Sudhābhojana Jātaka

Once upon a time when Brahmadatta was the King of Benares, there lived a wealthy householder possessed of 80 crores (one crore is ten million rupees). The King conferred on him the office of Treasurer. He was honored by the King and highly esteemed by citizens and country folk alike. One day he was pondering his worldly prosperity, and he thought, “This glory was not won by me by slothfulness and wicked acts in a former existence. It was attained by performing acts of virtue. It behooves me to make my salvation sure in the future.” So he sought the King’s presence and addressed him. “In my house, sire, is treasure amounting to 80 crores. Accept it from me.” And when the King said, “I have no need of your riches. I have abundant wealth. Take and do whatever you like with it.” He said, “Can I, sire, bestow my money in charity?” The King said, “Do as you please.”

He had six alms-halls built. There was one at each of the four city gates, one in the heart of the city, and one at the door of his home. Every day he spent 600,000 gold coins. He established almsgiving on a grand scale. As long as he lived, he dispensed alms and instructed his sons, saying, “See that you do not break from this tradition of mine, of giving alms.”

At the end of his life, he was reborn as Sakka (god of the Tāvatimsa heaven). His son gave alms in a like manner. He was reborn as Canda, Canda’s son as Suriya, Suriya’s son as Mātali, Mātali’s son as Pañcasikha. Now Pañcasikha’s son, the sixth in descent, was the Treasurer named Maccharikosiya (the Millionaire Miser), and he still owned 80 crores. But he thought, “My forefathers were fools. They threw away the wealth that was so sorely scraped together. But I will guard my treasure. I will not give a penny to anyone.” He demolished and burned down the alms-halls and became a confirmed miser.

The beggars assembled at his gate, and stretching out their arms they cried with a loud voice “O Lord High Treasurer, do not do away with the tradition of your forefathers. Give alms.” The people condemned him, saying, “Maccharikosiya has done away with the tradition of his family.” Maccharikosiya set a guard to prevent the beggars from standing at his gate. And being left utterly destitute, they never again set eyes on his door.

From then on he continued to hoard his money. But he did not enjoy it himself, and he did not share it with his wife and children. He lived on rice with its red powder and served it with sour gruel. He wore coarse garments, being merely the filaments of roots and stalks of berries. He shaded his head with a parasol of leaves, and he rode upon a crazy old chariot yoked to worn-out oxen. All this wicked fellow’s money was as if it were a cocoa nut found by a dog (i.e., it was useless).

Now one day when he was going to wait upon the King, he thought he would take the sub-treasurer with him. When he reached his house, he found the sub-treasurer seated amid his wife and children. He was eating some rice porridge prepared with powdered sugar to sweeten it and cooked with fresh ghee. On seeing Maccharikosiya, he rose from his seat and said, “Come and sit on this couch, Lord High Treasurer, and have some rice porridge with me.” When he saw the rice porridge, his mouth watered, and he longed to eat it. But the thought occurred to him, “If I should eat some porridge, when the sub-treasurer comes to my house, I will have to return his hospitality. In this way my money will be wasted. I will not eat it.” Then on being pressed again and again he refused, saying, “I have already dined. I am satisfied.”

But while the sub-treasurer was enjoying his food, he sat looking on with his mouth watering. And when the meal had ended, he left with him to the palace. When he returned home, he was overwhelmed with a craving for rice porridge. But he thought, “If I should say I want to eat rice porridge, a lot of people will also want to eat it, and a lot of husked rice and the like would be wasted. I will not say a word to anyone.” So night and day he passed his time thinking of nothing but porridge. But from fear of spending his money, he told no one, and he kept his craving to himself. But being unable to bear with it, he gradually grew paler and paler. Through fear of wasting his money, he spoke of his craving to no one. By and by he became very weak. He lay down, hugging his bed.

Then his wife came to see him, and stroking his back with her hand, she asked, “Is my lord ill?” “Ill yourself!” he cried, “I am quite well.” “My lord, you have grown pale. Have you anything on your mind? Is the King displeased, or have you been treated with disrespect by your children? Or do you have a craving for something?” “Yes, I have a craving.” “Tell me what it is, my lord.” “Can you keep a secret?” “Yes, I will be silent about any cravings that ought to be kept secret.” But even so, through fear of wasting his money, he did not have the courage to tell her. Repeatedly she pressed him. Finally, he said, “My dear, one day I saw the sub-treasurer eating rice porridge prepared with ghee, honey, and powdered sugar, and from that day on I have had a craving to eat the same kind of porridge.” “Poor wretch, are you so badly off? I will cook porridge enough for all the inhabitants of Benares.”

Then he felt just as if he had been struck on the head with a stick. Being angry with her he said, “I understand you are very rich. If it comes from your family, you may cook and give rice porridge to the whole city.” “Well then I will make and cook enough for the dwellers in a single street.” “What do you have do with them? Let them eat what belongs to them.” “Then I will make enough for seven households taken at random here and there.” “What are they to you?” “Then I will cook it for the attendants in this house.” “What are they to you?” “Well, then, I will cook for our kinsfolk only.” “What are they to you?” “Then I will cook, my lord, for you and me.” “And pray who are you? It is not allowable in your case.” “I will cook it for you only, my lord.” “Pray do not cook it for me. If you cook it in the house, a lot of people will want it. But just give me a measure of husked rice, a pint of milk, a pound of sugar, a pot of honey and a cooking vessel, and I will go into the forest. There I will there cook and eat my porridge.”

She did this, and bidding a slave to take it all, he ordered him to go and stand in a certain place. Then sending the slave forward, he made himself a veil. In this disguise he went there, and by the river side at the foot of a shrub, he had an oven made and firewood and water brought to him. He said to the slave, “Go and stand in yonder road, and if you see anyone, make a sign to me, and when I call, you come back to me.” Sending the slave off, he made a fire and cooked his porridge.

At that moment Sakka, king of heaven, was contemplating the splendid city of the gods. It was 10,000 leagues in extent. The golden street was 60 leagues long. Vejayanta (Sakk’s palace) reared a thousand leagues high, and Sudhammā (Sakka’s hall of justice) encompassed 500 leagues. His throne of yellow marble was 60 leagues in extent. His white umbrella with its golden wreath was five leagues in circumference. His own person was adorned with a glorious array of 25 million heavenly nymphs. Contemplating all this glory of his he thought, “What can I have done to have attained such honor as this?” And he saw in his mind’s eye the almsgiving he had established when he was Lord High Treasurer at Benares. Then he thought, “Where have my descendants been reborn?”

Considering this matter he saw, “My son Canda was born in an deva-form, and his son was Suriya.” And marking the birth of them, “What,” he cried, “has been the fate of the son of Pañcasikha?” And on reflection he saw that the tradition of generosity had been abandoned. He thought, “This wicked fellow is miserly. He neither enjoys his wealth himself nor gives anything to others. The tradition of the family has been destroyed by him. When he dies, he will be reborn in hell. By admonishing him and by re-establishing my tradition, I will show him how to be reborn in the city of the gods.”

So he summoned Canda and the rest. He said to them, “Come, we will visit the haunts of men. The tradition of our family has been abolished by Maccharikosiya. The alms-halls have been burned down, and he neither enjoys wealth himself nor gives anything to others. But now he desires porridge, but he thinks, ‘If it is cooked in the house, the porridge will have to be given to someone else as well.’ So he has gone into the forest and is cooking it all alone. We will go and convert him. We will teach him the fruits of almsgiving. If, however, he were asked by all of us at once to give us some food, he would fall dead on the spot. I will go first, and when I have asked him for porridge and have taken my seat, then you come, one after another, disguised as brahmins, and beg of him.”

So saying he dressed like a brahmin. He approached him and cried, “Ho! Which is the road to Benares?” Then Maccharikosiya said, “Have you lost your wits? Do you not even know the way to Benares? Why are you coming this way? Get you gone from here.” Sakka, pretending not to hear what he said, went up to him, asking him what he said. Then he bawled, “I say, you deaf old brahmin, why are you coming this way? Go away.” Then Sakka said, “Why do you bawl so loud? Here I see smoke and a fire, and rice porridge is cooking. It must be some occasion for entertaining brahmins. I, too, when the brahmins are being fed will take some of it. Why are you driving me away?”

“There is no entertainment for brahmins here. Be off with you.” “Then why are you so angry? When you eat your meal, I will take a little.” He said, “I will not give you even a single lump of boiled rice. This scanty food is only just enough to keep me alive, and even this was obtained by begging. You go and look for your food elsewhere”

He said this in reference to the fact that he had asked his wife for the rice. Then he spoke this stanza:

No huckster I to buy or vend,

No stores are mine to give or lend.

This dole of rice ‘twas hard to gain,

‘Tis scarce enough to serve us twain.

On hearing this Sakka said, “I, too, with a honey-sweet voice will repeat a stanza for you. Listen to me.” And even though he tried to stop him by saying, “I do not want to hear your stanza,” Sakka repeated a couple of stanzas:

From little one should little give, from moderate means likewise,

From much give much, of giving nought no question can arise.

This then I tell you, Kosiya, give alms of that is thine,

Eat not alone, no bliss is his that by himself shall dine,

By charity you may ascend the noble path divine.

When he heard these words he said, “This is a gracious saying of yours, brahmin. When the porridge is cooked, you will receive a little. Please, take a seat.” Sakka sat down on one side. When he was seated, Canda in like manner drew near. He started a conversation in the same way. And even though Maccharikosiya kept trying to stop him, he spoke a couple of stanzas:

Vain is your sacrifice and vain the craving of your heart,

Should you eat food and grudge to give your guest some little part.

This then I tell you, Kosiya, give alms of that is thine,

Eat not alone, no bliss is his that by himself shall dine,

By charity you may ascend the noble path divine.

On hearing his words, the miser reluctantly said, “Well, sit down, and you shall have a little porridge.” So he went and sat down near Sakka. Then Suriya in like manner drew near. He started a conversation in the same way. And even though the miser tried to stop him, he spoke a couple of stanzas:

Real your sacrifice nor vain the craving of thy heart,

Should you not eat your food alone, but give your guest a part.

This then I tell you, Kosiya, give alms of that is thine,

Eat not alone, no bliss is his that by himself shall dine,

By charity you may ascend the noble path divine.

On hearing his words, the miser said with great reluctance, “Well, sit down, and you shall have a little.” So Suriya went and sat by Canda. Then Mātali in like manner drew near. He started a conversation, even though the miser tried to stop him. He spoke these stanzas:

Who offers gifts to lake or flood of Gayā’s stream that laves

Or Timbaru or Doṇa shrine with rapid-flowing waves,

Herein gains fruit of sacrifice and craving of his heart,

If with a guest, he shares his food nor sits and eats apart.

This then I tell you, Kosiya, give alms of that is thine,

Eat not alone, no bliss is his that by himself shall dine,

By charity you may ascend the noble path divine.

(“Laves” means “washes.”)

On hearing his words also, overwhelmed as it were with a mountain peak, he reluctantly said, “Well, sit down, and you shall have a little. Mātali went and sat by Suriya.

Then Pañcasikha in a like manner drew near. He started a conversation even though the miser tried to stop him. He, too, spoke a couple of stanzas:

Like fish that swallows greedily hook fastened to a line

Is he who with a guest at hand all by himself shall dine.

This then I tell you, Kosiya, give alms of that is thine,

Eat not alone, no bliss is his that by himself shall dine,

By charity you may ascend the noble path divine.

On hearing this Maccharikosiya, with a painful effort and groaning aloud, said, “Well, sit down, and you shall have a little.” So Pañcasikha went and sat by Mātali.

And when these five brahmins had taken their seats, the porridge was cooked. Kosiya took it from the oven told the brahmins to bring their leaves. Remaining seated as they were, they stretched out their hands and brought leaves of a creeper from the Himalayas. When Kosiya saw this, he said, “I cannot give you porridge in these large leaves of yours. Get some leaves of the acacia and similar trees.” They gathered such leaves, and each one was as big as a warrior’s shield. He helped all of them to some porridge with a spoon. By the time he had helped the last of all, there was still plenty left in the pot.

After serving the five brahmins, he sat down, holding the pot. At that moment Pañcasikha rose up. He discarded his natural form and was transformed into a dog. He went and stood in front of them and urinated. Each of the brahmins covered up his porridge with a leaf. A drop of the dog’s urine fell on the back of Kosiya’s hand. The brahmins fetched water in their jars, and mixing it with the porridge, they pretended to eat it. Kosiya said, “Give me too some water, and after washing my hand, I will eat some food.” “Fetch water for yourself,” they said, “and wash your hand.” “I gave you porridge. Give me a little water.” “We do not make a habit of exchanging alms.” “Well then, guard this cooking pot, and after I have washed my hand, I will come back.” Then he descended to the river side.

At that moment the dog filled the pot with urine. Kosiya on seeing him make water took a big stick and drew near, threatening him. The dog then transformed into a spirited blood horse, and as it pursued him, it assumed different colors. First it was black, then white, then it was gold-colored, then dappled. At one time it was tall, at another time it was low. Thus in many different appearances it pursued Maccharikosiya. Frightened with the fear of death, he drew near to the brahmins while they flew up and stood fixed in the air. When he saw their supernatural power he said:

You noble brahmins, standing in midair,

Why does this hound of yours thus strangely wear

A thousand varied forms, though one he be,

And tell me truly, brahmins, who are ye?

On hearing this, Sakka, the king of heaven, said:

Canda and Suriya lo! both are here,

And Mātali the heavenly charioteer,

I Sakka am, chief god of Thirty-Three,

And Pañcasikha there is chasing thee.

And celebrating Pañcasikha’s fame Sakka spoke this stanza:

With tabour, drum, and tambourine they rouse him from his sleep,

And as he wakes, glad music makes his heart with joy to leap.

On hearing his words Kosiya asked, “By what acts do men attain to heavenly glory such as this?” “They that do not practice charity, evil doers and misers do not reach the deva-world but are reborn in hell.” And by way of showing this Sakka said:

Whoe’er are miserly misers born,

Or priests and holy brahmins scorn,

Their earthly frame now laid aside,

In hell, dissolved by death, abide.

And speaking the following stanza, to show how those that are steadfast in righteousness attain to the deva-world, he said:

Steadfast in right who heaven would win

Give alms and keep themselves from sin,

And, with their body laid aside

By death’s decay, in heaven abide.

After these words Sakka said, “Kosiya, we have not come to you for the sake of the porridge, but from a feeling of compassion for you.” And to make it clear to him he said:

You, though to us in former births akin,

A miser are, a man of wrath and sin.

‘Tis for your sake we have come down to earth,

To avert from defilements—in hell rebirth.

Hearing this Kosiya thought, “They tell me they are my well-wishers. Plucking me out of hell, they would establish me in heaven.” And being highly pleased he said:

In that you thus admonish me, you doubtless seek my good,

I too will follow your advice, so far as understood.

Henceforth I’ll cease from stingy ways, from wicked deed abstain,

Give alms of all, nor e’en a cup, unshared, of water drain.

Ever giving, Sakka, soon my wealth will diminished be,

Then will I orders take, and lusts of every kind will flee.

After converting Maccharikosiya, Sakka taught him the fruits of almsgiving and made him selflessness. He taught the Dharma and established him the five moral virtues. Then, together with his attendant gods, he returned to the deva realm. Maccharikosiya went into the city of Benares, and having asked the King’s permission, he asked them to take and fill all the vessels they could lay hands on with his treasure and gave it to the beggars.

He went to the Himavat (the Himalayan Mountains), and on a spot between the Ganges and a natural lake, he built a hut of leaves. He became an ascetic and he lived on roots and wild berries. He lived there for a long time until he reached old age.

At that time Sakka had four daughters, Hope, Faith, Glory, and Honor. They took many a heavenly scented garland and went to Lake Anotatta (a lake in the Himalayas) to enjoy themselves in the water. After amusing themselves there, they sat on Mount Manosilā (a mountain in India). Just at that moment Nārada, a brahmin ascetic, went to the palace of the Thirty-Three to rest during the heat of the day. He built a resting place for the day in the shade of Cittakūṭa (another mountain in India) in the Nanda Grove (a mythical paradise). And holding the flower of the coral tree in his hand to serve as a sunshade, he repaired to Golden Cave, the place where he lived on the top of Manosilā (another mountain in India). When the nymphs saw this flower in his hand, they begged him to give it to them.

The Master, to make the matter clear, said:

In Gandhamādana’s lordly height,

These nymphs, great Sakka’s care, delight.

To them a saint of world-wide fame

With goodly bough in hand there came.

This bough with flowers so pure and sweet

Is deemed for gods and devas meet.

No demon, none of mortal birth

Can claim this flower of priceless worth.

Then Faith, Hope, Glory, Honor, those

Four maids with skins like gold, arose,

And, peerless ‘midst all nymphs confessed,

The brahmin Nārada addressed.

“Give us, O sage, this coral flower,

If still to give is in your power,

As Sakka’s self we’ll honor thee,

And you in all things blessed shall be.”

When Nārada their prayer had heard,

He straight a mighty quarrel stirred.

“I need it not, whom you allow

To be your queen shall claim the bough.”

When they heard what he said, the four nymphs spoke this stanza:

O Nārada, supreme we know,

On whom you will the boon bestow.

Whom you shall with such gift invest,

Among us will be counted best.

Nārada, on hearing their words, addressed them saying:

Fair one, such counsel is not right,

What brahmin strife would dare excite?

Take to the lord of sprites your quest,

If you would know who’s worst or best.

Then the Master spoke this stanza:

With pride of beauty mad and rage

Excited by the cunning sage,

To Sakka, lord of sprites, they go,

Who ‘mongst them all is best to know.

As they stood, they asked this question:

These nymphs so earnest in their quest

Sakka with due respect addressed,

“You all in beauty equal are,

Who thus with strife your peace would mar?”

Being thus addressed by him they said:

Nārada, world-traversing, a sage of might,

Truth-piercing, steadfast ever in the right,

Thus spoke to us on Gandhamādana’s height,

“To Sakka, lord of spirits, straightway go,

If who is first or last you fain would know.”

Hearing this Sakka thought, “If I shall say that one of these four daughters of mine is virtuous beyond the others, the rest will be angry. This is a case impossible for me to decide. I will send them to Kosiya, the ascetic in the Himalayas. He shall decide the question for them.”

So he said, “I cannot decide your case. In the Himalayas there is an ascetic named Kosiya. I will send a cup of my ambrosia to him. He eats nothing without sharing it with another, and in his generosity, he shows discrimination by bestowing it upon the virtuous. Whichever of you receives food at his hand, she must be the best among you.” And so saying he repeated this stanza:

The sage that lives in that vast wood

Will not unshared touch any food.

Kosiya with judgment gifts confers,

To whom he gives, first place is hers.

So he summoned Mātali and sent him to the ascetic. He repeated the following stanza:

On Himavat slopes where Ganges glides

Towards the south a saint resides.

Ambrosia, Mātali, take to the saint,

For food and drink he’s waxing faint.

Then the Master said:

At the god’s request went Mātali,

On a car with a thousand steeds rode he,

Unseen he soon by the hermitage stood

And offered the sage ambrosial food.

Kosiya took it, and even as he stood, he spoke a couple of stanzas:

A flame of sacrifice while I did raise,

The sun that drives away all gloom to praise.

Sakka supreme o’er spirit-world that stands—

Who else?—ambrosia placed within my hands.

White like a pearl was it, beyond compare,

Fragrant and pure, and marvelously fair,

Never before seen by these eyes of mine,

What god puts in my hands this food divine?

Then Mātali said:

I come, O mighty sage, by Sakka sent,

In haste to bring you heavenly nutriment.

This best of food, pray, eat without all fear,

You see here Mātali, heaven’s charioteer.

By eating this twelve evil things are slain,

Thirst, hunger, discontent, fatigue, and pain,

Cold, heat, rage, enmity, strife, slander, sloth—

This heavenly essence eat you, nothing loth.

(“Loth” means “unwilling.”)

When he heard this, Kosiya, to make it clear that he had taken a vow, spoke this stanza:

‘Twas wrong to eat alone I thought, so took a vow one day

To touch no food, unless I gave some part of it away.

To eat alone is ne’er approved by men of noble mind,

Who with others does not share will no happiness e’er find.

Mātali questioned him, saying, “Holy sir, what did you discover was wrong in eating without giving a portion to others that you took this vow?” He answered:

All who commit adultery or womenkind do slay,

Who holy men curse and revile, or friendly souls betray,

And misers, worst of all—that I may ne’er be ranked with such,

Not e’en a drop of water I unshared will ever touch.

On men and women both alike my gifts shall ever flow,

Sages will praise all such as will their goods in alms bestow,

All that are generous in this world and stingy ways eschew,

Approved by all, will ever be esteemed people and true.

When he heard this, Mātali stood before him in a visible form. At that moment these four heavenly nymphs stood at the four points of the compass. Glory at the east, Hope at the south, Faith at the west, and Honor at the north.

The Master; to clear up the matter, said:

Four nymphs with golden forms so bright,

Hope, Glory, Faith, and Honor right,

At Sakka’s bidding earthward sent,

To Kosiya’s cell their footsteps bent.

The maids with forms that glowed like flame

To each of earth’s four quarters came,

‘For Mātali (now god confessed)

The sage o’erjoyed one thus addressed,

“Who are you, nymph, like morning star,

Illuming Eastern skies afar?

Your form in robe of gold arrayed

Tell me your name, O heavenly maid.”

“I am Glory, an honored friend,

The upright soul prompt to defend.

To claim this food, lo! here am I,

With this my prayer, great sage, comply.

I bliss confer on whom I will

And all his heart’s desire fulfill.

High priest, my name is Glory, know,

On me your heavenly food bestow.”

On hearing this Kosiya said:

Men may be skillful, virtuous, wise,

Excel in all their wits devise,

Yet without you they ne’er succeed,

In this I blame your evil deed.

Another slothful, greedy, see,

Low-born and ugly as may be,

Blessed by your care and rich withal

He makes one nobly born his thrall.

You then as false and dull, Glory, I recognize,

Reckless in courting fools and laying low the wise.

No claim have you in truth to seat or water-pot,

Much less ambrosial food. Begone, I like you not.

So she straightway vanished from sight.

Then, talking with Hope, he said:

Who are you, maiden fair, with teeth so pure and white,

With rings of burnished gold and spangled bracelets bright,

In robe of watered sheen and wearing on your head

A sprig like ruddy flame by tufts of kusa fed?

Like a wild doe all but by hunter’s arrow grazed,

You look dull eyed around as ‘twere some creature dazed,

O softly glancing maid, what comrade have you here,

That through lone forest glade you stray without a fear?

Then she spoke this stanza:

No comrade have I here, from Sakka’s heavenly home

Masakkasāra called, heavenly-born I come.

To claim ambrosial food Hope now appears to thee,

O hearken, noble sage, and grant this boon to me.

On hearing this Kosiya. said, “They tell me that whoever pleases you, to him you grant hope, and whoever does not please you, to him you do not grant hope. Success does not come to him through you in this case, but you bring about his destruction.” And by way of illustration, he said:

Merchants through hope seek treasure far and wide,

And taking ship on ocean’s billows ride.

There sometimes do they sink to rise no more,

Or else escaping their lost wealth deplore.

In hope their fields the farmers plough and till,

Sow seeds and labor with their utmost skill.

But should some plague, or drought afflict the soil

No harvest will they reap for all their toil.

Ease-loving men, led on by hope, take heart

And for their lord’s sake play a manly part,

Oppressed by foes on every side they fall

And fighting for their lord lose life and all.

Grain stores and wealth renouncing for their kin,

Through hope aspiring heavenly bliss to win,

Long time harsh penances they undergo,

And by bad ways attain to state of woe.

Deceiver of mankind, your suit is vain,

Your idle craving for this boon restrain.

No claim have you to seat or water-pot,

Much less to heavenly food. Begone, I like you not.

She too, on being rejected, straightway vanished from sight.

Then holding talking with Faith, he spoke this stanza:

Famed nymph in blaze of glory dressed,

Standing towards the ill-omened West,

Your form in robe of gold arrayed,

Tell me your name, illustrious maid.

Then she repeated a stanza:

My name is Faith, man’s honored friend,

The upright soul prompt to defend.

To claim this food, lo! here am I,

With this my prayer, great sage, comply.

Then Kosiya said, “Those mortals that believe the words of first one and then another do this or that. They do what they ought not to do more often than do that which they ought to do. And truly it is all done through you.” Then he repeated these stanzas:

Through faith at times men freely alms dispense,

Show self-control, restraint and abstinence.

At times again through you from grace they fall,

Slander and lie and cheat and steal withal.

With wives, chaste, faithful, and of high degree,

A man may circumspect and prudent be,

May curb his passions well in such a case,

Yet in some harlot his whole trust may place.

Through you, O Faith, adultery is rife,

Forsaking good you lead a wicked life.

No claim have you to seat or water-pot,

Much less ambrosial food. Begone, I like you not.

She, too, straightway vanished from sight.

Then Kosiya talked with Honor as she stood on the north side. He repeated these two stanzas:

Like Dawn that gilds the skirts of hateful Night,

So does your beauty burst upon my sight.

O heavenly nymph in form so passing fair,

Tell me your name and who you are declare.

Like to a tender plant whose roots are fed

On soil o’er which devouring flames have spread,

Its wealth of scarlet leaves by summer breezes shed,

Why do you look at me with bashful air,

Fain as it were to speak, yet standing silent there?

Then she uttered this stanza:

I am Honor, man’s cherished friend,

Who aid to righteous mortals lend.

Lo here I am this food to claim,

Yet scarcely dare my wish to frame

To woman suing counts as shame.

On hearing this the ascetic repeated two stanzas:

No need for you to beg and sue,

Receive what is your right and due.

I grant the boon you do not crave,

Accept the food you soon would have.

Deign, nymph, all golden clad, I pray,

To feast within my cell this day,

First honoring you with dainties rare,

I, too, this heavenly food would share.

Then follow some stanzas inspired by divine wisdom:

Thus Honor, glorious nymph, at his request

In Kosiya’s home was welcomed as a guest.

Fruits and perennial streams therein abound,

And thronging saints are in its precincts found.

Here flowering shrubs in a dense mass we see,

The mango, piyal, breadfruit, Judas-tree.

Here sal and bright rose apple deck the glade,

There fig and banyan cast their holy shade.

Here many a flower with fragrance scents the wind,

Here peas and beans, panic and rice we find.

Bananas everywhere rich clusters show,

And bamboo reeds in thickest tangle grow.

On the north side, hemmed in by smooth and level bank,

And fed by purest streams, behold a sacred tank.

There happy fish in peace enjoy themselves at will,

And ‘midst abundant food with pleasure take their fill.

There happy birds in peace enjoy abundant fare,

Swans, herons, ospreys too, peacocks with plumage rare,

Cuckoos and pheasants close with ruddy geese are there.

Here do lions, tigers, boars resort their thirst to partake.

This bears, hyenas, wolves are wont their drinking place to make.

The buffalo, rhinoceros and oxen, too, are here,

With antelope, elk, herds of swine, and red and other deer,

And cats with ears like to a hare’s in numbers vast appear.

The mountain slopes are gaily pranked with flowers of varied shade

And echo to the song of birds that haunt each forest glade.

Thus did the Blessed One sing the praises of Kosiya’s hermitage. And now, to show forth the manner of the goddess Honor’s entrance, he said:

The fair one leaning on a branch, all clothed with foliage green,

Like lightning front a thundercloud straight flashed upon the scene.

For her was set a dainty couch, rich drapings at its head,

All wrought of fragrant kusa grass, with deerskin overspread.

And thus to Honor, heavenly nymph, the holy hermit spake,

“For your delight the couch is set, be pleased a seat to take.”

The ascetic then pure water from the spring

In freshly gathered leaves with haste did bring,

And knowing what her inmost soul would crave

The ambrosial food to her he gladly gave.

As in her hands the welcome gift she pressed,

The nymph thus overjoyed the saint addressed,

“Worship to me and victory you have given,

Lo! now once more I’ll seek my native heaven.”

The maid intoxicate with pride of fame,

With Kosiya’s blessing, back to Indra came,

“And see,” she cried, “god of the thousand eyes,

The ambrosia’s here—to me award the prize.”

Then Sakka and his host of devas paid

Due honor to the peerless heavenly maid,

And as she sat on her new seat enthroned,

Her presence gods and men adoring owned.

While they were honoring her, Sakka thought, “Why did Kosiya refuse it to the others and gave the ambrosia to this one alone?” To determine the reason, he again sent Mātali.

The Master, in making the matter clear, repeated this stanza:

So Sakka, lord of the Thirty-Three,

Once more addressing Mātali,

Said, “Go and bid the saint explain

Why Honor should the ambrosia gain.”

In obedience to his word, Mātali mounted the car called Vejayanta (Sakka’s chariot) and departed there.

The Master, to explain the matter, said:

So Mātali then launched a car to voyage through the air,

With fittings all to match itself, in splendor wondrous fair,

Its pole of gold, gold well refined, and all its framework built

With ornament elaborate and overlaid with gilt.

Peacocks in gold depicted were in numbers not a few,

Horses and cows and elephants, tigers and panthers too,

Here antelopes and deer are seen as if prepared for fight,

Here wrought in precious stones are jays and other birds in flight.

To it they yoked a thousand royal steeds of golden hue,

Each strong as youthful elephant, a splendid sight to view.

Their breasts in golden network clad, with wreaths be-garlanded,

With loosened trace, at a mere word, swift as the wind they sped.

As Mātali this lordly car ascended with a bound

The firmament in all ten points re-echoed to the sound.

And as he journeyed through the air, he made the world to quake,

And sky and sea and earth with all its rocks and woods did shake.

Right soon he gained the hermitage and wishing to declare

Due reverence for the holy man he left one shoulder bare,

And speaking to this brahmin sage, a wise and learned man,

Well trained in holy lore, ‘twas thus that Mātali began:

“Hear now, O Kosiya, the words of Indra, heavenly king,

As to what he is glad to learn, this message, lo! I bring.

While Hope and Faith and Glory’s claims you will not recognize,

Pray, why should Honor at your hands alone receive the prize?”

On hearing his words, the ascetic spoke this stanza:

Glory to me, O Mātali, appears a partial jade,

While Faith, your charioteer of gods, proves an inconstant maid,

Hope ever a deceiver loves its promise to betray,

Honor alone is rooted firm in holy virtue’s way.

And now in praise of her virtue he said:

Maidens that still within their homes live, ever guarded well,

Women now past their prime, and such as still with husbands dwell,

In one and all should fleshly lust within their heart arise,

At Honor’s voice they check the thought and wicked passion dies.

Where shafts and spears in battle’s van are hurtling fast and free,

And in the rout when comrades fall or turn them round and flee,

At Honor’s voice they check their flight e’en at the cost of life,

And panic-stricken as they were once more renew the strife.

Just as the shore will stem the rush of billows from the main,

So Honor, too, will oft the course of wicked folk restrain.

Then, Mātali, to Indra quick return and make it clear,

That saints throughout the whole wide world all Honor’s name revere.

On hearing this Mātali repeated this stanza:

Who was it, Kosiya, that did suggest this view to thee,

Was it great Indra, Brahma, or Pajāpati maybe?

This Honor, mighty sage, be sure, to Indra owes her birth,

And in the deva-world she ranks foremost of all in worth.

While he was still speaking, at that very instant Kosiya became subject to re-birth. Then Mātali said to him, “Kosiya, your aggregate of life is passing from you. Your practice of charity has ended. What do you have to do with the world of men? We will now go to the deva world.” And thinking that he would escort him there, he spoke this stanza:

Come now, O saint, and straightway mount the car so dear to me,

And let me lead you to the heaven where reign the Thirty-Three.

Indra is longing sore for you, to Indra’s self akin,

Today your way to fellowship with Indra you will win.

While Mātali was still speaking, Kosiya passed away. He was reborn in the ranks of the gods without the intervention of parents. (In Buddhist cosmology there is the notion of “spontaneous rebirth,” that is, rebirth with conception.) He took his stand upon the celestial car. Then Mātali conducted him into the presence of Sakka. When Sakka saw him, he was glad at heart. He gave him his daughter Honor to be his wife and his chief consort. Then he bestowed on him a boundless sovereignty.

When he saw the state of things, the Master said, “It is the merit of some illustrious beings that is purified,” and he repeated the final stanza:

‘Tis thus the acts of holy men to happy issue lead,

And evermore abides the fruit of meritorious deed.

Who beheld the ambrosial food to Honor that was given,

Straight passed away to fellowship with Indra, lord of heaven.