Chapter VI: Part 2: Corrupt fruit from a good tree Jā. 186: ii. 104 (5)
Both before him and behind him marched the demons who formed his retinue, heads wet, garments wet, decked with garlands of water-lilies both blue and white, carrying in their hands clusters of lotus-flowers both red and white, chewing the fibrous stalks of water-lilies, streaming with drops of water and mud.
Now caravan-leaders, when the wind is ahead, to avoid the dust, ride in front, sitting in their cars, surrounded by their attendants. When it blows from behind, they ride behind in precisely the same way. But at this time the wind was ahead; therefore that caravan-leader rode in front.
When the ogre saw him approaching, he caused his own car to turn out of the road and greeted him in a friendly manner, saying: “Where are you going?” The caravan-leader also caused his own car to turn out of the road, allowing room for the carts to pass, and standing aside, said to that ogre: “We, sir, are just approaching from Benāres. But you are approaching decked with water-lilies both blue and white, with lotus-flowers both red and white in your hands, chewing the fibrous stalks of water-lilies, smeared with mud, with drops of water streaming from you. Is it raining along the road by which you came? Are the lakes completely covered with water-lilies both blue and white, and lotus-flowers both red and white?”
When the ogre heard his words, he said: “Friend, what’s this you’re saying? Do you see that dark green streak of woods? Beyond that point the entire forest is one mass of water; it rains all the time; the hollows are full of water; in this place and in that are lakes completely covered with lotus-flowers both red and white.” As the carts passed, one after another, he inquired: “Where are you going with these carts?” “To such-and-such a country.” “What are the goods you have in this cart,--and in that?” “Such-and-such.”
“The cart that approaches last moves as though it were excessively heavy; what goods have you in that?” “There is water in that.” “In bringing water thus far, of course, you have acted wisely. But beyond this point you have no occasion to carry water. Ahead of you water is abundant. Break the chatties to pieces, throw away the water, travel at ease.” And having so said, he added: “You continue your journey; we have some business that detains us.” The ogre went a little way, and when he was out of their sight, went back again to his own city of ogres.
Now that foolish caravan-leader, out of his own foolishness, took the advice of the ogre, broke the chatties to pieces, threw away all of the water, leaving not so much as a dribble, and caused the carts to move forward. Ahead there was not the slightest particle of water. For lack of water to drink the men grew weary. They traveled until sundown, and then unharnessed the carts, drew them up in a contracted circle, and tied the oxen to the wheels. There was neither water for the oxen nor gruel and boiled rice for the men. The weakened men lay down here and there and went to sleep. At midnight the ogres approached from the city of ogres, slew both oxen and men, every one, devoured their flesh, leaving only the bare bones, and having so done, departed. Thus, by reason of a single foolish caravan-leader, they all met destruction. The bones of their hands and all their other bones lay scattered about in the four directions and the four intermediate directions; five hundred carts stood as full as ever.
As for the Future Buddha, he waited for a month and a half from the day when the foolish caravan-leader set out, and then set out from the city with five hundred carts. In due course he reached the mouth of the wilderness. There he had the water-chatties filled, putting in an abundant supply of water. Then, sending a drum around the camp, he assembled his men and spoke as follows: “Without first obtaining my permission, you must not use so much as a dribble of water. In the wilderness there are poison-trees: any leaf or flower or fruit which you have not previously eaten, you must not eat without first obtaining my permission.” Having thus admonished his men, he struck into the wilderness with his five hundred carts.
When he reached the middle of the wilderness, that ogre showed himself in the path of the Future Buddha in precisely the same way as before. When the Future Buddha saw him, he knew: “In this wilderness is no water; that is what is called a waterless wilderness. Moreover this fellow is fearless, red-eyed, casts no shadow. Without a doubt this fellow caused the foolish caravan-leader who went first to throw away all his water, and having thus brought weariness upon him and his company, devoured them. But, unless I am mistaken, he does not know how wise and resourceful I am.”
Accordingly the Future Buddha said to the ogre: “You go your way. We are traders. Unless we see water farther on, we shall not throw away the water we have brought. But wherever we do see water, there we shall throw away the water we have brought, and having thus lightened our carts, shall continue our journey.” The ogre went a little way, and when he was out of sight, went back again to his own city of ogres.
Now when the ogre had gone, the men asked the Future Buddha: “Noble sir, these men said: ‘Do you see that dark green streak of woods? Beyond that point it rains all the time.’ And the men who said it approached garlanded with garlands of water-lilies both blue and white, carrying clusters of lotus-flowers both red and white, chewing the fibrous stalks of water-lilies, heads wet, garments wet, with drops of water streaming from them. Let us throw away the water and go quickly with lightened carts.”
The Future Buddha, hearing their words, caused the carts to halt, assembled all of his men, and asked: “Has any one of you heard that there is either a lake or a pool in this wilderness?” “Noble sir, we have not so heard. This is what is called a waterless wilderness.” “Just now some men said: ‘Beyond that dark green streak of woods it is raining.’ Now how far does a rain-wind blow?” “A matter of a league, noble sir.” “But has a rain-wind touched the body of even a single one of you?” “It has not, noble sir.” “How far off is a cloud-head visible?” “A matter of a league, noble sir.” “But has any one of you seen even a single cloud-head?” “We have not, noble sir.” “How far off is lightning visible?” “Four or five leagues, noble sir.” “But has any one of you seen a flash of lightning?” “We have not, noble sir.” “How far off can the sound of a cloud be heard?” “A matter of one or two leagues, noble sir.” “But has any one of you heard the sound of a cloud?” “We have not, noble sir.”
“Those are not human beings; those are ogres. They must have come with the thought in their minds: ‘We will make these men throw away their water, weaken them, and devour them.’ The foolish caravan-leader who went first was not resourceful. Undoubtedly he must have thrown away the water at their behest, grown weary, and been devoured; the five hundred carts must stand as full as ever. To-day we shall see them. Do not throw away even so much as a dribble of water, but drive ahead as fast as ever you can.” With these words he bade them drive forward.
Proceeding, he saw the five hundred carts as full as ever, and the bones of the men’s hands and all their other bones scattered in all directions. He had the carts unharnessed and a stockade built by drawing them into a contracted circle. He had both men and oxen given their supper betimes, and the oxen lie down in the centre of the circle formed by the men. He himself, assisted by the leaders of the force, kept watch during the three watches of the night, sword in hand, and allowed the dawn to rise upon him standing there.
On the following day, very early in the morning, he had his men do all their chores, feed the oxen, discard the weak carts, substitute strong ones, throw away goods of little value, substitute those of great value. And going to the place where he would be, he sold his goods for twice or thrice the price, and together with his entire company went back again to his own city.
When the Teacher had related this parable, he said: “Thus,
householder, in times past those who grasped with the grasp of
speculation came to a sorry end, but those who grasped Absolute Truth
escaped from the hands of demons, went in safety to the place where
they would be, and went back again to their own place.” And having
thus joined the two parts of this Parable of Absolute Truth, he, the
Supremely Enlightened, uttered the following stanza:
Some adhered to Absolute Truth, sophists to less than this.
Knowing this, a wise man should lay hold on Absolute Truth.
Said the Teacher in conclusion: “At that time the wise caravan-leader
was I myself.”
_25. Boar and Lion._
“_Eat me, O lion!_”
Adapted from C. H. Tawney, Ocean of the Streams of Story (Kathāsaritsāgara), Chapter 72.
In times past there dwelt in a cave in the Vindhya mountains a wise boar, who was none other than the Buddha in a previous state of existence, and with him his friend a monkey. He was compassionate towards all living beings. One day there came to his cave a lion and a lioness and their cub. And the lion said to his mate: “Since the rains have hindered the movements of all living beings, we shall of a certainty perish for lack of some animal to eat.” And the lioness said: “Of a certainty one or another of us is destined to die of hunger. Therefore do you and the cub eat me, for thus you will save your lives! Are you not my lord and master? Can you not get another mate like me? Therefore do you and the cub eat me, for thus you will save your lives!”
Now at that moment the wise boar awoke, and hearing the words of the lioness, was delighted, and thought to himself: “This is the fruit of the merit which I have acquired in previous states of existence. I will satisfy the hunger of my friends with my own body and blood.” Then the wise boar arose from his bed and went out of his cave and said to the lion: “My good friend, do not despair. For here I am, ready to be eaten by you and your mate and your cub. Eat me, O lion!” Now when the lion heard these words, he was delighted, and said to his mate: “Let our cub eat first; then I will eat, and you shall eat after me.” The lioness agreed.
So first the cub ate some of the flesh of the wise boar, and then the lion began to eat. And while he was eating, the wise boar said to him: “Be quick and drink my blood before it sinks into the ground, and satisfy your hunger with my flesh, and let your mate eat what is left.” So the lion gradually devoured the flesh until only the bones were left. But--wonderful to relate!--the wise boar did not die, for his life remained in him, as if to see how long his endurance would endure. In the meantime the lioness died of hunger in the cave, and the lion went off somewhere or other with his cub, and so the night came to an end.
Then the monkey awoke and went out of the cave, and seeing the wise boar reduced to a heap of bones, became greatly excited and exclaimed: “What reduced you to a heap of bones? Tell me, O friend, if you can.” So the wise boar told him the whole story. Then the monkey did reverence to the wise boar, and said to him: “Tell me what you wish me to do, and I will do it.” The wise boar replied: “I wish only to have my body restored to me like as it was before, and to have the lioness that died of hunger restored to life again, that she may satisfy her hunger with my body and blood.” Thereupon, as the fruit of the merit which the wise boar had acquired, he was transformed into a sage, and the monkey into a sage likewise.
_26. Fairy-Prince and Griffin._
“_Eat me, O griffin!_”
Adapted from C. H. Tawney, Ocean of the Streams of Story (Kathāsaritsāgara), Chapters 22 and 90.
On a ridge of the Himālaya stands a city called the Golden City, for it gleams from afar like the rays of the sun. And in that city, once upon a time, lived the king of the fairies, and his name was Jīmūta-ketu. And in the garden of his palace grew a wishing-tree, and its name was Granter of Desires, for it granted all desires. By the favor of that tree the king obtained a son, who was none other than the Future Buddha, and his name was Jīmūta-vāhana. He was valiant in generosity, of mighty courage, and compassionate towards all living beings.
When Jīmūta-vāhana was become of age, his father made him crown-prince. Thus did he become the fairy-prince. And when he had become the fairy-prince, the ministers of the kingdom came to him and said: “O fairy-prince, do reverence always to this wishing-tree, for it grants all desires, and cannot be resisted by any living creature. For so long as we possess this tree, we cannot suffer injury of any kind from anyone, even from Indra, king of the gods, much less from any other.”
When Jīmūta-vāhana heard these words, he thought to himself: “Alas! our forefathers, for all their possession of this noble tree, obtained by the favor of this tree naught but wealth and victory over their enemies; thus did they demean themselves, and thus did they demean this tree likewise. For no such purposes as these will I employ this tree. For I know that the good things of this world endure but for a short while, and then perish and vanish utterly. But friendliness and compassion and generosity towards all living beings yield abundant fruit, both in this world and in the next. As for wealth, if it be not used for the benefit of others, it is like lightning which for an instant stings the eye, and then flickers and vanishes. Therefore if this wishing-tree which we possess, and which grants all desires, be employed for the benefit of others, we shall reap from it all the fruit that it can give. Accordingly I will so act that by the wealth of this tree all living beings shall be delivered from poverty and distress.”
Then Jīmūta-vāhana went to the wishing-tree and said: “O tree-spirit, thou that dost grant to us the fruit that we desire, fulfil to-day this one wish of mine: Deliver all living beings from poverty and distress.” Straightway--wonderful to relate!--the wishing-tree showered a shower of gold upon the earth, and all living beings rejoiced thereat and became well-disposed to Jīmūta-vāhana, and the fame and glory of him spread both near and far. But the relatives of Jīmūta-ketu, seeing that his throne was firmly established by the glory of his son, were moved to jealousy and became hostile to him. And because the kingdom of Jīmūta-ketu was weak, they determined to attack it and overthrow it, and to take possession of the wishing-tree that granted all desires. And they assembled and met together and began preparations to attack the kingdom of Jīmūta-ketu and to overthrow it and to take possession of the wishing-tree that granted all desires.
Thereupon Jīmūta-vāhana the fairy-prince said to Jīmūta-ketu the fairy-king his father: “Why should we seek to obtain new wealth, or to retain the wealth that we possess? Is not this body of ours like a bubble in the water, which bursts in an instant and vanishes? Is it not like a candle, which, when it is exposed to the wind, flickers for an instant and goes out? Should a wise man desire to obtain wealth or to retain it when it is obtained, by the killing of living beings? I will not fight with my relatives. Therefore I will leave my kingdom and go to some forest-hermitage. Let these miserable wretches do as they like, but let us not kill the members of our own family.”
And Jīmūta-ketu the fairy-king said to Jīmūta-vāhana the fairy-prince his son: “Then will I too go, my son. For what desire for rule can I have, who am old, when you, who are young, out of compassion towards all living beings, abandon your kingdom as though it were so much straw and stubble?” Thereupon Jīmūta-vāhana, with his father and mother, went to the Malaya mountain, and took up his abode in a forest-hermitage, the dwelling of the fairy-magicians, the Siddhas, where the brooks were hidden by the sandalwood trees, and devoted himself to the care of his father and mother.
One day, as he was roaming about with a companion, he came to a wood on the shore of the sea. There he saw many heaps of bones. And he said to his companion: “Whose bones are these?” His companion replied: “Give ear, and I will tell you the story in a few words.”
_Griffin and snakes._
In times past Kadrū and Vinatā, the two wives of Kashyapa, had a quarrel. Kadrū said that the horses of the Sun were black, and Vinatā said that they were white, and they made a wager that whichever of the two was wrong should become a slave of the other. Then Kadrū, bent on winning, actually induced her sons the snakes to defile the horses of the Sun by spitting venom over them; and showing them to Vinatā thus defiled, she conquered her by a trick and made her her slave.
When the griffin, the son of Vinatā, heard of that, he came and tried to induce Kadrū to release Vinatā from slavery. Then the snakes, the sons of Kadrū, said to the griffin, the son of Vinatā: “O griffin, the gods have begun to churn the sea of milk. Fetch thence the drink of immortality and give it to us as a substitute, and then take your mother away with you.” When the griffin heard these words, he went to the sea of milk and displayed his mighty prowess in order to obtain the drink of immortality. Then the god Vishnu, pleased with his mighty prowess, condescended to say to him: “I am pleased with thee; choose some boon.” Then the griffin, angry because his mother had been made a slave, asked the following boon of Vishnu: “May the snakes become my food!” Vishnu granted him this boon. Now Indra, king of the gods, listened to the conversation, and when the griffin, by his mighty prowess, had obtained the drink of immortality, he said to him: “O griffin, take steps to prevent the foolish snakes from consuming the drink of immortality, and to enable me to take it away from them again.” The griffin agreed, and elated by the boon of Vishnu, he went to the snakes with the vessel containing the drink of immortality.
And he called out from afar to the snakes: “To you have I brought the drink of immortality. Take it, and release my mother. But if you are afraid, I will put it on a bed of darbha-grass. So soon as my mother is released, I will go; therefore take the drink of immortality thence.” Now the snakes were terrified by reason of the boon which Vishnu had granted to the griffin, and at once agreed to the bargain. Then the griffin set on a bed of darbha-grass the vessel containing the drink of immortality, and the snakes released his mother from slavery, and the griffin departed with her.
But while the snakes, not suspicious of a ruse, were in the very act of taking the drink of immortality, Indra, king of the gods, suddenly swooped down, and confounding them with his mighty prowess, carried off the vessel containing the drink of immortality. Then the snakes in despair licked the bed of darbha-grass with their tongues, thinking that there might be so much as a drop of the drink of immortality spilt thereon; whereupon--wonderful to relate--their tongues became split, and they became double-tongued for nothing.
Thus did the snakes fail to obtain the drink of immortality. And straightway their enemy the griffin, relying on the boon which he had obtained from Vishnu, swooped down on them and began to devour them. And this he did again and again. And he wrought such havoc among them that the snakes in Pātāla were nigh unto death from sheer fright, and their females miscarried, and the whole race of the snakes was nigh unto utter destruction. Then Vāsuki, king of the snakes, fearing that the whole race of the snakes would be rooted out, begged the griffin to relent, and made the following agreement with him: “O king of birds, every day, on the hill that rises out of the sand of the sea, I will send you a single snake to eat. But you must not commit the folly of entering Pātāla, for by destroying utterly the whole race of the snakes, you will only defeat your own purpose.” The griffin consented. So every day, on the hill that rises out of the sand of the sea, Vāsuki, king of the snakes, sends to the griffin, the king of the birds, a single snake to eat. And the griffin, the king of the birds, devours each day the snake which Vāsuki, king of the birds, sends to him to eat. These heaps of bones are the bones of the snakes which the griffin has eaten, and which, gradually accumulating, have come to look like the peak of a mountain.
_Fairy-prince and griffin._
When Jīmūta-vāhana, the fairy-prince, embodiment of generosity and compassion towards all living beings, heard this story from the lips of his companion, he was pricked to the heart. And he said to his companion: “Of a truth, Vāsuki, king of the snakes, is to be pitied, for that, like a coward, he delivers with his own hand into the hands of his most bitter enemy the snakes that are his subjects. Since he has a thousand faces and a thousand mouths, why can he not say with one of his mouths to the griffin who is his enemy: ‘Eat me first, O griffin!’” Then did the noble-hearted Jīmūta-vāhana make the following Earnest Wish: “May I, by the sacrifice of my own body and blood, obtain Supreme Enlightenment!”
At that moment a servant summoned Jīmūta-vāhana’s companion to return home, and Jīmūta-vāhana, embodiment of generosity and compassion towards all living beings, was left alone. And Jīmūta-vāhana roamed about alone, intent on carrying out the resolution which he had formed. And as he roamed about, he heard afar off a piteous sound of weeping. And drawing near, he beheld on a lofty slab of rock a youth of handsome appearance plunged in bitter grief. And by his side stood an officer of some monarch, as if he had brought him and left him there. And the youth was seeking to persuade an old woman who was weeping, to cease her weeping and return whence she had come.
And Jīmūta-vāhana stood and listened, melted with pity, eager to know who he might be, and she. And the old woman, overwhelmed with the burden of her grief, began to look again and again at the youth, and to lament her misfortune in the following words: “Alas, my son! thou that wast obtained by me at the cost of a hundred bitter pangs! Alas, virtuous youth! Alas, only scion of our family, where shall I behold thee again? Bereft of thee, thy father will be plunged into the darkness of sorrow, and will not for long endure to live. That body of thine, which would suffer even from the torch of the sun’s rays,--how can it endure the agony of being devoured by the griffin? How comes it that Fate and the king of the snakes were able to discover thee, the only son of ill-starred me, though the world of the snakes is wide?” Thereupon the youth said: “Mother, I am afflicted enough as it is. Why do you afflict me more? Return to your home, I beg you. This is my last reverence to you. The griffin will soon be here.” When the old woman heard those words, she cast her sorrowful eyes all around the horizon, and cried aloud: “Alas, I am undone! Who will deliver my son from death?”
Then Jīmūta-vāhana with joy and delight went up to the old woman and said: “Mother, I will deliver your son!”
When the old woman heard those words, she was frightened and terrified, for she thought that the griffin had come. And straightway she cried out: “Eat me, O griffin! eat me!” Then said the youth her son: “Mother, be not afraid, for this is no griffin!” Then said Jīmūta-vāhana: “Mother, I am the prince of the fairies, disguised in the garb of a man. I am come to deliver your son from death. I will give my own body and blood to the hungry griffin. Therefore return to your home, and take your son with you.” But the old woman said: “By no means! for in a still higher sense you yourself are my very own son, since you have shown such a measure of compassion to me and my son at this time.” Then said Jīmūta-vāhana: “I have formed a resolution, and you must not defeat my purpose.”
Then said the youth: “O thou of great and noble heart! I cannot consent to save my own body at the cost of thine. Should a common stone be saved by the sacrifice of a precious stone? The world is full of those who, like myself, pity only themselves. But few in number are those who entertain sentiments of compassion for the whole world and for all the living beings that are therein.” At that moment the trees began to sway with the wind of the wings of the griffin, and seemed to utter a cry of dissuasion. And the sea, churned by the wind, seemed with the eyes of its bright-flashing jewels to be gazing in wonder and astonishment at the greatness of his courage and the depth of his compassion. Then came the griffin, hiding the heavens with his outspread wings. And swooping down, he smote the valiant hero Jīmūta-vāhana with his beak, and gripping him with his talons, carried him off from that slab of rock; and soaring aloft, flew quickly with him to a peak of the Malaya mountain, to eat him there. And Jīmūta-vāhana’s crest-jewel was torn from his head, and drops of blood fell from his body, as the griffin carried him through the air. And while the griffin was devouring his body and blood, he uttered the following Earnest Wish: “May my body and blood be offered thus in every state of my existence, and may I not obtain rebirth in heaven or deliverance from the round of existences if thereby I shall be deprived of the opportunity of doing good to my neighbor!”
But afterwards, through the finding of his crest-jewel, his kinsfolk and friends effected his deliverance from the power of the griffin, and a goddess sprinkled him with a potion, whereupon he arose more glorious than before, with all his limbs made whole again. And the goddess said to him: “My son, I am pleased with this sacrifice of thy body and blood. Therefore I sprinkle thee king of the fairies, and thy reign shall endure for a cycle of time.” Thereupon a rain of flowers fell from the sky, and the drums of the gods resounded with approbation. And the griffin repented of his evil deeds, and said: “From this day henceforth I will not again eat snakes. As for those which I have already eaten, let them return to life again!” Then--wonderful to relate!--all the snakes that he had previously eaten returned to life again. Then Jīmūta-vāhana was escorted to the Himālaya, and was sprinkled king over all the kings of the fairies, and his reign endured for a cycle of time.
_Glossary._
_Ace._ The losing throw at dice.
_Ascetic._ A man who has taken a vow to remain single, and to devote
himself to fasting, bodily torture, and meditation as a means of
escape from the horrors of repeated existences. Specifically, a monk
belonging to some religious order other than the order of monks
founded by Gotama Buddha.
_Benāres._ A sacred city of North India, situated on the Ganges. It
was the capital of Kāsi.
_Brahmā._ The Supreme Being, the Invincible, the All-seeing, the
Subduer, the Lord, the Maker, the Creator, the Ancient of Days, the
Conqueror, the Ruler, the Father of all that are and are to be.
Gotama ignored the question whether such a being exists.
_Brahman._ A man belonging to the priestly caste.
_Buddha._ See Introduction.
_Casts no shadow._ One of the marks of a demon.
_Chatty._ An earthenware vessel.
_Crore._ 10,000,000.
_Devadatta._ Cousin and enemy of Gotama. The Judas of Buddhism.
_Enlightenment._ See Introduction.
_Exalted One._ Title of Buddha.
_Exalted States._ Friendliness, Compassion, Sympathy, and
Indifference.
_Five Precepts._ (1) Thou shalt not take the life of any living
being. (2) Thou shalt not take that which is not given. (3) Thou
shalt not give way to the sins of the flesh. (4) Thou shalt not
speak falsehood. (5) Thou shalt avoid occasions of heedlessness
through the use of liquor or spirits or other intoxicants.
_Four Requisites._ Robes, food, lodging, and medicine.
_Fourfold Army._ Infantry, cavalry, chariots, and elephants.
_Future Buddha._ See Introduction.
_Ganges._ A sacred river of North India, in the valley of which
Buddhism took its rise. The Heavenly Ganges is the Milky Way.
_Great Being._ Title of a Future Buddha.
_Heretic._ A man who refuses to accept the teachings of Buddha.
_Hermitage._ Dwelling-place of a hermit or ascetic.
_Heron’s Call._ Triumphant cry of an elephant.
_Himālaya, Himavat._ Literally, Abode of Snow. A range of mountains,
the loftiest in the world, forming the northeastern border of India.
The foothills of the Himālaya range were a favorite resort for monks
and ascetics.
_Inconceivable._ 1 followed by 28 ciphers.
_Jaws of Rāhu._ Eclipses of the sun and moon were supposed to be due
to the fact that they were swallowed from time to time by a demon
named Rāhu, the Seizer.
_Jetavana._ Conqueror’s Grove. Name of a monastery near Sāvatthi. The
favorite residence of the Buddha.
_Kāsi._ A country of North India of which Benāres was the capital.
_Kelāsa._ One of the principal peaks of the Himālaya range.
_Kosala._ A country lying north of Kāsi, of which Sāvatthi was the
capital.
_Lac._ A scarlet dye.
_Land of the Rose-apple._ India. A Rose-apple (Jambu) tree is
represented in the illustration to Story 15, lower right.
_Marks of the spread hand._ For good luck. The fingers were supposed
to “point off” evil spirits.
_Meru. Sineru._ A vast mountain occupying the centre of each of an
infinite number of worlds.
_Monk._ A man who has taken a vow to remain single, and to devote
himself to meditation and good works in accordance with the
teachings of the Buddha.
_Nit._ A fly’s egg.
_Play-ring._ Before beginning play, dicers would draw a circle on the
ground or floor. So long as the play continued, a dicer was bound to
remain within the circle. By stepping outside of the circle, a dicer
“broke” the play-ring and stopped the play.
_Omniscience._ Knowledge of all things. Enlightenment. By performing
a work of merit and making an Earnest Wish thereby to attain
Enlightenment in some future state of existence, a Future Buddha, as
it were, sows the Seed of Omniscience.
_Sāvatthi._ A city of North India, the capital of Kosala.
_Seven Buddhas._ The oldest texts mention only seven Buddhas. The
Jātaka Book mentions twenty-four. Later, the number is increased
indefinitely.
_Sineru._ See Meru.
_Sprinkling._ In ancient India kings were not anointed, but sprinkled.
_Takkasilā._ A city of Northwest India, the capital of Gandhāra. A
famous seat of learning in ancient times.
_Teacher._ Title of Buddha.
_Ten Perfections._ Generosity, Morality, Renunciation, Wisdom,
Energy, Patience, Truth, Resolution, Friendliness, Indifference.
_Three Jewels._ The Buddha, the Doctrine, and the Order of Monks.
_Warrior._ A man belonging to the military caste.
_Yugandhara._ One of seven vast circles of rock which surround Mount
Meru.
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:
Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.
Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.
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The grateful elephantChapter VI: Part 2: Corrupt fruit from a good tree Jā. 186: ii. 104 (5)
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