Somanassa Jātaka

Once upon a time, in the kingdom of Kuru and the city of Uttarapañcāla, a King reigned whose name was Reṇu. The King was childless. He wanted sons, but no sons were born to him. At that time there was also an ascetic named Mahārakkhita. He lived in the Himalaya Mountains with 500 other ascetics.

While visiting the country to get salt and seasoning, Mahārakkhita came to Uttarapañcāla where he settled in the royal park. Seeking alms with his people, he came to the King’s door. The King respected the sages, and being pleased with their manners, he invited them to sit on a magnificent dais. There he gave them good food to eat. He then asked them to remain in his park for the rainy season. He accompanied them into the park and provided places in which they could live. He gave them the things necessary for the holy life, and then he took his leave of them. After that they all received their meals in the palace.

When the rainy season was over, Mahārakkhita said, “Now the Himalaya region is pleasant. Let us return there.” So he took leave of the King, who showed them all honor and respect. At noon he left the high road and sat down with his people on the soft grass beneath a shady tree. The ascetics began to talk. They said, “The King has no son in the palace to keep up the royal line. It would be a blessing if the King could have a son and continue the succession.” Mahārakkhita heard their talk and pondered, “Will the King have a son or not?” He perceived that the King would have a son. He said, “Do not be anxious, sirs. On this night at dawn a son of the gods will come down, and he will be conceived by the Queen Consort.”

A sham ascetic heard this and thought, “Now I will become a confidant of the royal house.” When the time came for the ascetics to leave, he lay down and pretended to be sick. “Come, let us go,” they said. “I cannot,” he said. Mahārakkhita learned that the man was sick. “Follow us when you can,” he said, and with the rest of the sages, he went on to Himalaya.

Now the cheat ran back as fast as he could. And standing at the palace door, he sent in a message that one of Mahārakkhita’s attendants had come. He was summoned at once by the King. And going up to the terrace, he took a seat where they showed him. The King greeted him, and sitting on one side, he asked after the health of the sages. “You have come back very soon,” the King said. “Why did you come back so quickly?” “O mighty King,” he replied, “as the sages were all sitting comfortably together, they began to say how great a blessing it would be if the King could have a son to keep up his royal line. When I heard this, I pondered whether the King should have a son or not. And by divine vision I saw a mighty son of the gods and saw that he was about to descend so that he might be conceived by your Queen Consort Sudhammā. Then I thought, “If they do not know this, they may by chance destroy the life that is conceived, so I must tell them. So I have come, O King, to tell you the news. Now I have told it. Let me depart again.” “No, no, friend,” said the King, “that must not be.” And highly delighted, he brought the cheat into his park and assigned him a place in which to live. From then on, he lived in the King’s household, and he got his food there. They named him Dibbacakkhuka, the man of Divine Vision.

Then the Bodhisatta came down from the heaven of the Thirty-three and was conceived there. When he was born, they gave him the name of Somanassa Kumāra—Prince Delight—and he was raised in the manner of princes.

Now the false ascetic used to plant vegetables and potherbs and runners in a corner of the park. By selling these to the market gardeners he gained considerable wealth.

When the Bodhisatta was seven years old, there was a rebellion on the frontier. The King went out to subdue it. He put the ascetic Dibbacakkhuka into the Prince’s care with orders not to neglect him. One day the Prince went out to see the ascetic. He found him with both yellow robes, upper and under, knotted up. He was holding a water jar in each hand and watering his plants. “This false ascetic,” he thought, “is doing the work of a gardener instead of performing an ascetic’s duty.” Then he asked, “What are you doing, worldling gardener?” In this way, he put him to shame and left him without salute. “Now I have made an enemy of this fellow,” thought Dibbacakkhuka. “Who knows what he will do? I must make an end of him at once.”

At about the time when the King was to return, the man threw his stone bench on its side. He broke his waterpot to bits, scattered grass about in his hut, smeared his body with oil, went into the hut and lay down on his pallet. He wrapped up his head, acting as though he were in much pain. The King returned and made a circuit about the city clockwise. But before he entered his own house, he went to see his friend Dibbacakkhuka. Standing by the door of the hut, he saw everything in disarray, and he entered wondering what the matter was. There was the man lying down. The King rubbed his feet, repeating the first stanza:

“Who does you harm or scorn?

Why do you sorrow sore?

Whose parents now must mourn?

Who lies here on the floor?”

At this the impostor rose up groaning and said the second stanza:

“You I rejoice to see

O King, though absent long!

Your son, who came to me,

Brought unprovoked this wrong.”

The connection of the following verses is clear. They are arranged in due succession.

“Executioners, what ho!

Servants, take your swords and go.

Strike Prince Somanassa dead,

You bring me his noble head!”

“The royal messengers went forth, and to the prince they cry—

‘His majesty has cast you off, and you, O Prince, must die!’”

“There the Prince lamenting stands,

Craving grace with folded hands,

‘Spare me yet awhile, and bring

Me alive to see the King!’”

“They heard his prayer, and to the King his son the servants led.

He saw his father from afar, and this to him he said:

“Let your men take sword and slay,

Only hear me first, I pray!

O great monarch! tell me this—

What is it I’ve done amiss?”

The King answered, “High estate has fallen low. Your error is very great.” And he explained it in this stanza:

“Water morn and eve he draws,

Tends the fire without a pause.

Dare you call this holy man

‘Worldling?’ Answer if you can!”

“My lord,” said the Prince, “if I call a worldling a worldling, what harm is done!” and he repeated a stanza:

“He possesses trees and fruits,

And, my lord, all kinds of roots,

Tends them with incessant care,

Then he’s worldly, I declare.”

“And that is the reason,” he went on, “why I called him a worldling. If you do not believe me, ask the market gardeners at the four gates.” The King made the inquiry. They said, “Yes, we buy vegetables and all sorts of fruit from him.” When he found out about this greengrocery business, he made it known. The Prince’s people went into the man’s hut. They found a bundle of rupees and small coins—the price of the green food—which they showed to the King. Then the King knew the Great Being was without guilt. He said a stanza:

“True it was that trees and roots

He possessed, with many fruits,

Tending with incessant care,

Worldly, as you did declare.”

Then the Great Being thought, “While an ignorant fool like this is of the King’s household, the best thing to do is to go to Himalaya and embrace the holy life. First, I will proclaim his wicked act before the company that is assembled here. And then this very day I will go and embrace the holy life.” So with a bow to the company, he cried,

“Hear you people as I call,

Country folk and townsmen all,

By this fool’s advice the King

Guiltless men to death would bring.”

This said, he asked leave to do it in the next stanza:

“You a strong wide spreading tree,

I an offshoot fixed in thee,

Here beseech you, bending low,

Leave to quit the world and go!”

The following stanzas give the conversation of the King with his son.

“Prince, enjoy the wealth you own,

And ascend the Kuru throne.

Do not leave the world, to bring

Sorrow on yourself—be King!”

“What of joy can this world give?

When in heaven I used to live

There were sights and sounds and smell,

Taste and touch, the heart loves well!

“Joys of heaven, and nymphs divine,

I renounced, that once were mine.

With a King so weak as you

I will stay no longer now.”

“If I am foolish-weak, my son,

This once forgive me what I’ve done.

And if I do the same again,

Do what you will, I’ll not complain.”

The Great Being then repeated eight stanzas, admonishing the King.

“A thoughtless act, or done without premeditation had,

Like the miscarriage of a drug, the issue must be bad.

“A thoughtful act, wherein is careful policy pursued,

Like a successful medicine, the issue must be good.

“The idle sensual layman I detest,

The false ascetic is a rogue contest.

A bad King will a case unheard decide,

Wrath in a sage can ne’er be justified.

“The warrior prince takes careful thought, and well-weighed judgement gives,

When kings their judgement ponder well, their fame for ever lives.

“Kings should give punishment with careful measure,

Things done in haste they will repent at leisure.

Are there good resolutions in the heart,

No late repentance brings her bitter smart.

“They who do deeds which no repentance bring,

Carefully weighing every single thing,

Gain what is good, and do what satisfies

The holy, win the approval of the wise.

“What ho, my executioners!” you cried,

‘Go seek my son, and where you find him, slay!’

Where I was sitting by my mother’s side

They found me, dragged me cruelly away.

“A tender nursling, treated in this way,

I felt their cruel handling very sore.

Delivered from a cruel doom today

I’ll leave the world and live in it no more.”

When the Great Being had said this, the King said to his Queen,

“So my young son, Sudhammā, says me nay,

Prince Somanassa, delicate and kind.

Now since I cannot gain my end today,

Yourself must see if you can turn his mind.”

But she urged him to renounce the world in this stanza:

“O be the holy life your pleasure, son!

Renounce the world, to righteousness stick fast,

Who of all creatures cruel is to none,

Blameless to Brahma’s world will come at last.”

Then the King repeated a stanza:

“This is a marvel which I hear from you,

Sorrow to sorrow heaping up is true.

I asked you to persuade our son to stay,

You do but urge him more to haste away.”

Again the Queen repeated a stanza:

“There are who live from defilements free,

Blameless, and who Nirvana’s height attain,

If of their noble path the Prince would be

A partner, to withhold him is in vain.”

In reply the King recited the last stanza:

“Surely ‘tis good to venerate the wise,

In whom deep wisdom and high thoughts arise,

The Queen has heard their words and learned their lore,

She feels no pain and has no longing more.”

The Great Being then saluted his parents, asking them to pardon him if he did anything wrong, and with a reverent obeisance to the company, he set out towards the Himalaya. When the people had returned, he, with the deities who had come in human form, traveled the seven ranges of hills and arrived at the Himalaya. In a leaf-hut made by the heavenly architect Vissakamma, he entered the holy life. There he was waited upon by deities in the shape of a princely retinue until his sixteenth year. But the deceitful ascetic was set upon by the crowd and beaten to death. The Great Being cultivated the Faculty of Ecstasy (jhāna) and became destined to Brahma’s heaven.