Translated by śramaṇas Hui Jue etc. from Liangzhou of the Yuan Wei Dynasty in Gaochang Commandery
Section Thirty-Nine: The Karmic Cause of Umbrella Function (In the Tanjur version this section is Section Thirty-Eight)
Thus have I heard:
The Buddha was at the Bamboo Grove Hermitage in Rājagṛha. The wise Ānanda sat within the grove, and in his mind he thought: “The Buddha’s appearance in the world is exceedingly rare and wondrous. Now the disciples receive the Buddha’s benevolence; in every offering they lack nothing, they are all secure and free from suffering. All the kings and subjects of the world likewise receive many benefits: encountering the Three Jewels, the people live in peace and engage in their livelihoods — surely all this is the power of the Buddha.” Having reflected thus, he rose from his seat of meditation and went to the Buddha.
At that time the World-Honored One was expansively teaching the wondrous Dharma to the fourfold assembly. The wise Ānanda approached, arranged his robe, bared his right shoulder, knelt with his right knee on the ground, joined his palms, and reported to the Buddha the thoughts he had in the grove.
The Buddha told Ānanda, “As you have said, the Buddha’s having appeared in the world is indeed rare and hard to encounter, and all beings thereby obtain benefit.” He further told Ānanda, “The Buddha not only protects beings now, but in former lives also caused them to obtain benefit.”
Ānanda said to the Buddha, “I did not know that the World-Honored One in former lives also caused beings to obtain such great benefit. How was that, in truth?”
The Buddha told Ānanda: “In a distant kalpa long ago, within Jambudvīpa there were four rivers and two great kings. One king was named Brahmā; he alone possessed three rivers, and his people were many, yet they were impoverished and weak. The other king was named Vajraskandha (which in the language of Jin means ‘Vajra Quantity’) and he possessed only one river; his people were few, but those in his country were all brave, vigorous, and strong.
“At that time Vajra Quantity sat upon the royal throne and secretly thought: “My troops are now brave and mighty, yet we have only one river; their country is poor and weak, yet they unlawfully hold three rivers. Now I shall send envoys to parley with him and demand one river. If he gives it to me, I will be friendly with them, exchange gifts from the good things of my land, and if any difficulty or danger arises I will go to their aid; but if he will not give it, I will employ force and take it by threat.” Having resolved thus, he summoned his ministers to deliberate together about this matter. The ministers all said, “Now is the time.” Immediately they dispatched envoys to the country of Brahmā and fully communicated Vajra Quantity’s intention to King Brahmā.
When Brahmā heard this, he thought to himself, “My land has abundant wealth and numerous people, and the present borders were those established in my father’s time and passed down to me. If he meets force with force, I am not inferior to him.” Having so thought, he replied to the envoy, “This land was not obtained by me anew but transmitted from my father; even so, my strength today is not less than yours. If you rely on force, I shall not fear you.”
The envoy returned to his own country and told the king everything in detail. The king assembled his army and attacked Brahmā’s realm. As soon as the two armies engaged, Brahmā’s forces began to rout; Vajra Quantity pursued the victory and pressed all the way to the city walls. The people of Brahmā’s country were filled with fear and retreated, no longer daring to come forth. All the ministers, civil and military officials, gathered together before King Brahmā and, with one mind, said to the great king: “Their national forces are powerful while our country is weak. In the past, our reluctance to yield one river has led to this great defeat. If this continues, in not long time our country will be destroyed. We hope Your Majesty will consider matters more openly and give one river to them; by mutually cultivating goodwill and friendship, we can thereby secure safety.”
The king, having been persuaded, agreed with the ministers’ counsel. He immediately sent envoys to their camp and said to that king: “We are neighboring states; there is no need to embitter relations. The river you ask for we will now give you. I will also give you my daughter as your consort; the good things of the realm I will present to you, and in times of urgent peril we will resolve matters together.” Vajra Quantity accepted their proposal, promptly took the daughter in marriage as his queen, reconciled with them, and withdrew his troops back to his own country.
“After some time had passed, the queen of King Vajra Quantity conceived a child. Once she had conceived, there always appeared above her a natural canopy made of the seven precious jewels, which never left her body whether she was sitting or lying down, walking or standing—it constantly remained with her. When the ten months were complete, she gave birth to a boy whose body was golden in color, whose hair was the blue of the heavens, radiating light in all directions, unparalleled in the world. After the child was born, the jeweled canopy descended and rested upon him. The king summoned diviners and physiognomists to examine the child’s marks. When they had looked, they raised their hands and exclaimed, “Excellent, excellent!” In one voice they said to the great king, “Observing the marks of the prince, his benevolence and power are incomparable. His human characteristics are perfectly complete, a rarity in this world.” The king and his ministers rejoiced greatly, and the diviners were ordered to name the child. At that time, the law of the land was to bestow names according to two principles: one based on auspicious omens, and the other based on the observation of stars and constellations. The diviners said to the king, “From the time this prince was conceived, what auspicious sign appeared?” The king answered, “A canopy of the seven jewels constantly remained upon her body.” Therefore they named him Chatrakārya (which in the language of Jin means “Umbrella Function”).
All manner of fine things were continually offered for his enjoyment. When he came of age, his father passed away. After the funeral rites were completed, all the lesser kings and ministers together established Umbrella Function as the great king.”
After King Umbrella Function had governed the realm for several years, he went forth to view the lands and scenery. Seeing that the common people were toiling in plowing and farming, he asked his attendants, “Why do my people engage in such painful labors?” The ministers answered, “The nation is founded upon the people, and the people depend upon grain for their life. If they did not labor thus, they could not live. If the people die, the nation too will perish.” The king said, “If by my merit and virtue I am worthy to be king, then may my people obtain natural grain spontaneously, so that they need not endure such toil.” As soon as he finished speaking, all the granaries and baskets of the people were immediately filled to the brim with grain—of every kind, all five grains and varieties in abundance, whatever they wished for appeared before them.
After some time had again passed, the king went out to travel once more. He saw the people chopping wood, carrying water, pounding rice, and grinding wheat, and he asked his ministers, “Now the people are still laboring painfully—why is this so?” The ministers said to the king, “The people, through Your Majesty’s grace, have obtained naturally produced grain. Yet grain cannot be eaten raw; it must be cooked before it can be eaten. Therefore the people must still exert effort in preparation.” The king said again, “If by my merit and virtue I am worthy to be king, then may all my people, whenever they wish to eat, have natural food appear before them.” As soon as he finished speaking, throughout the entire country natural food appeared spontaneously whenever anyone desired to eat.
After yet another period of time, the king went forth again to inspect the land. He saw everyone hurrying about, spinning thread, weaving cloth, cutting and sewing garments, preparing clothing. The king asked his ministers, “Why must these people still labor so hard?” The ministers said to the king, “They have received Your Majesty’s grace and now obtain natural food. Yet they still toil to make clothing.” The king said again, “If by my merit and virtue I am worthy to be king, then may all the trees in my realm produce natural clothing.” As soon as these words were spoken, all the trees in the land bore beautiful garments—fine, soft, and delicate, green and yellow, red and white, whatever one desired was naturally present.
After some time had again passed, the king went forth once more to wander and enjoy the sights. He saw that the people were all busily crafting various musical instruments. The king asked his ministers, “Why are the people of my country still laboring so diligently?” The ministers replied, “These people have received the great king’s grace, obtaining natural clothing and food, dwelling in peace and happiness. Yet they still wish to have songs, music, and instruments for their own amusement, and thus they now make musical instruments.” The king then said, “If by my merit and virtue I am worthy to be king, then let all the trees throughout the country bear musical instruments — drums, zithers, lutes, harps, and all that may be needed, each complete in kind.”
After yet another period had passed, the lesser kings and their ministers all came to pay homage and offer congratulations. It so happened that the king was taking his meal, and he bade them stay and eat together. At that time those ministers partook of the royal food; all kinds of delicacies were present, and everyone said to the king, “The food in our own homes is bland and poor in flavor, but today, eating Your Majesty’s meal, it is exquisitely delicious.” The king said to them, “If you ministers and people wish to eat as I do, then you should take your meals at the same time as I. When you eat together with me, you will all obtain food of such wondrous taste.” He then ordered his officials, “When it is the time for my meal, strike the great drum loudly so that all the people may hear. When they hear the sound and take their meal as I do, they will naturally obtain all sorts of delicious foods.” From that time onward, whenever the hour of dining arrived, the drum was struck, and all the people who heard it thought of eating. Instantly, a variety of exquisite dishes appeared before them, and the people rejoiced exceedingly, beyond what could be fully expressed.
At that time, the King of Brahmā sent an envoy to the kingdom of King Umbrella Function and said to him, “When your father was alive, I gave one river to your father. Now that your father is dead, the river should be returned to me.” King Umbrella Function replied to the envoy, “My present realm and its rivers were not seized from you by force. As for my being king, I have brought it about that the people need not toil in hardship. The realm is a small matter. This affair should be discussed only when I meet with your king in person.” The envoy returned home and reported everything in detail. King Brahmā consented to this proposal, and a date was set for the meeting.
“When the appointed time came, the two kings each set out with their retinues and armies, both great in number, and encamped on opposite sides of the river. The two kings boarded boats and met in the middle of the stream. When King Brahmā beheld Umbrella Function for the first time, he saw his body shining with the radiance of purple-gold mountains, his hair gleaming like azure lapis, and his eyes wide and long, rare among men. In his heart he felt reverence, thinking that the Great Brahmā himself had come. The two kings sat together face to face and spoke of the territories of their realms, and discussed the matter of the river’s return. Umbrella Function said, “The people of my country obtain whatever they desire naturally and suffer no burdens of tax or labor.” Before his words had ended, the hour of the meal arrived, and the army of King Umbrella Function beat the great drum, preparing for their meal.
King Brahmā, startled and fearful, thought Umbrella Function was about to kill him. Terrified, he rose and bowed in apology, his hands and feet outstretched, his belly pressed against the ground. Umbrella Function stood and bade Brahmā return to his seat, saying, “Great King, why are you so afraid? My army always beats the drum when it is time to eat. The reason for this is that when I dine, all who eat at the same time as I will partake of the same delicious and wondrous foods.” Then King Brahmā rose again, joined his palms, and said to Umbrella Function, “May the great king bestow your benevolence and blessings upon me and upon the people of my land. We are all willing to submit and rely upon you, so that our people too may receive your grace.” Thus Umbrella Function came to govern the entire Jambudvīpa, and all the people therein obtained peace and happiness.”
“After King Umbrella Function ascended the throne, he dwelt upon the main royal hall, with all civil and military ministers standing in attendance before him, guarding their posts. When the sun first rose, a golden wheel came forth from the east. King Umbrella Function saw it from afar and beckoned three times with his hand. The golden wheel then approached and came before him; it had a thousand spokes and radiated light in all directions. The king said to it, “If I am indeed worthy to be a Wheel-Turning King, dwelling in the place where the Dharma abides, then may you remain suspended in the air.” Thereupon the precious wheel rose into the sky before the king and remained poised in midair, at a height of seven tāla trees above the ground.
Then the elephant treasure, the divine jewel, the maiden treasure, the general of arms, the treasurer, and all the other treasures appeared one after another. At that time, King Umbrella Function possessed the full perfection of the seven treasures and ruled over all beings beneath the heavens. All living beings received the king’s grace, and whatever they desired was naturally fulfilled. The king instructed them to cultivate the ten wholesome actions, and at the end of their lives they all were reborn in the heavens.”
The Buddha said to Ānanda, “At that time, King Chatrakārya was none other than myself in a former life. His father, King Vajraskandha, was my present father, King King Pure-Rice. His mother was my present mother, Mahāmāyā. Because in past ages I cherished compassion and pity for all beings, long nurturing them through Dharma and generosity, by this karmic cause and condition I finally attained Buddhahood. In the three realms I am supreme, and none surpass me. Therefore all beings should cultivate great loving-kindness and great compassion and practice the Buddha-Dharma that benefits all living beings.”
Ānanda then said to the Buddha, “I do not yet know, World-Honored One, in that past life when you were the Wheel-Turning Sacred King Chatrakārya, by what cause and condition you attained such merit and virtue that even upon entering your mother’s womb, there was a jeweled canopy that followed and covered you?”
The Buddha said to Ānanda, “In the distant past, immesurable kalpas ago, within this Jambudvīpa, in the land of Benares, there was a mountain called the Mountain of Sages. In that mountain dwelt a Pratyekabuddha who remained there in seclusion. At that time, the Pratyekabuddha fell ill with a disease that could not be cured, and he went to consult a physician. The physician said, ‘You suffer from a disorder of the wind element and must take milk as medicine.’
At that time, there was a merchant in the country named Āryamitra (which in the language of Jin means Noble Friend). The Pratyekabuddha went to his house, explained the cause of his illness, and sought milk from him. The merchant was very glad and earnestly wished to make offerings to him, so he supplied him with milk daily for three months.”
After three months had passed, the Pratyekabuddha’s illness was healed. Grateful for the host’s kindness, he wished to grant him great benefit. Then he leapt into the sky and, while sitting or lying, walking or standing, emitted great streams of water and fire from his body. Sometimes he displayed a vast form filling the entire sky; at other times he became small enough to hide within a fine feather. Thus, in such ways, he manifested eighteen kinds of transformations. Noble Friend rejoiced greatly. When the Pratyekabuddha descended from the air, he again accepted the merchant’s offerings and, after a long time, entered parinirvāṇa.
“The merchant was deeply grieved and mourned him unceasingly. He then performed jhāpita, burning the body, and collected the śarīra relics, which he placed in a precious vase, and built a stūpa to enshrine them. With incense, flowers, singing, dancing, music, and all manner of fine offerings, he paid homage to the stūpa. He also made a great jeweled umbrella and placed it atop the stūpa. In this way he continued his offerings until the end of his life. Because he made offerings to that Pratyekabuddha, he obtained vast merit and blessing. For innumerable lives thereafter, whether born among gods or among men, he was always noble, wealthy, and honored, surpassing others in the world — such a one is rarely found.”
The Buddha further told Ānanda, “All beings, whether they dwell at home or have renounced to live the homeless life, should cultivate and accumulate merit. Life after life, they will thereby obtain such benefits as these.”
When Ānanda and the entire assembly heard what the Buddha had spoken, they rejoiced greatly, received it with reverence, and faithfully practiced as instructed.
Section Forty: Great Giving Drained The Ocean (In the Tanjur version this section is Section Thirty-Nine)
Thus have I heard:
At one time, the Buddha was staying at Gṛdhrakūṭa Mountain in Rājagṛha, together with one thousand two hundred and fifty disciples. At that time, the World-Honored One had the thought that he needed an attendant. The disciples, such as Kauṇḍinya and others, perceived the Buddha’s intention.
Kauṇḍinya rose from his seat, bared his right shoulder, joined his palms, and knelt upon the ground before the Buddha, saying, “I wish to serve closely by your side, to carry and present your alms bowl. May the Bhagavān have compassion and grant my request.” The Buddha said to him, “You are already advanced in years and require the service of others yourself. How could I bear to have you serve me?”
When Kauṇḍinya understood that the Buddha would not consent, he paid homage and returned to his seat. Then Mahākāśyapa, Śāriputra, Maudgalyāyana, and five hundred other disciples, each in turn, requested permission to serve the Buddha, yet the Buddha declined them all.
At that time, Aniruddha perceived the Buddha’s mind and knew that the Buddha’s intention was to have Ānanda serve as his attendant. It was like the sun rising in the east, shining upon a house: the sunlight enters through the eastern window and reaches the western wall—such also was the direction of the World-Honored One’s will. The great disciples likewise discerned this.
Then Śāriputra and Maudgalyāyana rose from their seats, went to Ānanda, and said to him, “The intention of the World-Honored One is that you should serve as his attendant. You possess many excellent qualities, and you alone have received the Buddha’s high esteem. You should quickly go and request to serve the Buddha.”
The venerable Ānanda, seeing the senior elders standing before him and hearing their words, immediately rose, joined his palms, and said to them, “The World-Honored One is of boundless virtue and filled with wisdom. If I am constantly near him and personally attend upon him, I fear I might commit offenses and bring misfortune upon myself.”
Śāriputra and the others said to him again, “Now we perceive the World-Honored One’s mind—he earnestly wishes you to be his attendant. It is like the rising sun shining upon a house, the light entering from the eastern window and reaching the western wall: such is the focused intent of the World-Honored One. Moreover, the World-Honored One knows the temperaments and abilities of all beings and has discerned that you are capable and suitable, therefore he fixes his attention upon you. You should hasten to make your request to serve him.”
The venerable Ānanda, having heard this, reflected upon it but remained uncertain. Then he joined his palms and said to the elders, “If the World-Honored One will allow me to make three conditions, I shall then be willing to serve as his attendant. What are these three conditions? First, that I shall not wear the old robes of the World-Honored One. Second, that I shall not eat the Buddha’s leftover food. Third, that I may arrange the times of the Buddha’s daily activities and audiences with visitors according to what is fitting. If the World-Honored One grants these three wishes, then I will serve him.” Śāriputra and the others, having heard this, reported all of it in detail to the Buddha.
The Buddha, having listened, said to Śāriputra and the disciples, “Ānanda’s refusal to wear my old robes is born of careful thought. He fears that the disciples might give rise to jealousy, thinking: ‘Kings, ministers, and people, and all benefactors offer to the Buddha fine, delicate, and costly robes; Ānanda desires these, and therefore seeks to serve the Buddha.’ His refusal to eat my leftover food likewise arises from fear of envy, that others might think, ‘The Buddha’s bowl contains food of peerless flavor, unlike anything in this world; Ānanda covets it, and therefore seeks to serve.’
“As for Ānanda’s wish to manage the times of my daily activities and the audiences of guests and visitors, it is because he considers that disciples and various non-Buddhist ascetics come to pay respects or to inquire, yet the times may not be appropriate. If he does not regulate these matters, it might be disturbed. Moreover, as an attendant, he must discern the proper times and seasons to judge whether food is suitable and beneficial to the body. If I were to dictate all of this myself, giving him no discretion, he might easily incur faults. Therefore he makes these three requests beforehand.
“Furthermore, Ānanda’s skill in discerning the proper time is not only now in this present life; in former lives as well, when he served me, he also knew the proper times.”
Śāriputra then said to the Buddha, “I do not know how it was that in past lives he also served the Buddha and understood the proper time.”
The Buddha said to Śāriputra, “If you wish to hear, then listen well and keep it in mind, and I shall explain it to you.” Śāriputra said, “Yes, World-Honored One, I will listen attentively.”
The Buddha said to Śāriputra, “In the distant past, countless, immeasurable, and incalculable kalpas ago, there was a great king who ruled over all of Jambudvīpa, encompassing eighty-four thousand smaller kingdoms and eight billion villages. The royal city where that great king resided was called Bharukeśāḥ. In that city there was a brāhmaṇa named Nyagrodha, wise and learned, deeply knowledgeable and greatly capable. The king held him in high esteem and treated him with great honor, regarding him as his teacher. The eighty-four thousand minor kings also revered him from afar; wherever he was seen, they sent gifts from the four directions and dispatched envoys to pay respects, serving him in the same way as they would serve the great king himself.
This brāhmaṇa was wealthier even than the king, yet he had no son and could not continue his family line. In all his daily activities — coming and going, sitting and lying down — he constantly grieved over this and knew not where to seek for a son. Therefore he prayed and made offerings in sacrifice to Brahmā, to Śakra, to the Four Great Kings, to Maheśvara, and to all the deities of the heavens, to the sun and moon, to the stars and constellations, to the spirits of mountains, rivers, and trees — he performed all manner of sacrifices and prayers, leaving nothing untried.
Sincerity brings a response; after twelve years, his chief wife felt the signs of conception. A wise woman knows when the child in her womb is a boy, and she told this to her husband, the brāhmaṇa. Hearing this, he rejoiced greatly, his spirit filled with delight. He then commanded all his other wives and maidservants to attend to her with utmost care and affection. Her movements, her food, her bed, and all her furnishings were carefully arranged and adjusted with the finest and softest materials, so that everything suited her comfort, never once opposing her wishes.”
“When the ten months were complete, she gave birth to a son whose body was of purple-golden hue, whose hair was the blue of the heavens, and who was of exceedingly noble and dignified appearance, rare among men. The brāhmaṇa, beholding him, was overcome with joy and at once summoned a astrologer to examine the child’s features. The astrologer looked carefully and exclaimed in wonder, ‘Never have I seen such a child! His marks are auspicious, his merit and virtue vast beyond measure. All people in the world will look up to him, just as children rely upon their mother.’
The father was overjoyed and ordered that a name be given. In the land of India, names are given in two ways: either according to the constellations or according to a sign of transformation. The physiognomist then asked, ‘Since conception, what transformation or change has occurred?’ The father answered, ‘The mother of this child had always been fierce and jealous, lacking kindness and gentleness, untrained in the virtues of compassion and grace. But since she conceived, her heart and temperament have completely changed. She now feels sympathy and pity for those in suffering, like a mother’s love for her child, and delights in giving, without the slightest reluctance.’ The physiognomist, hearing this, was filled with joy and said, ‘It is by the aspiration of this child that she has become thus transformed. Therefore, he should be given the name Mahārāja Dāna (which in the Jin tongue means “Great Giving).”’
The child gradually grew up, and his father cherished him dearly. He had a palace specially built for him, complete with three seasonal halls: in winter he dwelt in the warm hall, in summer in the cool hall, and in spring and autumn in the middle hall. He also arranged for numerous songstresses and maidservants to attend upon him for his enjoyment.
The boy was intelligent and diligent in learning, eager to ask questions, and capable of memorizing eighteen volumes of scriptures as well as books on worldly affairs. When he read literature, his recitation was fluent and clear, and he understood the meaning well. In the study of various arts and skills, there was nothing he did not master.
Later, Great Giving said to his father, “I have long remained within the deep palace halls and inner chambers; I wish to go out and see the world.” When his father heard this, he commanded his ministers and officials, saying, “My son Great Giving wishes to go out for pleasure. You must sweep and cleanse the streets, remove all filth and impurities, set up banners, scatter flowers, and burn incense. The road must be adorned in solemn dignity and kept immaculately pure and clean.”
“When all preparations were completed, Great Giving mounted a great white elephant adorned with the seven precious jewels. Bells were struck, drums resounded, and songs and dances accompanied the procession. Thousands of men and horses surrounded him before and behind as he proceeded along the grand royal avenue toward the city gate.
At that time, the people of the land, whether standing upon towers and balconies or gathered along the roadsides, all competed to behold him, gazing without weariness. They all said, “Wondrous, wondrous! Behold his majestic bearing — it is like that of Brahmā himself!”
Great Giving continued onward and saw some beggars wearing tattered garments, holding broken bowls and cracked jars, humbly and pitifully pleading for alms. Great Giving, seeing this, asked them, “Why are you suffering in such a manner?” Some replied, “We have no parents, brothers, wives, or children; we are poor, lonely, and without anyone to rely on.” Some said, “I have long been ill and unable to work, unable to support myself.” Others said, “I am most unfortunate. Repeatedly have I met with calamity — my family destroyed, my wealth lost, my debts heavy. I want to eat but have no means of sustenance. I must beg merely to preserve my life.”
Hearing this, Great Giving felt sorrow and compassion and departed sighing deeply.
Continuing onward, he saw butchers slaughtering livestock, cutting them open and weighing the meat for sale. Great Giving asked, “Ehou! What are you doing?” The butchers replied, “From our ancestors’ time until now, we have lived by the trade of slaughtering animals. If we did not do this, we could not sustain our lives.” Great Giving sighed again in distress and went on his way.
Next he saw a man plowing a field. As the plow turned the soil, small insects were overturned from the earth and eaten by frogs; then snakes came out and devoured the frogs; and peacocks flew down and caught the snakes and ate them. Great Giving asked him, “What are you doing?” The man replied, “I am plowing the land so that it may be sown with seed, and afterward there will be a harvest of grain to feed myself and my family, as well as to pay the taxes owed to the government.” Great Giving heard this, sighed deeply in sorrow, and went away.
As he continued forward, he saw hunters who had set nets to trap birds and beasts. Some of the animals had fallen into the nets, struggling with all their strength but unable to escape, crying out in sorrow and terror. Great Giving saw this and asked, “Why do you do such things?” They all replied together, “We live by hunting and killing birds and beasts. If we did not do this, we would have no means to survive.” Hearing these words, Great Giving felt deep anguish and compassion and departed sorrowfully.
As he went farther, he saw fishermen who had cast their nets and caught many fish. When the catch was piled upon the ground, some of the fish were still wriggling and flopping. He asked, “Ehou! What are you doing?” They all came forward and said, “From our ancestors’ time until now, we have had no other livelihood. We depend on catching fish and selling them to buy clothing and food.”
When Great Giving saw this, he was filled with pity and compassion. In his heart he thought, “All these people, because of poverty and want of food and clothing, commit these evil deeds—slaughtering living beings to satisfy their own desires and pleasures. When their lives end, they will fall into the hells, the realms of hungry ghosts, or the animal realm—passing from darkness into darkness. How lamentable and strange this is!” Having reflected thus, he turned back and returned to the palace.
Because his heart was constantly filled with these thoughts, he became deeply troubled and unhappy. Great Giving went to see his father and asked permission to make a vow. His father said to him, “Whatever you wish to ask, I will not go against your will.” Great Giving said, “Some days ago, when I went out to see the world, I saw the people laboring exhaustingly for food and clothing, wearing out their bodies and minds, committing acts of killing and deceit, creating all sorts of evil karma. I pity them greatly and wish to relieve and save them. May you, out of kindness, grant me the treasures in the royal storehouses, so that I may freely give them away to aid and rescue the people.” The father said to him, “I have accumulated all these treasures for your sake. Since you wish to do this, how could I oppose your will?”
“When the son heard that his father consented, he ordered a proclamation to be made to all the people: “Mahārāja Dāna is about to perform a great act of giving; whoever is in need may come and receive.” When the proclamation was made, śramaṇas, brāhmaṇas, the poor and indebted, the sick and the lonely, the homeless and distressed—all came to receive alms. The people came supporting one another, from a fifty miles away, one hundred, one hundred and fifty, two hundred, five hundred miles away, and even from one thousand, two thousand, or five thousand miles distant, from the four directions they gathered.
Great Giving gave to all according to their wishes: those who wanted clothing received clothing, those who wanted food received food; gold, silver, and the seven precious jewels, chariots and carriages, lands and livestock—he gave them all in accordance with the desires of those who came to seek.”
“After this great giving had continued for some time, two-thirds of the stored treasures had already been expended. Then the official in charge of the royal treasury went to inform his father, saying, “Since Mahārāja Dāna began his almsgiving, two-thirds of the wealth has already been given away. The envoys who travel between the various kings also require funds for their duties. I hope you will give this matter careful thought—otherwise, please do not later hold me responsible.”
The father, hearing the words of the official, thought to himself, “I love my son deeply and cannot oppose his will. I would rather see all my wealth exhausted than allow his giving to be interrupted.”
“Thus the almsgiving continued for some time more, until again two-thirds of the remaining wealth was gone. The official came once again and said, “The last portion that remained has now been diminished by two-thirds. The envoys between kingdoms have affairs that must still be managed and communications that must be maintained. Yet the treasury is now nearly empty. I beg you to reconsider carefully.”
Then the brāhmaṇa said to the official, “I love this son profoundly and have never opposed him, nor ever spoken against his intentions. You should act with expedience and discretion. If people come seeking goods, you may pretend to be at other place, and keep what remains as provision for the days ahead.”
After hearing this, the official closed the doors of the treasury and went elsewhere. Meanwhile, the beggars gathered together and came to Great Giving’s place. Great Giving led them to the treasury official to request alms, but the official was not there. They searched everywhere for a long time and only after much effort did they find him. Though they finally received something, it was already too late.
“Great Giving thought to himself, “How could this minor official dare to disobey me? Surely this must be my father’s intention that causes him to act thus. Moreover, it is not fitting for a son to exhaust all the treasures kept by his parents and leave them destitute. And now, their wealth is already nearly gone.”
Then he thought again, “How might I obtain abundant treasure so that I can fulfill my vow and continue to aid all beings in want?” He asked the people around him, “What work or activity in this world could yield great wealth, wealth that could not be exhausted even by continual use?”
Some said, “If you cultivate many kinds of grains and tend orchards and vegetable gardens, you can obtain much wealth.” Others said, “If you breed and raise livestock diligently, you can obtain much wealth.” Others said, “If you endure hardships and travel afar for trade, you will easily obtain much wealth.” Still others said, “Only by going to the sea and gathering precious jewels is there a true means.”
Great Giving, hearing this, said to himself, “Farming the fields, raising animals, or going abroad for trade are not things I can do, and the profit from them is limited. Only going to the sea to seek jewels is a method I can employ. I should make the effort and pray for success in this matter.”
Having thus resolved, he went to his parents and said, “Now I intend to go to the ocean to seek many precious treasures, so that upon my return I may use them in giving and thus relieve those among the people who lack food and clothing. I hope you will consent and allow me to fulfill my vow.””
When his parents heard these words, they were astonished and said, “Those in the world who go to the sea do so only because they are poor and destitute, having no other means to live; thus they disregard their own lives, for they have nothing left to cling to. But why do you wish to undertake such a thing? If your wish is to give in charity, then all that remains of our possessions and treasures you may freely use—but we beg you, do not go to the ocean. In the sea there are countless perils and difficulties: towering waves and raging billows, great sharks and monstrous fish, fierce nāgas and evil spirits, hidden rocks beneath the waters—such dangers cannot be numbered. Why would you risk your life and cast yourself into such calamity? As long as we live, we will not consent. You must abandon this thought and speak of it no more.”
“When Great Giving heard these words, he felt his aspiration unfulfilled and grew deeply distressed and sorrowful. He thought to himself, “My present vow is to accomplish a great work. If I still cling to life, how could such a work ever be accomplished?” Having reflected thus, he prostrated himself before his parents and said, “If you are determined to keep me here and obstruct my vow, I shall lie here and never rise again.”
When his parents heard this, they were filled with anguish and anxiety. Together with the household attendants they came forward to persuade him, saying, “The journey to the sea is long and full of hardship and danger. Of those who go, many depart, but few ever return. When I once prayed for a son, I made offerings and supplications to all the gods of heaven, sincerely and with pure faith, and there was none who did not respond. After twelve long years of hardship, my wish was finally fulfilled. How is it that now, just as you have come of age, you would leave me and go away? We beseech you to abandon this thought and rise to take food.”
From the first day, to the second, and even to the sixth day, they took turns urging him without ceasing. Yet Great Giving’s words remained as at the beginning—his resolve firm and unchanging, refusing to yield. His parents, fearful at heart, consulted together, saying, “This child, from youth to now, whatever he has resolved to do, has never left it half undone. If we permit him to go to the sea, there may still be hope that he will return; but if we forbid him, and on the seventh day calamity should befall, what shall we do then? It is better to consent—let future worries come when they may.” Having thus decided, they both came to their son, each taking one of his hands, and said, “We shall follow your wish. Rise and take food.”
“When Great Giving heard this, he rose and ate. After finishing his meal, he went out and made a public proclamation, saying to the people, “I now prepare to go personally to the ocean to seek and gather precious jewels. Whoever is willing to go with me may come along; I shall provide all the supplies and equipment.”
Then five hundred men in the country, upon hearing this proclamation, responded together. Immediately they prepared the necessary provisions and arranged the day of departure. When the appointed day arrived, the people equipped with carts and horses took leave of their relatives and set out on the road. The great king, the ministers, his parents, the lesser kings, princes, officials, and citizens—tens of thousands of people—escorted them to the roadside, presenting them with treasures for use on the journey. The sounds of weeping and crying filled the air unceasingly as the company took their leave and departed.
“After several days of travel, they camped beneath the open sky in the wilderness. There they encountered a band of robbers who intended to steal from them. The Bodhisattva, feeling compassion for them, gave them all the possessions he carried with him. Continuing on, they arrived at a city named Bowl Placement. In that city there lived a brāhmaṇa named Kāpila. Great Giving went to his residence, intending to borrow three thousand taels of gold from him.
Now this brāhmaṇa had a beautiful daughter whose body was of purple-golden hue and whose hair was the blue of the heavens. She was dignified beyond compare, unmatched in all the world. The princes of eighty-four thousand minor kingdoms had sent envoys to ask for her hand in marriage, yet her family had declined them all. When Great Giving came to Kāpila’s gate and inquired after him, intending to meet, the daughter, hearing the sound of voices outside, rejoiced greatly and said to her parents, “The man outside—that is my destined one.”
Kāpila then went out to meet Great Giving. Seeing his noble appearance, he knew that this was no ordinary man. Hearing that he sought to borrow gold, Kāpila readily agreed. Holding a golden ewer in his left hand and leading his daughter by the right, he said to Great Giving, “This daughter of mine is of surpassing beauty. Many minor kings have sent envoys to propose marriage for their princes, yet I have refused them all. But now that I behold your dignified and righteous countenance, I wish to offer my daughter to serve you.”
Great Giving replied, “I am about to risk my life and journey across the perilous sea. I cannot know whether I shall return safely. To receive your daughter beforehand would not be proper.” Kāpila said, “If you return safely, then you shall take my daughter.” Great Giving agreed.
“Kāpila rejoiced and gave him three thousand taels of gold and all the other supplies he needed. After bidding farewell, Great Giving went onward until he reached the seashore. There he instructed the merchants to repair and fortify the ship, building it in seven layers. When the great wind arose, they pushed the ship into the sea and tied it to the shore with seven great ropes.
Then he rang a bell and proclaimed to the merchants: “All of you, listen! The sea is full of perils—black winds, rākṣasas, waves and whirlpools, fierce nāgas, poisonous vapors, hidden rocks, and makara fish. Of a hundred men who enter the sea, only one may safely return. Whoever wishes to turn back may remain here; once the ropes are cut, there will be no chance for regret. But whoever can fix his heart steadfastly, forsaking concern for life or death, and able to part from father, mother, brothers, wife, and children—he may enter the sea to seek treasure. If fortune favors him and he returns unharmed, his descendants for seven generations will enjoy inexhaustible wealth.” After issuing this proclamation, he cut one rope. Each day he repeated this.”
“On the seventh day, after the final proclamation, he cut the seventh rope. They raised the sails to meet the wind, and the ship flew forth like an arrow. Soon they, together with the merchants, reached the place where the treasures were found.
Great Giving, being wise and knowledgeable, examined the precious things, pointing out to the merchants one by one the weight, value, color, and quality of each jewel, saying, “Treasures of this color are light to carry and of great worth—take these. But those that are heavy and of lesser value, none should take. And let each of you take a moderate amount: if too much, the ship will be heavy and sink; if too little, the gain will not be worth the hardship of this distant voyage.” Having given these instructions, all the merchants began diligently gathering treasures and piling them upon the ship. When the ship was nearly full, they made ready to set sail for home.”
“At that time, Great Giving was unwilling to board the ship. All the merchants gathered around him and asked the reason. Great Giving said, “I still wish to go farther ahead, to the palace of the Nāga King, to seek the wish-fulfilling jewel. If I exert my entire strength, I shall surely obtain it.”
When the merchants heard this, they were filled with sorrow and said to him, “We have all relied upon your guidance, forsaking everything to venture to this place, hoping to depend upon one another and return home safely. Why now do you intend to abandon us?” Great Giving said, “I will make a solemn vow for you, that you may all return home in peace.” Hearing this, the merchants’ fear was relieved. Then the Bodhisattva Great Giving took up a censer in his hands, faced the four directions, and made a vow, saying, “I do not shrink from toil and hardship in crossing the sea to seek treasures, for my purpose is to relieve the hunger and poverty of the people. I will gather all the merit from this act and dedicate it to the path of Buddhahood. If my heart is truly sincere, may my vow be fulfilled — let these merchants and this ship, laden with treasures, escape all perils and return safely home.”
When the vow was spoken, the merchants came forward, weeping, and clasped the Guide’s hands and feet, lamenting as they took their leave. After bidding farewell, they cut the ropes, raised the sails, and steered toward Jambudvīpa. In the end, all safely crossed the sea without mishap.”
“After parting from the merchants, Great Giving descended into the water and waded onward. For seven days the water reached his knees. Going farther, the water grew deeper and rose to his thighs; after another seven days, it reached his waist; after another seven days, to his neck; and after yet another seven days, his body was entirely afloat upon the water.
He came to the side of a mountain and, grasping the trees with both hands, climbed along the mountain slope. After seven days he reached the summit. He walked for seven more days across a flat plain atop the mountain, and then descended again; after seven more days he reached the base. Ahead lay the edge of the water.
There he saw lotus flowers of golden hue growing in the water, but around their roots were coiled many venomous serpents of terrible poison. Seeing this, the Bodhisattva sat upright, composed his mind, and entered into the Samādhi of loving-kindness. He reflected, “These venomous serpents, in their former lives, were beings consumed by anger and jealousy; for that reason they have now fallen into serpent bodies and endure such evil forms.” Then, with all the power of his compassion, he gave rise to pity and love for them.
With his complete loving-kindness, the poisons of the serpents were entirely dispelled. The Bodhisattva then rose and walked upon the lotus flowers, traveling thus for seven days until he had passed beyond the region of the poisonous serpents.”
Going farther on, he saw rākṣasas. When they caught the scent of a human being, they came seeking him. Seeing them, the Bodhisattva gathered his mind and aroused great compassion. The rākṣasas, moved with reverence, approached and softly asked, “Where are you going?” Great Giving answered them, “I am going to seek the wish-fulfilling jewel.” The rākṣasas rejoiced and thought to themselves, “This is a person of vast merit. Since he goes to the palace of the Nāga King, which lies far away, why should he suffer such hardship? We should aid him and carry him across these perilous lands.” Then they lifted him up and carried him for a distance of four hundred yojanas before setting him gently down upon the ground.
“Great Giving continued onward and came upon a silver city, gleaming pure and white. Knowing this to be the city of the nāgas, he rejoiced greatly and approached it. Outside the city there were seven great moats, and in each moat were venomous serpents, fierce and dreadful to behold.
The Guide thought, “These serpents, in former lives, were beings who gave themselves over to anger and thus have now taken on these hateful forms.” Filled with compassion and pity for them, as though seeing little children, he generated a boundless heart of loving-kindness. With his complete loving-kindness, all the poison of the serpents was dispelled. Rising to his feet, he walked upon the bodies of the serpents and came near the nāga city.
There he saw two nāgas whose bodies encircled the city walls, their heads intertwined above the city gate. When they saw Great Giving, they lifted their heads in astonishment. Immediately the he aroused his heart of loving-kindness again; the nāgas’ venom was pacified, and they lowered their heads in peace, no longer gazing upon him. Great Giving then advanced, stepping over their bodies, and entered within.”
“Inside the city, the Nāga King sat upon a throne adorned with the seven precious jewels. Seeing the Bodhisattva from afar, he marveled and thought, “Outside my nāga city there are seven moats, each filled with venomous serpents; even other nāgas and yakṣas dare not venture across. Who could this person be who has come so far?” The Nāga King came forward to meet him, paid reverent homage, and invited him to sit upon a couch of the seven jewels. All manner of exquisite foods were brought forth for offering. When the meal was finished, they began to speak. The Nāga King asked of his purpose.
The Bodhisattva replied, “The people of Jambudvīpa live in poverty and toil. In seeking wealth for food and clothing, they kill living beings and deceive one another, creating all manner of evil karma, and when they die they fall into the hells. I pity them deeply and wish to rescue them. For this reason I have risked my life and journeyed far to see the Great King, desiring only to obtain the cintāmaṇi jewel, so that I may relieve all beings from suffering and dedicate the merit toward the attainment of Buddhahood. If you do not oppose me, I beg you to give me the jewel.”
The Nāga King said, “The cintāmaṇi is a most rare and precious jewel. You have journeyed through peril from afar to seek it. If you will remain here for one month, accepting our humble offerings and expounding the Dharma to us, then you shall receive the cintāmaṇi.” The Bodhisattva assented.”
“Then the Nāga King offered him each day fine foods, song and music, and delightful attendants. The Bodhisattva in return expounded fully to him the wisdom of the Four Foundations of Mindfulness. After one month had passed, he prepared to depart. The Nāga King, rejoicing, untied the jewel from his topknot and offered it to the Bodhisattva, saying, “Great Being, your heart of compassion seeks to save all beings beyond what any man could reach. You shall surely become a Buddha with your firm resolve. When that time comes, may I become your disciple of wisdom.”
The Bodhisattva accepted his words and asked, “What powers does this jewel possess?” The Nāga King replied, “This jewel can cause all the people within a distance of two thousand yojanas to obtain whatever they desire.” The Bodhisattva thought to himself, “Though this jewel accords well with the mind, it cannot yet accomplish the great work of universally aiding all beings.”
Then the great and lesser nāgas escorted him to the city gate, paid him homage, and took their leave with words of gratitude and reverence.”
“The Bodhisattva then departed and went farther onward. In the distance he saw another city, its walls made entirely of pure blue lapis-lazuli, shining with a clear and radiant hue. As he approached, he saw that outside the city there were also seven concentric moats, and in each moat lay venomous serpents coiled densely throughout.
Seeing them, the Bodhisattva thought, “These too, because of anger and jealousy in their past lives, have now come to dwell here and suffer these poisonous forms.” He then sat upright, composed his body, and generated a vast heart of loving-kindness, deeply pitying and cherishing them as though they were his own children. With his complete loving-kindness, all the poisons of the serpents were dispelled. He then walked directly upon their bodies toward the city gate.
There he also saw two nāgas whose bodies encircled the city, their heads intertwined above the gate. When they saw the Bodhisattva, they raised their heads and glared fiercely. At once, the Bodhisattva gave rise again to great loving-kindness. With his complete loving-kindness, their venom was pacified, and they lowered their heads, subdued and peaceful. The Bodhisattva walked across their bodies and entered the gate.”
“At that time, within the city sat a Nāga King upon a palace of the seven precious jewels. From afar he saw the Bodhisattva and thought in astonishment, “Outside my city gate there are seven moats filled with serpents; none of the other nāgas or yakṣas has ever crossed them. Who could this be who has come here?” He immediately descended to greet him, paid reverent homage, and invited the Bodhisattva to ascend to the hall. He offered him a seat upon a couch of seven jewels and presented all kinds of fine and delicious foods. When the meal was done, they began to converse, and the Bodhisattva explained the purpose of his coming—that he sought the cintāmaṇi jewel.
The Nāga King said, “The cintāmaṇi is exceedingly rare and difficult to obtain. If you wish to receive it, I ask that you accept my invitation to stay here for two months and expound to us the Dharma gates of the Bodhisattva’s practice.” Then the Nāga King daily provided various foods, songs, and music as offerings to the Bodhisattva. The Bodhisattva in turn expounded fully to him the teaching of the Four Bases of Supernatural Power.
When the two months were completed, the Bodhisattva prepared to depart. The Nāga King, filled with joy, untied the jewel from his topknot and presented it to the Bodhisattva, making a solemn vow, saying, “Great Being, your tireless effort, your compassion to save all beings, and your vast and boundless heart ensure that you shall in the future become a Buddha. When that time comes, may I become your disciple in the mastery of supernatural powers.”
The Bodhisattva said, “Let it be as you wish.” Then he asked, “What is the power of this jewel you have given me?” The Nāga King replied, “This jewel can cause all the people within four thousand yojanas to obtain whatever they require.” The Bodhisattva thought to himself, “This jewel is indeed finer, yet though it possesses wondrous powers, it still does not fulfill my aspiration.”
The great and lesser nāgas escorted him beyond the city gate, full of reverence and reluctance to part, expressing their gratitude and sorrow at his departure.
“After parting from the previous nāgas, the Bodhisattva continued onward until he saw before him a golden city, shining brilliantly with splendor and beauty. As he approached, he saw that outside the city there were again seven moats, each filled with venomous serpents. The Bodhisattva thought, “These serpents too, because in their former lives they harbored resentment, hatred, jealousy, and anger, and caused much harm to others, now suffer these poisonous forms.” Then he sat upright in meditative composure and aroused great compassion. WIth his complete compassion, all the venom of the serpents was pacified. Rising, he walked forward, stepping upon their bodies and crossing over them.
When he reached the city gate, he saw two nāgas whose bodies encircled the city and whose heads intertwined above the gate. When they beheld the Bodhisattva, they raised their heads and glared in shock and anger. The Bodhisattva, as before, entered the state of loving mindfulness, and the nāgas’ venom was pacified, and they lowered their heads humbly. The Bodhisattva stepped upon their bodies and entered the city.
At that time, within the city there was a Nāga King seated upon a jeweled palace. Seeing the Bodhisattva from afar, he marveled and thought, “Outside my city there are seven moats filled with serpents; no other nāga or yakṣa has ever crossed them. Who is this person who has come here?” Filled with wonder, he immediately descended from his throne to greet him, offered deep homage, and invited him to ascend to the palace, preparing a couch of seven jewels for him to sit upon.
When they were seated, he offered all kinds of exquisite foods and delicacies. After the meal, the Nāga King gently inquired about the purpose of his visit. The Bodhisattva replied, “The people of Jambudvīpa do not cultivate merit. They live in poverty and suffering, their bodies and minds wearied by toil. For the sake of food and clothing, they kill living beings and deceive one another, committing many unwholesome acts. When their lives end, they fall into the deep sea of suffering. I pity them greatly and wish to rescue them. Having heard that the Nāga King possesses the cintāmaṇi jewel, I have braved great danger to come here, desiring only to obtain it.”
The Nāga King said, “The cintāmaṇi is indeed a rare and precious treasure. Since you have come in person, it is only proper that I offer it to you. If you wish to obtain it, please remain here for four months, accept my humble offerings, and grant us your teachings.” The Bodhisattva immediately consented. The Nāga King rejoiced and, each day, personally served him with fine food and drink, presenting music and song, and entertainment with dancers and instruments. The Bodhisattva expounded broadly to him the meanings and origins of all dharmas, revealing their true essence. The Nāga King revered him deeply, listening with utmost attention, coming to pay respect each morning and evening without fail, and providing offerings suitable to each season. He also made arrangements so that nāgas and yakṣas who wished to see the Bodhisattva could do so in an orderly manner, neither intruding nor delaying. Thus he served the Bodhisattva for four months, skillfully understanding the proper times and measures for all matters.
When the four months had ended, the Bodhisattva prepared to take his leave. The Nāga King then untied the cintāmaṇi jewel from his topknot and offered it to the Bodhisattva, making a solemn vow: “Great Being, your vast and noble vow, your heart of compassion that seeks to aid and save all beings, and your tireless effort — these will surely lead you to Buddhahood in the future, when you shall deliver all those in suffering and distress. At that time, may I become your disciple who remembers and upholds all the Dharma.” The Bodhisattva accepted. He then asked, “What power does this jewel possess?”
The Nāga King replied, “This jewel can bring forth all the treasures and wealth needed by the people within eight thousand yojanas.” The Bodhisattva rejoiced and thought, “The land of Jambudvīpa measures about seven thousand yojanas; this jewel will surely fulfill my aspiration.” He now possessed three cintāmaṇi jewels in total, which he tied to the corners of his robe. Then he rose and departed from the city. The great and lesser nāgas escorted him beyond the gates, sorrowful and reluctant to part, expressing their reverence and gratitude as they bid him farewell.
When the Bodhisattva had traveled some distance, he took out the jewels and made a vow: “If these are truly cintāmaṇi jewels, may I be able to fly in the sky.” As soon as he finished his vow, his body rose into the air, and he flew across the sky beyond the great ocean. Having passed through all perils of the sea, he rested a while to sleep. Then some nāgas of the sea gathered together and discussed among themselves, saying, “Within this great ocean there are only these three cintāmaṇi jewels, of supreme and incomparable power. Now this man intends to take them all away — how great a loss that would be! We must retrieve them.” Having so resolved, they quietly went forth and took back the jewels.
“When the Bodhisattva awoke, he found that the jewels were gone. He thought to himself, “There are no other beings here — surely the ocean nāgas have taken my jewels. I endured countless hardships and perils to obtain them; now, when I was about to return home and fulfill my vow, they have taken them away. Yet even though they have done this, I will not let them go unchallenged. I shall exhaust all my strength to drain the waters of the ocean and vow to accomplish my purpose, even if it costs my life. If I cannot retrieve the jewels, I shall never return empty-handed.”
Having made this resolve, he went to the seashore and found a tortoise shell. Taking it up in both hands, he prepared to begin draining the sea. The god of the ocean, knowing his intent, came forth and asked, “The sea is immeasurably deep and vast — one million five hundred thousand miles in extent. Even if all the people in the world joined together to drain it, they could not lessen it by so much as a drop. How, then, could you alone hope to accomplish such a thing?”
The Bodhisattva replied, “If one’s faith is steadfast and determined, there is nothing that cannot be done. I sought these jewels not for my own pleasure, but to bring benefit to all living beings and to dedicate the merit toward the attainment of Buddhahood. If I persist without wavering, why should I not succeed?”
“At that time, the devas of the Śuddhāvāsa heavens saw from afar the Bodhisattva’s single-minded diligence, striving alone with tireless effort to bring happiness and peace to all beings. They thought, “Why should we not go and aid him?” They informed one another and descended together to where he was.
The Bodhisattva placed the tortoise shell into the ocean, and the devas cast in their heavenly garments together with it. The Bodhisattva then lifted the tortoise shell, while the devas took up the garments and placed them elsewhere. Each time they did this, the sea receded ten miles; after twice, forty; after thrice, eighty miles.
“The nāgas, stricken with fear and trembling, came to the Bodhisattva and said, “Stop, stop — cease draining the ocean!” The Bodhisattva immediately halted. The nāgas then asked, “For what purpose do you seek these jewels?” The Bodhisattva replied, “I seek them to relieve all sentient beings from suffering.” The nāgas asked again, “If it is as you say, there are countless living beings within the ocean as well. Why do you not seek to aid us too, but instead insist on taking the jewels away?” The Bodhisattva said, “Beings of the ocean are also sentient beings, yet they do not suffer the great miseries that afflict those of Jambudvīpa. The people there, for the sake of wealth, commit killing and deceit, engaging in many unwholesome acts, and when they die they fall into the hells. Because humans can be instructed through the true Dharma, I came to take these jewels — first to relieve their poverty, and then to teach and guide them in the practice of the Ten Wholesome Deeds.” Hearing this, the nāgas were moved and returned the jewels to him.
Then the god of the ocean, witnessing the Bodhisattva’s sincerity, determination, and tireless striving, made a solemn vow, saying, “Since you now exert yourself with such earnest diligence without ceasing, you shall in the future surely attain Buddhahood and realize the Way. When that time comes, may I become your disciple in the practice of Diligent Endeavor.”
“The Bodhisattva, having regained the jewels, once again soared into the sky. He then descended from the sky and met the merchants who had journeyed with him into the sea to seek treasures. When his companions saw him, they were overjoyed and exclaimed, “How wondrous! How extraordinary!”
Proceeding onward, he arrived at the city of Bowl Placement. The brāhmaṇa Kāpila, upon hearing that the Bodhisattva had safely returned from the sea, rejoiced beyond measure. He went out to greet him with honor, invited him and his companions into his home, and prepared a grand banquet with every kind of exquisite food and drink. After the meal, they sat together and spoke at length of all the hardships and marvels encountered along the way. Then the Bodhisattva took out the jewels and pointed them around the house; at once, every treasury and storage place within Kāpila’s home was filled to overflowing with precious goods. All who witnessed this were astonished and exclaimed that such a thing had never been seen before.
Kāpila adorned his daughter with fine attire and precious ornaments, dressing her beautifully. Taking up the golden ewer used for bathing, he first washed his own hands clean, then led his daughter by the hand and offered her to the Bodhisattva. The Bodhisattva accepted her. Kāpila, filled with joy, selected five hundred singing and dancing maidens—each chosen for her talent and skill—and prepared five hundred white elephants adorned with the seven precious jewels, of extraordinary splendor, as gifts for his daughter. The Bodhisattva then ordered his companions to make ready the journey. The citizens lined the roads to see them off, singing and dancing with joy as they escorted him on his way home.
“Since the day of their parting, the parents of Great Giving had been consumed with sorrow and grief, their hearts clouded and their minds disordered. They wept day and night, and through excessive mourning their eyes had gone blind, seeing nothing at all. When their son returned home, he knelt and bowed, paying homage to his parents and inquiring after their well-being. Hearing his voice, they reached out their hands to touch him and knew that Great Giving had returned. Overcome with both sorrow and joy, they reproached him, saying, “You have behaved most wrongly! You abandoned us and went to the sea, leaving us to endure endless suffering, barely keeping ourselves alive. You went to seek treasures from the ocean—what have you truly gained?”
The Bodhisattva took out the jewels and handed them to his parents. They held them in their hands and said, “Among our stored treasures we have many such stones as these. Why did you have to suffer so much hardship to bring back such things?” The Bodhisattva took back the jewels and pointed them toward his parents’ eyes. At once, their sight was restored—their eyes became clear and radiant, as if a strong wind had swept away the dark clouds. They could see once more. The parents, filled with joy and gratitude for the virtue of the jewels, exclaimed, “How marvelous! Though you endured countless hardships, it was not in vain.”
Then the Bodhisattva, holding the jewels, made a vow, saying, “If these are truly cintāmaṇi, may there appear beneath my parents’ seats couches of the seven precious substances, and above them a pure and splendid canopy of seven jewels.” As soon as the words were spoken, these things appeared at once, and all rejoiced with great delight.”
“Again the Bodhisattva took up the jewels and prayed, “May the treasuries of my parents, the king, and the ministers all be filled to abundance.” Then, pointing the jewels in the four directions, it was as he had spoken—all those places were instantly filled with wealth and treasure. Everyone was astonished and overjoyed.
At once he sent messengers mounted on great elephants able to travel three thousand miles, proclaiming throughout Jambudvīpa: “Mahārāja Dāna has safely returned from the sea and has obtained the cintāmaṇi jewel of wondrous virtue. On the seventh day hence, it will cause to descend all the treasures, garments, and foods that people require. Let everyone bathe and purify themselves, fast, and prepare to receive these blessings.”
When the proclamation had spread throughout the land, on the morning of the seventh day, the Bodhisattva bathed, put on clean new garments, and came to a broad and open place. There he took out the jewel, placed it high atop a pole, and, holding a censer in his hands, made his vow to the four directions, saying, “The people of Jambudvīpa live in poverty and suffering. I now vow to relieve them so that they shall no longer lack food or clothing. If this is truly the cintāmaṇi, let it unceasingly bestow upon them all that they need.”
When the vow was finished, clouds gathered in the four directions. Soon a wind arose and blew away all filth and unclean things. Then a light rain fell, settling the dust. Afterward descended foods of every kind—delicate and delicious dishes—then grains and cereals of every sort, then garments of fine cloth, and finally treasures of the seven precious substances and many wondrous things. Throughout Jambudvīpa, treasures lay scattered everywhere; the people freely took whatever they wished. Exquisite foods and splendid garments were in such abundance that even the finest jewels were regarded as no more than common stones.
“At that time, the Bodhisattva, seeing that the people of Jambudvīpa now lacked nothing, sent forth envoys and officials to proclaim throughout the four quarters so that all might hear his words: “All you people, in the past, because of poverty and want, you longed for food, clothing, and wealth. For the sake of these things, you deceived one another, killed living beings without restraint, and abandoned righteousness for the sake of gain. Thus you accumulated sin without virtue; when your lives ended, you were reborn into the realms of hell, hungry ghosts, and animals, passing from darkness to darkness, suffering through countless kalpas. I have long felt compassion and pity for you, yet could find no means to rescue you. Therefore I endured hardship without fear, journeying across the perilous sea to obtain this jewel in order to relieve your suffering. Now that you are free from want, you should each earnestly strive to cultivate the path of the Ten Wholesome Deeds. Guard your actions, speech, and thoughts; be kind and loving, filial and respectful, diligent and sincere. Keep your mindfulness firm and do not allow your minds to fall into heedlessness.”
In all suitable times and places, he proclaimed this teaching widely, exhorting the people to perform good deeds. He had documents written and dispatched to every minor king and minister, containing his admonitions and instructions, so that they would understand his intent and guide their people accordingly, restraining them from committing evil.
Then all the people of Jambudvīpa, having received this vast grace and boundless virtue, pondered how they might repay such kindness. They accepted his teachings and devoted themselves to virtuous conduct, deeply admiring his great compassion and righteousness. With single-minded devotion, they cultivated loving-kindness and reverence, purifying their actions, speech, and thoughts, refraining from all evil. As a result, when their lives came to an end, they were all reborn in the heavenly realms.
“Such was the course of events. You should know that at that time, the brāhmaṇa Nyagrodha, the father of Great Giving, was my father, King Pure-Rice. His wife of that time was my mother, Mahāmāyā. The one called Mahārāja Dāna was none other than myself. The Nāga King of the Silver City is now Śāriputra. The Nāga King of the Lapis-Lazuli City is now Maudgalyāyana. The Nāga King of the Golden City is now Ānanda. The god of the ocean of that time is now Revata. When Ānanda was the Nāga King, he served me with perfect understanding of proper timing and occasion. Therefore, even now, he continues to be one who knows well the right time and measure. Since Ānanda has asked for these three conditions, let them be granted according to his wish.”
Hearing this, Ānanda rejoiced greatly. His heart uplifted, he rose from his seat, knelt upon the ground, and said to the Buddha, “For the rest of this life, I vow to serve as the Buddha’s attendant.””
Then the entire assembly, having heard the Buddha’s words, was filled with gratitude for his great compassion. They concentrated their minds and diligently contemplated the essence of the Four Noble Truths. Some attained the fruits of Srotāpanna, Sakṛdāgāmin, Anāgāmin, or Arhatship; some planted the wholesomeroots that lead to enlightment of Pratyekabuddha; and some aroused the aspiration for the unsurpassed Way; and some reached the stage of non-retrogression. All rejoiced greatly and faithfully practiced the teaching.
Dharma Torch 