Gaṇḍatindu Jātaka

Once upon a time in the kingdom of Kampilla, in a city of the Northern Pañcālas, there was a King named Pañcāla. He was established in evil courses and recklessness. He ruled his kingdom unrighteously. So all of his ministers, likewise, became unrighteous.

His subjects were oppressed by taxation, so they took their wives and families and wandered into the forest like wild beasts. Where once there were villages, now there were none. Because they were afraid of the King’s men, the people did not venture into their houses during the day. They fenced their homes with thorn branches, and as soon as the day broke, they disappeared into the forest. By day they were plundered by the king’s men and by night by robbers.

At that time the Bodhisatta was reborn as the god of a tinduka tree outside the city. (A tinduka tree is an evergreen tree that has white or green flowers.) Every year he received an offering worth a thousand gold coins from the King. He thought, “This King has lost his power. His whole kingdom is going to ruin. There is no one except for me who can set the King right. He is a benefactor to me, and every year he honors me with an offering of a thousand gold coins. I will admonish him.”

So one night he entered the royal chamber. Taking up a position at the bed’s head, he stood poised in the air, emitting a bright light. When the King saw him shining like the newly risen sun, he asked him who he was and why he had come. On hearing his words he said, “Great King, I am the divinity of the tinduka tree, and I have come to give you good advice.” “What advice have you to give me?” said the King. “Sire,” said the Great Being, “you are careless in your rule. All your kingdom is going to ruin as if it were the prey of thieves. Kings that are careless in their rule are not masters of their realm. In this world they meet with destruction, and in the world to come they are reborn in hell. This is because they are careless both with those within their domain and those outside it as well. A king ought to be exceedingly careful.” And so saying, to instill a moral lesson, he repeated these stanzas:

Zeal is the way to Nirvāna, but sloth leads to death, it is said,

While vigilant souls never die, the careless are even as dead.

From pride as its root the sloth will come. From sloth will come loss and decay.

Decay is the parent of wrong. All sloth, O great King, put away.

Brave souls by their sloth many times of wealth and of realm have been shorn,

And so village lords may become like the stray, without home, all forlorn.

When a prince in his rule does grow slack, untrue to his name and his fame,

His wealth will all at once disappear, of that prince it is counted as shame.

You are slack out of season, O King, from the right you have wandered away,

Your realm that so flourished of old does now to robbers fall a prey.

No son shall inherit your realm, with its treasures of gold and of corn,

Your realm to the spoiler a prey and you of great wealth does lie shorn.

The prince that is stripped of his realm, with its stores and its wealth manifold,

His friends and his kith and his kin esteem him no more as of old.

His guards and his charioteers, his horse and his footmen so bold,

As they see him of all dispossessed, regard him no more as of old.

The fool of disorderly life is by evil advice led astray,

Soon stripped is the fool of his fame, as the snake its old skin casts away.

But the man who arising quickly unwearied and orderly is,

His oxen and cows thrive apace, and riches increasing are his.

Great King, ever open your ears, and hear what good people may say,

That seeing and hearing the truth, you may win good fortune in this way.

In this way the Great Being admonished the King in eleven stanzas.

“Go,” he said, “without delay. Foster your kingdom. Do not destroy it.” And with that he returned to his own home.

The King heeded his words. He was very moved by them. On the next day, he handed over his kingdom to his ministers. And accompanied by his chaplain, he quickly left the city by the eastern gate. He went a furlong’s (about 220 yards or 201 meters) distance. There he saw an old man, a native of the village. He was carrying thorny branches from the forest and putting them all round his house. He closed the door, and with his wife and children, he left for the forest. In the evening, when the King’s men had left, he returned to his house. On his return, he pierced his foot with a thorn. And sitting cross-legged and extracting the thorn, he cursed the King in the following stanza:

Struck by an arrow in the fray,

So may Pañcāla mourn,

As I have cause to grieve today,

Thus wounded by a thorn.

It was the power of the Bodhisatta that caused the man to say this curse. It was as if he was possessed by the Bodhisatta that he cursed him. His action is to be regarded in this light.

Now at this point the King and his chaplain stood before him in disguise. So the chaplain, hearing his words, uttered another stanza:

You are old, my good sir, and your sight is too dim

To discern things rightly, I’ll be sworn.

As for King Brahmadatta, what is it to him,

That your foot has been pierced by a thorn.

On hearing this the old man repeated three stanzas:

‘Tis due to Brahmadatta, sure, that I am racked with pain,

Just as defenseless folk are thus by their oppressors slain.

By night to thieves a prey are we, to the taxmen by day,

Lewd folks abound within the realm, when evil kings bear sway.

Distressed by such a fear as this, men to the forest flee,

And round their dwellings scatter thorns, for their security.

On hearing this the King addressed his chaplain: “Master, the old man speaks truly. It is our fault. Come, let us return and rule the kingdom righteously.” Then the Bodhisatta, taking possession of the body of the chaplain, stood before him and said, “Great King, let us investigate the matter.” And passing from that village to another one they listened to the words spoken by an old woman. She was, it is said, a poor woman. She had two grown daughters under her care who she would not allow to enter the forest. But she brought firewood and leaves of trees and ministered to her daughters. One day she climbed up a bush to gather leaves, and falling, she rolled on the ground. She cursed the King. She threatened him with death and uttered this stanza:

Oh! when will Brahmadatta die, for long as he shall reign,

Our daughters live unwedded and for husbands sigh in vain?

Then the priest spoke this stanza:

Evil and profitless with all these words of your, O jade,

When shall the King find in his realm a husband for each maid?

On hearing this, the old woman repeated two stanzas:

Not evil are these words of mine, not spoken all in vain,

So long as your defenseless folk are by oppressors slain.

By night to thieves a prey are we, to the taxmen by day,

Lewd folks abound within the realm, when evil kings bear sway,

When times are bad, poor maids are sad, for husbands none have they.

Hearing her words they thought, “She speaks to the point.” And going farther on, they listened to what a ploughman was saying. As he was ploughing, they say, his ox Sāliya was struck by the ploughshare. Its owner cursed the King and repeated this stanza:

So may Pañcāla fall to earth by spear-thrust of his foe,

As Sāliya by ploughshare hurt, poor wretch, here does lie low.

Then the priest spoke this stanza:

With Brahmadatta you are mad, though no good cause is shown,

And while you do revile the King, the guilt is all your own.

Hearing this the ploughman replied in two stanzas:

With Brahmadatta I am mad, and rightly I maintain,

Defenseless folk are ever thus by their oppressor slain.

By night to thieves a prey are we, to the taxmen by day,

The slave had twice to cook the food and brought it late to me,

With all wonder for her, my ox was wounded fatally.

(The slaves had to “twice cook” the food because the tax collectors had eaten the first food cooked.)

Going on still further they stayed in a certain village. Early the next day, a vicious cow kicked a milkman and knocked him over him, milk and all. The man cursed Brahmadatta and repeated this stanza:

By stroke of sword Pañcāla’s lord shall fall amidst the fray,

As I’m laid low by kick of cow, milk-pail and all, today.

The brahmin in a stanza said:

A cow, say, kicks against the pricks, or pail of milk upsets—

What’s this to Brahmadatta that all this abuse he gets?

On hearing this the milkman repeated two stanzas:

Pañcāla’s King, O brahmin, is to blame, for in his reign

Defenseless folk are seen to be by their oppressors slain.

By night to thieves a prey are we, to the taxmen by day,

A wild and savage cow that we had never milked before

We milked today, demands for milk grow ever more and more.

They said, “He speaks the truth.” And going forth from that village, they climbed onto the highway and started towards the city. And in a certain village tax-collectors killed a young, dappled calf. They stripped off its skin to make a sword-sheath. The mother of the calf was so grieved for the loss of her young one that she would not eat grass or drank water. She roamed to and fro, lamenting. On seeing her, the village boys cursed the King and spoke this stanza:

So let Pañcāla pine away and childless weep in vain,

As this poor cow distracted seeks the calf that men have slain.

Then the priest spoke another stanza:

When from its herd some beast escapes, and roars to ease its pain,

Herein what cause have you of Brahmadatta to complain?

Then the village boys repeated two stanzas:

King Brahmadatta’s deed in this, brahmin, to me is plain,

Defenseless folk are ever thus by their oppressors slain.

By night to thieves a prey are we, to the taxmen by day,

Lewd folks abound within the realm, when evil kings bear sway.

Why should a tender calf be killed, just for a sheath, I pray?

“You speak truth,” they said and departed. Then, going on their way, in a certain dry tank crows were striking frogs with their beaks and devouring them. When they reached this spot, the Bodhisatta used his power to make the frog curse the King, saying,

So may Pañcāla killed in fight be eaten, sons and all,

As woodland frog to village crows a prey this day I fall.

Hearing this the priest spoke to the frog, repeating this stanza:

Kings cannot, frog, as you must know,

Guard every creature here below,

In this no wicked king is he,

That crows eat living things like thee.

On hearing this the frog repeated two stanzas:

The priest with words too flattering

Thus wickedly deceives the King,

The King, though people are oppressed,

Deems the priest’s policy the best.

If blessed with all prosperity

This realm should glad and peaceful be,

Crows’ richest offerings might enjoy,

Nor need anything to destroy.

On hearing this the King and the priest thought, “All creatures, including the frog that lives in the forest, curse us.” And returning to the city, they ruled their kingdom righteously. And abiding in the admonition of the Great Being, they devoted themselves to charity and other good works.