Sonaka Jātaka

Once upon a time, the king of Magadha reigned in Rājagaha. The Bodhisatta was born to his chief queen, and on his naming-day, they called him prince Arindama. On the same day as his birth, a son was also born to the royal chaplain. They gave the name of young Sonaka. The two lads grew up together, and when they were of age, they were exceedingly handsome. They were similar in appearance, and it was difficult to distinguish one from the other.

They went to Takkasilā University, and, after being trained in all the sciences, they left that place with the intention of learning the practical uses of arts and local observances. And gradually during their wanderings, they found their way to Benares. There they took up their residence in the royal park. On the next day, they entered the city.

On that very day certain men decided to make an offering of food to brahmins. They prepared some rice porridge and arranged seats, and on seeing these youths approach, they brought them into the house and had them sit on the seats they had prepared. They spread a white cloth on the seat allotted to the Bodhisatta and a red woolen rug on the seat assigned to Sonaka. On seeing this omen Sonaka at once understood that on this day his dear friend Arindama would become king in Benares, and that he would offer him the post of commander-in-chief. After they finished their meal, they returned together to the park.

Now it was the seventh day since the king of Benares had died, and the royal house was without an heir. So after washing themselves, head and all, the councilors and everyone assembled together. They said, “You are to go to the house of the man that is worthy to be king.” So they started the festival cart. After leaving the city, it gradually approached the park. It stopped at the park gate where it stood, ready for anyone to mount it. The Bodhisatta lay there with his outer robe wrapped about his head. He was on the royal slab of stone while the lad Sonaka sat near him. When he heard musical instruments, Sonaka thought, “Here comes the festive cart for Arindama. Today he will be made king, and he will offer me the post of commander. But truly I have no desire for rule. When he has gone away, I will leave the world and become an ascetic.” So he stood on one side hiding.

When the chaplain entered the park, he saw the Great Being lying there. He ordered the trumpets to be sounded. The Great Being woke up, and after turning over and lying for a while, he rose up and sat cross-legged on the stone seat. Then the chaplain spread out his arms in a supplicant attitude and cried, “The kingdom, sire, comes to you.” “Why, is there no heir to the throne?” “Even so, sire.” “Then it is well,” he said. So they sprinkled him to be king then and there. And escorting him to the cart, they brought him with a vast escort into the city.

After a solemn procession around the city, he ascended to his palace. And in the greatness of his glory, he forgot all about young Sonaka. But once the king had left, Sonaka returned and sat on the stone seat. The withered leaf of a sāl tree fell from its stalk in front of him, and on seeing it he cried, “Even as with this leaf, so will my body fall into decay.” And acquiring supernatural insight by reflecting on the impermanence of all things, he attained to the state of a Paccekabuddha. At that very instant his characteristics as a layman vanished. The marks of an ascetic became visible, and he said, “There is no more rebirth for me.” When he uttered this aspiration, he set out for the cave of Nandamūla. (Nandamūla is the residence of the Paccekabuddhas.)

After the lapse of 40 years, the Great Being remembered Sonaka and said, “Where in the world can Sonaka be?” And after recalling him to mind time after time, he found no one able to tell him. They only said, “I have heard of him” or “I have seen him.” And sitting cross-legged on a royal throne upon a magnificent dais, surrounded by a company of minstrels and mime dancers, in the enjoyment of his glory, he said, “Whoever shall hear from someone that Sonaka lives in a certain place and shall repeat it to me, to him I promise a hundred pieces of gold. But whoever shall see him with his own eyes and then tell me, to him I promise a thousand pieces of gold.” And giving expression to this inspired utterance—in the form of a song—he repeated the first stanza:

A thousand coins for one that sees my friend and playmate dear.

A hundred lo! I give if one of Sonaka should hear.

Then a girl performer, catching it up, as it were, from his very mouth, sang the words. And then another and another took it up until the whole harem, thinking it was a favorite air of the king’s, all sang it. And gradually both townspeople and countryfolk sang the same song, and the king, too, constantly sang it.

At the end of 50 years the king had many sons and daughters. The eldest son was named Prince Dīghāvu. At this time the Paccekabuddha Sonaka thought, “King Arindama is anxious to see me. I will go and explain to him the misery of evil desires and the blessing of Renunciation. I will show him the way to become an ascetic.” And by his supernatural power he conveyed himself there and took a seat in the park.

At that moment a boy who was seven years old, wearing his hair in five knots, was sent there by his mother. As he was gathering sticks in the park garden, he sang this song repeatedly. Sonaka called the boy to him and asked him, “Why, my lad, do you always sing the same song and never sing anything else? Do you not know any other song?” “I know others, holy sir, but this is the king’s favorite song, and so I constantly sing it.” “Has anyone been found to sing a refrain to this song?” “No, sir.” “I will teach you one and then you can go and sing the refrain before the king.” “Yes, sir.” So he taught him the refrain “A thousand coins” and the rest of it. And when the boy had mastered it, he sent him off, saying, “Go, my lad. Sing this refrain before the king, and he will grant you great power. What have you to do with gathering sticks? Be off with you as quick as you can.” “It is well,” said the boy, and having mastered the refrain and saluted Sonaka he said, “Holy sir, until I bring the king, remain here.”

With these words he went off as fast as he could to his mother and said to her, “Dear mother, give me a bath and dress me in my best clothes. Today I will free you from your poverty.” And when he had taken a bath and was smartly dressed, he went to the door of the palace and said, “Porter, go and tell the king a certain lad has come and even now stands at the door, prepared to sing a song with you.” So the porter made haste and told the king. The king summoned him to his presence and said, “Friend, would you sing a song with me?” “Yes, sire.” “Then sing it.” “My lord, I will not sing it here, but have a drum beaten through the city and bid the people to assemble. I will sing before the people.” The king ordered this to be done, and taking his seat in the middle of a couch under a magnificent pavilion and assigning a suitable seat to the boy, he said, “Now then sing your song.” “Sire,” he said, “you sing first and then I will sing a refrain to it.” Then the king sang first, repeating this stanza:

A thousand coins for one that sees my friend and playmate dear,

A hundred lo! I give if one of Sonaka should hear.

Then the Master, to make it clear that the boy with his hair dressed in five knots sang a refrain to the song begun by the king, in his Perfect Wisdom repeated two lines:

Then up and spoke that little boy—five tangled locks he wore—

“The thousand give to me who saw, who heard a hundred more,

I’ll tell you news of Sonaka, your playfellow of yore.”

The verses that follow are to be taken in their obvious connection.

Pray in what country, realm, or town have you a-wandering been,

And where was Sonaka, my friend, I pray you tell me, seen?

Within this realm, in your own park is many a big sāl tree

With leaves dark green and stems so straight, a pleasant sight to see.

Their branches densely interlaced, cloud-like, to heaven they rise,

And at their foot lo! Sonaka in meditation lies,

Filled with the Arhat’s holy calm, when human passion dies.

The king then started in full force and levelling the road

He made his way straight to the place of Sonaka’s abode.

There wandering midst an ample grove within his pleasure ground,

All passionless, in saintly bliss, his friend at rest he found.

Without saluting him he sat on one side, and by reason of his being himself given up to evil passion, he fancied he was some poor wretch and addressed him in this stanza:

His parents dead, with shaven head, clad in monk’s robe I see

A wretched brother in a trance, stretched here beneath this tree.

On hearing this said Sonaka “He’s in no wretched plight

Who in his every action, sire, has all attained to right.

No, rather wretched those who right neglect and practice ill,

For evil doer evil doom is destined to fulfill.”

In this way he rebuked the Bodhisatta. But he pretended not to know he was being rebuked and talked to him in a friendly way. He declared his name and family and spoke this stanza:

As king of Kāsi I am known, Arindama my name,

Since coming here, sir, have you met anyone deserving blame?

Then the Paccekabuddha said, “Not while living here or anywhere else have I met with any discomfort,” and he began to describe in verse the blessings of the monk:

‘Mongst blessings of poor homeless monk I ever count it one,

In jar or maund or granary he stores has hoarded none,

But only craves what others leave and lives content thereon.

The next of all his blessings this is one deserving praise,

He free from blame enjoys his food and no one him gainsays.

(“Gainsays” means disputes.)

Third blessing of the monk I hold is this, that all his days

He eats his food in happiness and no one him gainsays.

The fourth of all his blessings is that wheresoe’er he goes,

He wanders free throughout the realm and no Attachment knows.

Fifth blessing this that should the town, wherever he may be,

Perish in flames, he suffers not, nothing to burn has he.

The sixth of all the blessings he may reckon to his lot

That if the realm should be despoiled, he suffers not a jot.

The seventh of the blessings that to poverty he owes,

Though robbers should his path beset, and many dangerous foes,

With bowl and robe the holy man ever in safety goes.

Last blessing this that wheresoe’er our wanderer may fare,

Homeless and poor, he journeys on without regret or care.

In this way the Paccekabuddha Sonaka told of the eight blessings of the monk. And even beyond this he could have told of a hundred—even a thousand—immeasurable blessings. But the king was consumed by sensual desires. He cut his speech short, saying, “I have no need of monkish blessings.” And to make it clear how devoted he was to evil passions he said:

Your many blessings you may praise but what am I to do

Who worldly pleasures, Sonaka, so greedily pursue?

Dear are all human joys to me and heavenly joys as well,

But how to gain both worlds at once, to me, I pray you, tell.

Then the Paccekabuddha answered him:

Who greedily on pleasure bent their worldly lusts would wait,

Work wickedness awhile, to be reborn in woeful state.

But they who leave desire behind through life all fearless go,

And reaching concentration pure are ne’er reborn to woe.

Here I tell you a parable, Arindama, give heed,

Some that are wise through parable my meaning best may read.

See! borne along on Ganges’ flooded tide a carcass vast,

A foolish crow thought to himself as it was floating past,

“Oh what a carriage I have found and goodly store of food,

Here will I stay both night and day, enjoying blissful mood.”

So he eats flesh of elephant and drinks from Ganges’ stream,

And budging not sees grove and shrine pass by him in a dream.

Thus heedless and on animal meat so all intent was he,

The Ganges swept him headlong to the perils of the sea.

But when with food exhausted, he, poor bird, sought out a flight,

Not east or west or south or north was any land in sight.

Far out at sea, so weak was he, before he reached the shore,

Midst countless perils of the deep he fell to rise no more.

For crocodiles and monster fish, where our poor flutterer lay,

Came ravening all around and quick devoured their quivering prey.

So you and all that greedily pleasures of sense pursue

Are deemed as wise as was this crow, until you lusts eschew.

My parable proclaims the Truth. To it, O king, give heed,

Your fame for good or ill will grow according to your deed.

So using this parable he admonished the king. And to fix it firmly in his mind, he repeated this stanza:

In pity once, no even twice, utter the warning word,

But keep not on repeating it, like slave before his lord.

Thus in his wisdom infinite did Sonaka the seer

Instruct the king, and then in space straightway did disappear.

This stanza was inspired by Perfect Wisdom.

And the Bodhisatta stood gazing on him as he passed through the air, as long as he remained within the range of his vision. But when the Paccekabuddha had passed out of sight, he was greatly agitated. He thought, “This brahmin, low-born fellow that he is, scattered the dust from his feet on my head. And although I am from an unbroken line of nobles, he has vanished in the sky. I must today renounce the world and enter the holy life.” So in his desire to become an ascetic and give up his kingdom, he repeated a couple of stanzas:

Where are my charioteers, dispatched a worthy king to find?

I would not longer reign, henceforth my crown I have resigned.

Tomorrow one may die, who knows? I’ll be ordained today,

Lest, like the foolish crow, I fall ‘neath passion’s baneful sway.

On hearing him abdicate his throne his councilors said:

You have a son, Dīghāvu named, a goodly prince is he,

By sprinkling raise him to the throne, for he our king shall be.

Then, beginning with the stanza spoken by the king, the verses in due order are to be understood in their obvious connection:

Then quickly bring Dīghāvu here, a goodly prince is he,

By sprinkling raise him to the throne, for he your king shall be.

When they had brought Dīghāvu there, their nursing king to be,

His sire addressed his darling boy—an only son was he.

Full sixty thousand villages I once did claim as mine,

Take them, my son, to you henceforth my kingdom I resign.

Tomorrow one may die, who knows? I’ll be ordained today,

Lest, like the foolish crow, I fall ‘neath passion’s baneful sway.

Lo! sixty thousand elephants with splendor all alight,

With girths of gold, all brightly decked with trappings golden-bright,

Each ridden by his own mahout, with spiked hook in hand,

Take them, my son, I give them true as ruler of the land.

Tomorrow one may die, who knows? I’ll be ordained today,

Lest, like the foolish crow, I fall ‘neath passion’s baneful sway.

Lo! sixty thousand horses here, bedecked in bright array

—Sindh horses, all of noble breed and fleet of foot are they—

Each ridden by a henchman bold, with sword and bow in hand,

Take them, my son, I give them true as ruler of the land.

Tomorrow one may die, who knows? I’ll be ordained today,

Lest, like the foolish crow, I fall ‘neath passion’s baneful sway.

Lo! sixty thousand cars all yoked, with banners flying free,

With tiger skin and panther hide, a gorgeous sight to see,

Each driven by armored charioteers, all armed with bow in hand,

Take them, my son, I give them true, as ruler of the land.

Tomorrow one may die, who knows? I’ll be ordained today,

Lest, like the foolish crow, I fall ‘neath passion’s baneful sway.

Lo! sixty thousand cows so red, with bulls on every hand,

Take them, my son, I give them true as ruler of the land.

Tomorrow one may die, who knows? I’ll be ordained today,

Lest, like the foolish crow, I fall ‘neath passion’s baneful sway.

Here twice eight thousand maidens fair in goodly vesture stand,

With many a jeweled bracelet decked and rings upon each hand,

Take them, my son, I give them true, as ruler of the land.

Tomorrow one may die, who knows? I’ll be ordained today,

Lest, like the foolish crow, I fall ‘neath passion’s baneful sway.

They say to me, “Your mother dear, alas! poor boy, is dead,”

I cannot live without you, too. All joy from life is fled.

As close behind old elephant a young one oft is found

Moving through mountain-pass or wood, o’er rough or level ground,

So bowl in hand I’ll follow you, wherever you may lead,

Nor shall you find me burdensome or difficult to feed.

As oft some ship of merchants seeking gain at any cost

Is swallowed by a whirlpool and both ship and crew are lost,

So lest I find a stumbling-block in this accursed boy,

Install him in my palace there all pleasures to enjoy—

With maids whose hands caressing him with gleaming gold are bright,

Like Sakka midst his nymphs divine, he’ll ever take delight.

Then brought the prince Dīghāvu to the palace, home of joy,

And seeing him these maidens fair addressed the royal boy.

“Who are you? Angel, minstrel-god, or Sakka known to fame,

Dispensing alms in every town? We gladly learn your name.”

No angel I nor minstrel-god nor Sakka known to fame,

But heir to king of Kāsi, prince Dīghāvu is my name.

So cherish me and happy be, each one as wife I claim.

Then thus unto Dīghāvu, their liege lord, these maidens said,

“Where has the king a refuge gained, and whereto is he fled?”

The king escaped from muddy ways is safe upon dry ground,

From thorns and jungle free at last the high road he has found.

But I am set upon a path that leads to woeful state,

Through thorns and jungle on I press to reach an awful fate.

Welcome to us, as lion is to cubs in mountain lair,

Bear sway henceforth, our sovereign lord, the true and rightful heir.

And having so spoken, they all sounded their musical instruments, and all manner of song and dance took place. So great was his glory that the prince was so intoxicated by it that he forgot all about his father. But he exercised his rule with justice and fared according to his deeds. But the Bodhisatta developed the supernatural faculty resulting from meditation and passed away to the Brahma world.