While the Bodhisattva was dwelling in the Abode of Tuṣita, the King of Aṅga ruled over the lands of Aṅga. Under his rule, the kingdom prospered and thrived, crops were bountiful and the land teemed with animals and people. Meanwhile, King Mahāpadma ruled over the lands of Magadha. Under his rule, the kingdom prospered and thrived, crops were bountiful and the land teemed with animals and people. At times, the King of Aṅga and his armies were dominant. At other times, King Mahāpadma and his armies were dominant.
At a time when the King of Aṅga and his armies were dominant, he called up the four branches of his armed forces—the elephant corps, the cavalry, the charioteer corps, and the infantry—and laid waste to all of Magadha, save Rājagṛha, before returning.
At a time when King Mahāpadma and his armies were dominant, he too called up the four branches of his armed forces—the elephant corps, the cavalry, the charioteer corps, and the infantry—and laid waste to all of Aṅga, save Campā, before returning.
At yet another time when the King of Aṅga and his armies were dominant, he again called up the four branches of his armed forces—the elephant corps, the cavalry, the charioteer corps, and the infantry—and began again to lay waste to the land of Magadha, prompting the people of Magadha to send a message to King Mahāpadma, saying, “Your Majesty, the King of Aṅga has called up the four branches of his armed forces—the elephant corps, the cavalry, the charioteer corps, and the infantry—and is laying waste to the lands of Magadha.”
When King Mahāpadma heard this, he too called up the four branches of his armed forces—the elephant corps, the cavalry, the charioteer corps, and the infantry—and rode out to meet the King of Aṅga in battle.
The King of Aṅga captured King Mahāpadma’s entire elephant corps and proceeded to capture the whole of his cavalry, charioteer corps, and infantry. Defeated and frightened, destroyed and conquered, King Mahāpadma retreated. Entering Rājagṛha, he closed the gates and shut himself up within the walls of his fortress.
The King of Aṅga sent an envoy to King Mahāpadma with the message, “It would be good were you to come out. If you do not surrender, and instead take flight into the sky above, I will fell you with a volley of arrows. Tunnel beneath the earth and I will yank you up as if with a hook. Flee to the mountaintops, and even there you shall find no escape.”
King Mahāpadma was unsettled by the message he heard. Head in hands, he sat and sat, absorbed in thought. Then he said to his ministers, “Gentlemen, this King of Aṅga is belligerent, ruthless, and his military might is great. If he gives an order, how can we not obey?”
While the blessed Bodhisattva was dwelling in the Abode of Tuṣita, he saw five sights and thrice gave notice to the six classes of gods who revel in the desire realm. Assuming an elephant’s appearance, he entered his mother’s womb as the earth shook and this world and all others too were bathed in a vast light more luminous than the glow of the gods of the Thirty-Three. So great was this miraculous manifestation, it was as if the sun and moon shone in the gulf between worlds. So great was its strength that darkness everywhere, even the pitch-black darkness of dark places dark from never knowing the light of the sun and moon, was filled with a vast light. Beings born in those places had never even seen so far as their outstretched hands, yet by this light these beings saw one another and exclaimed, “You there! There are others who have been born here! There are others who have been born here!”
At the same time as the blessed Bodhisattva was born, sons were also born to four great kings in four great city-states. In Rājagṛha the son of King Mahāpadma was born. In Śrāvastī the son of King Arāḍa Brahmadatta was born. In Ujjayinī the son of King Anantanemi was born. In Kauśāmbī the son of King Śatānīka was born.
When the blessed Bodhisattva was born, the entire universe was bathed in a vast light more luminous than the glow of the gods of the Thirty-Three. So great was this miraculous manifestation, it was as if the sun and moon shone in the gulf between worlds. So great was its strength that darkness everywhere, even the pitch-black darkness of dark places dark from never knowing the light of the sun and moon, was filled with a vast light. Beings born in those places had never even seen so far as their outstretched hands, yet by this light these beings saw one another and exclaimed, “You there! There are others who have been born here! There are others who have been born here!”
King Mahāpadma thought, “When my son was born, the world was lit as if by the gold of the rising sun. And as he is the son of Queen Bimbī (Goldie), I shall name this prince Bimbisāra (Essence of Gold).” And so the boy was named Bimbisāra.
King Arāḍa Brahmadatta thought, “When my son was born, the world was lit as if by the light of lights, so I shall name this prince Prasenajit (Supreme Light).” And so the boy was named Prasenajit.
King Śatānīka thought, “When my son was born, the world was lit as if by the rising sun, so I shall name this prince Udayana (Rising).” And so the boy was named Udayana.
King Anantanemi thought, “When my son was born, the world was lit by a brilliant light, so I shall name this prince Pradyota (Brilliant Light).” And so the boy was named Pradyota.
And so each king attributed the light to the birth of his own son. Though each attributed it to his own son, it was not so. For all that occurred, occurred because of the Bodhisattva.
On the very same day that Prince Bimbisāra was born, five hundred sons of five hundred ministers were also born and were given names appropriate to their patrilineage.
Prince Bimbisāra was entrusted to eight nursemaids: two to cuddle him, two to breastfeed him, two to change his diapers, and two to play with him. Fortified with milk, curd, butter, ghee, cream, and other nourishing foods, he grew quickly, shooting up like a lotus in a pond. When he was old enough, he was introduced to letters, number names, calculation, counting by hand, expenditures, revenues, and deposits. After he finished letters, he became skilled in exegesis, recitation, knowledge, proper conduct, and the way to assess gems, sites, fabrics, woods, elephants, horses, women, and men.
He trained in and mastered the different fields of arts and skills of anointed kṣatriya kings, or a ruler of the realm endowed with the might and vigor to conquer the wide face of the earth, such as riding on the neck of an elephant, riding horseback, charioteering, swordsmanship, archery, advancing, yielding, wielding a hook, throwing a lasso, casting a spear, and how to hold a weapon, march, tie a topknot, slash, quarter, pierce, and strike in five ways—striking from a distance, striking a target using acoustic location, striking a fatal blow, striking without hesitation, and striking forcefully.
Later Prince Bimbisāra set out astride an elephant where he saw the King of Aṅga’s officers collecting tributes and taxes, prompting him to inquire of his men, “Gentlemen, for whom are these tributes and taxes being collected?”
When the officers were summoned, he said, “Gentlemen, the King of Aṅga is crowned and an anointed kṣatriya king. If I too am crowned and an anointed a kṣatriya king, why is it you are collecting tributes and taxes here? I forbid you to collect tributes and taxes from this day forth.”
They went to King Mahāpadma and said, “Your Majesty, when we officers of the King of Aṅga were collecting tributes and taxes, Prince Bimbisāra stopped us from doing so. Shall we collect them or not?”
They had begun their collection again when Prince Bimbisāra spotted them on their way back and said, “Gentlemen, have I not already prohibited you from collecting tributes and taxes? Why are you collecting them again? You are to desist. Fail to desist and I shall close the borders.”
They went before the King of Aṅga and said, “Your Majesty, as officers of the court, we were collecting tributes and taxes on your behalf when King Mahāpadma’s son, Prince Bimbisāra, stopped us. If Your Majesty ignores the prince’s actions, he may, in time, pose a serious risk to us.”
The King of Aṅga sent a letter to King Mahāpadma: “Send Prince Bimbisāra with his sword hung from his neck—or prepare your pyre and shroud, for I myself will come!”
King Mahāpadma heard this letter read and was troubled. Head in hands, he sat and sat, absorbed in thought. Then he summoned Prince Bimbisāra and said, “Son, why did you stop the King of Aṅga’s officers from collecting tributes and taxes? They have sent me a letter expressing their anger.”
“If the King of Aṅga is an anointed a kṣatriya king and we too are anointed kṣatriya kings, why do we offer tribute and taxes to him? Give me an army of just four divisions, Your Majesty, and I will meet the King of Aṅga in battle.”
King Mahāpadma then sent a message to the King of Aṅga, saying, “You had best hope all the power, forces, will, and authority you possess do not fail you!”
The King of Aṅga found this message intolerable and commanded his ministers, “Gentlemen, lay waste to those lands! Call up the four branches of the armed forces.”
Having called up the four branches of the armed forces—the elephant corps, the cavalry, the charioteer corps, and the infantry—they began to lay waste to the land of Magadha. The people of Magadha sent a message to King Mahāpadma, saying, “Your Majesty, the King of Aṅga has called up the four branches of his armed forces—the elephant corps, the cavalry, the charioteer corps, and the infantry—and is laying waste to the lands of Magadha.”
King Mahāpadma was troubled by this news and, head in hands, sat and sat, absorbed in thought. He summoned Prince Bimbisāra and gave him charge over the four branches of the armed forces. Prince Bimbisāra gathered the five hundred ministers’ sons and said, “Gentlemen, what if I were to meet the King of Aṅga in battle? What would you do?”
The four branches of the armed forces were then called up and they set out from Rājagṛha. When King Mahāpadma, who sat shut up in his upper citadel surrounded by his council, saw them depart, he asked his ministers, “Gentlemen, whose army is this?”
Hence, the prince was named and became known as Bimbisāra of the Army. Some knew him as Bimbisāra of the Guilds while some knew him as Bimbisāra of the Army.
Prince Bimbisāra said to the five hundred sons of the ministers, “Gentlemen, this King of Aṅga is belligerent, ruthless, and his military might is great so we cannot meet him in battle. Therefore, we will sneak in, overrun his exposed camp, and kill him while their guard is down and their armor off.”
They overran the King of Aṅga’s exposed camp while their guard was down and their armor off, sneaking up and killing him. The four branches of the King of Aṅga’s armed forces scattered to the four directions. Prince Bimbisāra sent mounted emissaries in the four directions with the message, “Gentlemen, you are anointed kṣatriya kings, and I too am an anointed kṣatriya king, so return! Gentlemen, I will support you!”
He whom the King of Aṅga left to defend the city of Campā heard how the King of Aṅga had been killed, prompting him to close the gates and take cover within the walls of the fortress. When at last Prince Bimbisāra reached Campā, the prince fixed the King of Aṅga’s head onto a long pole and displayed it, saying, “It is I who has brought your lord to this state. Come out immediately and I shall look favorably upon you. Fail to appear and you too will soon find yourself in this state.”
With the King of Aṅga slain, Campā fell into Prince Bimbisāra’s hands, at which point he sent a message to King Mahāpadma, saying, “Your Majesty, I have slain the King of Aṅga and Campā is now in my hands. Your Majesty, tell me what else needs to be done and I shall see to it.”
Pleased, King Mahāpadma sent Prince Bimbisāra a parasol, a turban, and a coronet with the message, “Son, you must take the reins of power there. I, for my part, will assume the reins of power here.”
And so Prince Bimbisāra assumed the reins of power. Under him, the kingdom prospered and thrived, crops were bountiful and the land teemed with animals and people.
Once King Mahāpadma’s time had come, the ministers of Rājagṛha sent a message to King Bimbisāra, saying, “Your Majesty, your father’s time has come.” In a great coronation ceremony, the ministers of Rājagṛha and Magadha granted him sovereignty over the lands of Aṅga and Magadha.
Under King Bimbisāra’s rule, the kingdoms of Aṅga and Magadha prospered and thrived, crops were bountiful and the land teemed with animals and people. He completely pacified conflict, aggressors, and enemies from without as well as disturbances from within. He rid the land of brigands, thieves, famine, and illness, and brought a wealth of rice, sugar cane, cattle, and buffalo; thus the just Dharma king established a just kingdom.
There was a young brahmin who, desiring and in search of esoteric instruction, left the Middle Country and went to the South, where there was a brahmin to whom the Vedas and the limbs of the Vedas had been entrusted, who had been a teacher to brahmins living in a country to the south.
The young brahmin went to see this teacher of brahmins. Serene, the young brahmin bowed his head calmly and sat off to one side. The brahmin teacher warmly greeted him with words of welcome, and asked, “Young brahmin, where have you come from and what do you desire?”
The brahmins’ students were in the habit, when not occupied with their studies, of going to the riverbank to bathe, visiting the city, or collecting wood for use in fire pūjas.
Once, when not occupied with their studies, they went to collect wood for fire pūjas. On the way they had the following conversation. “Sons of Kutsa, sons of Vātsa, sons of Śāṇḍili, sons of Bhāradvāja, sons of the Five, sons of the Further Five. To begin with, let us share where we come from, from which land we hail.”
“Gentlemen, the Middle Country is the best of all lands, abounding in rice, sugar cane, cattle, and buffalo, thronging with hundreds of honest women and filled with upstanding men, devoid of foreign savages, and guided by learned men. The river Gaṅgā, bountiful, meritorious, auspicious, and clean, flows through this famed land, irrigating both shores. At one point, where sages are known to gather, the river flows through eighteen bends. There, sages seek to bodily rise to the heavens through their practice of austerities.”
“Gentlemen, from the first did I not say, ‘Gentlemen, the Middle Country is filled with upstanding men, devoid of foreign savages, and guided by learned men’?”
“Gentlemen, in the Middle Country, the teachers are such that our teacher could not even look them in the face, so eloquently do they speak, so wise are they.”
On hearing the young brahmin speak so highly of the Middle Country, they were moved by the desire to visit it. The young brahmins then went off to collect wood for use in fire pūjas. Bearing their loads of wood, they came to the house in which the teacher of brahmins lived. On arriving, they set their loads of wood off to one side, went to him, and said, “Preceptor, please listen. The young brahmin from the Middle Country speaks so highly of it that we are moved by the desire to visit.”
The brahmin said, “Boys, would you visit every place of which you hear? Since you seem to derive so much pleasure from hearing of other countries, I would suggest you not visit those places you hear about.”
“Preceptor, according to this young brahmin, in the Middle Country the teachers are such that you, our teacher, could not even look them in the face, so eloquently do they speak, so wise are they.”
“My sons, do I say I am the one and only teacher on this earth, that there are no other teachers? After all, since the earth contains many gems, its surface is covered with one beauty after another.”
“We will see that country yet, Preceptor, if only for a short while. We will bathe on the banks of the river, we will serve the bull among teachers, we will defeat opponents, we will make a name for ourselves and find our fortune, too. We will go to the Middle Country.”
As the brahmin was attached to his students and his circle of students was small, he said to the young brahmins, “In that case, my sons, let us gather our hides, bast robes, staffs, water jugs, ladles, and bowls and go to the Middle Country.”
Having collected their things, the brahmin set off with the young brahmins for the Middle Country. Along the way, he defeated an opponent in debate, and then bound him to his chariot. He poured ashes from a pot on another’s head. Another steered clear of him like a crow does an archery range. Another received him with parasols, victory banners, and standards. Another made a pledge to become his student. As he went, he vanquished one opponent after another in villages, cities, towns, marketplaces, and hamlets until he reached Rājagṛha.
The brahmin thought, “Why bother pulling off the branches, petals, and leaves while leaving the root? Since all worthy opponents and anyone counted as learned will be close to the king, it is the king I shall see.”
With that, the brahmin went to see King Bimbisāra. On arriving, he wished King Bimbisāra success and long life, took a place off to one side, and addressed him: “Your Majesty, from my guru I have received a few teachings. And so I seek to settle a matter in debate with an opponent in Your Majesty’s presence.”
“Your Majesty, in the village of Nālada there is a brahmin known as Māṭhara who has been entrusted with the Vedas and the limbs of the Vedas. With blazing intelligence, this capable man illuminates his own assertions and smashes those of others. He has put together a work known as Māṭhara’s Treatise.”
Māṭhara received the summons and went to see King Bimbisāra. On arrival, he wished King Bimbisāra success and long life then took a place off to one side.
The ministers prepared the debate arena and assigned the disputants their roles. The ministers then prostrated at the king’s feet and asked, “Your Majesty, who would you have defend a position first?”
Having been assigned to defend a position first, the brahmin proceeded to recite five hundred lines. Māṭhara repeated them and then said, “This position of yours is devoid of logic. It is inconsistent and incoherent.” The brahmin remained silent as Māṭhara pointed out the position’s flaws.
This pleased the king, who straightened up, extended his right arm, and declared, “It is a fine discovery for me to find this bull among teachers in my kingdom!”
Māṭhara was thrilled, delighted, and overjoyed. Surrounded by learned men, he returned to his village. And since the world desires success and distrusts failure, several brahmins pressed their daughters on him in marriage. Māṭhara then took a wife of equal caste and together they played with, took pleasure in, and amused one another. The wife with whom he had played, taken pleasure, and amused himself gave birth to a son with an extraordinarily long torso. Three weeks or twenty-one days after the birth, relatives came and gathered to celebrate his birth in grand style, during which time they chose a name for the boy. The relatives said, “Since this boy has an extraordinarily long torso, he should be named Koṣṭhila (Long Torso).”
The young brahmin was entrusted to eight nursemaids: two to cuddle him, two to breastfeed him, two to change his diapers, and two to play with him. Fortified with milk, curd, butter, ghee, cream, and other nourishing foods, he grew quickly, shooting up like a lotus in a pond. When he was old enough, he was introduced to letters, number names, calculation, counting by hand, how to exclude, to add, and to leave, and to parse until he had mastered reciting. Then, he was instructed in the ways of brahmins: their conduct, ritual purity, and observances; the handling of ashes, the handling of ritual vases, and the handling of sites; hand gestures, turbans, offering praise, and salutations; the Ṛgveda, the Yajurveda, the Sāmaveda, and the Atharvaveda; and a brahmin’s six duties—making fire sacrifices, officiating over fire sacrifices, studying, teaching, giving, and receiving. The Vedas the limbs of the Vedas were entrusted to him, and with his blazing intelligence he could illuminate his own assertions and vanquish those of others.
The wife with whom Māṭhara had played, taken pleasure, and amused himself again gave birth, this time to a girl with eyes like a śārī bird. Three weeks or twenty-one days after the birth, relatives came and gathered to celebrate her birth in grand style, during which time they chose a name for the girl. The relatives said, “Since this girl has eyes like a śārī, this girl should be given the name Śārikā.” The girl Śārikā was nurtured and grew. Her father taught her how to combine letters into words so she became proficient in reciting.
Later, when the young brahmin Koṣṭhila was debating Śārikā, Śārikā vanquished him and their father said to Koṣṭhila, “Son, if you are a male, how has a female vanquished you? Once I’m gone, the spoils I’ve won in debate will be taken away.”
There, in a country not his own, lived a brahmin named Tiṣya who was learned in Lokāyata philosophy, a teacher of brahmins to whom the Vedas and the limbs of the Vedas were entrusted.
And so, the young brahmin Koṣṭhila began to study Lokāyata philosophy in the presence of the brahmin Tiṣya. The brahmins’ students were in the habit, when not occupied with their studies, of going to the riverbank to bathe, visiting the city, or collecting wood for use in fire pūjas.
Once, when not occupied with their studies, they went to collect wood for fire pūjas. On the way they had the following conversation. “Sons of Kutsa, sons of Vātsa, sons of Śāṇḍili, sons of Bhāradvāja, sons of the Five, sons of the Further Five. To begin with, let us share where we come from, from which land we hail.”
“Gentlemen, the Middle Country is the best of all lands, abounding in rice, sugar cane, cattle, and buffalo, thronging with hundreds of honest women and filled with upstanding men, devoid of foreign savages, and guided by learned men. The river Gaṅgā, bountiful, meritorious, auspicious, and clean, flows through this famed land, irrigating both shores. At one point, where sages are known to gather, the river flows through eighteen bends. There, sages seek to bodily rise to the heavens through their practice of austerities.”
“Gentlemen, from the first did I not say, ‘Gentlemen, the Middle Country is filled with upstanding men, devoid of foreign savages, and guided by learned men’?”
“Gentlemen, in the Middle Country, the teachers are such that our teacher could not even look them in the face, so eloquently do they speak, so wise are they.”
On hearing the young brahmin speak so highly of the Middle Country, they were moved by the desire to visit it. The young brahmins then went off to collect wood for use in fire pūjas. Bearing their loads of wood, they came to the house in which the teacher of brahmins lived. On arriving, they set their loads of wood off to one side, went to him, and said, “Preceptor, please listen. The young brahmin from the Middle Country speaks so highly of it that we are moved by the desire to visit.”
The brahmin Tiṣya said, “Boys, would you visit every place of which you hear? Since you seem to derive so much pleasure from hearing of other countries, I would suggest you not visit those places you hear about.”
“Preceptor, according to this young brahmin, in the Middle Country the teachers are such that you, our teacher, could not even look them in the face, so eloquently do they speak, so wise are they.”
“My sons, do I say I am the one and only teacher on this earth, that there are no other teachers? After all, since the earth contains many gems, its surface is covered with one beauty after another.”
“We will see that country yet, Preceptor, if only for a short while. We will bathe on the banks of the river, we will serve the bull among teachers, we will defeat opponents, and we will make a name for ourselves and find our fortune, too. We will go to the Middle Country.”
As the brahmin was attached to his students and his circle of students was small, he said to the young brahmins, “In that case, my sons, let us gather our hides, bast robes, staffs, water jugs, ladles, and bowls and go to the Middle Country.”
Having collected their things, the brahmin set off with the young brahmins for the Middle Country. Along the way, he defeated an opponent in debate, and then bound him to his chariot. He poured ashes from a pot on another’s head. Another steered clear of him like a crow does an archery range. Another received him with parasols, victory banners, and standards. Another made a pledge to become his student. As he went, he vanquished one opponent after another in villages, cities, towns, marketplaces, and hamlets until he reached Rājagṛha.
The brahmin Tiṣya thought, “Why bother pulling off the branches, petals, and leaves while leaving the root? Since all worthy opponents and anyone counted as learned will be close to the king, it is the king I shall see.”
In time the brahmin Tiṣya went to see King Bimbisāra. On arriving, he wished the king success and long life, took a place off to one side, and addressed him: “Your Majesty, from my guru I have received a few teachings. And so I seek to settle a matter in debate with an opponent in Your Majesty’s presence.”
The ministers prepared the debate arena and assigned the disputants their roles. The ministers then prostrated at the king’s feet and asked, “Your Majesty, who would you have defend a position first?”
The brahmin Māṭhara thought, “This brahmin Tiṣya is clearly acquainted with new treatises so I cannot debate him on them. I shall focus on an old text.” And with that he recited five hundred lines.
The brahmin Tiṣya repeated them and then declared, “This position of yours is devoid of logic. It is inconsistent and incoherent.” The other brahmin remained silent as Tiṣya pointed out the text’s flaws.
“Your Majesty,” they replied, “if you give a prize to everyone who wins a debate, before long your lands of Aṅga and Magadha will themselves be victors’ prizes. Therefore make the village of Nālada the standard victor’s prize. Take it from the brahmin Māṭhara and give it to this brahmin. And if any other should best Tiṣya, then award it to the victor.”
The village was then taken from the brahmin Māṭhara and given to the brahmin Tiṣya. The brahmin Māṭhara thought, “Though I have done much for this king, he has not taken care of me. I shall go elsewhere.”
With that they began packing up their household. When their relatives heard that the master Preceptor was leaving, they went to see him and asked, “Preceptor, why are you packing up your household?”
When the brahmin Tiṣya heard that the preceptor Māṭhara was to leave, he went to him and said, “I have come only for a short time and before long am certain to go. Let this remain your victor’s prize. Do not leave, you must stay.”
Māṭhara thought, “Though I have done much for this king, he has not taken care of me. Yet out of consideration for me, this brahmin Tiṣya has offered to share our prize—a most beneficial arrangement. I will give Śārikā to him as a wife.”
Māṭhara then said to his wife, “Noble lady, though I have done much for this king, he has not taken care of me. Yet out of consideration for me, this brahmin Tiṣya has offered to share our prize—a most beneficial arrangement. I shall give Śārikā to him as a wife. Call our son, Koṣṭhila.”
His parents summoned Koṣṭhila and said, “Son, though we have done much for this king, he has not taken care of us. Yet, out of consideration for me, this brahmin Tiṣya has offered to share our prize—a most beneficial arrangement. I shall give Śārikā to him as a wife.”
Koṣṭhila replied, “Father! Mother! How could I accept this enemy into our family? Hasn’t he robbed us of our livelihood? Anyone else in our position would try to take his life. If he has robbed us so, why would you give Śārikā to him in marriage?”
His parents said, “Fool! What do you know?” Ignoring what he said, they gave Śārikā to the brahmin Tiṣya as a wife. In a lavish ceremony, Tiṣya took Śārikā as his bride.
The young brahmin Koṣṭhila thought, “This insult is all due to my lack of learning.” He thought, “What does the brahmin Tiṣya know? He knows Lokāyata philosophy.”
After they allowed his going forth, he said, “So long as I uphold the Lokāyata philosophy, I will not cut my fingernails.” So he let his fingernails grow extraordinarily long and for this he became known as the wandering mendicant Dīrghanakha (He Who Has Long Fingernails).
When Śārikā challenged her husband Tiṣya, he vanquished her. Later, as Tiṣya and Śārikā played with, took pleasure in, and amused one another, a sentient being in search of his final rebirth, who had grasped the essence of liberation, who had turned to nirvāṇa and away from saṃsāra, who had seen that all births end in death, who did not seek to be reborn, and who was to take his last body, died and passed from the lofty heights of a god and entered Śārikā’s womb.
Śārikā dreamed that a man carrying a torch rent and entered her belly. She climbed to a mountain peak. She moved through the sky above. An assembly of great men prostrated to her. She then told Tiṣya about her dream. Though Tiṣya was expert at interpreting dreams and omens, he consulted other brahmins who interpreted them. “What does it portend,” he asked, “if my brahmin wife has had such a dream?”
They replied, “Preceptor, that is an excellent portent. Her statement, ‘A man carrying a torch rent and entered my belly,’ indicates a son will be born. It portends that, after twice eight years, he will have studied the Aindra school of grammar and will vanquish all opponents. She said, ‘I climbed to a mountain peak. I moved through the sky above. An assembly of great men prostrated to me.’ These statements indicate her son will go forth and become a great saint who perfects his vow.”
The next time Tiṣya and Śārikā engaged in debate, Śārikā vanquished him, making him wonder, “If I have vanquished her in the past, what now has allowed her to vanquish me?”
After eight or nine months, a boy was born, well proportioned, pleasing to the eye, handsome, radiant, with a golden complexion, a head shaped well like a parasol, long arms, a broad forehead, eyebrows that met, and a prominent nose.
They took him to his grandfather Māṭhara, who thought about what he should name the baby boy. “This brahmin boy is the son of the brahmin Tiṣya so I shall name this brahmin boy Upatiṣya.” And with that he named him Upatiṣya (Tiṣya’s Heir).
He thought, “His grandfather has named this brahmin boy after his father so I shall name him after his mother. Since this brahmin boy is the son of his mother Śārikā, I shall name him Śāriputra.” And with that he was named Śāriputra (Śārikā’s Son).
Upatiṣya was entrusted to eight nursemaids: two to cuddle him, two to breastfeed him, two to change his diapers, and two to play with him. Fortified with milk, curd, butter, ghee, cream, and other nourishing foods, he grew quickly, shooting up like a lotus in a pond. When he was old enough, he was introduced to letters, number names, calculation, counting by hand, and how to exclude, to add, to leave, and to parse until he had mastered reciting. He was then instructed in the ways of brahmins: their conduct, ritual purity, and observances; the handling of ashes, the handling of ritual vases, and the handling of sites; hand gestures, turbans, offering praise, and salutations; the Ṛgveda, the Yajurveda, the Sāmaveda, and the Atharvaveda; and a brahmin’s six duties—making fire sacrifices, officiating over fire sacrifices, studying, teaching, giving, and receiving. The Vedas and the limbs of the Vedas were entrusted to him, and with his blazing intelligence he could illuminate his own assertions and vanquish those of others.
His father made him study all fields of knowledge, and thus by the age of sixteen he had studied the Aindra school of grammar and could vanquish all opponents.
“Son, even I do not know the meaning of this statement. But these sacred mantra have been recited with praise, sung, and furnished by past sages. Nowadays brahmins simply recite and repeat them.”
“Father, do you think there is no meaning to these sacred mantra, which have been recited with praise, sung, and furnished by past sages, but nowadays are simply recited and repeated by brahmins? This is what such statements mean,” and he proceeded to explain.
Tiṣya was delighted and in his delight thought, “This is what a son should do: he should carry on his father’s tradition or develop his insight even further. Were he to accomplish only this, this brahmin boy’s insight would surpass my own.”
He shared this insight with the five hundred young brahmins he was teaching to recite brahmanic mantras and they too were delighted and happily turned to Upatiṣya. When the young brahmin Upatiṣya taught the five hundred young brahmins to recite brahmanic mantras, he summarized the longer Vedas, abridging their words and phrases, and expanded on the shorter Vedas, explaining their meaning and etymologies.
In the village of Kāṣṭhavāṭa, there lived a royal priest named Potalaka who was wealthy with many riches and goods, with holdings both vast and extensive, with riches to rival Vaiśravaṇa. He took a wife of equal caste and with her played, took pleasure, and amused himself. After their play, lovemaking, and the indulgence of all their desires resulted in no child, male or female, the childless couple, badly wanting a child, propitiated Śiva, Varuṇa, Kubera, Śakra, Brahmā, and others. Among the different gods were gods of park shrines, gods of the forest, gods of crossroads, gods of intersections, gods who take votive offerings, birth totem gods, gods who adhere to the Dharma, and gods who always shadow you.
There is a saying, “Boys and girls are born in the world because they are prayed for.” But that is not so, for if it were, then each and every man would have a thousand sons, as do the kings of the world. Rather, boys and girls are born when three circumstances are present. What are those three? The mother and father feel desire and couple; it is the right time and the mother is ovulating; and a gandharva is near and wants to be reborn. And so it is that boys and girls are born when those three circumstances are present.
As Potalaka sat engrossed in prayer, a being in search of his final rebirth, who had grasped the essence of liberation, who had turned to nirvāṇa and away from saṃsāra, who had seen that all births end in death, who did not seek to be reborn, and who was to take his last body, died and passed from the lofty heights of a god and entered his wife’s womb.
Certain women, endowed with natural intelligence, have five unique qualities. What are the five? They know when a man feels desire and when he does not; they know when the time comes and when they are ovulating; they know when they have conceived; they know whence the conceived child came; and they know whether it is a boy or a girl. If it is a boy, he lies with his head to the right side of the womb. If it is a girl, she lies with her head to the left side of the womb.
Delighted, Potalaka’s wife joyfully told her husband, “Son of a lord! I am with child! And as it lies with its head to the right side of my womb, it is sure to be a boy, so pray be happy!”
Potalaka too was delighted. He sat straight up, raised his right hand, and exclaimed with great joy, “At last, I shall look on the face of the son I have wanted for so long! May we get along and not disagree. May he carry on my work and, having been nurtured, nurture in return. May he enjoy his inheritance and ensure that my line lasts long. When our time comes and we die, may he make the appropriate offerings, neither too few nor too many. And may he dedicate the merit he thus accrues to us by name, saying, ‘May this merit follow the two of them wherever they be born, wherever they go.’ ”
Knowing she was with child, to ensure she carried the child to term he installed his wife on the top story of their mansion where he saw that she was tended to and did not come to harm. When it was cold, she was given what she needed for the cold. When it was hot, she was given what she needed for the heat. On the doctor’s advice, her food was not to be too bitter, too sour, too salty, too sweet, too spicy, or too astringent; and so she was given food that was not bitter, sour, salty, sweet, spicy, or astringent. Her body was festooned in garlands, necklaces, and jewelry, like a goddess at play in a garden. She moved from bed to throne, from pedestal to pedestal, the soles of her feet never touching the floor, and she never heard anything even slightly unpleasant.
After eight or nine months had passed, a boy was born, well proportioned, pleasing to the eye, handsome, radiant, with a golden complexion, a head shaped well like a parasol, long arms, a broad forehead, eyebrows that met, and a prominent nose. Three weeks or twenty-one days after the birth, relatives came and gathered to celebrate his birth in grand style, during which time they chose a name for the boy. As this boy had come to them from the lap of the gods, they thought the young brahmin should be named Kolita (Born from the Lap), and so he was named Kolita.
Also, because he was a descendent of Mudgala, they thought the young brahmin should be named Maudgalyāyana (Son of Mudgala’s descendants), and so he was named Maudgalyāyana.
The young brahmin Kolita was entrusted to eight nursemaids: two to cuddle him, two to breastfeed him, two to change his diapers, and two to play with him. Fortified with milk, curd, butter, ghee, cream, and other nourishing foods, he grew quickly, shooting up like a lotus in a pond. When he was old enough, he was introduced to letters, number names, calculation, counting by hand, and how to exclude, to add, to leave, and to parse. Once he had finished letters, he was instructed in the ways of brahmins: their conduct, ritual purity, and observances; the handling of ashes, the handling of ritual vases, and the handling of sites; hand gestures, turbans, offering praise, and salutations; the Ṛgveda, the Yajurveda, the Sāmaveda, and the Atharvaveda; and a brahmin’s six duties—making fire sacrifices, officiating over fire sacrifices, studying, teaching, giving, and receiving. He mastered and became learned in the Vedas and all branches of Vedic knowledge. The Vedas and the limbs of the Vedas were entrusted to him, and with his blazing intelligence, he could illuminate his own assertions and vanquish those of others.
His father made him study all fields of knowledge. Once, when he was reciting the Vedas with his father, he asked, “Father, what does this statement mean?”
“Son, even I don’t know the meaning of this statement. Sages of the past recited with praise, sung, and furnished these sacred mantra, but nowadays brahmins simply recite and repeat them.”
“Father, do you think there is no meaning to these sacred mantra, which have been recited with praise, sung, and furnished by past sages, but nowadays are simply recited and repeated by brahmins? This is what such statements mean,” and he proceeded to explain.
Potalaka was delighted and in his delight thought, “This is what a son should do: he should carry on his father’s tradition or develop his insight even further. Were he to accomplish only that, this brahmin boy’s insight would surpass my own.”
Potalaka shared this insight with the five hundred young brahmins he was teaching to recite brahmanic mantras and they too were delighted and happily turned to Maudgalyāyana. The young brahmin Maudgalyāyana then taught the five hundred young brahmins to recite the brahmanic mantras.
The five hundred young brahmins were in the habit, when not occupied with their studies, of going to the riverbank to bathe, visiting the city, or collecting wood for use in fire pūjas.
Once, when not occupied with their studies, the students of the young brahmin Upatiṣya walked, reciting mantras on their way to the city. Meanwhile, trailing behind, the students of the young brahmin Maudgalyāyana walked, reciting mantras on their way to the city. When the students of the young brahmin Maudgalyāyana heard the students of the young brahmin Upatiṣya reciting the sacred mantra, they asked, “Why do you recite the sacred mantra in such a debased way?”
“Not to know him is not to know the sun or the moon. In the village of Nālada lives the brahmin Tiṣya. We have learned them from his son, the young brahmin Upatiṣya. And from whom did you learn these sacred mantra?”
“Not to know him is not to know the sun or the moon. In the village of Kāṣṭhavāṭa, there lives a royal priest named Potalaka. We have learned them from his son, the young brahmin Kolita.”
With that, the young brahmin students of Upatiṣya became dispirited, upset, and daunted. They went to Upatiṣya, who saw them off in the distance and asked, “What troubles you, young brahmins? Your preceptor is never wrong.”
After they explained the situation at length, Upatiṣya said, “Young brahmins, allow me to explain. Although the sacred mantra should be recited in the manner those young brahmins recite them, I have summarized the longer Vedas, abridging their words and phrases, and expanded on the shorter Vedas, explaining their meaning and etymologies.”
The students of Kolita had also become dispirited, upset, and daunted. They went to Kolita, who too, on seeing them off in the distance, asked, “What troubles you, young brahmins? Your preceptor is never wrong.”
After they explained the situation at length, he said, “Young brahmins, allow me to explain. Although the sacred mantra should be recited in the manner we have recited them, that young brahmin Upatiṣya is wise for he has he summarized the longer Vedas, abridging their words and phrases, and expanded on the shorter Vedas, explaining their meaning and etymologies.”
On hearing of the other, both Kolita and Upatiṣya formed a singular desire to meet the other. Upatiṣya went to his father and said, “Father, I wish to visit the village of Kāṣṭhavāṭa, for there lives a royal priest named Potalaka whose son is called Kolita. I shall go to see him.”
Kolita also went to his father and said, “Father, I wish to visit the village of Nālada, for there lives a brahmin Tiṣya whose son is called Upatiṣya. I shall go to see him.”
Some time later, in Rājagṛha, the feast day of the nāga kings Giri and Valguka approached. As the day neared, King Bimbisāra wondered whether he should join in the festivities himself, as was his wont, or send Prince Ajātaśatru in his stead.
A short time later, a small task came up, prompting King Bimbisāra to say to Prince Ajātaśatru, “Son, go and join in the festivities for the nāga kings Giri and Valguka.”
When the brahmin Potalaka heard that King Bimbisāra had sent Prince Ajātaśatru to join in the festivities for the nāga kings Giri and Valguka, he thought, “Prince Ajātaśatru will become king once his father dies and Kolita will become royal priest when I die. Thus their acquaintance will in time bear fruit.”
He said to Kolita, “Son, go join the festivities for the nāga kings Giri and Valguka. There, they will have arranged four seats, one for the king, one for the royal priest, one for the challenger, and one for the reigning champion. Leave the king’s seat be, and take your place in the royal priest’s seat.”
When the brahmin Tiṣya heard that King Bimbisāra had sent Prince Ajātaśatru to join in the festivities for the nāga kings Giri and Valguka, he too said to Upatiṣya, “Son, go join the festivities for the nāga kings Giri and Valguka. There, they will have arranged four seats, one for the king, one for the royal priest, one for the challenger, and one for the reigning champion. Leave the king’s seat and the royal priest’s seat be, but place a small stick and vase on the reigning champion’s seat before sitting down on the challenger’s seat. From the time the sun rises to the time it sets, there shall be no challenger to equal you.”
When Upatiṣya arrived, he passed the king’s and the royal priest’s seats, placed a small stick and vase on the seat for the reigning champion, and sat down on the challenger’s seat. When the music began, the dancers sang in Toṭaka meter. The people began to dance and sing, while the two young brahmins sat in repose. When the great crowd of people saw this, they exclaimed, “Either those two young brahmins are fools or they’re unflappable!”
As the music wound down and the people went off dancing and singing, Kolita asked Upatiṣya, “Did it seem to you that the dances were well danced, the songs well sung, and the music well played?”
“Young brahmin,” replied Kolita, “the royal priesthood, for which I have made offerings to the gods, performed fire pūja, and suffered through austerities, is within reach. Having been born into a caste borne about by elephants, why would I renounce it?”
The young brahmin Kolita went to his parents and said, “Father, Mother, please listen. As I have faith in only what is perfect, I shall go forth from home into homelessness.”
“Son, the royal priesthood, for which you have made offerings to the gods, performed fire pūja, and suffered through austerities, is within reach. Having been born into a caste borne about by elephants, why would you renounce it?”
“To live in the forest, Clad in bark or grass, Eating roots and fruit Among beasts, is best. Fearing the future, The wise refuse To kill, imprison, or torture For temporal power.”
His parents replied, “Son, you are our only boy, beloved, handsome, patient, and agreeable to the eye. Even if you were to die, we would fight to keep you with us. Why, then, do you think we’d let you go while you’re still alive?”
Kolita refused food for one day, then for a second, and for a third until the sixth day. At that point Kolita’s parents went to him and said, “Dear boy, please listen. You are very young and have lived a life of leisure, and you do not know what it is to suffer. It is hard to live the holy life. It is hard to live in solitude. It is hard to be happy all on your own. It is hard to make your bed in distant forests, at the foot of mountains, and in remote places. Living alone in the wilderness is very trying. You will have to spend the rest of your life living among wild animals. You will have to spend the rest of your life living on others’ handouts. You will have to spend the rest of your life away from human pleasures. You will have to spend the rest of your life away from the fun and games of ordinary people. Dear boy! Kolita! Come home. There is pleasure to be had while living here, too. Here, too, you may give generously. Here, too, you may act meritoriously.”
Despite their pleading, Kolita remained silent. Kolita’s parents again entreated him, a second and a third time, saying each time, “Dear boy, please listen. You are very young and have lived a life of leisure, and you do not know what it is to suffer. It is hard to live the holy life. It is hard to live in solitude. It is hard to be happy all on your own. It is hard to make your bed in distant forests, at the foot of mountains, and in remote places. Living alone in the wilderness is very trying. You will have to spend the rest of your life living among wild animals. You will have to spend the rest of your life living on others’ handouts. You will have to spend the rest of your life away from human pleasures. You will have to spend the rest of your life away from the fun and games of ordinary people. Dear boy! Kolita! Come home. There is pleasure to be had while living here, too. Here, too, you may give generously. Here, too, you may act meritoriously.”
At this, Kolita’s relatives went to him and said, “Dear boy, please listen. You are very young and have lived a life of leisure and don’t know what it is to suffer. It is hard to live the holy life. It is hard to live in solitude. It is hard to be happy all on your own. It is hard to make your bed in distant forests, at the foot of mountains, and in remote places. Living alone in the wilderness is very trying. You will have to spend the rest of your life living among wild animals. You will have to spend the rest of your life living on others’ handouts. You will have to spend the rest of your life away from human pleasures. You will have to spend the rest of your life away from the fun and games of ordinary people. Dear boy, Kolita, come home! Among your relatives, there is pleasure to be had while living there too. There too you may give generously. There too you may act meritoriously.”
Despite their pleading, Kolita did not say a thing. Kolita’s relatives again entreated him, a second and a third time, saying each time, “Dear boy, please listen. You are very young and have lived a life of leisure, and you do not know what it is to suffer. It is hard to live the holy life. It is hard to live in solitude. It is hard to be happy all on your own. It is hard to make your bed in distant forests, at the foot of mountains, and in remote places. Living alone in the wilderness is very trying. You will have to spend the rest of your life living among wild animals. You will have to spend the rest of your life living on others’ handouts. You will have to spend the rest of your life away from human pleasures. You will have to spend the rest of your life away from the fun and games of ordinary people. Dear boy! Kolita! Come home. Among your relatives, there is pleasure to be had while living there, too. There, too, you may give generously. There, too, you may act meritoriously.”
At this, the young brahmin Kolita’s childhood friends went to him and said, “Dear boy, listen. You are very young and have lived a life of leisure and do not know what it is to suffer. It is hard to live the holy life. It is hard to live in solitude. It is hard to be happy all on your own. It is hard to make your bed in distant forests, at the foot of mountains, and in remote places. Living alone in the wilderness is very trying. You will have to spend the rest of your life living among wild animals. You will have to spend the rest of your life living on others’ handouts. You will have to spend the rest of your life away from human pleasures. You will have to spend the rest of your life away from the fun and games of ordinary people. Dear boy! Kolita! Come home. There is also pleasure to be had while living among your relatives. There too you may give generously. There too you may act meritoriously.”
Yet though they thus entreated him, Kolita remained silent. His childhood friends again entreated Kolita a second and a third time, saying each time, “Dear boy, please listen. You are very young and have lived a life of leisure, and you do not know what it is to suffer. It is hard to live the holy life. It is hard to live in solitude. It is hard to be happy all on your own. It is hard to make your bed in distant forests, at the foot of mountains, and in remote places. Living alone in the wilderness is very trying. You will have to spend the rest of your life living among wild animals. You will have to spend the rest of your life living on others’ handouts. You will have to spend the rest of your life away from human pleasures. You will have to spend the rest of your life away from the fun and games of ordinary people. Dear boy! Kolita! Come home. Among your relatives, there is pleasure to be had while living there, too. There, too, you may give generously. There, too, you may act meritoriously.”
Yet though they thus entreated him a second and a third time, Kolita still remained silent. Kolita’s childhood friends then went to his parents and said, “Father, Mother, please listen. What good can come from the death of the serene youth Kolita? The wise have praised going forth, so if going forth makes him happy, then at least you will see him alive. If he isn’t happy, he can always give up the life of a sage. And since he will have no home but yours, it is better that you let him go forth.”
Having obtained his parents’ consent, the young brahmin Kolita slowly regained his strength, vigor, and determination by drinking rice gruel. He left the village of Kāṣṭhavāṭa and set out for the village of Nālada.
As the young brahmin Upatiṣya enjoyed solitude, he had gone to live in the forest, where he gave instruction to five hundred young brahmins in the reciting of mantras. In time, the young brahmin Kolita reached the village of Nālada and asked Upatiṣya’s parents, “Father, Mother, where is Upatiṣya?”
They replied, “Upatiṣya enjoys solitude so he has gone to live in the forest, where he instructs five hundred young brahmins in the reciting of mantras.”
Upatiṣya went to his parents and said, “Father, Mother, please listen. I shall go forth from home into homelessness so that I may rely solely on what is correct.”
“Allow me to explain. You were hindered by heavy bindings, tight, secure, and imperishable, while I was hindered by light bindings, powerless, weak, and perishable.”
Kolita said to Upatiṣya, “Young brahmin, as we are well-known brahmins, we cannot join just any renunciant order. We must properly scrutinize the different renunciant orders and only then join one.”
Meanwhile there were six tīrthika teachers living in Rājagṛha who entertained the conceit of omniscience although they were not omniscient: Pūraṇa Kāśyapa; Gośālīputra, the wandering mendicant; Sañjayin, son of Vairaṭṭī; Ajita of the hair shawl; Kakuda, a descendant of Kātyāyana; and Jñātiputra, the Nirgrantha.
The young brahmins Upatiṣya and Kolita went to Pūraṇa Kāśyapa and asked him, “Sir, what is your approach to the Dharma? What instructions do you give to your students? What is the result of living a holy life? What are its benefits?”
“Young brahmins,” replied Pūraṇa, “this is how I see it and this is my philosophy: There is nothing to alms, oblations, fire sacrifices, good deeds, or bad deeds. There are no results or fruitions from performing good deeds or bad deeds. There is no present life. There is no afterlife. There is no mother. There is no father. Sentient beings are not born miraculously. In the world there are no arhats who have reached perfection, who have entered perfection, who can knowingly say that through their heightened insight they have seen this and future lives, and proclaim, ‘We have overcome birth. We have lived the holy life. We have done what needed to be done. We will know no life other than this.’ One’s life-force persists for the duration of this life but is annihilated after that. It will perish and after death will not arise again. A person’s body is forged from the four great elements, for once its time is up, the body’s solid structures recede into earth, the body’s fluids recede into water, the body’s heat recedes into fire, and the body’s vital energies recede into wind. The senses fade into space. A person’s corpse is borne on a bier carried by four men and taken to the charnel ground where it is burned, never to be seen again. What burns turns to ash. The bones turn a pigeon-like grey. Those who are confused about these things counsel giving alms, while the wise counsel receiving them. Those who argue that such things exist are all vainly debating what is empty and hollow. Both the childish and the wise will cease to be. They will perish and after death will not live again.”
The young brahmins Upatiṣya and Kolita thought, “This noble teacher has strayed onto a spurious path. He pursues fully a ruinous path. This is exactly the kind of dangerous path the wise say must be rejected.”
Upatiṣya and Kolita then went to Gośālīputra the wandering mendicant and asked, “Sir, what is your approach to the Dharma? What instructions do you give to your students? What is the result of living the holy life? What are its benefits?”
“Young brahmins,” replied the wandering mendicant, “this is how I see it and this is my philosophy: That sentient beings are afflicted has nothing to do with causes and conditions. The affliction of sentient beings has nothing to do with causes and conditions. That sentient beings are purified has nothing to do with causes and conditions. The purification of sentient beings occurs randomly and by chance. That sentient beings lack understanding and insight has nothing to do with causes and conditions. Their lack of understanding and insight occurs randomly and by chance. That sentient beings acquire understanding and insight has nothing to do with causes and conditions. Their acquisition of understanding and insight occurs randomly and by chance. It is not due to vigor. It is not due to determination. It is not due to a combination of vigor and determination. It is not due to a person’s skill. It is not due to his overpowering ability. It is not due to a combination of a person’s skill and overpowering ability. It is not due to one’s own skill. It is not due to another’s skill. It is not due to a combination of one’s own skill and another’s skill. All beings, all living things, and all elements are powerless. They lack strength, influence, determination, and the ability to overcome. A being’s life is predetermined. That is why we experience the unique pleasures and pains of each of the six realms.”
Upatiṣya and Kolita thought, “This noble teacher too has strayed onto a spurious path. He pursues fully a ruinous path. This is exactly the kind of dangerous path the wise say must be rejected.”
Upatiṣya and Kolita then went to Sañjayin, son of Vairaṭṭī, and asked, “Sir, what is your approach to the Dharma? What instructions do you give to your students? What is the result of living the holy life? What are its benefits?”
“Young brahmins,” replied Sañjayin, “this is how I see it and this is my philosophy: A person may act or make another person act, maim or make another person maim, burn or make another person burn, flog or make another person flog, endanger life, take what has not been given, engage wrongfully in acts of desire, knowingly speak falsehoods, imbibe intoxicating drinks, break into a house, pick a lock, rob at knifepoint, block a road and lie in wait, sack a town, sack a city, sack a region, or slaughter, dismember, flog, and tear apart every last being on this earth with the edge of a cakra blade, and then, having cut up, dismembered, flogged, and torn apart all beings, lay all the flesh out on a single plane, in a single mound, in a single pile, or a single heap. In having laid all the flesh out on a single plane, in a single mound, in a single pile, or a single heap, and having done all those things, there would be no sin in that nor would any sin come from it. One could walk along the south bank of the river Gaṅgā and slaughter, dismember, flog, and tear apart everything, or walk along the north bank of the river Gaṅgā and give alms and oblations, and there would be no sin or merit in either, nor would sin or merit come from either. Even if one practices generosity, discipline, perfect restraint, and acts with purpose and integrity, one still does not gain merit.”
Upatiṣya and Kolita thought, “This noble teacher too has strayed onto a spurious path. He pursues fully a ruinous path. This is exactly the kind of dangerous path the wise say must be rejected.”
Upatiṣya and Kolita then went to Ajita of the hair shawl and asked, “Sir, what is your approach to the Dharma? What instructions do you give to your students? What is the result of living the holy life? What are its benefits?”
“Young brahmins,” replied Ajita, “this is how I see it and this is my philosophy: Seven bodies are not products, they are not by-products, they are not apparitions, they are not by-products of apparitions, they are not subject to harm, they are everlasting, and they are still and solid like a pillar. What are the seven? The seven are thus: the body of earth, the body of water, the body of fire, the body of wind, pleasure, pain, and the vitality of life. Those seven bodies are not products, are not by-products, are not apparitions, are not by-products of apparitions, are not subject to harm, are everlasting, and are still and solid like a pillar. Those seven are such that they do not waver, they do not change, nor do they harm one another, nor do they become merit, nor do they become sin, nor do they become both merit and sin, nor do they become pleasure, nor do they become pain, nor do they become both pleasure and pain. Were one person to cut off the head of another person, even that would not influence the world nor would it cause the slightest harm to that which is still and solid, for the weapon would pass straight through the unbroken spaces in those seven bodies, leaving the life within them unharmed. There is absolutely no killing them, no making to kill them, no rousing them, no making to rouse them, no awareness of them, no making to be aware of them, no knowing them, and no making them known. Whether you be childish or wise, you are liberated from suffering after 8,400,000 eons; in the meantime, you are reborn in and cycle through 14,000 principal places of rebirth, 60,600 great eons, five types of actions, three types of actions, two types of actions, action, half-actions, sixty-two paths, sixty-two intermediate eons, thirty-six hells, one hundred and twenty senses, sixty-two constituent particles, 49,000 classes of nāga families, 49,000 classes of garuḍa, 49,000 classes of wandering mendicants, 49,000 classes of ājivika, 49,000 classes of nirgrantha, seven realms with discerning awareness, seven realms lacking discerning awareness, seven nirgrantha realms, seven demi-god realms, seven demonic realms, seven godly realms, seven human realms, seven great oceans, seven hundred lakes, seven great dreams, seven hundred dreams, seven states of great diminishment, seven hundred states of diminishment, seven states of great increase, seven hundred states of increase, seven states of great depletion, seven hundred states of depletion, seven great abysses, seven hundred abysses, six noble clans, ten high-status rebirths, and the eight grounds of a great person. Thus, just as a ball of thread thrown in the air unravels into a long thread as it falls, everyone, be they childish or wise, is liberated from suffering after having been through the cycle of rebirth for 8,400,000 eons. No ascetic or brahmin can say, ‘By observing ethics, a vow, asceticism, or celibacy, I shall bring to fruition those acts that have not borne fruit, and in facing those acts that have borne fruit, purify them.’ Our pleasures and pains are predestined. It is impossible to extend or reduce them. As this is how things are and not otherwise, the rounds of existence are thus to be counted.”
Upatiṣya and Kolita thought, “This noble teacher too has strayed onto a spurious path. He pursues fully a ruinous path. This is exactly the kind of dangerous path the wise say must be rejected.”
Upatiṣya and Kolita then went to Kakuda Kātyāyana and asked, “Sir, what is your approach to the Dharma? What instructions do you give to your students? What is the result of living the holy life? What are its benefits?”
“Young brahmins,” replied Kakuda Kātyāyana, “this is how I see it and this is my philosophy: If someone comes to me and asks, ‘Is there an afterlife?’ I answer him by saying, ‘There is an afterlife.’ If he should ask, ‘Is there not an afterlife?’ I answer him by saying, ‘There is no afterlife.’ If he should ask, ‘Is there or is there not an afterlife?’ I answer him by saying, ‘There is and is not an afterlife.’ If he should ask, ‘Does an afterlife neither exist nor not exist?’ I answer him by saying, ‘An afterlife neither exists nor does it not exist.’ Likewise, if someone comes to me and asks, ‘Is the afterlife like or unlike this world?’ I answer him by saying, “The afterlife is like and unlike this world.’ If he should ask, ‘Is the afterlife different or not different?’ I answer by saying, ‘The afterlife is different and not different.’ If he should ask, ‘Is the afterlife not different or not not different?’ I answer him by saying, ‘The afterlife is not different and not not different.’ If he should ask, ‘Is the afterlife like that or not like that?’ I answer him by saying, ‘The afterlife is like that and not like that.’ ”
Upatiṣya and Kolita thought, “This noble teacher too has strayed onto a spurious path. He pursues fully a ruinous path. This is exactly the kind of dangerous path the wise say must be rejected.”
Upatiṣya and Kolita then went to Jñātiputra, the Nirgrantha, and asked, “Sir, what is your approach to the Dharma? What instructions do you give to your students? What is the result of living the holy life? What are its benefits?”
“Young brahmins,” replied the Nirgrantha, “this is how I see it and this is my philosophy: No matter what a person individually experiences, it all comes from causes sown in the past. Old actions are purified through austerities, while new actions are averted by the dam of inactivity. In this way one avoids future defilement. In the absence of defilement, actions are exhausted. When actions are exhausted, suffering is exhausted. When suffering is exhausted, one is freed from suffering.”
Upatiṣya and Kolita thought, “This noble teacher too has strayed onto a spurious path. He pursues fully a ruinous path. This is exactly the kind of dangerous path the wise say must be rejected.”
Not long before, word had spread about a tīrthika named Sañjayin. The young brahmins Upatiṣya and Kolita went to where the teacher Sañjayin lived and asked, “Gentlemen, where is the teacher Sañjayin?”
They thought, “It would not be right to disturb the teacher’s withdrawal into seclusion. We will approach him once he has risen from this state.” And with that they sat off to one side.
The teacher Sañjayin emerged from seclusion. The states of absorption he had experienced had invigorated his senses. Upatiṣya and Kolita thought, “Whoever has such a face must have qualities to match.” They approached him and asked, “Sir Sañjayin, what is your approach to the Dharma? What instructions do you give to your students? What is the result of living the holy life? What are its benefits?”
Sañjayin replied, “Young brahmins, this is how I see it and this is my philosophy: The Dharma is truth and nonviolence. The peaceful, ageless, immortal, and unwaning state is Brahman.”
“As for truth, renunciation is born of true thoughts. As for nonviolence, all dharmas spring from the ground of nonviolence. The peaceful, ageless, immortal, and unwaning state are other names by which nirvāṇa may be known. That state is called Brahmā, for if some were to achieve nirvāṇa in this very life, all would be well. But even if they did not achieve it, they would still draw near to the world of Brahmā. Even so, brahmins will be reborn in the world of Brahmā, will alight into the world of Brahmā, will have alighted into the world of Brahmā. And how is the world of Brahmā? Gaining the fortune for the world of Brahmā is akin to entering nirvāṇa.”
After the teacher Sañjayin allowed Upatiṣya and Kolita’s going forth, the news of their acceptance spread everywhere and Sañjayin was lauded with many accolades and much praise. He thought, “If I was a member of the Śāṇḍilya clan before and am still a member now, what has caused such abundant accolades and praise to come to me now?”
Thus when he accepted five hundred young brahmins for instruction in how to recite brahmanic mantras, he assigned two hundred and fifty to Upatiṣya and two hundred and fifty to Kolita.
At one point, after the teacher Sañjayin had fallen ill, Upatiṣya asked Kolita, “Kolita, will you attend the preceptor or will you seek out medicine for him?”
Kolita thought, “Upatiṣya is intelligent. I would have him attend the preceptor while I go in search of medicine,” and said, “Please attend the preceptor and I will seek medicine.”
Upatiṣya began to attend the preceptor and Kolita went off in search of medicine. Though Upatiṣya ministered to the preceptor with medicinal roots, stalks, leaves, flowers, and fruit, the illness would not subside. Though weak, the preceptor smiled, prompting Upatiṣya to ask, “Preceptor, given that great people like you do not smile for no reason, what causes you to smile? What prompts it?”
“Upatiṣya,” replied Sañjayin, “allow me to explain. Great beings like me do not smile without cause or condition. I was thinking about the wife of King Suvarṇapati of Suvarṇadvīpa. When her husband’s time had come, she leapt onto his funeral pyre. I was thinking how the impulse to desire, the very things desired, and the pursuit of desire are what cause these sentient beings to suffer.”
“Preceptor,” Upatiṣya urged, “if the whole of what little renunciation we have is for ambrosia and the search for ambrosia, and if you, preceptor, have found some small measure of that ambrosia then please share it with us!”
“Son, the whole of what little renunciation I have is for ambrosia and the search for ambrosia but neither have I discovered even a small measure of that ambrosia. Allow me to explain. On the fifteenth, a day of fast, I heard the gods, who were passing through the heavens above, say, ‘At the foot of the snow mountains, on the banks of the river Bhāgīrathī, not far from the sage Kapila’s hermitage, a youth from the Śākya clan has appeared. Brahmins skilled in interpreting omens and signs made this prophecy: ‘The youth installed in the palace will either become king of the world, with his reign extending over the four directions, or he will become a king of Dharma. He will be endowed with the Dharma or the seven precious emblems. The seven precious emblems he will possess are as follows: a precious wheel, a precious elephant, a precious horse, a precious jewel, a precious woman, a precious steward, and a precious general. He will have a full one thousand sons, heroic, brave, and of ideal build who will destroy enemy forces. Under him, the whole earth, from sea to sea, will be free from the threat of harm and violence, and will be a realm without punishment or armed expulsion, where rule is impartial and in harmony with the Dharma. But if he, with perfect faith, should cut his hair, shave his beard, don the saffron robes, and go forth from home into homelessness, then he shall become a tathāgata, an arhat, a perfectly awakened buddha, famed all over the world.’
“ ‘You two should go forth into his teachings. Having gone forth, you should not proclaim your caste, you should not proclaim your clan, you should not proclaim your being a young brahmin. Once you have overcome conceit and pride, you should live the holy life under his guidance and then you will receive a great ambrosia.”
On saying that, he went the way of all temporal phenomena. After decorating the sides of his bier with blue, yellow, red, and white cloth, they carried his corpse to the charnel ground and cremated him. In time, their grief subsided.
In time, a young brahmin named Suvarṇajaṭa from Suvarṇadvīpa arrived in Rājagṛha. When he entered their dwelling, Upatiṣya asked, “Young brahmin, where have you come from?”
“I didn’t see anything truly amazing or remarkable,” he replied, “but I did see something somewhat amazing and remarkable so listen as you please. The wife of King Suvarṇapati of Suvarṇadvīpa leapt onto his funeral pyre when her husband’s time had come.”
When Upatiṣya looked at the conversation recorded on the board, he saw that everything was exactly as Sañjayin had said, at which point he said to Kolita, “Our preceptor Sañjayin concealed his learning from us. If he had found such rare ambrosia, he did not share it with us. For if he himself saw forms in other lands with the divine eye and heard pleasant sounds with the divine ear, then his claim to have found no ambrosia is not true.”
While the Bodhisattva was dwelling in the Abode of Tuṣita, the King of Aṅga ruled over the lands of Aṅga. Under his rule, the kingdom prospered and thrived, crops were bountiful and the land teemed with animals and people. Meanwhile, King Mahāpadma ruled over the lands of Magadha. Under his rule, the kingdom prospered and thrived, crops were bountiful and the land teemed with animals and people. At times, the King of Aṅga and his armies were dominant. At other times, King Mahāpadma and his armies were dominant.
At a time when the King of Aṅga and his armies were dominant, he called up the four branches of his armed forces—the elephant corps, the cavalry, the charioteer corps, and the infantry—and laid waste to all of Magadha, save Rājagṛha, before returning.
At a time when King Mahāpadma and his armies were dominant, he too called up the four branches of his armed forces—the elephant corps, the cavalry, the charioteer corps, and the infantry—and laid waste to all of Aṅga, save Campā, before returning.
At yet another time when the King of Aṅga and his armies were dominant, he again called up the four branches of his armed forces—the elephant corps, the cavalry, the charioteer corps, and the infantry—and began again to lay waste to the land of Magadha, prompting the people of Magadha to send a message to King Mahāpadma, saying, “Your Majesty, the King of Aṅga has called up the four branches of his armed forces—the elephant corps, the cavalry, the charioteer corps, and the infantry—and is laying waste to the lands of Magadha.”
When King Mahāpadma heard this, he too called up the four branches of his armed forces—the elephant corps, the cavalry, the charioteer corps, and the infantry—and rode out to meet the King of Aṅga in battle.
The King of Aṅga captured King Mahāpadma’s entire elephant corps and proceeded to capture the whole of his cavalry, charioteer corps, and infantry. Defeated and frightened, destroyed and conquered, King Mahāpadma retreated. Entering Rājagṛha, he closed the gates and shut himself up within the walls of his fortress.
The King of Aṅga sent an envoy to King Mahāpadma with the message, “It would be good were you to come out. If you do not surrender, and instead take flight into the sky above, I will fell you with a volley of arrows. Tunnel beneath the earth and I will yank you up as if with a hook. Flee to the mountaintops, and even there you shall find no escape.”
King Mahāpadma was unsettled by the message he heard. Head in hands, he sat and sat, absorbed in thought. Then he said to his ministers, “Gentlemen, this King of Aṅga is belligerent, ruthless, and his military might is great. If he gives an order, how can we not obey?”
While the blessed Bodhisattva was dwelling in the Abode of Tuṣita, he saw five sights and thrice gave notice to the six classes of gods who revel in the desire realm. Assuming an elephant’s appearance, he entered his mother’s womb as the earth shook and this world and all others too were bathed in a vast light more luminous than the glow of the gods of the Thirty-Three. So great was this miraculous manifestation, it was as if the sun and moon shone in the gulf between worlds. So great was its strength that darkness everywhere, even the pitch-black darkness of dark places dark from never knowing the light of the sun and moon, was filled with a vast light. Beings born in those places had never even seen so far as their outstretched hands, yet by this light these beings saw one another and exclaimed, “You there! There are others who have been born here! There are others who have been born here!”
At the same time as the blessed Bodhisattva was born, sons were also born to four great kings in four great city-states. In Rājagṛha the son of King Mahāpadma was born. In Śrāvastī the son of King Arāḍa Brahmadatta was born. In Ujjayinī the son of King Anantanemi was born. In Kauśāmbī the son of King Śatānīka was born.
When the blessed Bodhisattva was born, the entire universe was bathed in a vast light more luminous than the glow of the gods of the Thirty-Three. So great was this miraculous manifestation, it was as if the sun and moon shone in the gulf between worlds. So great was its strength that darkness everywhere, even the pitch-black darkness of dark places dark from never knowing the light of the sun and moon, was filled with a vast light. Beings born in those places had never even seen so far as their outstretched hands, yet by this light these beings saw one another and exclaimed, “You there! There are others who have been born here! There are others who have been born here!”
King Mahāpadma thought, “When my son was born, the world was lit as if by the gold of the rising sun. And as he is the son of Queen Bimbī (Goldie), I shall name this prince Bimbisāra (Essence of Gold).” And so the boy was named Bimbisāra.
King Arāḍa Brahmadatta thought, “When my son was born, the world was lit as if by the light of lights, so I shall name this prince Prasenajit (Supreme Light).” And so the boy was named Prasenajit.
King Śatānīka thought, “When my son was born, the world was lit as if by the rising sun, so I shall name this prince Udayana (Rising).” And so the boy was named Udayana.
King Anantanemi thought, “When my son was born, the world was lit by a brilliant light, so I shall name this prince Pradyota (Brilliant Light).” And so the boy was named Pradyota.
And so each king attributed the light to the birth of his own son. Though each attributed it to his own son, it was not so. For all that occurred, occurred because of the Bodhisattva.
On the very same day that Prince Bimbisāra was born, five hundred sons of five hundred ministers were also born and were given names appropriate to their patrilineage.
Prince Bimbisāra was entrusted to eight nursemaids: two to cuddle him, two to breastfeed him, two to change his diapers, and two to play with him. Fortified with milk, curd, butter, ghee, cream, and other nourishing foods, he grew quickly, shooting up like a lotus in a pond. When he was old enough, he was introduced to letters, number names, calculation, counting by hand, expenditures, revenues, and deposits. After he finished letters, he became skilled in exegesis, recitation, knowledge, proper conduct, and the way to assess gems, sites, fabrics, woods, elephants, horses, women, and men.
He trained in and mastered the different fields of arts and skills of anointed kṣatriya kings, or a ruler of the realm endowed with the might and vigor to conquer the wide face of the earth, such as riding on the neck of an elephant, riding horseback, charioteering, swordsmanship, archery, advancing, yielding, wielding a hook, throwing a lasso, casting a spear, and how to hold a weapon, march, tie a topknot, slash, quarter, pierce, and strike in five ways—striking from a distance, striking a target using acoustic location, striking a fatal blow, striking without hesitation, and striking forcefully.
Later Prince Bimbisāra set out astride an elephant where he saw the King of Aṅga’s officers collecting tributes and taxes, prompting him to inquire of his men, “Gentlemen, for whom are these tributes and taxes being collected?”
When the officers were summoned, he said, “Gentlemen, the King of Aṅga is crowned and an anointed kṣatriya king. If I too am crowned and an anointed a kṣatriya king, why is it you are collecting tributes and taxes here? I forbid you to collect tributes and taxes from this day forth.”
They went to King Mahāpadma and said, “Your Majesty, when we officers of the King of Aṅga were collecting tributes and taxes, Prince Bimbisāra stopped us from doing so. Shall we collect them or not?”
They had begun their collection again when Prince Bimbisāra spotted them on their way back and said, “Gentlemen, have I not already prohibited you from collecting tributes and taxes? Why are you collecting them again? You are to desist. Fail to desist and I shall close the borders.”
They went before the King of Aṅga and said, “Your Majesty, as officers of the court, we were collecting tributes and taxes on your behalf when King Mahāpadma’s son, Prince Bimbisāra, stopped us. If Your Majesty ignores the prince’s actions, he may, in time, pose a serious risk to us.”
The King of Aṅga sent a letter to King Mahāpadma: “Send Prince Bimbisāra with his sword hung from his neck—or prepare your pyre and shroud, for I myself will come!”
King Mahāpadma heard this letter read and was troubled. Head in hands, he sat and sat, absorbed in thought. Then he summoned Prince Bimbisāra and said, “Son, why did you stop the King of Aṅga’s officers from collecting tributes and taxes? They have sent me a letter expressing their anger.”
“If the King of Aṅga is an anointed a kṣatriya king and we too are anointed kṣatriya kings, why do we offer tribute and taxes to him? Give me an army of just four divisions, Your Majesty, and I will meet the King of Aṅga in battle.”
King Mahāpadma then sent a message to the King of Aṅga, saying, “You had best hope all the power, forces, will, and authority you possess do not fail you!”
The King of Aṅga found this message intolerable and commanded his ministers, “Gentlemen, lay waste to those lands! Call up the four branches of the armed forces.”
Having called up the four branches of the armed forces—the elephant corps, the cavalry, the charioteer corps, and the infantry—they began to lay waste to the land of Magadha. The people of Magadha sent a message to King Mahāpadma, saying, “Your Majesty, the King of Aṅga has called up the four branches of his armed forces—the elephant corps, the cavalry, the charioteer corps, and the infantry—and is laying waste to the lands of Magadha.”
King Mahāpadma was troubled by this news and, head in hands, sat and sat, absorbed in thought. He summoned Prince Bimbisāra and gave him charge over the four branches of the armed forces. Prince Bimbisāra gathered the five hundred ministers’ sons and said, “Gentlemen, what if I were to meet the King of Aṅga in battle? What would you do?”
The four branches of the armed forces were then called up and they set out from Rājagṛha. When King Mahāpadma, who sat shut up in his upper citadel surrounded by his council, saw them depart, he asked his ministers, “Gentlemen, whose army is this?”
Hence, the prince was named and became known as Bimbisāra of the Army. Some knew him as Bimbisāra of the Guilds while some knew him as Bimbisāra of the Army.
Prince Bimbisāra said to the five hundred sons of the ministers, “Gentlemen, this King of Aṅga is belligerent, ruthless, and his military might is great so we cannot meet him in battle. Therefore, we will sneak in, overrun his exposed camp, and kill him while their guard is down and their armor off.”
They overran the King of Aṅga’s exposed camp while their guard was down and their armor off, sneaking up and killing him. The four branches of the King of Aṅga’s armed forces scattered to the four directions. Prince Bimbisāra sent mounted emissaries in the four directions with the message, “Gentlemen, you are anointed kṣatriya kings, and I too am an anointed kṣatriya king, so return! Gentlemen, I will support you!”
He whom the King of Aṅga left to defend the city of Campā heard how the King of Aṅga had been killed, prompting him to close the gates and take cover within the walls of the fortress. When at last Prince Bimbisāra reached Campā, the prince fixed the King of Aṅga’s head onto a long pole and displayed it, saying, “It is I who has brought your lord to this state. Come out immediately and I shall look favorably upon you. Fail to appear and you too will soon find yourself in this state.”
With the King of Aṅga slain, Campā fell into Prince Bimbisāra’s hands, at which point he sent a message to King Mahāpadma, saying, “Your Majesty, I have slain the King of Aṅga and Campā is now in my hands. Your Majesty, tell me what else needs to be done and I shall see to it.”
Pleased, King Mahāpadma sent Prince Bimbisāra a parasol, a turban, and a coronet with the message, “Son, you must take the reins of power there. I, for my part, will assume the reins of power here.”
And so Prince Bimbisāra assumed the reins of power. Under him, the kingdom prospered and thrived, crops were bountiful and the land teemed with animals and people.
Once King Mahāpadma’s time had come, the ministers of Rājagṛha sent a message to King Bimbisāra, saying, “Your Majesty, your father’s time has come.” In a great coronation ceremony, the ministers of Rājagṛha and Magadha granted him sovereignty over the lands of Aṅga and Magadha.
Under King Bimbisāra’s rule, the kingdoms of Aṅga and Magadha prospered and thrived, crops were bountiful and the land teemed with animals and people. He completely pacified conflict, aggressors, and enemies from without as well as disturbances from within. He rid the land of brigands, thieves, famine, and illness, and brought a wealth of rice, sugar cane, cattle, and buffalo; thus the just Dharma king established a just kingdom.
There was a young brahmin who, desiring and in search of esoteric instruction, left the Middle Country and went to the South, where there was a brahmin to whom the Vedas and the limbs of the Vedas had been entrusted, who had been a teacher to brahmins living in a country to the south.
The young brahmin went to see this teacher of brahmins. Serene, the young brahmin bowed his head calmly and sat off to one side. The brahmin teacher warmly greeted him with words of welcome, and asked, “Young brahmin, where have you come from and what do you desire?”
The brahmins’ students were in the habit, when not occupied with their studies, of going to the riverbank to bathe, visiting the city, or collecting wood for use in fire pūjas.
Once, when not occupied with their studies, they went to collect wood for fire pūjas. On the way they had the following conversation. “Sons of Kutsa, sons of Vātsa, sons of Śāṇḍili, sons of Bhāradvāja, sons of the Five, sons of the Further Five. To begin with, let us share where we come from, from which land we hail.”
“Gentlemen, the Middle Country is the best of all lands, abounding in rice, sugar cane, cattle, and buffalo, thronging with hundreds of honest women and filled with upstanding men, devoid of foreign savages, and guided by learned men. The river Gaṅgā, bountiful, meritorious, auspicious, and clean, flows through this famed land, irrigating both shores. At one point, where sages are known to gather, the river flows through eighteen bends. There, sages seek to bodily rise to the heavens through their practice of austerities.”
“Gentlemen, from the first did I not say, ‘Gentlemen, the Middle Country is filled with upstanding men, devoid of foreign savages, and guided by learned men’?”
“Gentlemen, in the Middle Country, the teachers are such that our teacher could not even look them in the face, so eloquently do they speak, so wise are they.”
On hearing the young brahmin speak so highly of the Middle Country, they were moved by the desire to visit it. The young brahmins then went off to collect wood for use in fire pūjas. Bearing their loads of wood, they came to the house in which the teacher of brahmins lived. On arriving, they set their loads of wood off to one side, went to him, and said, “Preceptor, please listen. The young brahmin from the Middle Country speaks so highly of it that we are moved by the desire to visit.”
The brahmin said, “Boys, would you visit every place of which you hear? Since you seem to derive so much pleasure from hearing of other countries, I would suggest you not visit those places you hear about.”
“Preceptor, according to this young brahmin, in the Middle Country the teachers are such that you, our teacher, could not even look them in the face, so eloquently do they speak, so wise are they.”
“My sons, do I say I am the one and only teacher on this earth, that there are no other teachers? After all, since the earth contains many gems, its surface is covered with one beauty after another.”
“We will see that country yet, Preceptor, if only for a short while. We will bathe on the banks of the river, we will serve the bull among teachers, we will defeat opponents, we will make a name for ourselves and find our fortune, too. We will go to the Middle Country.”
As the brahmin was attached to his students and his circle of students was small, he said to the young brahmins, “In that case, my sons, let us gather our hides, bast robes, staffs, water jugs, ladles, and bowls and go to the Middle Country.”
Having collected their things, the brahmin set off with the young brahmins for the Middle Country. Along the way, he defeated an opponent in debate, and then bound him to his chariot. He poured ashes from a pot on another’s head. Another steered clear of him like a crow does an archery range. Another received him with parasols, victory banners, and standards. Another made a pledge to become his student. As he went, he vanquished one opponent after another in villages, cities, towns, marketplaces, and hamlets until he reached Rājagṛha.
The brahmin thought, “Why bother pulling off the branches, petals, and leaves while leaving the root? Since all worthy opponents and anyone counted as learned will be close to the king, it is the king I shall see.”
With that, the brahmin went to see King Bimbisāra. On arriving, he wished King Bimbisāra success and long life, took a place off to one side, and addressed him: “Your Majesty, from my guru I have received a few teachings. And so I seek to settle a matter in debate with an opponent in Your Majesty’s presence.”
“Your Majesty, in the village of Nālada there is a brahmin known as Māṭhara who has been entrusted with the Vedas and the limbs of the Vedas. With blazing intelligence, this capable man illuminates his own assertions and smashes those of others. He has put together a work known as Māṭhara’s Treatise.”
Māṭhara received the summons and went to see King Bimbisāra. On arrival, he wished King Bimbisāra success and long life then took a place off to one side.
The ministers prepared the debate arena and assigned the disputants their roles. The ministers then prostrated at the king’s feet and asked, “Your Majesty, who would you have defend a position first?”
Having been assigned to defend a position first, the brahmin proceeded to recite five hundred lines. Māṭhara repeated them and then said, “This position of yours is devoid of logic. It is inconsistent and incoherent.” The brahmin remained silent as Māṭhara pointed out the position’s flaws.
This pleased the king, who straightened up, extended his right arm, and declared, “It is a fine discovery for me to find this bull among teachers in my kingdom!”
Māṭhara was thrilled, delighted, and overjoyed. Surrounded by learned men, he returned to his village. And since the world desires success and distrusts failure, several brahmins pressed their daughters on him in marriage. Māṭhara then took a wife of equal caste and together they played with, took pleasure in, and amused one another. The wife with whom he had played, taken pleasure, and amused himself gave birth to a son with an extraordinarily long torso. Three weeks or twenty-one days after the birth, relatives came and gathered to celebrate his birth in grand style, during which time they chose a name for the boy. The relatives said, “Since this boy has an extraordinarily long torso, he should be named Koṣṭhila (Long Torso).”
The young brahmin was entrusted to eight nursemaids: two to cuddle him, two to breastfeed him, two to change his diapers, and two to play with him. Fortified with milk, curd, butter, ghee, cream, and other nourishing foods, he grew quickly, shooting up like a lotus in a pond. When he was old enough, he was introduced to letters, number names, calculation, counting by hand, how to exclude, to add, and to leave, and to parse until he had mastered reciting. Then, he was instructed in the ways of brahmins: their conduct, ritual purity, and observances; the handling of ashes, the handling of ritual vases, and the handling of sites; hand gestures, turbans, offering praise, and salutations; the Ṛgveda, the Yajurveda, the Sāmaveda, and the Atharvaveda; and a brahmin’s six duties—making fire sacrifices, officiating over fire sacrifices, studying, teaching, giving, and receiving. The Vedas the limbs of the Vedas were entrusted to him, and with his blazing intelligence he could illuminate his own assertions and vanquish those of others.
The wife with whom Māṭhara had played, taken pleasure, and amused himself again gave birth, this time to a girl with eyes like a śārī bird. Three weeks or twenty-one days after the birth, relatives came and gathered to celebrate her birth in grand style, during which time they chose a name for the girl. The relatives said, “Since this girl has eyes like a śārī, this girl should be given the name Śārikā.” The girl Śārikā was nurtured and grew. Her father taught her how to combine letters into words so she became proficient in reciting.
Later, when the young brahmin Koṣṭhila was debating Śārikā, Śārikā vanquished him and their father said to Koṣṭhila, “Son, if you are a male, how has a female vanquished you? Once I’m gone, the spoils I’ve won in debate will be taken away.”
There, in a country not his own, lived a brahmin named Tiṣya who was learned in Lokāyata philosophy, a teacher of brahmins to whom the Vedas and the limbs of the Vedas were entrusted.
And so, the young brahmin Koṣṭhila began to study Lokāyata philosophy in the presence of the brahmin Tiṣya. The brahmins’ students were in the habit, when not occupied with their studies, of going to the riverbank to bathe, visiting the city, or collecting wood for use in fire pūjas.
Once, when not occupied with their studies, they went to collect wood for fire pūjas. On the way they had the following conversation. “Sons of Kutsa, sons of Vātsa, sons of Śāṇḍili, sons of Bhāradvāja, sons of the Five, sons of the Further Five. To begin with, let us share where we come from, from which land we hail.”
“Gentlemen, the Middle Country is the best of all lands, abounding in rice, sugar cane, cattle, and buffalo, thronging with hundreds of honest women and filled with upstanding men, devoid of foreign savages, and guided by learned men. The river Gaṅgā, bountiful, meritorious, auspicious, and clean, flows through this famed land, irrigating both shores. At one point, where sages are known to gather, the river flows through eighteen bends. There, sages seek to bodily rise to the heavens through their practice of austerities.”
“Gentlemen, from the first did I not say, ‘Gentlemen, the Middle Country is filled with upstanding men, devoid of foreign savages, and guided by learned men’?”
“Gentlemen, in the Middle Country, the teachers are such that our teacher could not even look them in the face, so eloquently do they speak, so wise are they.”
On hearing the young brahmin speak so highly of the Middle Country, they were moved by the desire to visit it. The young brahmins then went off to collect wood for use in fire pūjas. Bearing their loads of wood, they came to the house in which the teacher of brahmins lived. On arriving, they set their loads of wood off to one side, went to him, and said, “Preceptor, please listen. The young brahmin from the Middle Country speaks so highly of it that we are moved by the desire to visit.”
The brahmin Tiṣya said, “Boys, would you visit every place of which you hear? Since you seem to derive so much pleasure from hearing of other countries, I would suggest you not visit those places you hear about.”
“Preceptor, according to this young brahmin, in the Middle Country the teachers are such that you, our teacher, could not even look them in the face, so eloquently do they speak, so wise are they.”
“My sons, do I say I am the one and only teacher on this earth, that there are no other teachers? After all, since the earth contains many gems, its surface is covered with one beauty after another.”
“We will see that country yet, Preceptor, if only for a short while. We will bathe on the banks of the river, we will serve the bull among teachers, we will defeat opponents, and we will make a name for ourselves and find our fortune, too. We will go to the Middle Country.”
As the brahmin was attached to his students and his circle of students was small, he said to the young brahmins, “In that case, my sons, let us gather our hides, bast robes, staffs, water jugs, ladles, and bowls and go to the Middle Country.”
Having collected their things, the brahmin set off with the young brahmins for the Middle Country. Along the way, he defeated an opponent in debate, and then bound him to his chariot. He poured ashes from a pot on another’s head. Another steered clear of him like a crow does an archery range. Another received him with parasols, victory banners, and standards. Another made a pledge to become his student. As he went, he vanquished one opponent after another in villages, cities, towns, marketplaces, and hamlets until he reached Rājagṛha.
The brahmin Tiṣya thought, “Why bother pulling off the branches, petals, and leaves while leaving the root? Since all worthy opponents and anyone counted as learned will be close to the king, it is the king I shall see.”
In time the brahmin Tiṣya went to see King Bimbisāra. On arriving, he wished the king success and long life, took a place off to one side, and addressed him: “Your Majesty, from my guru I have received a few teachings. And so I seek to settle a matter in debate with an opponent in Your Majesty’s presence.”
The ministers prepared the debate arena and assigned the disputants their roles. The ministers then prostrated at the king’s feet and asked, “Your Majesty, who would you have defend a position first?”
The brahmin Māṭhara thought, “This brahmin Tiṣya is clearly acquainted with new treatises so I cannot debate him on them. I shall focus on an old text.” And with that he recited five hundred lines.
The brahmin Tiṣya repeated them and then declared, “This position of yours is devoid of logic. It is inconsistent and incoherent.” The other brahmin remained silent as Tiṣya pointed out the text’s flaws.
“Your Majesty,” they replied, “if you give a prize to everyone who wins a debate, before long your lands of Aṅga and Magadha will themselves be victors’ prizes. Therefore make the village of Nālada the standard victor’s prize. Take it from the brahmin Māṭhara and give it to this brahmin. And if any other should best Tiṣya, then award it to the victor.”
The village was then taken from the brahmin Māṭhara and given to the brahmin Tiṣya. The brahmin Māṭhara thought, “Though I have done much for this king, he has not taken care of me. I shall go elsewhere.”
With that they began packing up their household. When their relatives heard that the master Preceptor was leaving, they went to see him and asked, “Preceptor, why are you packing up your household?”
When the brahmin Tiṣya heard that the preceptor Māṭhara was to leave, he went to him and said, “I have come only for a short time and before long am certain to go. Let this remain your victor’s prize. Do not leave, you must stay.”
Māṭhara thought, “Though I have done much for this king, he has not taken care of me. Yet out of consideration for me, this brahmin Tiṣya has offered to share our prize—a most beneficial arrangement. I will give Śārikā to him as a wife.”
Māṭhara then said to his wife, “Noble lady, though I have done much for this king, he has not taken care of me. Yet out of consideration for me, this brahmin Tiṣya has offered to share our prize—a most beneficial arrangement. I shall give Śārikā to him as a wife. Call our son, Koṣṭhila.”
His parents summoned Koṣṭhila and said, “Son, though we have done much for this king, he has not taken care of us. Yet, out of consideration for me, this brahmin Tiṣya has offered to share our prize—a most beneficial arrangement. I shall give Śārikā to him as a wife.”
Koṣṭhila replied, “Father! Mother! How could I accept this enemy into our family? Hasn’t he robbed us of our livelihood? Anyone else in our position would try to take his life. If he has robbed us so, why would you give Śārikā to him in marriage?”
His parents said, “Fool! What do you know?” Ignoring what he said, they gave Śārikā to the brahmin Tiṣya as a wife. In a lavish ceremony, Tiṣya took Śārikā as his bride.
The young brahmin Koṣṭhila thought, “This insult is all due to my lack of learning.” He thought, “What does the brahmin Tiṣya know? He knows Lokāyata philosophy.”
After they allowed his going forth, he said, “So long as I uphold the Lokāyata philosophy, I will not cut my fingernails.” So he let his fingernails grow extraordinarily long and for this he became known as the wandering mendicant Dīrghanakha (He Who Has Long Fingernails).
When Śārikā challenged her husband Tiṣya, he vanquished her. Later, as Tiṣya and Śārikā played with, took pleasure in, and amused one another, a sentient being in search of his final rebirth, who had grasped the essence of liberation, who had turned to nirvāṇa and away from saṃsāra, who had seen that all births end in death, who did not seek to be reborn, and who was to take his last body, died and passed from the lofty heights of a god and entered Śārikā’s womb.
Śārikā dreamed that a man carrying a torch rent and entered her belly. She climbed to a mountain peak. She moved through the sky above. An assembly of great men prostrated to her. She then told Tiṣya about her dream. Though Tiṣya was expert at interpreting dreams and omens, he consulted other brahmins who interpreted them. “What does it portend,” he asked, “if my brahmin wife has had such a dream?”
They replied, “Preceptor, that is an excellent portent. Her statement, ‘A man carrying a torch rent and entered my belly,’ indicates a son will be born. It portends that, after twice eight years, he will have studied the Aindra school of grammar and will vanquish all opponents. She said, ‘I climbed to a mountain peak. I moved through the sky above. An assembly of great men prostrated to me.’ These statements indicate her son will go forth and become a great saint who perfects his vow.”
The next time Tiṣya and Śārikā engaged in debate, Śārikā vanquished him, making him wonder, “If I have vanquished her in the past, what now has allowed her to vanquish me?”
After eight or nine months, a boy was born, well proportioned, pleasing to the eye, handsome, radiant, with a golden complexion, a head shaped well like a parasol, long arms, a broad forehead, eyebrows that met, and a prominent nose.
They took him to his grandfather Māṭhara, who thought about what he should name the baby boy. “This brahmin boy is the son of the brahmin Tiṣya so I shall name this brahmin boy Upatiṣya.” And with that he named him Upatiṣya (Tiṣya’s Heir).
He thought, “His grandfather has named this brahmin boy after his father so I shall name him after his mother. Since this brahmin boy is the son of his mother Śārikā, I shall name him Śāriputra.” And with that he was named Śāriputra (Śārikā’s Son).
Upatiṣya was entrusted to eight nursemaids: two to cuddle him, two to breastfeed him, two to change his diapers, and two to play with him. Fortified with milk, curd, butter, ghee, cream, and other nourishing foods, he grew quickly, shooting up like a lotus in a pond. When he was old enough, he was introduced to letters, number names, calculation, counting by hand, and how to exclude, to add, to leave, and to parse until he had mastered reciting. He was then instructed in the ways of brahmins: their conduct, ritual purity, and observances; the handling of ashes, the handling of ritual vases, and the handling of sites; hand gestures, turbans, offering praise, and salutations; the Ṛgveda, the Yajurveda, the Sāmaveda, and the Atharvaveda; and a brahmin’s six duties—making fire sacrifices, officiating over fire sacrifices, studying, teaching, giving, and receiving. The Vedas and the limbs of the Vedas were entrusted to him, and with his blazing intelligence he could illuminate his own assertions and vanquish those of others.
His father made him study all fields of knowledge, and thus by the age of sixteen he had studied the Aindra school of grammar and could vanquish all opponents.
“Son, even I do not know the meaning of this statement. But these sacred mantra have been recited with praise, sung, and furnished by past sages. Nowadays brahmins simply recite and repeat them.”
“Father, do you think there is no meaning to these sacred mantra, which have been recited with praise, sung, and furnished by past sages, but nowadays are simply recited and repeated by brahmins? This is what such statements mean,” and he proceeded to explain.
Tiṣya was delighted and in his delight thought, “This is what a son should do: he should carry on his father’s tradition or develop his insight even further. Were he to accomplish only this, this brahmin boy’s insight would surpass my own.”
He shared this insight with the five hundred young brahmins he was teaching to recite brahmanic mantras and they too were delighted and happily turned to Upatiṣya. When the young brahmin Upatiṣya taught the five hundred young brahmins to recite brahmanic mantras, he summarized the longer Vedas, abridging their words and phrases, and expanded on the shorter Vedas, explaining their meaning and etymologies.
In the village of Kāṣṭhavāṭa, there lived a royal priest named Potalaka who was wealthy with many riches and goods, with holdings both vast and extensive, with riches to rival Vaiśravaṇa. He took a wife of equal caste and with her played, took pleasure, and amused himself. After their play, lovemaking, and the indulgence of all their desires resulted in no child, male or female, the childless couple, badly wanting a child, propitiated Śiva, Varuṇa, Kubera, Śakra, Brahmā, and others. Among the different gods were gods of park shrines, gods of the forest, gods of crossroads, gods of intersections, gods who take votive offerings, birth totem gods, gods who adhere to the Dharma, and gods who always shadow you.
There is a saying, “Boys and girls are born in the world because they are prayed for.” But that is not so, for if it were, then each and every man would have a thousand sons, as do the kings of the world. Rather, boys and girls are born when three circumstances are present. What are those three? The mother and father feel desire and couple; it is the right time and the mother is ovulating; and a gandharva is near and wants to be reborn. And so it is that boys and girls are born when those three circumstances are present.
As Potalaka sat engrossed in prayer, a being in search of his final rebirth, who had grasped the essence of liberation, who had turned to nirvāṇa and away from saṃsāra, who had seen that all births end in death, who did not seek to be reborn, and who was to take his last body, died and passed from the lofty heights of a god and entered his wife’s womb.
Certain women, endowed with natural intelligence, have five unique qualities. What are the five? They know when a man feels desire and when he does not; they know when the time comes and when they are ovulating; they know when they have conceived; they know whence the conceived child came; and they know whether it is a boy or a girl. If it is a boy, he lies with his head to the right side of the womb. If it is a girl, she lies with her head to the left side of the womb.
Delighted, Potalaka’s wife joyfully told her husband, “Son of a lord! I am with child! And as it lies with its head to the right side of my womb, it is sure to be a boy, so pray be happy!”
Potalaka too was delighted. He sat straight up, raised his right hand, and exclaimed with great joy, “At last, I shall look on the face of the son I have wanted for so long! May we get along and not disagree. May he carry on my work and, having been nurtured, nurture in return. May he enjoy his inheritance and ensure that my line lasts long. When our time comes and we die, may he make the appropriate offerings, neither too few nor too many. And may he dedicate the merit he thus accrues to us by name, saying, ‘May this merit follow the two of them wherever they be born, wherever they go.’ ”
Knowing she was with child, to ensure she carried the child to term he installed his wife on the top story of their mansion where he saw that she was tended to and did not come to harm. When it was cold, she was given what she needed for the cold. When it was hot, she was given what she needed for the heat. On the doctor’s advice, her food was not to be too bitter, too sour, too salty, too sweet, too spicy, or too astringent; and so she was given food that was not bitter, sour, salty, sweet, spicy, or astringent. Her body was festooned in garlands, necklaces, and jewelry, like a goddess at play in a garden. She moved from bed to throne, from pedestal to pedestal, the soles of her feet never touching the floor, and she never heard anything even slightly unpleasant.
After eight or nine months had passed, a boy was born, well proportioned, pleasing to the eye, handsome, radiant, with a golden complexion, a head shaped well like a parasol, long arms, a broad forehead, eyebrows that met, and a prominent nose. Three weeks or twenty-one days after the birth, relatives came and gathered to celebrate his birth in grand style, during which time they chose a name for the boy. As this boy had come to them from the lap of the gods, they thought the young brahmin should be named Kolita (Born from the Lap), and so he was named Kolita.
Also, because he was a descendent of Mudgala, they thought the young brahmin should be named Maudgalyāyana (Son of Mudgala’s descendants), and so he was named Maudgalyāyana.
The young brahmin Kolita was entrusted to eight nursemaids: two to cuddle him, two to breastfeed him, two to change his diapers, and two to play with him. Fortified with milk, curd, butter, ghee, cream, and other nourishing foods, he grew quickly, shooting up like a lotus in a pond. When he was old enough, he was introduced to letters, number names, calculation, counting by hand, and how to exclude, to add, to leave, and to parse. Once he had finished letters, he was instructed in the ways of brahmins: their conduct, ritual purity, and observances; the handling of ashes, the handling of ritual vases, and the handling of sites; hand gestures, turbans, offering praise, and salutations; the Ṛgveda, the Yajurveda, the Sāmaveda, and the Atharvaveda; and a brahmin’s six duties—making fire sacrifices, officiating over fire sacrifices, studying, teaching, giving, and receiving. He mastered and became learned in the Vedas and all branches of Vedic knowledge. The Vedas and the limbs of the Vedas were entrusted to him, and with his blazing intelligence, he could illuminate his own assertions and vanquish those of others.
His father made him study all fields of knowledge. Once, when he was reciting the Vedas with his father, he asked, “Father, what does this statement mean?”
“Son, even I don’t know the meaning of this statement. Sages of the past recited with praise, sung, and furnished these sacred mantra, but nowadays brahmins simply recite and repeat them.”
“Father, do you think there is no meaning to these sacred mantra, which have been recited with praise, sung, and furnished by past sages, but nowadays are simply recited and repeated by brahmins? This is what such statements mean,” and he proceeded to explain.
Potalaka was delighted and in his delight thought, “This is what a son should do: he should carry on his father’s tradition or develop his insight even further. Were he to accomplish only that, this brahmin boy’s insight would surpass my own.”
Potalaka shared this insight with the five hundred young brahmins he was teaching to recite brahmanic mantras and they too were delighted and happily turned to Maudgalyāyana. The young brahmin Maudgalyāyana then taught the five hundred young brahmins to recite the brahmanic mantras.
The five hundred young brahmins were in the habit, when not occupied with their studies, of going to the riverbank to bathe, visiting the city, or collecting wood for use in fire pūjas.
Once, when not occupied with their studies, the students of the young brahmin Upatiṣya walked, reciting mantras on their way to the city. Meanwhile, trailing behind, the students of the young brahmin Maudgalyāyana walked, reciting mantras on their way to the city. When the students of the young brahmin Maudgalyāyana heard the students of the young brahmin Upatiṣya reciting the sacred mantra, they asked, “Why do you recite the sacred mantra in such a debased way?”
“Not to know him is not to know the sun or the moon. In the village of Nālada lives the brahmin Tiṣya. We have learned them from his son, the young brahmin Upatiṣya. And from whom did you learn these sacred mantra?”
“Not to know him is not to know the sun or the moon. In the village of Kāṣṭhavāṭa, there lives a royal priest named Potalaka. We have learned them from his son, the young brahmin Kolita.”
With that, the young brahmin students of Upatiṣya became dispirited, upset, and daunted. They went to Upatiṣya, who saw them off in the distance and asked, “What troubles you, young brahmins? Your preceptor is never wrong.”
After they explained the situation at length, Upatiṣya said, “Young brahmins, allow me to explain. Although the sacred mantra should be recited in the manner those young brahmins recite them, I have summarized the longer Vedas, abridging their words and phrases, and expanded on the shorter Vedas, explaining their meaning and etymologies.”
The students of Kolita had also become dispirited, upset, and daunted. They went to Kolita, who too, on seeing them off in the distance, asked, “What troubles you, young brahmins? Your preceptor is never wrong.”
After they explained the situation at length, he said, “Young brahmins, allow me to explain. Although the sacred mantra should be recited in the manner we have recited them, that young brahmin Upatiṣya is wise for he has he summarized the longer Vedas, abridging their words and phrases, and expanded on the shorter Vedas, explaining their meaning and etymologies.”
On hearing of the other, both Kolita and Upatiṣya formed a singular desire to meet the other. Upatiṣya went to his father and said, “Father, I wish to visit the village of Kāṣṭhavāṭa, for there lives a royal priest named Potalaka whose son is called Kolita. I shall go to see him.”
Kolita also went to his father and said, “Father, I wish to visit the village of Nālada, for there lives a brahmin Tiṣya whose son is called Upatiṣya. I shall go to see him.”
Some time later, in Rājagṛha, the feast day of the nāga kings Giri and Valguka approached. As the day neared, King Bimbisāra wondered whether he should join in the festivities himself, as was his wont, or send Prince Ajātaśatru in his stead.
A short time later, a small task came up, prompting King Bimbisāra to say to Prince Ajātaśatru, “Son, go and join in the festivities for the nāga kings Giri and Valguka.”
When the brahmin Potalaka heard that King Bimbisāra had sent Prince Ajātaśatru to join in the festivities for the nāga kings Giri and Valguka, he thought, “Prince Ajātaśatru will become king once his father dies and Kolita will become royal priest when I die. Thus their acquaintance will in time bear fruit.”
He said to Kolita, “Son, go join the festivities for the nāga kings Giri and Valguka. There, they will have arranged four seats, one for the king, one for the royal priest, one for the challenger, and one for the reigning champion. Leave the king’s seat be, and take your place in the royal priest’s seat.”
When the brahmin Tiṣya heard that King Bimbisāra had sent Prince Ajātaśatru to join in the festivities for the nāga kings Giri and Valguka, he too said to Upatiṣya, “Son, go join the festivities for the nāga kings Giri and Valguka. There, they will have arranged four seats, one for the king, one for the royal priest, one for the challenger, and one for the reigning champion. Leave the king’s seat and the royal priest’s seat be, but place a small stick and vase on the reigning champion’s seat before sitting down on the challenger’s seat. From the time the sun rises to the time it sets, there shall be no challenger to equal you.”
When Upatiṣya arrived, he passed the king’s and the royal priest’s seats, placed a small stick and vase on the seat for the reigning champion, and sat down on the challenger’s seat. When the music began, the dancers sang in Toṭaka meter. The people began to dance and sing, while the two young brahmins sat in repose. When the great crowd of people saw this, they exclaimed, “Either those two young brahmins are fools or they’re unflappable!”
As the music wound down and the people went off dancing and singing, Kolita asked Upatiṣya, “Did it seem to you that the dances were well danced, the songs well sung, and the music well played?”
“Young brahmin,” replied Kolita, “the royal priesthood, for which I have made offerings to the gods, performed fire pūja, and suffered through austerities, is within reach. Having been born into a caste borne about by elephants, why would I renounce it?”
The young brahmin Kolita went to his parents and said, “Father, Mother, please listen. As I have faith in only what is perfect, I shall go forth from home into homelessness.”
“Son, the royal priesthood, for which you have made offerings to the gods, performed fire pūja, and suffered through austerities, is within reach. Having been born into a caste borne about by elephants, why would you renounce it?”
“To live in the forest, Clad in bark or grass, Eating roots and fruit Among beasts, is best. Fearing the future, The wise refuse To kill, imprison, or torture For temporal power.”
His parents replied, “Son, you are our only boy, beloved, handsome, patient, and agreeable to the eye. Even if you were to die, we would fight to keep you with us. Why, then, do you think we’d let you go while you’re still alive?”
Kolita refused food for one day, then for a second, and for a third until the sixth day. At that point Kolita’s parents went to him and said, “Dear boy, please listen. You are very young and have lived a life of leisure, and you do not know what it is to suffer. It is hard to live the holy life. It is hard to live in solitude. It is hard to be happy all on your own. It is hard to make your bed in distant forests, at the foot of mountains, and in remote places. Living alone in the wilderness is very trying. You will have to spend the rest of your life living among wild animals. You will have to spend the rest of your life living on others’ handouts. You will have to spend the rest of your life away from human pleasures. You will have to spend the rest of your life away from the fun and games of ordinary people. Dear boy! Kolita! Come home. There is pleasure to be had while living here, too. Here, too, you may give generously. Here, too, you may act meritoriously.”
Despite their pleading, Kolita remained silent. Kolita’s parents again entreated him, a second and a third time, saying each time, “Dear boy, please listen. You are very young and have lived a life of leisure, and you do not know what it is to suffer. It is hard to live the holy life. It is hard to live in solitude. It is hard to be happy all on your own. It is hard to make your bed in distant forests, at the foot of mountains, and in remote places. Living alone in the wilderness is very trying. You will have to spend the rest of your life living among wild animals. You will have to spend the rest of your life living on others’ handouts. You will have to spend the rest of your life away from human pleasures. You will have to spend the rest of your life away from the fun and games of ordinary people. Dear boy! Kolita! Come home. There is pleasure to be had while living here, too. Here, too, you may give generously. Here, too, you may act meritoriously.”
At this, Kolita’s relatives went to him and said, “Dear boy, please listen. You are very young and have lived a life of leisure and don’t know what it is to suffer. It is hard to live the holy life. It is hard to live in solitude. It is hard to be happy all on your own. It is hard to make your bed in distant forests, at the foot of mountains, and in remote places. Living alone in the wilderness is very trying. You will have to spend the rest of your life living among wild animals. You will have to spend the rest of your life living on others’ handouts. You will have to spend the rest of your life away from human pleasures. You will have to spend the rest of your life away from the fun and games of ordinary people. Dear boy, Kolita, come home! Among your relatives, there is pleasure to be had while living there too. There too you may give generously. There too you may act meritoriously.”
Despite their pleading, Kolita did not say a thing. Kolita’s relatives again entreated him, a second and a third time, saying each time, “Dear boy, please listen. You are very young and have lived a life of leisure, and you do not know what it is to suffer. It is hard to live the holy life. It is hard to live in solitude. It is hard to be happy all on your own. It is hard to make your bed in distant forests, at the foot of mountains, and in remote places. Living alone in the wilderness is very trying. You will have to spend the rest of your life living among wild animals. You will have to spend the rest of your life living on others’ handouts. You will have to spend the rest of your life away from human pleasures. You will have to spend the rest of your life away from the fun and games of ordinary people. Dear boy! Kolita! Come home. Among your relatives, there is pleasure to be had while living there, too. There, too, you may give generously. There, too, you may act meritoriously.”
At this, the young brahmin Kolita’s childhood friends went to him and said, “Dear boy, listen. You are very young and have lived a life of leisure and do not know what it is to suffer. It is hard to live the holy life. It is hard to live in solitude. It is hard to be happy all on your own. It is hard to make your bed in distant forests, at the foot of mountains, and in remote places. Living alone in the wilderness is very trying. You will have to spend the rest of your life living among wild animals. You will have to spend the rest of your life living on others’ handouts. You will have to spend the rest of your life away from human pleasures. You will have to spend the rest of your life away from the fun and games of ordinary people. Dear boy! Kolita! Come home. There is also pleasure to be had while living among your relatives. There too you may give generously. There too you may act meritoriously.”
Yet though they thus entreated him, Kolita remained silent. His childhood friends again entreated Kolita a second and a third time, saying each time, “Dear boy, please listen. You are very young and have lived a life of leisure, and you do not know what it is to suffer. It is hard to live the holy life. It is hard to live in solitude. It is hard to be happy all on your own. It is hard to make your bed in distant forests, at the foot of mountains, and in remote places. Living alone in the wilderness is very trying. You will have to spend the rest of your life living among wild animals. You will have to spend the rest of your life living on others’ handouts. You will have to spend the rest of your life away from human pleasures. You will have to spend the rest of your life away from the fun and games of ordinary people. Dear boy! Kolita! Come home. Among your relatives, there is pleasure to be had while living there, too. There, too, you may give generously. There, too, you may act meritoriously.”
Yet though they thus entreated him a second and a third time, Kolita still remained silent. Kolita’s childhood friends then went to his parents and said, “Father, Mother, please listen. What good can come from the death of the serene youth Kolita? The wise have praised going forth, so if going forth makes him happy, then at least you will see him alive. If he isn’t happy, he can always give up the life of a sage. And since he will have no home but yours, it is better that you let him go forth.”
Having obtained his parents’ consent, the young brahmin Kolita slowly regained his strength, vigor, and determination by drinking rice gruel. He left the village of Kāṣṭhavāṭa and set out for the village of Nālada.
As the young brahmin Upatiṣya enjoyed solitude, he had gone to live in the forest, where he gave instruction to five hundred young brahmins in the reciting of mantras. In time, the young brahmin Kolita reached the village of Nālada and asked Upatiṣya’s parents, “Father, Mother, where is Upatiṣya?”
They replied, “Upatiṣya enjoys solitude so he has gone to live in the forest, where he instructs five hundred young brahmins in the reciting of mantras.”
Upatiṣya went to his parents and said, “Father, Mother, please listen. I shall go forth from home into homelessness so that I may rely solely on what is correct.”
“Allow me to explain. You were hindered by heavy bindings, tight, secure, and imperishable, while I was hindered by light bindings, powerless, weak, and perishable.”
Kolita said to Upatiṣya, “Young brahmin, as we are well-known brahmins, we cannot join just any renunciant order. We must properly scrutinize the different renunciant orders and only then join one.”
Meanwhile there were six tīrthika teachers living in Rājagṛha who entertained the conceit of omniscience although they were not omniscient: Pūraṇa Kāśyapa; Gośālīputra, the wandering mendicant; Sañjayin, son of Vairaṭṭī; Ajita of the hair shawl; Kakuda, a descendant of Kātyāyana; and Jñātiputra, the Nirgrantha.
The young brahmins Upatiṣya and Kolita went to Pūraṇa Kāśyapa and asked him, “Sir, what is your approach to the Dharma? What instructions do you give to your students? What is the result of living a holy life? What are its benefits?”
“Young brahmins,” replied Pūraṇa, “this is how I see it and this is my philosophy: There is nothing to alms, oblations, fire sacrifices, good deeds, or bad deeds. There are no results or fruitions from performing good deeds or bad deeds. There is no present life. There is no afterlife. There is no mother. There is no father. Sentient beings are not born miraculously. In the world there are no arhats who have reached perfection, who have entered perfection, who can knowingly say that through their heightened insight they have seen this and future lives, and proclaim, ‘We have overcome birth. We have lived the holy life. We have done what needed to be done. We will know no life other than this.’ One’s life-force persists for the duration of this life but is annihilated after that. It will perish and after death will not arise again. A person’s body is forged from the four great elements, for once its time is up, the body’s solid structures recede into earth, the body’s fluids recede into water, the body’s heat recedes into fire, and the body’s vital energies recede into wind. The senses fade into space. A person’s corpse is borne on a bier carried by four men and taken to the charnel ground where it is burned, never to be seen again. What burns turns to ash. The bones turn a pigeon-like grey. Those who are confused about these things counsel giving alms, while the wise counsel receiving them. Those who argue that such things exist are all vainly debating what is empty and hollow. Both the childish and the wise will cease to be. They will perish and after death will not live again.”
The young brahmins Upatiṣya and Kolita thought, “This noble teacher has strayed onto a spurious path. He pursues fully a ruinous path. This is exactly the kind of dangerous path the wise say must be rejected.”
Upatiṣya and Kolita then went to Gośālīputra the wandering mendicant and asked, “Sir, what is your approach to the Dharma? What instructions do you give to your students? What is the result of living the holy life? What are its benefits?”
“Young brahmins,” replied the wandering mendicant, “this is how I see it and this is my philosophy: That sentient beings are afflicted has nothing to do with causes and conditions. The affliction of sentient beings has nothing to do with causes and conditions. That sentient beings are purified has nothing to do with causes and conditions. The purification of sentient beings occurs randomly and by chance. That sentient beings lack understanding and insight has nothing to do with causes and conditions. Their lack of understanding and insight occurs randomly and by chance. That sentient beings acquire understanding and insight has nothing to do with causes and conditions. Their acquisition of understanding and insight occurs randomly and by chance. It is not due to vigor. It is not due to determination. It is not due to a combination of vigor and determination. It is not due to a person’s skill. It is not due to his overpowering ability. It is not due to a combination of a person’s skill and overpowering ability. It is not due to one’s own skill. It is not due to another’s skill. It is not due to a combination of one’s own skill and another’s skill. All beings, all living things, and all elements are powerless. They lack strength, influence, determination, and the ability to overcome. A being’s life is predetermined. That is why we experience the unique pleasures and pains of each of the six realms.”
Upatiṣya and Kolita thought, “This noble teacher too has strayed onto a spurious path. He pursues fully a ruinous path. This is exactly the kind of dangerous path the wise say must be rejected.”
Upatiṣya and Kolita then went to Sañjayin, son of Vairaṭṭī, and asked, “Sir, what is your approach to the Dharma? What instructions do you give to your students? What is the result of living the holy life? What are its benefits?”
“Young brahmins,” replied Sañjayin, “this is how I see it and this is my philosophy: A person may act or make another person act, maim or make another person maim, burn or make another person burn, flog or make another person flog, endanger life, take what has not been given, engage wrongfully in acts of desire, knowingly speak falsehoods, imbibe intoxicating drinks, break into a house, pick a lock, rob at knifepoint, block a road and lie in wait, sack a town, sack a city, sack a region, or slaughter, dismember, flog, and tear apart every last being on this earth with the edge of a cakra blade, and then, having cut up, dismembered, flogged, and torn apart all beings, lay all the flesh out on a single plane, in a single mound, in a single pile, or a single heap. In having laid all the flesh out on a single plane, in a single mound, in a single pile, or a single heap, and having done all those things, there would be no sin in that nor would any sin come from it. One could walk along the south bank of the river Gaṅgā and slaughter, dismember, flog, and tear apart everything, or walk along the north bank of the river Gaṅgā and give alms and oblations, and there would be no sin or merit in either, nor would sin or merit come from either. Even if one practices generosity, discipline, perfect restraint, and acts with purpose and integrity, one still does not gain merit.”
Upatiṣya and Kolita thought, “This noble teacher too has strayed onto a spurious path. He pursues fully a ruinous path. This is exactly the kind of dangerous path the wise say must be rejected.”
Upatiṣya and Kolita then went to Ajita of the hair shawl and asked, “Sir, what is your approach to the Dharma? What instructions do you give to your students? What is the result of living the holy life? What are its benefits?”
“Young brahmins,” replied Ajita, “this is how I see it and this is my philosophy: Seven bodies are not products, they are not by-products, they are not apparitions, they are not by-products of apparitions, they are not subject to harm, they are everlasting, and they are still and solid like a pillar. What are the seven? The seven are thus: the body of earth, the body of water, the body of fire, the body of wind, pleasure, pain, and the vitality of life. Those seven bodies are not products, are not by-products, are not apparitions, are not by-products of apparitions, are not subject to harm, are everlasting, and are still and solid like a pillar. Those seven are such that they do not waver, they do not change, nor do they harm one another, nor do they become merit, nor do they become sin, nor do they become both merit and sin, nor do they become pleasure, nor do they become pain, nor do they become both pleasure and pain. Were one person to cut off the head of another person, even that would not influence the world nor would it cause the slightest harm to that which is still and solid, for the weapon would pass straight through the unbroken spaces in those seven bodies, leaving the life within them unharmed. There is absolutely no killing them, no making to kill them, no rousing them, no making to rouse them, no awareness of them, no making to be aware of them, no knowing them, and no making them known. Whether you be childish or wise, you are liberated from suffering after 8,400,000 eons; in the meantime, you are reborn in and cycle through 14,000 principal places of rebirth, 60,600 great eons, five types of actions, three types of actions, two types of actions, action, half-actions, sixty-two paths, sixty-two intermediate eons, thirty-six hells, one hundred and twenty senses, sixty-two constituent particles, 49,000 classes of nāga families, 49,000 classes of garuḍa, 49,000 classes of wandering mendicants, 49,000 classes of ājivika, 49,000 classes of nirgrantha, seven realms with discerning awareness, seven realms lacking discerning awareness, seven nirgrantha realms, seven demi-god realms, seven demonic realms, seven godly realms, seven human realms, seven great oceans, seven hundred lakes, seven great dreams, seven hundred dreams, seven states of great diminishment, seven hundred states of diminishment, seven states of great increase, seven hundred states of increase, seven states of great depletion, seven hundred states of depletion, seven great abysses, seven hundred abysses, six noble clans, ten high-status rebirths, and the eight grounds of a great person. Thus, just as a ball of thread thrown in the air unravels into a long thread as it falls, everyone, be they childish or wise, is liberated from suffering after having been through the cycle of rebirth for 8,400,000 eons. No ascetic or brahmin can say, ‘By observing ethics, a vow, asceticism, or celibacy, I shall bring to fruition those acts that have not borne fruit, and in facing those acts that have borne fruit, purify them.’ Our pleasures and pains are predestined. It is impossible to extend or reduce them. As this is how things are and not otherwise, the rounds of existence are thus to be counted.”
Upatiṣya and Kolita thought, “This noble teacher too has strayed onto a spurious path. He pursues fully a ruinous path. This is exactly the kind of dangerous path the wise say must be rejected.”
Upatiṣya and Kolita then went to Kakuda Kātyāyana and asked, “Sir, what is your approach to the Dharma? What instructions do you give to your students? What is the result of living the holy life? What are its benefits?”
“Young brahmins,” replied Kakuda Kātyāyana, “this is how I see it and this is my philosophy: If someone comes to me and asks, ‘Is there an afterlife?’ I answer him by saying, ‘There is an afterlife.’ If he should ask, ‘Is there not an afterlife?’ I answer him by saying, ‘There is no afterlife.’ If he should ask, ‘Is there or is there not an afterlife?’ I answer him by saying, ‘There is and is not an afterlife.’ If he should ask, ‘Does an afterlife neither exist nor not exist?’ I answer him by saying, ‘An afterlife neither exists nor does it not exist.’ Likewise, if someone comes to me and asks, ‘Is the afterlife like or unlike this world?’ I answer him by saying, “The afterlife is like and unlike this world.’ If he should ask, ‘Is the afterlife different or not different?’ I answer by saying, ‘The afterlife is different and not different.’ If he should ask, ‘Is the afterlife not different or not not different?’ I answer him by saying, ‘The afterlife is not different and not not different.’ If he should ask, ‘Is the afterlife like that or not like that?’ I answer him by saying, ‘The afterlife is like that and not like that.’ ”
Upatiṣya and Kolita thought, “This noble teacher too has strayed onto a spurious path. He pursues fully a ruinous path. This is exactly the kind of dangerous path the wise say must be rejected.”
Upatiṣya and Kolita then went to Jñātiputra, the Nirgrantha, and asked, “Sir, what is your approach to the Dharma? What instructions do you give to your students? What is the result of living the holy life? What are its benefits?”
“Young brahmins,” replied the Nirgrantha, “this is how I see it and this is my philosophy: No matter what a person individually experiences, it all comes from causes sown in the past. Old actions are purified through austerities, while new actions are averted by the dam of inactivity. In this way one avoids future defilement. In the absence of defilement, actions are exhausted. When actions are exhausted, suffering is exhausted. When suffering is exhausted, one is freed from suffering.”
Upatiṣya and Kolita thought, “This noble teacher too has strayed onto a spurious path. He pursues fully a ruinous path. This is exactly the kind of dangerous path the wise say must be rejected.”
Not long before, word had spread about a tīrthika named Sañjayin. The young brahmins Upatiṣya and Kolita went to where the teacher Sañjayin lived and asked, “Gentlemen, where is the teacher Sañjayin?”
They thought, “It would not be right to disturb the teacher’s withdrawal into seclusion. We will approach him once he has risen from this state.” And with that they sat off to one side.
The teacher Sañjayin emerged from seclusion. The states of absorption he had experienced had invigorated his senses. Upatiṣya and Kolita thought, “Whoever has such a face must have qualities to match.” They approached him and asked, “Sir Sañjayin, what is your approach to the Dharma? What instructions do you give to your students? What is the result of living the holy life? What are its benefits?”
Sañjayin replied, “Young brahmins, this is how I see it and this is my philosophy: The Dharma is truth and nonviolence. The peaceful, ageless, immortal, and unwaning state is Brahman.”
“As for truth, renunciation is born of true thoughts. As for nonviolence, all dharmas spring from the ground of nonviolence. The peaceful, ageless, immortal, and unwaning state are other names by which nirvāṇa may be known. That state is called Brahmā, for if some were to achieve nirvāṇa in this very life, all would be well. But even if they did not achieve it, they would still draw near to the world of Brahmā. Even so, brahmins will be reborn in the world of Brahmā, will alight into the world of Brahmā, will have alighted into the world of Brahmā. And how is the world of Brahmā? Gaining the fortune for the world of Brahmā is akin to entering nirvāṇa.”
After the teacher Sañjayin allowed Upatiṣya and Kolita’s going forth, the news of their acceptance spread everywhere and Sañjayin was lauded with many accolades and much praise. He thought, “If I was a member of the Śāṇḍilya clan before and am still a member now, what has caused such abundant accolades and praise to come to me now?”
Thus when he accepted five hundred young brahmins for instruction in how to recite brahmanic mantras, he assigned two hundred and fifty to Upatiṣya and two hundred and fifty to Kolita.
At one point, after the teacher Sañjayin had fallen ill, Upatiṣya asked Kolita, “Kolita, will you attend the preceptor or will you seek out medicine for him?”
Kolita thought, “Upatiṣya is intelligent. I would have him attend the preceptor while I go in search of medicine,” and said, “Please attend the preceptor and I will seek medicine.”
Upatiṣya began to attend the preceptor and Kolita went off in search of medicine. Though Upatiṣya ministered to the preceptor with medicinal roots, stalks, leaves, flowers, and fruit, the illness would not subside. Though weak, the preceptor smiled, prompting Upatiṣya to ask, “Preceptor, given that great people like you do not smile for no reason, what causes you to smile? What prompts it?”
“Upatiṣya,” replied Sañjayin, “allow me to explain. Great beings like me do not smile without cause or condition. I was thinking about the wife of King Suvarṇapati of Suvarṇadvīpa. When her husband’s time had come, she leapt onto his funeral pyre. I was thinking how the impulse to desire, the very things desired, and the pursuit of desire are what cause these sentient beings to suffer.”
“Preceptor,” Upatiṣya urged, “if the whole of what little renunciation we have is for ambrosia and the search for ambrosia, and if you, preceptor, have found some small measure of that ambrosia then please share it with us!”
“Son, the whole of what little renunciation I have is for ambrosia and the search for ambrosia but neither have I discovered even a small measure of that ambrosia. Allow me to explain. On the fifteenth, a day of fast, I heard the gods, who were passing through the heavens above, say, ‘At the foot of the snow mountains, on the banks of the river Bhāgīrathī, not far from the sage Kapila’s hermitage, a youth from the Śākya clan has appeared. Brahmins skilled in interpreting omens and signs made this prophecy: ‘The youth installed in the palace will either become king of the world, with his reign extending over the four directions, or he will become a king of Dharma. He will be endowed with the Dharma or the seven precious emblems. The seven precious emblems he will possess are as follows: a precious wheel, a precious elephant, a precious horse, a precious jewel, a precious woman, a precious steward, and a precious general. He will have a full one thousand sons, heroic, brave, and of ideal build who will destroy enemy forces. Under him, the whole earth, from sea to sea, will be free from the threat of harm and violence, and will be a realm without punishment or armed expulsion, where rule is impartial and in harmony with the Dharma. But if he, with perfect faith, should cut his hair, shave his beard, don the saffron robes, and go forth from home into homelessness, then he shall become a tathāgata, an arhat, a perfectly awakened buddha, famed all over the world.’
“ ‘You two should go forth into his teachings. Having gone forth, you should not proclaim your caste, you should not proclaim your clan, you should not proclaim your being a young brahmin. Once you have overcome conceit and pride, you should live the holy life under his guidance and then you will receive a great ambrosia.”
On saying that, he went the way of all temporal phenomena. After decorating the sides of his bier with blue, yellow, red, and white cloth, they carried his corpse to the charnel ground and cremated him. In time, their grief subsided.
In time, a young brahmin named Suvarṇajaṭa from Suvarṇadvīpa arrived in Rājagṛha. When he entered their dwelling, Upatiṣya asked, “Young brahmin, where have you come from?”
“I didn’t see anything truly amazing or remarkable,” he replied, “but I did see something somewhat amazing and remarkable so listen as you please. The wife of King Suvarṇapati of Suvarṇadvīpa leapt onto his funeral pyre when her husband’s time had come.”
When Upatiṣya looked at the conversation recorded on the board, he saw that everything was exactly as Sañjayin had said, at which point he said to Kolita, “Our preceptor Sañjayin concealed his learning from us. If he had found such rare ambrosia, he did not share it with us. For if he himself saw forms in other lands with the divine eye and heard pleasant sounds with the divine ear, then his claim to have found no ambrosia is not true.”
Sutraya