Mythology and Folklore UN-Textbook: Unit: Jataka (Shedlock)

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Myth-Folklore Unit: Jataka Tales (Shedlock)

Overview. This selection of jataka tales, or "birth stories" of the Buddha, is taken from Shedlock's Eastern Stories and Legends, with a focus on distinctively Buddhist teachings. The stories from will take you to the holy city of Benares (Varanasi) on the Ganges River in India, and also to ancient Takasila (Taxila), a city in the Punjab (modern-day Pakistan) that was once the site of a great Buddhist monastery. You will learn how the Buddha was re-born as a hare whose self-sacrifice is the origin of the "hare in the moon" (i.e. what we call the "man in the moon"), and you will also read the famous Buddhist legend of Kisagotami, a woman overwhelmed by grief at the death of her only child, along with many other stories of humans and animals in search of wisdom who are guided by the example of the Buddha in his many different incarnations.

Language. This is a modern English retelling of the jatakas, not a direct translation of the Pali text, so the language should not pose any difficulties.

Story Length. This unit contains only single-page stories.

Choosing Between Units. If you are choosing between the two Jataka Tales unit, Babbitt or Shedlock, here's something to keep in mind: the Babbitt unit presents the stories without the Buddhist framework, in a way that is very similar to Aesop's fables, while the Shedlock unit presents the stories in a more explicitly Buddhist context. So if you are specifically interested in Buddhism, choose the Shedlock unit!

Navigation. You will find the table of contents below, and you can also use this link to see the story posts displayed on two pages total: Jataka Tales (Shedlock). Click "Older Posts" at the bottom of that page to see the second page.

READING A:

READING B:

Jataka: The Spirit that Lived in a Tree

As you can see here, in the Buddha's previous incarnations, he was not always a human or an animal; in this story, he is the incarnation of a "tree spirit" who abides in the tree. The theme of self-sacrifice that you will see in this story is one of the most important themes in the jatakas overall.

You can read more about the Sal (Shala) tree at Wikipedia.

[Notes by LKG]

This story is part of the Jataka Tales unit. Story source: Eastern Stories and Legends by Marie L. Shedlock (1920).

(Sal tree)

The Spirit that Lived in a Tree

AND it came to pass that the Buddha was re-born as a Tree-Spirit. Now there reigned at Benares at that time a King who said to himself: "All over India, the kings live in palaces supported by many a column. I will build me a palace resting on one column only—then shall I in truth be the chiefest of all kings."

Now in the King's Park was a lordly Sal tree, straight and well grown, worshiped by village and town, and to this tree even the Royal Family also paid tribute, worship, and honor. And then suddenly there came an order from the King that the tree should be cut down.

And the people were sore dismayed, but the woodmen, who dared not disobey the orders of the King, came to the Park with hands full of perfumed garlands, and encircling the tree with a string, fastened to it a nosegay of flowers, and kindling a lamp, they did worship, exclaiming: "O Tree! on the seventh day must we cut thee down, for so hath the King commanded. Now let the Deities who dwell within thee go elsewhither, and since we are only obeying the King’s command, let no blame fall upon us, and no harm come to our children because of this."

And the Spirit who lived in the tree, hearing these words, reflected within himself and said: "These builders are determined to cut down this tree, and to destroy my place of dwelling. Now my life lasts only as long as this tree. And lo! all the young Sal trees that stand around, where dwell the Deities my kinsfolk—and they are many—will be destroyed! My own destruction does not touch me so near as the destruction of my children: therefore must I protect their lives."

Accordingly, at the hour of midnight adorned in divine splendor, he entered into the magnificent chamber of the King, and filling the whole chamber with a bright radiance, stood weeping beside the King’s pillow. At the sight of him, the King, overcome with terror, said: "Who art thou, standing high in the air, and why do thy tears flow?"

And the Tree-God made answer: "Within thy realm I am known as the Lucky-Tree. For sixty thousand years have I stood, and all have worshiped me, and though they have built many a house, and many a town, no violence has been done to me. Spare thou me, also, O King."

Then the King made answer and said: "Never have I seen so mighty a trunk, so thick and strong a tree, but I will build me a palace, and thou shalt be the only column on which it shall rest, and thou shalt dwell there for ever."

And the Tree said: "Since thou art resolved to tear my body from me, I pray thee cut me down gently, one branch after another—the root last of all."

And the King said: "O Woodland Tree! What is this thou askest of me? It were a painful death to die. One stroke at the root would fell thee to the ground. Why wouldst thou die piecemeal?"

And the Tree made answer: "O King! My children, the young Sal trees, all grow at my feet: they are prosperous and well sheltered. If I should fall with one mighty crash, behold these young children of the forest would perish also!"

And the King was greatly moved by this spirit of sacrifice, and said: "O great and glorious Tree! I set thee free from thy fear, and because thou wouldst willingly die to save thy kindred, thou shalt not be cut down. Return to thy home in the Ancient Forest."

Next: The Hare that Was not Afraid to Die

(600 words)

Jataka: The Hare that Was not Afraid to Die

You will see a reference to Sakka (Sakra) in this story, who is the lord of the gods in the Buddhist cosmology. He is associated with the god Indra in the Indian tradition. You can read more at Wikipedia.

This story, like the previous story, is about the value of self-sacrifice in the Buddhist tradition, and it also provides an explanation for the origin of the "rabbit in the moon." For other folktales about a "moon rabbit," see Wikipedia.

[Notes by LKG]

This story is part of the Jataka Tales unit. Story source: Eastern Stories and Legends by Marie L. Shedlock (1920).

(Seal of Chanthaburi province, Thailand)

The Hare that Was not Afraid to Die

AND it came to pass that the Buddha was born a Hare and lived in a wood; on one side was the foot of a mountain, on another a river, on the third side a border village.

And with him lived three friends: a Monkey, a Jackal, and an Otter; each of these creatures got food on his own hunting ground. In the evening they met together, and the Hare taught his companions many wise things: that the moral law should be observed— that alms should be given to the poor —and that holy days should be kept.

One day the Buddha said: "Tomorrow is a fast day. Feed any beggars that come to you by giving from your own store of food." They all consented.

The next day the Otter went down to the bank of the Ganges to seek his prey. Now a fisherman had landed seven red fish and had buried them in the sand on the river’s bank while he went down the stream catching more. The Otter scented the buried fish, dug up the sand till he came upon them, and he called aloud: "Does any one own these fish?" And, not seeing the owner, he laid the fish in the jungle where he dwelt, intending to eat them at a fitting time. Then he lay down, thinking how virtuous he was.

The Jackal also went off in search of food, and found in the hut of a field watcher a lizard, and a pot of milk-curd. And, after thrice crying aloud, "To whom do these belong?" and not finding an owner, he put on his neck the rope for lifting the pot, and grasping the spits and lizard with his teeth, he laid them in his own lair, thinking, "In due season I will devour them," and then he lay down, thinking how virtuous he had been.

The Monkey entered the clump of trees, and gathering a bunch of mangoes, laid them up in his part of the jungle, meaning to eat them in due season. He then lay down and thought how virtuous he had been.

But the Hare (who was the Buddha-to-be) in due time came out thinking to lie in contemplation on the Kusha grass. "It is impossible for me to offer grass to any beggars who may chance to come by, and I have no oil or rice or fish. If any beggar come to me, I will give him my own flesh to eat."

Now when Sakka, the King of the Gods, heard this thing, he determined to put the Royal Hare to the test. So he came in disguise of a Brahmin to the Otter and said: "Wise Sir, if I could get something to eat, I would perform all my priestly duties."

The Otter said: "I will give you food. Seven red fish have I safely brought to land from the sacred river of the Ganges. Eat thy fill, O Brahmin, and stay in this wood."

And the Brahmin said: "Let it be until to-morrow, and I will see to it then."

Then he went to the Jackal, who confessed that he had stolen the food, but be begged the Brahmin to accept it and remain in the wood; but the Brahmin said: "Let it be until to-morrow, and then I will see to it."

And he came to the Monkey, who offered him the mangoes, and the Brahmin answered in the same way.

Then the Brahmin went to the wise Hare, and the Hare said: "Behold, I will give thee of my flesh to eat. But thou must not take life on this holy day. When thou hast piled up the logs I will sacrifice myself by falling into the midst of the flames, and when my body is roasted thou shalt eat it and perform all thy priestly duties."

Now when Sakka heard these words he caused a heap of burning coals to appear, and the Wisdom Being, rising from the grass, came to the place, but before casting himself into the flames he shook himself, lest perchance there should be any insects in his coat who might suffer death.

Then, offering his body as a free gift, he sprang up, and like a royal swan, lighting on a bed of lotus in an ecstasy of joy, he fell on the heap of live coals. But the flame failed even to heat the pores of the hair on the body of the Wisdom Being, and it was as if he had entered a region of frost.

Then he addressed the Brahmin in these words: "Brahmin, the fire that thou hast kindled is icy cold; it fails to heat the pores of the hair on my body. What is the meaning of this?"

"O most wise Hare! I am Sakka, and have come to put your virtue to the test."

And the Buddha in a sweet voice said: "No god or man could find in me an unwillingness to die."

Then Sakka said: "O wise Hare, be thy virtue known to all the ages to come."

And seizing the mountain he squeezed out the juice and daubed on the moon the signs of the young hare.

Then he placed him back on the grass that he might continue his Sabbath meditation and returned to Heaven.

And the four creatures lived together and kept the moral law.

Next: The Parrot that Fed His Parents

(Moon rabbit)

(900 words)

Jataka: The Parrot that Fed His Parents

The theme of the generations — supporting both elderly parents and dependent children — is an important one in folktales throughout the world, as you will see here in this story about the Buddha's incarnation as a parrot. For a Greek example of a dutiful bird, compare the legend of the hoopoe that cares for its parents, as reported in the Physiologus.

[Notes by LKG]

This story is part of the Jataka Tales unit. Story source: Eastern Stories and Legends by Marie L. Shedlock (1920).

(Indian rose-ringed parakeet)

The Parrot that Fed His Parents

NOW it came to pass that the Buddha was re-born in the shape of a Parrot, and he greatly excelled all other parrots in his strength and beauty. And when he was full grown, his father, who had long been the leader of the flock in their flights to other climes, said to him: "My son, behold my strength is spent! Do thou lead the flock, for I am no longer able."

And the Buddha said: "Behold, tbou shalt rest. I will lead the birds." And the Parrots rejoiced in the strength of their new leader, and willingly did they follow him.

Now from that day on, the Buddha undertook to feed his parents and would not consent that they should do any more work. Each day he led his flock to the Himalaya Hills, and when be had eaten his fill of the clumps of rice that grew there, he filled his beak with food for the dear parents who were waiting his return.

Now there was a man appointed to watch the rice-fields, and he did his best to drive the Parrots away, but there seemed to be some secret power in the leader of this flock which the Keeper could not overcome.

He noticed that the Parrots ate their fill and then flew away, but that the Parrot-King not only satisfied his hunger, but carried away rice in his beak.

Now he feared there would be no rice left, and he went to his master the Brahmin to tell him what had happened, and even as the master listened there came to him the thought that the Parrot-King was something higher than he seemed, and he loved him even before he saw him. But he said nothing of this, and only warned the Keeper that he should set a snare and catch the dangerous bird.

So the man did as he was bidden: he made a small cage and set the snare, and sat down in his hut waiting for the birds to come. And soon he saw the Parrot-King amidst his flock, who, because he had no greed, sought no richer spot, but flew down to the same place in which he had fed the day before.

Now, no sooner had he touched the ground than he felt his feet caught in the noose. Then fear crept into his bird-heart, but a stronger feeling was there to crush it down, for he thought: "If I cry out the Cry of the Captured, my Kinsfolk will be terrified and the will fly away foodless. But if I lie still, then their hunger will be satisfied, and they may safely come to my aid." Thus was the Parrot both brave and prudent.

But alas! He did not know that his Kinsfolk had nought of his brave spirit. When they had eaten their fill, though they heard the thrice-uttered cry of the captured, they flew away, nor heeded the sad plight of their leader.

Then was the heart of the Parrot-King sore within him, and he said: "All these my kith and kin, and not one to look back on me. Alas! What sin have I done?"

The Watchman now heard the cry of the Parrot-King and the sound of the other Parrots flying through the air. "What is that?" he cried, and leaving his hut he came to the place where he had laid the snare.

There he found the captive Parrot; he tied his feet together and brought him to the Brahmin, his master.

Now, when the Brahmin saw the Parrot-King, he felt his strong power, and his heart was full of love to him, but he hid his feelings and said in a voice of anger: "Is thy greed greater than that of all other birds? They eat their fill, but thou takest away each day more food than thou canst eat. Doest thou this out of hatred for me, or dost thou store up the food in some granary for selfish greed?"

And the Great Being made answer in a sweet human voice: "I hate thee not, O Brahmin. Nor do I store the rice in a granary for selfish greed. But this thing I do: each day I pay a debt which is due—each day I grant a loan, and each day I store up a treasure."

Now the Brahmin could not understand the words of the Buddha because true wisdom had not entered his heart, and he said: "I pray thee, O Wondrous Bird, to make these words clear unto me."

And then the Parrot-King made answer: "I carry food to my ancient parents who can no longer seek that food for themselves: thus I pay my daily debt. I carry food to my callow chicks whose wings are yet ungrown. When I am old they will care for me—this my loan to them. And for other birds, weak and helpless of wing, who need the aid of the strong, for them I lay up a store; to these I give in charity."

Then was the Brahmin much moved, and showed the love that was in his heart. "Eat thy fill, O Righteous Bird, and let thy Kinsfolk eat too, for thy sake." And he wished to bestow a thousand acres of land upon him, but the Great Being would only take a tiny portion round which were set boundary stores.

And the Parrot returned with a head of rice, and said: "Arise, dear Parents, that I may take you to a place of plenty." And he told them the story of his deliverance.

Next: The Man Who Worked to Give Alms

(900 words)

Jataka: The Man Who Worked to Give Alms

This story makes reference to the five virtues of Buddhism (pañca-sīla), which are sometimes referred to as the five precepts (pañca-sikkhāpada), see this Wikipedia article: Five Precepts of Buddhism.

[Notes by LKG]

This story is part of the Jataka Tales unit. Story source: Eastern Stories and Legends by Marie L. Shedlock (1920).

The Man Who Worked to Give Alms

ONCE upon a time the Buddha was born as a merchant named Vissaya and, being endowed with the Five Virtues, he was liberal and fond of alms-giving. He had alms halls built at the four city gates, in the heart of the city, and at the door of his own house. At these points he set on foot alms-giving and every day 600,000 men went forth to beg and the food of the beggar and the merchant was exactly the same.

And as he thus stirred up the people of India by his gifts, Sakka, the king of the gods, grew suspicious and thought, "This Vissaya gives alms and by scattering his gifts everywhere is stirring up all India. By means of his alms-giving, methinks he will dethrone me and himself become Sakka. I will destroy his wealth, and make him a poor man, and so bring it about that he shall no longer give alms."

So Sakka caused his oil, honey, molasses and the like, and all his treasure of grain to disappear, as well as his slaves and work people.

Those who were deprived of his gifts came and said, "My Lord, the alms hall has disappeared. We do not find anything in the various places set up by you."

"Take money hence," he said. "Do not cut off the giving of alms." And calling his wife, he bade her keep up her charity.

She searched the whole house, and not finding a single bit of money, she said, "My Lord, except the clothes we wear, I see nothing. The whole house is empty." Opening the seven jewel treasuries they found nothing, and save the merchant and his wife no one else was seen, neither slaves nor hirelings.

The merchant, again addressing his wife, said, "My dear, we cannot possibly cut off our charities. Search the whole house till you find something."

At that moment a certain grass-mower threw down his sickle and pole and the rope for binding the grass in the doorway, and ran away. The merchant’s wife found them and said: "My Lord, this is all I see," and brought and gave them to him.

Said he: "All these years I have never mown grass before, but today I will mow grass, and take and sell it, and by this means dispense the fitting alms."

So, through fear of having to cut off his charities, he took the sickle, and the pole and the rope, and going forth from the city came to a place of much grass, and mowing it, tied it up in two bundles, saying, "One shall belong to us, and with the other I will give alms."

This he did for six days, and because there was not enough to feed all who came for alms, on the seventh day, he and his wife went fasting. Then his strength gave out. No sooner did the heat of the sun strike upon his head than his eyes began to swim in his head, and he became unconscious and falling down he scattered the grass.

Sakka was moving about, observing what the merchant did. And that god, standing in mid-air, cried: "Refrain from giving, and thou shalt have joy forever."

"Who art thou?" cried the merchant.

"I am Sakka."

And the merchant said: "Sakka reached his high office by taking upon himself moral duties, and giving alms."

"Why dost thou give alms?" asked Sakka, still wishing to test him.

"It is not because I desire Sakkahood nor Brahmaship, but through giving there cometh knowledge of all things."

"Great merchant," cried Sakka, "henceforth do thou every day give alms." And all his wealth was restored to him.

Next: The King Who Saw the Truth

(Buddha at Ratnagiri, India)

(600 words)

Jataka: The King Who Saw the Truth

You will notice the phrase "Wisdom-Child" here, which is being used to render the Pali term Bodhi-satta, Sanskrit Boddhi-sattva, "Wisdom-Being." You can read more about the important of the Bodhisattva at Wikipedia.

[Notes by LKG]

This story is part of the Jataka Tales unit. Story source: Eastern Stories and Legends by Marie L. Shedlock (1920).

(Eyes of the Buddha on a temple wall, Nepal)

The King Who Saw the Truth

LONG, long ago the Wisdom Child that should in time become the Buddha was born a King. He was kind and generous, distributing all sorts of alms to the poor; nor did he leave the work to those under him: he took a personal part in the giving of the gifts—and nearly every day came himself to the Alms Hall to see that none went away empty-handed.

But one morning, as he lay meditating on what he still might do for his people, he began to feel that, after all, he had done no very great thing, and he said: "I have given to my people only outside things—the mere gold and silver and raiment and food that I can well spare, and lo! this giving brings me no joy. If I could only give my people part of myself—some precious thing which would show my love for them—whatever it might cost me! And if to-day, when I go down to the Alms Hall, one should say, 'Give me thy heart,' then, in truth, I will cut open my breast with a spear, and, as though I were drawing up a water-lily from a calm lake, I will pull forth my heart. If he asks my flesh and blood, behold I will give it to him. If he complain that there is no other to do his work, then I will leave my royal throne, and, proclaiming myself a slave, I will do the work of a slave—and, indeed, should any man ask for my eyes, the most precious gift of the gods, then will I tear them out as one might tear the pith from the palm-tree."

Then he bathed himself, and, mounted upon a richly caparisoned elephant, he rode down to the Alms Hall, his heart filled with love for his people.

Now Sakka, the King of the Gods, heard the resolve of the King, and he thought to test him, whether his words were vain; whether it were a sudden mood which would pass away when the moment came to carry out his stern resolution.

So, when the King came down to the Alms Hall, Sakka stood before him, in the guise of an old blind Brahmin, who, stretching out his bands, cried out: "Long live the King!"

And the King made sign for him to say what was in his heart.

"O great King," said the blind Brahmin—"in all the inhabited world there is no spot where the fame of thy great heart has not spread. I am blind, but thou, O King, hast two eyes—I therefore beseech thee, give me one, that I too may behold the glories of the Earth!"

Then did the King rejoice greatly that this opportunity should have come to him so quickly, but not wishing to show at once the joy he felt in his heart, he said: "O Brahmin, I pray thee tell me, who bade thee wend thy way to this alms-house? Thou askest of me the most precious thing that a man possesses, and lo! it is very hard to give!"

And the Brahmin made answer: "Behold, a god has sent me hither, and has told me to ask this boon."

And the King said: "Thy prayer is granted: thou didst ask for one eye, behold I will give thee both eyes."

And then the news spread quickly through the town that the King was about to give his eyes to a blind Brahmin, and the Commander-in-Chief and all the officials gathered together that they might turn the King from his purpose.

And they said: "O great King, are there not other gifts which thou canst bestow upon this sightless Brahmin—money, jewels, elephants with cloth of gold? Why shouldst thou give to him that most precious of gifts, thy royal eyes?"

And the King said: "Behold, I have taken this vow, and I should be sinful if I were to break it."

And the courtiers said: "O King, why doest thou this thing? Is it for Life, or Beauty or Strength?"

The King answered: "It is for none of these things: it is for the joy of giving."

Then the King bid the Surgeon do his work. And when one of his eyes was taken out, he gave it to the Brahmin, and it remained fixed in his socket like a blue lotus flower in bloom. And the King said: "The eye that sees all things is greater than this eye," and, being filled with ecstasy of joy, he gave the second eye.

And after many days and much suffering, the King's sight was restored to him—not the natural eyes which see the things around—but the eyes which see perfect and absolute Truth.

And he reigned in righteousness and justice, and the people learnt of him pure wisdom.

Next: The Bull that Proved His Gratitude

(800 words)

Jataka: The Bull that Proved His Gratitude

Here you will read about story of a Bodhisat, which is another way to refer to a Bodhisattva, an enlightened being who is motivated by self-sacrifice or else a being who is on the path to enlightenment. In the jataka tradition, the Buddha often refers to his earlier incarnations as bodhisattvas, as you can see here. For more, see Wikipedia: Bodhisattva.

[Notes by LKG]

This story is part of the Jataka Tales unit. Story source: Eastern Stories and Legends by Marie L. Shedlock (1920).

The Bull that Proved His Gratitude

LONG ago ... the Bodisat returned to life as a Bull.

Now, when it was still a young calf, its owners stopped a while in an old woman's house, and gave him to her when they settled their account for their lodging. And she brought him up, treating him like a son, and feeding him on gruel and rice.

He soon became known as "The Old Woman's Blackie." When he grew up, he roamed about, as black as collyrium, with the village cattle, and was very good-tempered and quiet. The village children used to catch hold of his horns, or ears, or dewlaps, and hang on to him, or amuse themselves by pulling his tail, or riding about on his back.

One day he said to himself: "My mother is wretchedly poor. She's taken so much pains, too, in bringing me up, and has treated me like a son. What if I were to work for hire, and so relieve her distress!" And from that day he was always on the look-out for a job.

Now, one day a young caravan owner arrived at a neighboring ford with five hundred bullock-wagons. And his bullocks were not only unable to drag the carts across, but even when he yoked the five hundred pair in a row they could not move one cart by itself.

The Bodisat was grazing with the village cattle close to the ford. The young caravan owner was a famous judge of cattle, and began looking about to see whether there were among them any thoroughbred bull able to drag over the carts.

Seeing the Bodisat, he thought he would do, and asked the herdsmen: "Who may be the owners, my men, of this fellow? I should like to yoke him to the cart, and am willing to give a reward for having the carts dragged over."

"Catch him and yoke him then," said they. "He has no owner hereabouts."

But when be began to put a string through his nose and drag him along, he could not get him to come. For the Bodisat, it is said, wouldn't go till he was promised a reward.

The young caravan owner, seeing what his object was, said to him: "Sir! if you'll drag over these five hundred carts for me, I'll pay you wages at the rate of two pence for each cart—a thousand pieces in all."

Then the Bodisat went along of his own accord, and the men yoked him to the cart. And with a mighty effort he dragged it up and landed it safe on the high ground. And in the same manner he dragged up all the carts.

So the caravan owner then put five hundred pennies in a bundle, one for each cart, and tied it round his neck.

The Bull said to himself: "This fellow is not giving me wages according to the rate agreed upon. I shan't let him go on now!" And so he went and stood in the way of the front cart, and they tried in vain to get him away.

The caravan owner thought: "He knows, I suppose, that the pay is too little;" and wrapping a thousand pieces in a cloth, tied them up in a bundle, and hung that round his neck. And as soon as be got the bundle with a thousand inside, he went off to his "mother."

Then the village children called out: "See! what's that round the neck of the old woman's Blackie?" and began to run up to him. But he chased after them, so that they took to their heels before they got near him; and he went straight to his "mother." And he appeared with eyes all bloodshot, utterly exhausted from dragging over so many carts.

"How did you get this, dear?" said the good old woman, when she saw the bag round his neck.

And when she heard, on inquiry from the herdsmen, what had happened, she exclaimed: "Am I so anxious, then, to live on the fruit of your toil, my darling! Why do you put yourself to all this pain?"

And she bathed him in warm water, and rubbed him all over with oil, and gave him to drink, and fed him up with good food. And at the end of her life she passed away according to her deeds, and the Bodisat with her.

Next: The Horse that Held Out till the End

(Bull in modern-day Karnataka, India)

(700 words)

Jataka: The Horse that Held Out till the End

In this story, you will see a reference to the city of Benares (now spelled Varanasi) in English, which is located on the Ganges. Benares is one of the seven sacred cities of Hinduism, and it is one of the cities in which Buddhism got its start: Gautama Buddha gave his first sermon in a deer park at Sarnath just outside of Benares. You can read more at Wikipedia.

[Notes by LKG]

This story is part of the Jataka Tales unit. Story source: Eastern Stories and Legends by Marie L. Shedlock (1920).

(Rajput warhorse)

The Horse that Held Out till the End

AND it came to pass that the Buddha came to life in the shape of a Horse—a thoroughbred small horse, and he was made the King’s Destrier, surrounded by pomp and state. He was fed on exquisite three-year-old rice which was always served up to him in a golden dish worth a hundred thousand pieces of money, and the ground of his stall was perfumed with the four odors. Round his stall were hung crimson curtains, while overhead was a canopy studded with stars of gold. On the wall were festooned wreaths and garlands of fragrant flowers, and a lamp fed with scented oil was always burning there.

Now all the kings round coveted the kingdom of Benares. Once seven kings passed Benares and sent a missive to the King, saying: "Either yield up your kingdom to us or give battle."

Assembling his ministers, the King of Benares laid the matter before them and asked what he was to do. Said they: "You ought not to go out to battle in person, Sire, in the first instance. Despatch such and such a Knight out first to fight him, and, later on, if he fall, we will decide what to do."

Then the King sent for that Knight and said to him: "Can you fight the seven kings, my dear Knight?"

Said he: "Give me but your noble Destrier, and then I could fight not only seven kings but all the kings in India."

"My dear Knight, take my Destrier or any horse you please, and do battle."

"Very good, my Sovereign Lord," said the Knight, and with a bow he passed down from the upper chambers of the palace.

Then he had the noble Destrier led out and sheathed in mail, arming himself too and girding on his sword.

Mounted on his noble steed he passed out of the City Gate, and with a lightning charge broke down the first camp, taking one king alone, and bringing him back a prisoner to the soldiers’ custody.

. . . And this went on until six kings had been made prisoner. Then the noble Horse received a wound which streamed with blood and caused him much pain. Perceiving that the Horse was wounded, the Knight made it lie down at the King’s gate, loosened its mail, and set about arming another horse.

But the Horse perceiving this, said: "The other horse will not be able to break down the seventh camp and capture the seventh king: he will lose all that I have accomplished. The peerless Knight will be slain, and the King will fall into the hands of the foe. I alone and no other horse can break down the seventh camp and capture the seventh king."

So he called to the Knight and repeated these words, and added: "I will not throw away what I have already done. Only have me set upon my feet, and clad again in my armor, and I will accomplish my work."

The Knight had the Horse set upon his feet, bound up his wound, and armed him again in proof. Mounted on the Destrier, he broke down the seventh camp, and brought back alive the seventh king.

They led the Horse to the King’s gate, and the King came up to look at him.

Then said the Great Being: "Great King, slay not these seven kings: bind them by an oath, and let them go. Let the Knight enjoy the honor due to us both. As for you, exercise charity, keep the Ornaments, and rule your kingdom in righteousness and justice."

When the Horse had thus exhorted the King, they took off his mail, but as they were taking it off piecemeal, he passed away.

The King had the body buried with due respect, bestowed great honors on the Knight, and sent the kings to their homes, after exacting from each an oath never to war upon him any more. And he ruled his kingdom in righteousness and justice, passing away when his life closed, to fare thereafter according to his deserts.

The story was told by the Master about a brother who gave up persevering: "Brethren, in bygone days the wise and good persevered even in hostile surroundings, and even when they were wounded they did not give in. Whereas you who have devoted yourself to so saving a doctrine, how comes it that you give up persevering?"

Next: The Monkey that Saved the Herd

(800 words)

Jataka: The Monkey that Saved the Hero

If you read the Aesop's fables earlier on, you might recognize a shared motif here! In this jataka, the wise king of the monkeys sees that there are footprints leading down to the lake, but none coming back up. In the Aesop's fable of the fox and the lion, the sly fox realizes that there are footprints leading into the lion's cave but none coming out: The Lion, the Fox, and the Beasts.

[Notes by LKG]

This story is part of the Jataka Tales unit. Story source: Eastern Stories and Legends by Marie L. Shedlock (1920).

The Monkey that Saved the Hero

IT came to pass that the Buddha was re-born as the King of the monkeys. He lived with his herd of 80,000 monkeys in a thick forest, near a lake. In this lake there lived an ogre who used to devour all those who went down to the water.

The Buddha spoke to his subjects and said: "My friends, in this forest there are trees that are poisoned, and lakes that are haunted by ogres. Eat no fruit and drink no water of which you have not already tasted without consulting me."

This they agreed to. And one day, having arrived at a spot which they had never visited before, they found a great lake. They did not drink, but awaited the return of their King.

Now when he arrived he went round the lake, and found that all the footsteps led down to the lake, but none came up again. And he said: "Without doubt this is the haunt of an ogre."

When this water-ogre saw that they were not invading his domain he appeared in the form of a terrible monster with a blue belly, a white face, and bright red hands and feet. In this shape he came out of the water and said to the King: "Why are you seated here? Go down to the lake to drink."

But the King said: "Are you not the ogre of this water?"

"Yes, I am," was the answer.

"Do you take as your prey all those who go down into this water?"

"Yes, I do, from small birds upwards. I never let anything go which comes down into this water. I will eat the lot of you, too."

"But we shall not let you eat us."

"Just drink the water."

"Yes, we will drink the water, and yet not fall into your power."

"How do you propose to drink the water, then?"

"Ah, you think we shall have to go down to the water to drink; whereas we shall not enter the water at all, but the whole eighty thousand of us will take a cane each and drink therewith from your lake as easily as through the hollow stalk of a lotus. And so you will not be able to eat us."

So saying the King had a cane brought to him, and in true belief that the miracle would take place he blew down the cane, which straightway became hollow throughout, without a single knot being left in its length. In this fashion he had another, and another brought, and blew down them.

Then he made the tour of the lake, and commanded, saying, "Let all canes growing here become hollow throughout." Now, thanks to the saving goodness of their re-born chiefs, their commands are always fulfilled. And henceforth every single cane that grew round that lake became hollow throughout.

After giving his commands the King seated himself with a cane in his hand. All the other 80,000 monkeys, too, seated themselves round the lake each with a cane in his hands. At the same moment when the King sucked up the water through his cane, they all drank in the same manner as they sat on the bank. This was the way they drank, and the ogre could get no power over any one of them, so he went off in a rage to his habitation.

The King, with his following of 80,000 monkeys, went back into the forest.

Next: The Merchant Who Overcame All Obstacles

(image by Joel Abroad at Flickr)

(600 words)

Jataka: The Merchant Who Overcame All Obstacles

The grass that the merchant sees here - kusa (kusha) grass - has great symbolic resonance in India, having been used in religious rituals dating back to the most ancient Vedic period of Indian religion. You can read about the folklore and mythology of kusha grass in this Times of India article.

[Notes by LKG]

This story is part of the Jataka Tales unit. Story source: Eastern Stories and Legends by Marie L. Shedlock (1920).

(Thar Desert, India, by R. Crowley)

The Merchant Who Overcame All Obstacles

ONCE upon a time the Buddha was born in a merchant's family, and when he grew up he went about trafficking with five hundred carts.

One day he arrived at a sandy desert twenty leagues across. The sand in that desert was so fine that when taken in the closed fist it could not be kept in the hand. After the sun had risen it became as hot as a mass of charcoal, so that no man could walk on it.

Those, therefore, who had to travel over it took wood and water and oil and rice in their carts, and traveled during the night. And at daybreak they formed an encampment, and spread an awning over it, and, taking their meals early, they passed the day sitting in the shade. At sunset they supped; and when the ground had become cool, they yoked their oxen and went on. The traveling was like a voyage over the sea: a so-called land-pilot had to be chosen, and he brought the caravan safe to the other side by his knowledge of the stars.

On this occasion the merchant of our story traversed the desert in that way. And when he had passed over fifty-nine leagues, he thought: "Now in one more night we shall get out of the sand."

And after supper he directed the wood and water to be thrown away, and the wagons to be yoked, and so set out. The pilot had cushions arranged on the foremost cart, and lay down looking at the stars, and directing them where to drive. But, worn out by want of rest during the long march, he fell asleep, and did not perceive that the oxen turned around and taken the same road by which they had come.

The oxen went on the whole night through. Towards dawn the pilot woke up, and, observing the stars, called out: "Stop the wagons! Stop the wagons!"

The day broke just as they had stopped, and were drawing up the carts in a line. Then the men cried out: "Why, this is the very encampment we left yesterday! Our wood and water is all gone! We are lost!" And unyoking the oxen, and spreading the canopy over their heads, they lay down in despondency, each one under his wagon.

But the Bodisat, saying to himself, "If I lose heart, all these will perish," walked about while the morning was yet cool.

And on seeing a tuft of Kusa grass, he thought: "This must have grown by attracting some water which there must be beneath it."

And he made them bring a hoe and dig in that spot. And they dug sixty cubits deep. And when they had got thus far, the spade of the diggers struck on a rock, and as soon as it struck, they all gave up in despair.

But the Bodisat thought, "There must be water under that rock," and, stooping down, applied his ear to it and tested the sound ofit. And he heard the sound of water gurgling beneath.

And he got out and called his page. "My lad, if you give up now, we shall all be lost. Don't you lose heart. Take this iron hammer, and go down into the pit and give the rock a good blow.

The lad obeyed, and though they all stood by in despair, he went down full of determination, and struck at the stone. And the rock split in two and fell below, and no longer blocked up the stream. And water rose till its brim was the height of a palm-tree in the well. And they all drank of the water, and bathed in it.

Then they split up their extra yokes and axles, and cooked rice and ate it, and fed their oxen with it. And when the sun set, they put up a flag by the well and went to the place appointed.

There they sold their merchandise at double and treble profit, and returned to their own home, and lived to a good old age, and then passed away according to their deeds. And the Bodisat gave gifts, and did other virtuous acts, and passed away according to his deeds.

Next: The Elephant that Was Honored in Old Age

(700 words)

Jataka: The Elephant that Was Honored in Old Age

In the original text of the Jataka tales, the moral of the story is spoken in verse, and in the Francis and Neil translation at Sacred Texts, here is an English verse translation of the moral of this story: Dalhadhamma-Jataka.

By selfish hopes men regulate the honours that they pay:
As you the elephant, they throw the outworn slave away.

Good deeds and services received whenever men forget,
Ruin pursues the business still on which their hearts are set.

Good deeds and services received if men do not forget,
Success attends the business still on which their hearts are set.

To all the multitude around this blessed truth I tell:
Be grateful all, and for reward you long in heaven shall dwell.

[Notes by LKG]

This story is part of the Jataka Tales unit. Story source: Eastern Stories and Legends by Marie L. Shedlock (1920).

(elephant carving, temple wall in India)

The Elephant that Was Honored in Old Age

The Buddha as Prime Minister served the King. Now there was a certain She-Elephant endowed with great might which enabled her to go a hundred leagues a day. She did the duties of messenger to the King, and in battle she fought and crushed the enemy.

The King said: "She is very serviceable to me." He gave her ornaments, and caused all honor to be shown her. Then, when she was weak from age, the King took away all the honor he had bestowed.

From that time she was unprotected, and lived by eating grass and leaves in the forest.

And one day the chief Potter had not enough oxen to yoke to the carts which carried the material for making clay.

And the King said: "Where is our She-Elephant?"

"O King! she is wandering at her will in the forest."

And the King said: "Do thou yoke her to the cart."

And the Potter said: "Good, O King!" And he did even as the King commanded.

But when this insult was offered to the Elephant, she came to the Prime Minister and said: "O Wise Being! I pray you listen to my tale. When I was young, great strength was mine; and I did walk a hundred leagues to bear the King’s messages, and, with weapons bound upon my body, I did take part in battle, crushing the enemy beneath my feet. And now I am old, and the King hath withdrawn all the honors he bestowed upon me, and not content with allowing me to wander and feed on grass, unprotected in my old age, he has even caused me to be yoked to the Potter’s cart as are the oxen."

Then the Buddha promised that he would plead her cause, and appearing before the King, he asked: "Great King, did not a She-Elephant covered with weapons do battle for thee; and on such and such a day, with a writing upon her neck, did she not go a hundred leagues on a message? Thou didst bestow upon her great honor. I pray thee tell me, where is she now?"

And the King, in some confusion, made answer: "Behold, she is yoked to a cart."

Then did the Buddha speak in sorrowful anger to the King, and rebuked him, saying: "Thou hast yoked this Elephant to a cart after all the services she has rendered. Then was the honor only bestowed because of more services expected?"

And all who heard him received his instruction, and the King restored the She-Elephant to her former place of honor.

Next: Grandmother's Golden Dish

(400 words)

Jataka: Grandmother's Golden Dish

This story is about the Buddha's past lifetime as a traveling merchant, and it is also a story about the past life of Devadatta, a cousin and brother-in-law of the Buddha who is often represented in the jatakas as a source of ill-will among the Buddhist community. As you will see, the earlier incarnation of Devadatta plays the role of the villain in this jataka. You can read more about Devadatta at Wikipedia.

[Notes by LKG]

This story is part of the Jataka Tales unit. Story source: Eastern Stories and Legends by Marie L. Shedlock (1920).

(gold statue of the Buddha in Sri Lanka)

Grandmother's Golden Dish

LONG ago the Bodisat was a dealer in tin and brassware named Seriva, in the country of that name. This Seriva, together with another dealer in tin and brass ware, who was an avaricious man, crossed the river Televaha, and entered the town called Andhapura. And, dividing the streets of the city between them, the Bodisat went round selling his goods in the street allotted to him, while the other took the street that fell to him.

Now in that city there was a wealthy family reduced to abject poverty. All the sons and brothers in the family had died, and all its property had been lost. Only one girl and her grandmother were left; and those two gained their living by serving others for hire.

There was indeed in the house the vessel of gold out of which the head of the house used to eat in the days of its prosperity, but it was covered with dirt, and had long lain neglected and unused among the pots and pans. And they did not even know that it was of gold.

At that time the avaricious hawker, as he was going along, calling out, "Buy my water-pots! Buy my water-pots!" came to the door of their house.

When the girl saw him, she said to her grandmother: "Mother! Do buy me an ornament."

"But we are poor, dear. What shall we give in exchange for it?"

"This dish of ours is no use to us; you can give that away and get one."

The old woman called the hawker, and, after asking him to take a seat, gave him the dish, and said: "Will you take this, Sir, and give something to your little sister for it?"

The hawker took the dish, and thought: "This must be gold!" And turning it round, he scratched a line on its back with a needle, and found that it was so. Then, hoping to get the dish without giving them anything, he said: "What is this worth? It is not even worth a halfpenny!" And throwing it on the ground, he got up from his seat and went away.

Now, it was allowed to either hawker to enter the street which the other had left. And the Bodisat came into that street, and calling out, "Buy my water-pots," came up to the door of that very house. And the girl spoke to her grandmother as before.

But the grandmother said: "My child, the dealer who came just now threw the dish on the floor, and went away; what have I now got to give him in exchange?"

"That merchant, mother dear, was a surly man, but this one looks pleasant, and has a kind voice: perchance he may take it."

"Call him, then," said she.

So she called him. And when he had come in and sat down, they gave him the dish. He saw that it was gold, and said: "Mother! this dish is worth a hundred thousand. All the goods in my possession are not equal to it in value!"

"But, Sir, a hawker who came just now threw it on the ground, and went away, saying it was not worth a halfpenny. It must have been changed into gold by the power of your virtue, so we make you a present of it."

The Bodisat gave them all the cash he had in hand, five hundred pieces, and all his stock-in-trade, worth five hundred more. He asked of them only to let him keep eight pennies, and the bag and the yoke that he used to carry his things with. And these he took and departed.

And going quickly to the river-side, he gave those eight pennies to a boatman, and got into the boat.

But the covetous hawker came back to the house, and said: "Bring out that dish; I’ll give you something for it."

Then she scolded him, and said: "You said our gold dish, worth a hundred thousand, was not worth a halfpenny. But a just dealer, who seems to be your master, gave us a thousand for it, and has taken it away."

When he heard this he called out: "Through this fellow I have lost a golden pot worth—oh, worth a hundred thousand! He has ruined me altogether!" And bitter sorrow overcame him, and he was unable to retain his presence of mind, and he lost all self-command. And scattering the money he had, and all the goods, at the door of the house, he seized as a club the yoke by which he had carried them, and tore off his clothes, and pursued after the Bodisat.

When he reached the river-side, he saw the Bodisat going away, and he cried out: "Hallo, Boatman! stop the boat!"

But the Bodisat said: "Don’t stop!" and so prevented that.

And as the other gazed and gazed at the departing Bodisat, he was torn with violent grief; his heart grew hot, and blood flowed from his mouth until his heart broke—like tank-mud in the heat of the sun. Thus harboring hatred against the Bodisat, he brought about on that very spot his own destruction. This was the first time that Devadatta harbored hatred against the Bodisat.

But the Bodisat gave gifts, and did other good acts, and passed away according to his deeds.

Next: The Elephant that Spared Life

(900 words)

Jataka: The Elephant that Spared Life

This story makes reference to the Five Commandments (Five Precepts) of Buddhism; you can read more about these precepts at Wikipedia. For the illustration, I have included a "Dharma Wheel," an important Buddhist symbol; you can learn more about this symbol at Wikipedia.

[Notes by LKG]

This story is part of the Jataka Tales unit. Story source: Eastern Stories and Legends by Marie L. Shedlock (1920).

The Elephant that Spared Life

AT that time the Bodisat was born as a nobleman's son. On the naming-day they gave him the name of Prince Magha, and when he grew up he was known as "Magha the Young Brahmin."

His parents procured him a wife from a family of equal rank, and, increasing in sons and daughters, he became a great giver of gifts, and kept the Five Commandments.

In that village there were as many as thirty families, and one day the men of those families stopped in the middle of the village to transact some village business. The Bodisat removed with his feet the lumps of soil on the place where he stood, and made the spot convenient to stand on; but another came up and stood there. Then he smoothed out another spot, and took his stand there, but another man came and stood upon it. Still the Bodisat tried again and again, with the same result, until he had made convenient standing-room for all the thirty.

The next time he had an open-roofed shed put up there, and then pulled that down, and built a hall, and had benches spread in it, and a water-pot placed there. On another occasion those thirty men were reconciled by the Bodisat, who confirmed them in the Five Commandments, and thenceforward he continued with them in works of piety.

Whilst they were so living they used to rise up early, go out with bill-hooks and crow-bars in their hands, tear up with the crowbars the stones in the four high roads and village paths, and roll them away, take away the trees which would be in the way of vehicles, make the rough places plain, form causeways, dig ponds, build public halls, give gifts, and keep the Commandments—thus, in many ways, all the dwellers in the village listened to the exhortations of the Bodisat, and kept the Commandments.

Now the village headman said to himself: "I used to have great gain from fines, and taxes, and pot-money, when these fellows drank strong drink, or took life, or broke the other Commandments. But now Magha the Young Brahmin has determined to have the Commandments kept, and permits none to take life, or to do anything else that is wrong. I'll make them keep the Commandments with a vengeance!"

And he went in a rage to the King, and said: "O King! There are a number of robbers going about sacking the villages!"

"Go and bring them up!" said the King in reply.

And he went, and brought back all those men as prisoners, and had it announced to the King that the robbers were brought up. And the King, without inquiring what they had done, gave orders to have them all trampled to death by elephants!

Then they made them all lie down in the courtyard, and fetched the elephant. And the Bodisat exhorted them, saving: "Keep the Commandments in mind. Regard them all—the slanderer, and the King, and the elephant —with feelings as kind as you harbor towards yourselves!"

And they did so.

Then men led up the elephant, but though they brought him to the spot, he would not begin his work, but trumpeted forth a mighty cry, and took to flight. And they brought up another and another, but they all ran away.

"There must be some drug in their possession," said the King and gave orders to have them searched. So they searched, but found nothing, and told the King so.

"Then they must be repeating some spell. Ask them if they have any spell to utter."

The officials asked them, and the Bodisat said there was. And they told the King, and he had them all called before him, and said: "Tell me that spell you know!"

Then the Bodisat spoke, and said: "O King! we have no other spell but this—that we destroy no life, not even of grass; that we take nothing which is not given to us; that we are never guilty of unfaithfulness, nor speak falsehood, nor drink intoxicants; that we exercise ourselves in love, and give gifts; that we make rough places plain, dig ponds, and put up rest-houses—this is our spell, this is our defense, this is our strength!"

Then the King had confidence in them, and gave them all the property in the house of the slanderer, and made him their slave; and bestowed, too, the elephant upon them, and made them a grant of the village.

Next: How the Antelope Was Caught

(Dharmachakra in Tibet)

(800 words)

Jataka: How the Antelope Was Caught

The name of this antelope in the Pali language in which the jatakas are written is vata-miga, the "wind-deer" (antelope) because it runs as swiftly as the wind. In the Indian iconographic tradition, you can see the Wind God riding an antelope.

[Notes by LKG]

This story is part of the Jataka Tales unit. Story source: Eastern Stories and Legends by Marie L. Shedlock (1920).

(Indian blackbuck antelope)

How the Antelope Was Caught

ONCE upon a time the King of Benares had a gardener named Sanjaya. Now, a swift antelope who had come to the garden took to flight as soon as it saw Sanjaya. But Sanjaya did not frighten it away, and when it had come again and again it began to walk about in the garden. And day by day the gardener used to pluck the various fruits and flowers in the garden and take them away to the King.

Now, one day the King asked him: "I say, friend gardener, is there anything strange in the garden so far as you’ve noticed?"

"I’ve noticed nothing, O King, save that an antelope is in the habit of coming and wandering about there. That I often see."

"But could you catch it?"

"If I had a little honey I could bring it right inside the palace here!"

The King gave him the honey, and he took it, went to the garden, smeared it on the grass at the spot the antelope frequented, and hid himself. When the deer came and had eaten the honey-smeared grass, it was bound with the lust of taste, and from that time went nowhere else, but came exclusively to the garden.

And as the gardener saw that it was allured by the honey-smeared grass, he in due course showed himself. For a few days the antelope took to flight on seeing him. But after seeing him again and again it acquired confidence, and gradually came to eat grass from the gardener’s hand.

And when the gardener saw that its confidence was gained, he strewed the path right up to the palace as thick with branches as if he were covering it with mats, hung a gourdful of honey over his shoulder, carried a bundle of grass at his waist, and then kept sprinkling honey-smeared grass in front of the antelope till he led him within the palace.

As soon as the deer had got inside, they shut the door. The antelope, seeing men, began to tremble and quake with the fear of death, and ran hither and thither about the hall.

The King came down from his upper chamber, and, seeing the trembling creature, said: "Such is the nature of an antelope that it will not go for a week afterwards to a place where it has seen men, nor its life long to a place where it has been frightened. Yet this one, with just such a disposition, and accustomed only to the jungle, has now, bound by the lust of taste, come to just such a place. Verily, there is nothing worse in the world than this lust of taste!"

And when in other words he had shown the danger of greed, he let the antelope go back to the forest.

Next: The Pupil Who Taught His Teacher

(500 words)

Jataka: The Pupil Who Taught His Teacher

The city referred to here Takasila (Taxila) is located in the Punjab region of modern Pakistan. The city has a special importance in Buddhism, especially with the Mahayana branch of Buddhism. You can read more about ancient Taxila at Wikipedia.

[Notes by LKG]

This story is part of the Jataka Tales unit. Story source: Eastern Stories and Legends by Marie L. Shedlock (1920).

The Pupil Who Taught His Teacher

The Buddha was re-born in a Brahmin family and was known as Dhamapala or Law Keeper.

When he came of age he was sent by his father to study with a world famed teacher at Takasila and became the chief pupil in a company of five hundred youths.

At that time the eldest son of the teacher died and the father, surrounded by his pupils, in the midst of his kith and kin, buried his son—and all the pupils wept and wailed, but Dhamapala was silent and shed no tear, but when the company returned from the cemetery Dhamapala asked, "Why did your son die? It is not right that children should die; only when people grow old can this happen."

And they asked him, "Is it the custom of your family that the young do not die?"

And he said: "Yes, that is the custom in my family." The lads told this conversation to their teacher.

Now when the teacher heard this, he said to them, "That is a most marvelous thing that he says. I will make a journey to his father and ask him about it, and if it be true I will live according to his rule of right."

And he said to the young man: "I am going on a journey. Do thou, in my absence, instruct these youths."

So saying, he procured the bones of a wild goat, washed and scented them, and put them into a bag. Then taking with him a little page boy he started for the village in which lived the father of his pupil.

When the house was reached, and the teacher had rested and taken food, and the host had washed the feet of his guest, the teacher said: "Brahmin, your son when full of wisdom has by an unhappy chance lost his life. Grieve not for him."

The Brahmin laughed loudly.

"Why do you laugh, Brahmin?" asked the other.

"Because," he said, "it is not my son who is dead; it must be some other."

"No, Brahmin, your son is dead, and no other. Look on his bones, and believe." So saying, he unwrapped the bones. "There are your son’s bones," he said.

"A wild goat’s bones, perhaps," quoth the Brahmin, "or a dog’s, but my son is not dead. In our family for seven generations, no such thing has been known as a death in tender years, and you are speaking falsehood." Then they all clapped their hands and laughed aloud.

The teacher, when he beheld this wonderful thing, was much pleased and said: "Brahmin, this custom in your family line cannot be without cause, that the young do not die. Why is it that you do not die young? Of what good and holy deed is this the fruit?"

Then the Brahmin made answer: "We walk in righteousness. We speak no ill. We flee from things that are evil. We take no heed of the foolish. We follow the counsel of the wise. We delight in giving gifts. We feed the hungry. We are faithful in our marriage vows. We are versed in sacred knowledge. Therefore, the young amongst us never die."

On hearing this, the teacher replied: "A happy journey is this of mine and fruitful. I came hither, O wise Brahmin, to test you. Your son is safe and well. I pray you impart to me your rule of preserving life."

Then the other wrote it on a leaf and returned to his pupils.

Next: The Man Who Told a Lie

(remains of a Buddhist monastery at Taxila)

(600 words)

Jataka: The Man Who Told a Lie

If you look at the complete version of this story — Kakkaru-Jataka — you can see the circumstance in the Buddha's life that prompted him to tell this story. It involves the villainous Devadatta whom you read about earlier (Grandmother's Golden Dish): the Buddha tells how after speaking evil words, Devadatta vomited blood, just as, in a past lifetime, he suffered pain because of his evil deeds.

[Notes by LKG]

This story is part of the Jataka Tales unit. Story source: Eastern Stories and Legends by Marie L. Shedlock (1920).

(Buddha and flowers, by K. Wieland)

The Man Who Told a Lie

ON one occasion four divine beings made their appearance on the Earth to attend a festival of the Gods.

And they bore in their hands wreaths of the strangest flowers that had ever been seen, and those around asked: "What are these flowers?"

And the Gods made answer and said: "These divine flowers are fit for those possessed of great powers: for the base, the foolish, the faithless, the sinful beings within the world of men, they are not fitted. But, whosoever amongst men is endowed with certain virtues—to them is due the honor of wearing these flowers.

He who steals no thing from another,

Who uttereth no lie,

Who doth not lose his head at the

height of Fame—

He may wear the flowers.

Now there was a certain false Teacher or Priest who thought to himself: "I do not possess one of these qualities, but, by appearing to possess them, I shall obtain permission to wear the wreaths, and the people will believe that I really am what I appear to be, and they will place their confidence in me."

Then, with exceeding boldness, he came to the first of the Gods and exclaimed with great solemnity: "Behold, I am endowed with these qualities of which you speak— I have stolen from no man, never have I uttered a lie, nor has fame ever caused me to be proud or haughty."

And when he had uttered these words, the wreath was placed upon his brow. And, emboldened by his success, he came with the same pride and confidence into the presence of the second God, and asked that the second wreath should be bestowed upon him.

And the God said:

He who earns wealth honestly, and

shuns dishonest means,

Who takes but sparingly of the Cup of Pleasure,

To him shall be awarded this second wreath.

And the false Priest bowed his head and said: "Behold all that I have earned is honestly gotten, and all pleasure have I shunned. Give me the wreath!"

And the wreath was placed upon his brow.

Then, with boldness increased by his success, he approached the third God, and asked that the third wreath should encircle his brow.

And the God said:

He who scorns choice food,

Who never turneth from his purpose,

Who keepeth his faith unchanged,

To him shall be given the wreath.

And the false Priest said: "I have ever lived on the simplest fare. I have been ever steadfast of purpose, and loyal in my faith. Therefore give me the wreath."

And the third wreath was bestowed upon him.

Then did the pride of the false Priest know no bounds, and he went hastily to the fourth God and demanded the fourth wreath.

And the God said:

He who will attack no good man to his

face or behind his back,

And who keeps his word in all things,

To him belongs this wreath.

Then the false Priest cried out in a loud voice: "I have attacked no man, good or evil, and never have I broken my word to any."

The God looked at him sadly, but he placed the wreath upon his brow, and the four divine beings disappeared from the sight of man.

But no sooner had they left the earth than the Priest felt a violent pain. His head seemed to be crushed by spikes, and, writhing in agony, he made full confession and begged that the flowers should be removed from his head; but though all pitied his condition, none could remove the flowers, for they seemed to be fastened on with an iron band.

And he called aloud to the Gods, saying, "O ye great powers, forgive my pride and spare my life!"

And they answered: "These flowers are not meet for the wicked. You have received the reward of your false words."

Then, having rebuked him in the presence of the people, they removed the flowers from the head of the repentant man and returned to the abode of the Blest.

Next: The Crow that Thought It Knew

(700 words)

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