The eye started to protrude from the socket. The pain was worse than before. “Reflect, my King. I can still restore it.” “Be quick with the job!” A third time he smeared a sharper powder and applied it. By the drug’s power the eye went round and round, and out it came from the socket. It hung there, dangling at the end of the tendon. “Reflect, my King. I can still restore it.” “Be quick.”
The pain was extreme. Blood was trickling; the King’s garments were stained with the blood. The King’s women and the courtiers fell at his feet, crying, “My lord, do not sacrifice your eyes!” They wept and wailed loudly. The King endured the pain. He said, “My friend, be quick.” “Very well, my lord,” said the physician. And with his left hand grasping the eyeball, he took a knife in his right. And severing the tendon, he laid the eye in the Great Being’s hand. He gazed with his left eye at the right, and enduring the pain, he said, “Brahmin, come here.” When the brahmin came near, he continued: “The eye of wisdom is dearer than this eye a hundred-fold, aye a thousand-fold. There you have the reason for this action.” He gave the eye to the brahmin who raised it and placed it in his own eye socket. There it remained fixed by his power like a blue lotus in bloom. When the Great Being saw that eye in his head with his left eye, he cried, “Ah, how good is this my gift of an eye!” And thrilled with the joy that had arisen within him, he gave the other eye as well. Sakka placed this eye as well in the place of his own eye. Then he departed from the King’s palace, and then from the city, with the gaze of the multitude upon him, he went away to the world of gods.
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The Master, explaining this, repeated a stanza and a half:
“So Sivi spurred on Sīvaka, and he fulfilled his mind.
He drew the King’s eyes out, and to the brahmin these consigned.
And now the brahmin had the eyes, and now the King was blind.”
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In a short while the King’s eyes began to grow. As they grew, and before they reached the top of the holes, a lump of flesh rose up inside like a ball of wool, filling the cavity. They were like a doll’s eyes, but the pain ceased. The Great Being remained in the palace for a few days. Then he thought, “What has a blind man to do with ruling? I will hand over my kingdom to the courtiers. Then I will go into my park and become a recluse. There I will live as a holy man.”
He summoned his courtiers and told them what he intended to do. “One man,” he said, “will stay with me to wash my face and so forth, and to do all that is proper. And you must fasten a cord to guide me places.” Then calling for his charioteer, he told him to prepare the chariot. But the courtiers would not allow him to go in the chariot. They brought him out in a golden litter and set him down by the lake side. And then, guarding him all around, they returned. Meanwhile, the King sat in the litter thinking of his gift.
At that moment Sakka’s throne became hot (an auspicious sign), and he tried to understand. “I will offer the King a boon,” he thought, “and make his eye well again.” So, to that place he went, and not far from the Great Being, he walked up and down, up and down.
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To explain this the Master recited these stanzas:
“A few days past, the eyes began to heal and sound to appear,
The fostering King of Sivi then sent for his charioteer.
“Prepare the chariot, charioteer. To me then make it known,
I go to park and wood and lake with lilies overgrown.
“He sat him in a litter by the waterside, and here
Sujampati, the king of gods, great Sakka, did appear.”
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When he heard the footsteps, the Great Being cried, “Who is that? Sakka repeated a stanza:
“I am Sakka, the king of gods. To visit you I came.
You choose a boon, O royal sage! Whate’er your heart may name.”
The King replied with another stanza:
“Wealth, strength, and treasure without end, these I have left behind,
O Sakka, death and nothing more I want, for I am blind.”
Then Sakka said, “Do you ask death, King Sivi, because you wish to die, or because you are blind?” “Because I am blind, my lord.” “The gift is not everything, your majesty. It is given regarding the future. Yet there is a motive relating to this visible world. Now you were asked for one eye, and you gave two. Declare an Act of Truth about it.” Then he began a stanza:
“O warrior, lord of biped kind, declare the thing that’s true,
If you declare the truth, your eye shall be restored to you.”
On hearing this, the Great Being replied, “If you want to give me an eye, Sakka, do not try any other means, but let my eye be restored as a consequence of my gift.” Sakka said, “Though they call me Sakka, king of the gods, your majesty, I cannot give an eye to anyone else. But by the fruit of your gift, and by nothing else, your eye will be restored to you.” Then the other repeated a stanza, maintaining that his gift was well given:
“Whatever sort, whatever kind of suitor shall draw near,
Whoever comes to ask of me, he to my heart is dear.
If these my solemn words be true, now let my eye appear!”
Even as he uttered the words, one of his eyes grew in the socket. Then he repeated a couple of stanzas to restore the other:
“A brahmin came to visit me, one of my eyes to crave,
Unto that brahmin mendicant the pair of them I gave.
“A greater joy and more delight that action did afford.
If these my solemn words be true, be the other eye restored!”
In an instant his second eye appeared. But these eyes of his were neither natural nor divine. An eye given by Sakka as the brahmin, cannot be natural, we know. On the other hand, a divine eye cannot be produced in anything that is injured. But these eyes are called the Eyes of Truth Absolute and Perfect. At the time when they came into existence, the whole royal retinue of Sakka’s power was assembled. Sakka stood amid the throng and uttered praise in a couple of stanzas:
“O fostering King of Sivi land, these holy hymns of thine
Have gained for you as bounty free this pair of eyes divine.
“Through rock and wall, o’er hill and dale, whatever bar may be,
A hundred leagues on every side those eyes of thine shall see.”
![The Bodhisatta’s divine eyes](./Images/Jataka499.jpg)
Figure: The Bodhisatta’s divine eyes
Having uttered these stanzas, he poised in the air before the multitude. He counseled the Great Being to be vigilant, then Sakka returned to the world of gods. And the Great Being, surrounded by his retinue, went back in great pomp to the city. He entered the palace called Candaka, the Peacock’s Eye.
The news that he had gotten his eyes back spread abroad throughout the Kingdom of Sivi. All the people gathered to see him with gifts in their hands. “Now all this multitude has come together,” the Great Being thought, “I shall praise the gift that I gave.” He ordered a great pavilion to be built at the palace gate. There he seated himself on the royal throne with the white umbrella (the symbol of royal authority) spread above him. Then the drum was sent beating about the city to collect all the trade guilds. Then he said, “O people of Sivi! Now you have seen these divine eyes, never eat food without giving something away!” And he repeated four stanzas, declaring the Dharma:
“Who, if he’s asked to give, would answer no,
Although it be his best and choicest prize?
People of Sivi thronged in concourse, ho!
Come over here, see the gift of gods, my eyes!
“Through rock and wall, o’er hill and dale, whatever bar may be,
A hundred leagues on every side these eyes of mine can see.
“Self-sacrifice in all men mortal living,
Of all things is most fine,
I sacrificed a mortal eye, and giving,
Received an eye divine.
“See, people! Divide what you eat, let others have a share.
This done with your best will and care,
Blameless to heaven you shall repair.”
In these four verses he declared the Dharma. And after that, every other week, on the holy day, even every fifteenth day, he declared the Dharma in these same verses without ceasing to a great gathering of people. Hearing the Dharma, the people gave alms and did good deeds, and afterward they went to swell the hosts of heaven.
When the Master had ended this discourse, he said, “Thus friends, wise men of old gave to any chance comer. They were not content with outside gifts, and even had their eyes taken from their head.” Then he identified the birth: “At that time Ānanda was Sīvaka the physician, Anaruddha was Sakka, the Buddha’s followers were the people, and I was King Sivi.”