Jayaddisa Jātaka

Once upon a time there lived a king in a city of the Northern Pañcālas in the kingdom of Kampilla. His name was Pañcāla. His Queen consort conceived and gave birth to a son. In a former existence she had a rival in the harem. In a rage she said, “Someday I will be able to devour your offspring.” And chanting a spell to this effect, she turned into an ogress. Then she found her opportunity and, seizing the child before the very eyes of the Queen and crunching and devouring it as if it were a piece of raw flesh, she made off.

She did exactly the same thing a second time. But on the third occasion, when the Queen had entered her chamber, a guard surrounded the palace and kept a strict watch. On the day when she gave birth, the ogress again appeared and seized the child. The Queen shouted a loud cry of “Ogress.” Armed soldiers ran up when the Queen gave the alarm, and they pursued the ogress. Not having time to devour the child, she fled and hid herself in a sewer.

But the child mistook the ogress for its mother. He put his lips to her breast, and she conceived a mother’s love for the infant. And repairing to a cemetery, she hid him in a rock cave and watched over him.

Gradually he grew up. She brought and fed him human flesh, and they both lived on this food. The boy did not know that he was a human being. But, although he believed himself to be the son of the ogress, he could not hide his bodily form. So to make this happen, she gave him a certain root. And because of this root, his form was hidden, and he continued to live on human flesh.

Now the ogress went away to do service to the great king Vessavaṇa (one of the four great demon-kings, the Hindu Plutus) where she died. But the Queen gave birth for the fourth time to a boy. And because the ogress was now dead, he was safe. Because he was born victorious over his enemy the ogress, he was called Jayaddisa (Prince Victor). As soon as he had grown up and been thoroughly educated, he assumed the sovereignty by raising the umbrella, and he ruled over the kingdom.

At that time his Queen consort gave birth to the Bodhisatta. They called him Prince Alīnasattu. When he grew up and was fully instructed in all learning, he became viceroy.

The son of the ogress went to live in the cemetery where he devoured human flesh. When people saw him, they were alarmed. They went and complained to the King. “Sire, an ogre in a visible shape is eating human flesh in the cemetery. Eventually he will find his way into the city and kill and eat the people. You should have him caught.”

The King readily agreed. He gave orders for his seizure. An armed force was stationed around the city. The son of the ogress, naked and horrible to see, had the fear of death on him. He cried aloud and sprang into the midst of the soldiers. They cried out, “Here’s the ogre!” Alarmed for their lives, they broke into two divisions and fled. The ogre escaping from there where he hid himself in the forest.

After that he no longer approached the haunts of men. He lived at the foot of a banyan tree near a high road through the forest. As people travelled by it, he would seize them and drag them into the wood where he killed and ate them. But the son of the ogress, by carelessly destroying the root, was no longer to hide himself.

Now a brahmin, at the head of a caravan, gave a thousand gold coins to the protectors of the forest. He was journeying along the road with 500 wagons when the ogre—now in a human shape—leaped upon them with a roar. The men fled in terror and lay groveling on the ground. He seized the brahmin, but he was pursued by the forest angers. In the chase, he was wounded by a splinter of wood, so he dropped the brahmin and went and lay down at the foot of the tree where he lived.

On the seventh day after this, King Jayaddisa ordered a hunt and set out from the city. Just as he was starting out, a native of Takkasilā, a brahmin named Nanda, who supported his parents, went into the King’s presence. He brought four stanzas. Each of them was worth a hundred gold coins. (These were presumably spells.) The King stopped to listen to them, and he ordered a living place to be assigned to him. Then going to the chase, he said, “That man on whose side the deer escapes shall pay the brahmin for his verses.” Then a spotted antelope was startled. He made straight for the King, and he escaped.

The courtiers all laughed heartily. The King grabbed his sword, and pursuing the animal, he caught up to it after a distance of three leagues (9 miles or 14.5 km). And with a blow from his sword, he severed it in two. He hung the carcass on his carrying-pole. Then as he returned, he came to the spot where the man-ogre was sitting. After resting for a while on the kuça grass, he proceeded on. Then the ogre rose up and cried “Halt! where are you going? You are my prey.” He seized the King by the hand and spoke the first stanza:

Lo! after my long seven days’ fast

A mighty prey appears at last!

Pray tell me, are you known to fame?

I want to hear your race and name.

The King was terrified at the sight of the ogre. And, becoming as rigid as a pillar, he was unable to get away. But he managed to recover his presence of mind enough to speak the second stanza:

Jayaddisa, if known to thee,

Pañcāla’s King I claim to be.

Hunting thro’ the forest I stray,

Eat you this deer, free me, I pray.

The ogre, on hearing this, repeated the third stanza:

To save your skin, you offer to me this food

This quarry, King, to which my claim is good,

Know I will eat you first, and yet not balk

My taste for venison, cease from idle talk.

The King, on hearing this, called to mind the brahmin Nanda, and he spoke the fourth stanza:

Should I not receive the release I crave,

Yet let me keep the promise that I gave

A brahmin friend. Tomorrow’s dawn shall see

My honor saved, and my return to thee.

The ogre, on hearing this, spoke the fifth stanza:

Standing so near to death, what is the thing

That thus does sorely trouble you, O King?

Tell me the truth, that so perhaps we may

Consent to let you go for one brief day.

The King, explaining the matter, spoke the sixth stanza:

A promise once I to a brahmin made,

That promise still is due, that debt unpaid,

The vow fulfilled, tomorrow’s dawn shall see

My honor saved, and my return to thee.

On hearing this, the ogre spoke the seventh stanza:

A promise to a brahmin you have made,

That promise still is due, that vow unpaid.

Fulfil your vow, and let tomorrow see

Your honor saved and your return to me.

And having spoken, he let the King go.

The King—now being allowed to depart—said, “Do not be troubled about me. I will return at daybreak.” Along his way he took note of certain landmarks. He returned to his army, and with this escort, he made his way back to the city. There he summoned the brahmin Nanda. He seated him on a splendid throne, and after hearing his verses, he presented him with 4,000 gold coins. Then he had the brahmin mount a chariot. He sent him on his way, bidding his servants to escort him to Takkasilā. On the next day, being anxious to return, he called his son and gave him instructions.

The Master, to explain the matter, spoke two stanzas:

Escaped from cruel goblin he did come

Full of sweet longings to his lovely home,

His word to brahmin friend he never broke,

But thus to dear Alīnasattu spoke.

“My son, reign you anointed King today

Ruling o’er friend and foe with righteous sway,

Let no injustice mar your happy state,

I now from cruel goblin seek my fate.”

The Prince, on hearing this, spoke the tenth stanza:

Glad would I learn what act or word

Lost me the favor of my lord,

That you should raise me to the throne

Which, losing you, I would not own.

The King, on hearing this, spoke the next stanza:

Dear son, I fail to call to mind

A single word or act unkind,

But now that honor’s debt is paid,

I’ll keep the vow to ogre made.

The Prince, on hearing this, spoke a stanza:

No, I will go and you stay here,

No hope of safe return, I fear.

But should you go, I’ll follow thee

And both alike will cease to be.

On hearing this, the King spoke a stanza:

With you does moral law agree,

But life would lose all charm for me,

If on wood-spit this ogre grim

Should roast and eat you, limb by limb.

Hearing this, the Prince spoke a stanza:

If from this ogre you will fly,

For you I am prepared to die.

Yes, gladly would I die, O King,

If only life to you I bring.

On hearing this the King, recognizing his son’s virtue, accepted his offer, saying, “Well, go, dear son.” And so he bade his parents farewell, and he left the city.

The Master, to make the matter clear, spoke half a stanza:

Then the brave Prince to his dear parents bade

A last farewell, with great reverence made.

Then his parents and his sister and wife and the courtiers went forth from the city with him. The Prince asked his father the way. And after making careful arrangements and having admonished the others, he ascended the road and left for the home of the ogre as fearless as a maned lion. His mother, seeing him depart, could not restrain herself and fell fainting on the earth. His father, stretching out his arms, wept aloud.

The Master, making the matter clear, spoke the other half stanza:

His sire with outstretched arms, his son to stay,

Wept sore. His mother, grieving, swooned away.

And, thus making clear the prayer uttered by the father and the Act of Truth repeated by the mother and sister and wife, he uttered yet four more stanzas:

But when his son had vanished quite

From his despairing father’s sight,

With hands upraised the gods he praised

“Kings Varuna and Soma hight,

Brahma and lords of Day and Night.

By these kept safe and sound of limb,

Escape, dear son, from ogre grim.”

“As Rāma’s fair-limbed mother won

Salvation for her absent son,

When woods of Daṇḍaka he sought,

So for my child is freedom wrought,

And by this Act of Truth I’ve charmed

The gods to bring you home unharmed.”

“Brother, in you no fault at all

Open or secret I recall,

And by this Act of Truth I’ve charmed

The gods to bring you home unharmed.”

“Void of offence are you to me,

I too, my lord, bear love to thee,

And by this Act of Truth I’ve charmed

The gods to bring you home unharmed.”

And the Prince, following his father’s directions, set out on the road to the home of the ogre. But the ogre thought, “Kshatriyas have many tricks. Who knows what will happen?” And climbing the tree, he sat looking for the arrival of the King. On seeing the Prince, he thought, “The son has stopped his father and is coming himself. There’s no fear in him.” And descending from the tree, he sat with his back to him. When he arrived the youth stood in front of the ogre, who then spoke this stanza:

Who are you, youth so fair and fine?

Do you know this forest realm is mine?

They hold their lives but cheap who come

Where savage ogres find a home.

Hearing this, the youth spoke this stanza:

I know you, cruel ogre, well,

Within this forest you do dwell,

Jayaddisa’s true son stands here,

Eat me and free my father dear.

Then the ogre spoke this stanza:

Jayaddisa’s true son I know,

Your looks confess that it is so.

A hardship surely ‘tis for thee

To die, to set your father free.

Then the youth spoke this stanza:

No mighty deed is this, I know,

To die, to save my father’s woe

And to endure a mother’s plea

And win heavenly bliss for me.

On hearing this, the ogre said, “There is no creature, Prince, that is not afraid of death. Why are not you afraid?” And he told him the reason and recited two stanzas:

No evil deed of mine at all,

Open or secret, I recall,

Well weighed are birth and death by me,

As here, so ‘tis in worlds to be.

Eat me today, O mighty one,

And do the deed that must be done.

I’ll fall down dead from some high tree,

Then eat my flesh, as pleases thee.

The ogre, on hearing his words, was terrified and said, “One cannot eat this man’s flesh.” And, trying to think of a way to make him run away, he said:

If ‘tis your will to sacrifice

Your life, young Prince, to free your sire,

Then go in haste is my advice

And gather sticks to light a fire.

Having so done, the youth returned to him.

The Master, to make the matter clear, spoke another stanza:

Then the brave Prince did gather wood

And, rearing high a mighty pyre,

Shouted, lighting it, “prepare your food,

See! I have made a goodly fire.”

The ogre, when he saw the prince had returned and made a fire, said, “This is a lion-hearted fellow. Death has no fear for him. Up to this time I have never seen so fearless a man.” He sat there astounded, looking at the youth from time to time. And he, seeing what the ogre was doing, spoke this stanza:

Stand not and gaze in dumb amaze,

Take me and slay, and eat, I pray,

While still alive, I will contrive

To make you glad to eat today.

Then the ogre, hearing his words, spoke this stanza:

One so truthful, kindly, just,

Surely never may be eaten,

Or his head, who eats you, must

Be to sevenfold pieces beaten.

The Prince, on hearing this, said, “If you do not want to eat me, why did you make me break sticks and build a fire?” The ogre replied, “It was to test you. I thought you would run away.” The Prince said, “How will you test me now, seeing that, when I was in an animal form, I allowed Sakka, King of heaven, to put my virtue to the test?” And with these words he spoke this stanza:

To Indra once like some poor brahmin dressed

The hare did offer its own flesh to eat,

After that its form was on the moon impressed,

That gracious orb as Yakkha now we greet.

(In Indian lore the shape of a rabbit is impressed on the moon.)

When the ogre heard this, he let the Prince go, saying,

As the clear moon from Rāhu’s grip set free

Shines at midmonth with shining brilliancy,

So too do you, Kampilla’s lord of might,

Escaped from ogre, shed the joyous light

Of your bright presence, sorrowing friends to cheer,

And bring back gladness to your parents dear.

And saying, “Go, heroic soul,” he let the Great Being depart. Having made the ogre humble, he taught him the five moral laws (the Precepts). And, wishing to test whether he was an ogre, he thought, “The eyes of ogres are red and do not wink. They cast no shadow and are free from all fear. This is no ogre. It is a man. They say my father had three brothers carried off by an ogress. Two of them must have been devoured by her. But one will have been cherished by her with the love of a mother for her child. This must be him. I will take him with me and tell my father, and I will have him established on the throne.” And so thinking he cried, “Ho! Sir, you are no ogre. You are my father’s elder brother. Come with me and raise your umbrella as the symbol of sovereignty in your ancestral kingdom.”

And when he replied, “I am not a man,” the Prince said, “You do not believe me. Is there anyone you will believe?” “Yes,” he said, “there is in a certain place an ascetic gifted with supernatural vision.” So he took the ogre with him and went there. The ascetic no sooner caught sight of them than he said, “Why are you two descendants from a common ancestor walking here?” And with these words he told them they were related. The man-eater believed and said, “Dear friend, go home. As for me, I live with two natures in one form. I have no wish to be a King. I will become an ascetic.” So he was ordained into the holy life by the ascetic. Then the Prince saluted him and returned to the city.

The Master, to make the matter clear, spoke this stanza:

Then did bold prince Alīnasattu pay

All due obeisance to that ogre grim,

And free once more did make his happy way

Back to Kampilla, safe and sound of limb.

And when the youth reached the city, the Master explained to the townsfolk and the rest what the Prince had done, and she spoke the last stanza:

Thus going forth on foot from town and country side,

Lo! eager throngs proclaim

The fearless hero’s name,

Or as aloft on car or elephant they ride

With homage due they come

To lead the victor home.

The King heard that the Prince had returned and set out to meet him. The Prince was escorted by a great throng. He went to the King and saluted him. The King asked him, “Dear son, how have you escaped from that terrible ogre?” And he said, “Dear father, he is no ogre. He is your elder brother and my uncle.” And he told him all about it and said, “You must go and see my uncle.” The King at once ordered a drum to be beaten. He set out with a great throng to visit the ascetics.

The chief ascetic told them the whole story in full, how the child had been carried off by an ogress, and how instead of eating him, she had brought him up as an ogre and how they were related one to another. The King said, “Come, brother, you should reign as King.” “No, thank you, sire,” he replied. “Then come and take up your residence in our park, and I will supply you with the four requisites.”

But he refused to come. So the King built a settlement on a mountain not far from their hermitage. He formed a lake, prepared cultivated fields, and brought a thousand families with much wealth. He founded a big village and instituted a system of almsgiving for the ascetics. This village grew into the town Cullakammāsadamma.

The region where the ogre was tamed by the Great Being Sutasoma was to be known as the town of Mahākammāsadamma.