Jataka 512
Kumbha Jātaka
The Jar
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
One of the most unpopular precepts of Buddhism is the prohibition against alcohol and intoxication. But hardly anyone can tell a story where being intoxicated led to virtuous behavior. At least, I have never heard one.
“Who are you?” The Master told this story while he was living at Jetavana. It is about 500 women who were friends of Visākhā. (Visākhā was also known as Migāramāta. She was the most prominent female lay supporter of the Buddha.) These 500 women were drinkers of strong drink. Now the story goes that a drinking festival was proclaimed at Sāvatthi. At the end of the festival— after providing fiery drink for their masters—these 500 women thought, “We, too, will celebrate the feast.” They went to Visākhā and said, “Friend, we will celebrate the feast.” She replied, “This is a drinking festival, but I will not drink any strong drink.” They said, “You may give an offering to the supreme Buddha, but we will celebrate the feast.” She nodded and sent them away. And after entertaining the Master, and making him a large offering, she set out in the evening for Jetavana. She had many scented wreaths in her hand. She went to hear the preaching of the Dharma, and she was attended by these women.
Now they were eager for drink when they started out with her. And when they stood in the gabled chamber, they drank strong drink. Then they accompanied Visākhā into the presence of the Master. Visākhā saluted the Master and sat respectfully on one side. Some of the other women danced even before the Master. Some sang. Others made improper movements with their hands and feet. Still others quarreled. The Master, to shock them, emitted a ray of light from his eyebrow. This was followed by blinding darkness. The women were terrified and frightened with the fear of death, and so the effect of the strong drink wore off. The Master then disappeared from the throne on which he was seated. He took his stand on the top of Mount Sineru and emitted a ray of light from the hairs between his eyebrows. It was like the rising of a thousand moons. To produce a sensation among these women, the Master spoke this stanza:
No place for laughter here, no room for joy,
The flames of passion suffering worlds destroy.
Why overwhelmed in darkest night, I pray,
Seek you no torch to light you on your way?
At the end of the stanza all 500 women attained the fruition of the First Path (stream-entry). The Master then went and sat down on the Buddha seat in the shade of the Perfumed Chamber. Visākhā saluted him and asked, “Holy sir, how did the drinking of strong drink arise, an act that does violence to a man’s honor and to a tender conscience?” And responding to her, he told her this story from the past.
Once upon a time when Brahmadatta was ruling in Benares, a forester named Sura, who lived in the kingdom of Kāsi, went to the Himalayas to seek articles of merchandise. There was a certain tree there that sprang up to the height of a man with his arms extended over his head, and then it divided into three parts. In the middle of its three forks there was a hole as big as a wine jar. And when it rained, this hole filled with water. Around this tree grew two myrobalan plants (a “purple leaf plum”) and a pepper shrub. When they were cut down, the ripe fruits from these fell into the hole.
There was a rice paddy not far from this tree. Perching from this tree, parrots would pluck the heads of rice and eat them. And while they were eating, the husked rice would fall into the paddy. So the water, fermented in the sun’s heat and it assumed a blood-red color. In the hot season, thirsty flocks of birds drank from it. They became intoxicated and fell at the foot of the tree. After sleeping awhile, they flew away, chirping merrily. The same thing happened to wild dogs, monkeys, and other creatures. The forester saw this and said, “If this were poison, they would die, but after a short sleep they go away as they meander. It is no poison.” So he drank it. And becoming intoxicated, he felt a desire to eat flesh. He built a fire and killed the partridges and cocks that fell at the foot of the tree. He roasted their flesh on the live coals, and waving with one hand and eating flesh with the other, he remained one or two days in the same spot.
Now not far from here lived an ascetic named Varuṇa. At other times the forester would visit him. The thought now struck him, “I will drink this liquor with the ascetic.” So he filled a reed-pipe with it, and taking it together with some roast meat, he went to the hut of leaves. He said, “Holy sir, taste this liquor.” They both drank it and ate the meat. So because this drink was discovered by Sura and Varuṇa, it was called by their names (surā and vāruṇī). They both thought, “This is the way to carry it.” They filled their reed-pipes and took it on a carrying-pole to a neighbouring village. They sent a message to the King that some wine merchants had come. The King sent for them, and they offered him the drink. The King drank it two or three times, and he became intoxicated. The drink lasted him only one or two days. Then he asked them if there was any more. “Yes, sir,” they said. “Where?” “In the Himalayas, sir.” “Then bring it here.” They went and fetched it two or three times.
Then they thought, “We can’t always be traveling there.” They took note of all the ingredients, and—beginning with the bark of the tree—they combined them all and made the drink in the city. The men of the city drank it and became idle wretches. The city became like a deserted place. Then these wine merchants fled from it and went to Benares. There they sent a message to the King to announce their arrival. The King sent for them and paid them money, and they made wine there, too. And that city also perished in the same way. Then they fled to Sāketa, and from Sāketa they went to Sāvatthi.
At that time there was a King named Sabbamitta in Sāvatthi. He showed favor to these men and asked them what they wanted. When they said, “We want the chief ingredients and ground rice and 500 jars.” He gave them everything they asked for. They stored the liquor in the 500 jars, and, to guard them, they bound cats to each jar. (This was presumably to protect them from rodents.) When the liquor fermented and began to escape, the cats drank the strong drink that flowed from the inside of the jars. And getting intoxicated, they lay down to sleep. Rats came and bit off the cats’ ears, noses, teeth and tails. The King’s officers went and told the King. “The cats have died from drinking the liquor.” The King said, “Surely these men must be makers of poison.” He ordered them to be beheaded. But before they died, they cried out, “Give us strong drink, give us mead.”
After putting the men to death, the King gave orders that the jars should be broken. But when the effect of the liquor wore off, the cats got up and walked around and played. When they saw this, they told the King. The King said, “If it were poison, they would have died. It must be mead. We will drink it.” So he had the city decorated, and he set up a pavilion in the palace yard. And taking his seat in this splendid pavilion on a royal throne with a white umbrella raised over it, and surrounded by his courtiers, he began to drink.
Then Sakka, the King of heaven, said, “Where are there—that in the duty of service to mother and the like—those who diligently fulfil the three kinds of right conduct?” And, looking out on the world, he saw the King seated to drink strong drink. He thought, “If he drinks strong drink, all India will perish. I will see that he does not drink it.” So Sakka disguised himself as a brahmin. He placed a jar full of the liquor in the palm of his hand and stood in the air in the presence of the King. He cried, “Buy this jar, buy this jar.” King Sabbamitta saw him and said, “Where did this brahmin come from?” And talking with him, he repeated three stanzas:
Figure: “Where did this brahmin come from?”
Who are you, Being from on high,
Whose form emits bright rays of light,
Like levin flash across the sky,
Or moon illuming darkest night?
(“levin” is lightening.)
To ride the pathless air upon,
To move or stand in silent space—
Real is the power that you have won,
And proves your art of godlike race.
Then, brahmin, who your art declare,
And what within your jar may be,
That thus appearing in midair,
You then would sell your wares to me.
Then Sakka said, “Listen then to me.” And expounding the evil qualities of strong drink, he said:
This jar not oil or ghee does hold,
No honey or molasses here,
But vices more than can be told
Are stored within its rounded sphere.
Who drinks will fall, poor silly fool,
Into some hole or pit impure,
Or headlong sink in loathsome pool
And eat bad food with no allure.
Buy then, O King, this jar of mine,
Full to the brim of strongest wine.
Who drinks, with wits distracted quite,
Like grazing ox that loves to stray,
Wanders in mind, a helpless wight,
And sings and dances all the day.
Buy then, O King, this jar of mine,
Full to the brim of strongest wine.
Who drinks will run all shamelessly,
Like nude ascetic thro’ the town,
And late take rest—so dazed is he—
Forgetting when to lay him down.
Buy then, O King, this jar of mine,
Full to the brim of strongest wine.
Who drinks, like one moved with alarm,
Totters, as tho’ he could not stand,
And trembling shakes his head and arm,
Like wooden puppet worked by hand.
Buy then, O King, this jar of mine,
Full to the brim of strongest wine.
Who drink are burned to death in bed,
Or else a prey to jackals fall,
To bondage or to death are led,
And suffer loss of goods withal.
Buy then, O King, this jar of mine,
Full to the brim of strongest wine.
Who drinks is lost to decency
And talks of things that are obscene,
Will sit undressed in company,
Is sick and every way unclean.
Buy then, O King, this jar of mine,
Full to the brim of strongest wine.
Uplifted is the man that drinks,
His vision is by no means clear,
The world is all my own, he thinks,
I own no earthly lord as peer.
Buy then, O King, this jar of mine,
Full to the brim of strongest wine.
Wine is a thing of boastful pride,
An ugly, naked, cowardly imp,
To strife and slander thus allied,
A home to shelter thief and pimp.
Buy then, O King, this jar of mine,
Full to the brim of strongest wine.
Tho’ families may wealthy be,
And countless treasures may enjoy,
Holding earth’s richest gifts in fee,
This will their heritage destroy.
Buy then, O King, this jar of mine,
Full to the brim of strongest wine.
Silver and gold and household gear,
Oxen and fields and stores of grain—
All, all is lost, strong drink, I fear,
Has proved of wealthy home the bane.
Buy then, O King, this jar of mine,
Full to the brim of strongest wine.
The man that drinks is filled with pride,
And his own parents will revile,
Or, ties of blood and kin defied,
Will dare the marriage bed defile.
Buy then, O King, this jar of mine,
Full to the brim of strongest wine.
She, too, that drinks will in her pride
Her husband and his sire revile,
And, dignity of race defied,
A slave to folly will beguile.
Buy then, O King, this jar of mine,
Full to the brim of strongest wine.
The man that drinks will dare to slay
A righteous priest or brahmin yet,
And then in suffering in dismay
The dreadful deed will cause regret.
Buy then, O King, this jar of mine,
Full to the brim of strongest wine.
Who drink mistakes in triple wise,
In word, in action, and in thought,
Then sink to Hell, to agonize
For all the evil they have wrought.
Buy then, O King, this jar of mine,
Full to the brim of strongest wine.
The man from whom men beg in vain,
E’en at the cost of heaps of gold,
From him when drunk their point they gain
And readily the lie is told.
Buy then, O King, this jar of mine,
Full to the brim of strongest wine.
Should one that drinks a message bear
And lo! some great emergency
Should suddenly arise, he’ll swear
The thing has slipped his memory.
Buy then, O King, this jar of mine,
Full to the brim of strongest wine.
E’en modest folk, intoxicate
With wine, will most indecent be,
And wisest men, when drunk, berate
And babble very foolishly.
Buy then, O King, this jar of mine,
Full to the brim of strongest wine.
Thro’ drink men, fasting, lie about,
The hard bare ground their resting place,
Huddled like swine, a shameless rout,
They undergo most foul disgrace.
Buy then, O King, this jar of mine,
Full to the brim of strongest wine.
Like oxen smitten to the ground
Collapsing, in a heap they lie,
Such fire is in strong liquor found,
No power of man with it can vie.
Buy then, O King, this jar of mine,
Full to the brim of strongest wine.
When all men, as from deadly snake,
In terror from the poison shrink,
What hero bold can satiate
His thirst from such a fatal drink?
Buy then, O King, this jar of mine,
Full to the brim of strongest wine.
‘Twas after drinking this, I ween,
The Andhakas and Vṛishṇi race,
Roaming along the shore, were seen
To fall, each by his kinsman’s mace.
Buy then, O King, this jar of mine,
Full to the brim of strongest wine.
(Andhaka, son of Bhima Satvata was contemporary with Kusha, son of Rama. He succeeded his father to the throne of Mathura. The Andhakas, the Vrishnis, the Kukuras, the Bhojas and the Surasenas are believed to have descended from Satvata, a descendant of Kroshtu. These clans were also known as the Satvata clans.)
Angels infatuate with wine
Fell from eternal heaven, O King,
With all their magic power divine,
Then who would taste the accursed thing?
Buy then, O King, this jar of mine,
Full to the brim of strongest wine.
Not curds or honey sweet is here,
But evermore remembering
What’s stored within this rounded sphere,
Buy, I say, buy my jar, O King.
On hearing this the King, recognizing the misery caused by drink, was so pleased with Sakka that he sang his praises in two stanzas:
No parents had I sage to teach, like thee,
But you are kind and merciful, I see,
A seeker of the Highest Truth always,
Therefore, I will obey your words all days.
Lo! five choice villages I own are thine,
Twice fifty handmaids, seven hundred kine,
And these ten cars with steeds of purest blood,
For you have counselled me for my own good.
Sakka on hearing this made himself known. And standing in the air, he repeated two stanzas:
These hundred slaves, O King, may still be thine,
And keep the villages and herds of kine.
No chariots yoked to high-bred steeds I claim,
Sakka, chief god of Thirty-Three, my name.
Enjoy thy ghee, rice, milk and sodden meat,
Still be content your honey cakes to eat.
Thus, King, delighting in the Truths I’ve preached,
Pursue your blameless path, till Heaven is reached.
In this way Sakka admonish him. Then he returned to his home in Heaven. And the King, abstaining from strong drink, ordered the drinking vessels to be broken. And undertaking to keep the precepts and dispensing alms, he became destined to Heaven. Nonetheless, the drinking of strong drink gradually developed in India.
The Master here ended his lesson and identified the Birth: “At that time Ānanda was the King, and I was Sakka.”
