(from the Prabandhakośa of Rājaśekharasūri, p. 2)
6
THE GLORIOUS JĪVADEVA
There is in Gujarat a prosperous town named Vāyata, which was founded by the God Vāyu, God of the Wind. In that town there lived a wealthy merchant named Dharmadeva. His wife was called Śīlavatī; she was like the Goddess of Domestic Prosperity and Bliss incarnate. They had two sons, Mahīdhara and Mahīpāla. Mahīpāla only wanted to amuse himself; he never studied any of the traditional skills. Scolded by his father, he left home in anger and went abroad. The merchant Dharmadeva passed on to the other world. And Mahīdhara also left the world; he became a Jain monk under the tutelage of the Glorious Jinadatta, who belonged to the lineage of monks known as the Vāyata Gaccha. He became a leader of the monastic community and his name as a monk was Rasillasūri.
Now it happened that Mahīpāla, too, became a monk; in the East, in the city Rājagrha, he became a Digambara Jain monk and he was honored for his learning and known as a great teacher. His name as a monk was Suvarnakīrti. His teacher Śrutakīrti gave him two magic spells, the one enabling him to summon the protecting Goddess Cakreśvari, and the other enabling him to enter into someone else’s dead body and reanimate it. When Dharmadeva went to heaven, śilavatī was deeply saddened, for what they say is true:
Like a river without the ocean, like the night without the moon, like a lotus pond without the sun to make it bloom, so is a good woman without her husband.
She learned from someone who had come from Rājagṛha that her son, who was now called Suvarnakīrti, was there, and she went there to see him. She found Suvarnakīrti. Both son and mother felt great affection for each other. One day she told Suvarnakīrti, ‘Your father has gone to heaven. You are now a monk here. But your brother, Mahīdhara, has also achieved fame as a monk; he occupies a position of great respect in the śvetāmbara Jain community and is known as the monk Rasilla. He is active in Vāyata. You two should get together, settle your differences and espouse the same faith.’
She brought Suvarnakīrti back to Vāyata and the two brothers were reunited. Suvarnakīrti’s mother told him, ‘Son, become a śvetāmbara. Suvarnakīrti replied, ‘Let Rasilla follow in my footsteps and become a Digambara monk.’ When things had come to this impasse, the mother prepared two dishes for them to eat. Now one of the dishes she made had been specially prepared, for them and it was rich and delicious. The other was nothing special; it was just taken from the usual cooking that she had done for everyone else in the household. She summoned the Digambara first. He ate the first dish, the specially prepared rich food, to his heart’s content. He didn’t even so much as cast a glance at the ordinary food in the second dish. Two students of Rasilla then arrived. They both took the ordinary fare, desirous of burning off the effects of the bad deeds they had done in the past through the correct observance of their monastic vows. After everyone had eaten, the mother said to the Digambara, ‘Son, these śvetāmbaras are pure.’ You don’t seem bothered by any rule that says that a Jain monk cannot accept food that has been specially prepared for him. These Śvetāmbaras, on the other hand firmly declare:
The monk who accepts food that has been specially prepared for him and does not refuse such delicacies, indeed hankers after them, must be considered as outside the pale of the true Jain community. Such a monk fails in his duties.
‘And these Śvetāmbaras steadfastly practice what they preach. For this reason, you should join their group if you truly are seeking final release from the bonds of this world.’
Suvarnakīrti, brought to his senses by these words of his mother, became a Śvetāmbara monk. His name as a monk was Jīvadevasūri, and it was a name that soon became known all over the world. He wandered from place to place, accompanied by five hundred monks. And this Glorious Monk, a leader among monks, destroyed forever the disease of false belief for those noble souls whose time had come for them to accept the true faith, showering on them the magic healing elixir of his preaching of the true doctrine.
One day a strange ascetic showed up at one of his lectures. In fact he was trying to master a certain magic spell that would enable him to conquer all the three worlds, heaven, earth and the nether world. To that end he was in search of a man who possessed the thirty-two marks of greatness. Now at that time in history there were only three such men alive. One was King Vikramāditya; the second was the Glorious Monk Jīva, and the third was the ascetic himself. There was no one else on earth who was so great as to bear the entire thirty-two marks of greatness on his person. Now he could not kill the king, but he needed to eat his one daily meal by begging for it with the skull of such a great man as his begging bowl for a full six months in order to accomplish the magic spell. That was why he had come to the Jain monk to try to work black magic on him so that he could murder him and get his skull. But because the monk had an even more powerful spell, a Jain spell, although his monastic robe turned black and rotted, his body was untouched by the ascetic’s magic. Then the ascetic paralyzed the tongue of the monk who was standing next to the Great Jīvasūri and whose duty it was to recite the sacred texts. The Great Jīvasūri in turn paralyzed the ascetic’s speech in retaliation. Then that one wrote on the ground with a piece of chalk:
‘Everyone does a good deed to the person who has done him a service. There’s nothing to that. But rare indeed is the man who helps out someone who came to do him harm.
‘I came here to work black magic on you. You figured that out and have taken away my powers of speech. Show mercy on me. Release me from your grip. Take pity on me.’
Anyway, this was the gist of what he wrote there. And so, out of compassion, the noble monk released him; the ascetic left Vāyata and took up residence in a monastery just outside the town. The monk called together all the members of his own monastic group and told them, ‘That wicked ascetic is staying in a monastery over there. Take care that no monk or nun goes near the place, no matter what.’ They all accepted this prohibition without any dissent. But then two nuns, simple souls, got curious and they went to that very place that had been forbidden to them. The ascetic saw them there and brought them under his control with some magic powder so that they never left his side. The Jain monk, Jīvadevasūri, remaining right there in his own lodgings, made a grass effigy. When he cut off the hand of the effigy, the ascetic’s hand fell off. The ascetic released the two nuns. They were restored to their normal selves after they washed their heads, removing the last vestiges of the ascetic’s magic spells.
Now one day in Ujjain, King Vikramāditya decided to start a new era which bore his name. In commemoration of that great event he sent the minister Nimba to Gujarat as part of his larger plan to free all his territories of poverty and make every place in his realm rich and prosperous. That Nimba built a temple to the Glorious Mahāvīra in Vāyata. The Glorious Jīvadevasūri performed the consecration ceremony for the image in this temple.
At exactly that time there was in Vāyata a merchant named Lalla who was a devout follower of the false faith. He began right then and there to carry out a costly and lavish Vedic sacrifice. All the brahmins gathered. Oppressed by the smoke from the sacred fire, a snake fell out of a nearby tree and landed on the edge of the fire pit. The cruel brahmins picked up that poor creature and hurled it right into the fire. Seeing that, Lalla was suddenly disgusted with the brahmins. He said, ‘Look how cruel they are; they actually enjoy taking the lives of living beings. I do not need to make men such as these my teachers in matters of religion.’ And with those words, he dismissed all the brahmins and returned to his own home. He looked everywhere for a religious teacher. One day at midday a pair of monks who were the disciples of the Glorious Jīvadevasūri came to his house for alms. He was pleased with their demeanour and the way they took only pure food. He asked the two monks, ‘Who is your teacher?’ They told him it was the Glorious Jīvadevasūri. Lalla went to see him. He formally became a lay devotee, accepting the twelve rules of conduct for a lay disciple. One day Lalla told
him, ‘I had set aside a lakh of gold as a donation on the occasion of the festival to the Sun God. I have spent half of that sum. Please take the other half.’ The teacher did not accept the money, for he was without any greed or desire for worldly wealth. Lalla was ever more pleased with his new teacher than before. The teacher instructed him, ‘You must bring to me the gift that you will receive tonight while you are in the middle of washing your feet.’ Obedient to his teacher’s words Lalla went home.
That evening someone brought him a gift of two bulls. Lalla brought them to his teacher. The teacher told him, ‘Let these bulls go on their own. Build a temple on the spot where they stop.’ Again, obeying his teacher’s words, Lalla released the bulls. The two bulls then went as far as the village Pippalana and then just stopped somewhere there. At that very place Lalla began to construct a temple. When it was finished, a strange Śaiva ascetic arrived on the scene. He declared, ‘There is a flaw in this temple.’ The people asked, ‘What is the flaw?’ He said, ‘There is a woman who will haunt it.’ Lalla had heard all of this and he went back and told his teacher what was happening. The teacher said, ‘You must rid the spot of that offending ghost and then rebuild the temple. Lalla! Do not worry about where the money will come from. The Goddesses whose task it is to look after the temple will provide all the money that you will need.’ They began to dismantle the temple. They heard a voice, ‘Do not take down this temple.’ They told the teacher Jīvadevasūri about the voice. He withdrew into meditation. The superintending Goddess appeared. She said, ‘I am the daughter of the king of Kanyakubja. My name is Mahanīka. A long time ago, when I was living in Gujarat, Muslim armies invaded. I fled, but the soldiers pursued me and in my terror I jumped into a well. I died and became a demi-god. I will not permit you to clear the ground by digging up the bones of my body. Make me the superintending Goddess of your temple and I shall make your temple rich and prosperous.’
The teacher agreed to do as she said. On a spot of land that she showed them they built a small shrine to her. And on that very spot they found all the money they needed, so much that they could not even begin to count it. Lalla became the happiest man in the world; no one could have vied with him for that distinction; the Jain community was also pleased. Angry at Lalla, the brahmins placed a dying cow in the Jain temple. It died there. The lay disciples told the teacher about this. Through his magic powers the teacher moved the dead cow and put it in the temple of the brahmins. As they say, ‘Plot against another and it happens to you.’ Desperate, with no other recourse, the brahmins sought to appease the Glorious Jīvadevasūri, crying out, ‘O Jīvadevasūri, rescue us.’ The Glorious Jīvadevasūri scolded them and then told them, ‘If you all worship in my temple like faithful Jain lay believers and show my successors respect, if you donate a sacred thread made of gold on the occasion of the installation of my successor, and if you promise that you will carry his sedan chair on your own shoulders, then and then only will I remove this cow from your temple,’ And they were so desperate that they promised all that he asked. They even fixed the agreement between them in writing, with seals and all. Then the teacher, with his magic, removed the cow from the brahmin temple. All the four castes were pleased at this.
Later when he knew that it was his time to die, the Jain monk, fearing that ascetic who had sought his skull to accomplish his evil magic, instructed the lay disciples to break his skull. He was afraid that if the ascetic succeeded in his designs he would trouble the Jain community. They did exactly as he asked. The ascetic, deprived of any hope for success, cried for a long time.
(from the Prabandhakośa of Rājasekharasūri, p.7)
7
AMARASĪHA
In the midst of the southern sector of Bharaha, which lies in Jambūdīva, there is a fine city called Amarapura, “City of the Gods”, which is, in truth, as lovely as the city of the gods and could be described in the same words, if only you know how to play with their meanings. For if the city of the gods has the treasures of Kubera, including the conch, this earthly city has many bards; the greatness of heaven may be proclaimed in thousands of religious texts, while this city has become great on account of the thousands of women who have been exemplary in their faithfulness to their husbands; the city of the gods has Jayanta, son of Indra and the other princes, while this city has victorious princes galore. And finally, if heaven is resplendent with radiant Viṣṇu and the other deities, this city is resplendent with the rays of light that come from shining pearls.
Suggīva was king there.
The sword in his hand glittered like the dark tamāla tree; it looked like the braid of hair that had once belonged to the Goddess of Victory and that he had rudely taken from her in battle.
He had two queens, chief among all the ladies in his harem. Their names were Kamalā and Vimalā. Now it happened that Queen Kamalā became pregnant.
Her pregnancy made her want to see people dying in battle. The king satisfied her pregnancy craving by staging a mock battle in which warriors were cut to pieces with sharp swords. Next she wanted to see a hunt. This desire was fulfilled by staging a hunt in which many animals were slain with all sorts of different weapons. In time the queen gave birth to a boy. The king held a celebration in honor of the birth, and in keeping with the kinds of longing the mother had displayed during her pregnancy, he named the child Samarasīha, “Lion in Battle”.
Queen Vimalā also became pregnant. Her pregnancy made her want to save creatures that were being killed by others. The king fulfilled her pregnancy craving by issuing a proclamation that there was to be no taking of life in his realm. She gave birth to a son who brought delight to the hearts of all the people. He was named Amarasīha, “Lion of the Gods”. The children were nurtured and taught the arts, and in time they became young men.
Samarasīha was violent, cruel, heartless and evil; the people rejected him, for he had no virtues, only vices.
Amarasīha was compassionate, kind, always eager to aid others. On account of all his virtues the people loved him very much.
Now because all things are impermanent, Suggīva was stricken with a terrible disease and died.
Samarasīha proclaimed himself king, thinking that he was, after all, the older of the two brothers. It is true that a person lacking virtue does not realize how unworthy he is to occupy a position of importance.
Samarasīha was utterly without compassion and did not care about protecting his subjects. He was addicted to hunting and could not be bothered with the affairs of the kingdom. Amarasīha, on the other hand, was filled with compassion for all living beings. He was devoted to helping others and he scrupulously avoided sin, which is the cause of going to hell, as if it were a chain to bind him. Now one day prince Amarasīha went out of the city to exercise the horses. He exercised all the different horses that had come from many different countries, all of them swift and handsome. He then stopped to rest under a tree. There he saw a goat being led away by some man. The goat was talking in its own language. Out of compassion the prince made the man let it go. The goat kept on bleating; it did not stop.
At that the prince, his compassion further aroused, said to the man, ‘Where are you taking this goat?’
The man replied, ‘If you kill a beast in the sacrifice you get to go to heaven, and so I am taking this goat to kill it.’
The prince said, ‘If you can get to heaven by killing an animal, then what could possibly cause a man to go to hell? For they say there is no greater sin than the taking of a life.’
At that moment a Jain monk named Soma, possessed of divine knowledge, arrived on the scene. His gaze was directed at the ground to avoid his doing harm to any living creature, moving and not moving.
When the prince saw the monk, who was like the true religious doctrine incarnate, who was like calm dispassion in motion, he said, ‘This sage will settle our dispute.’
Bowing down to the monk, the prince said, ‘Remove our doubt. Can a person gain the happiness of heaven by killing a living being tha
t has five sense organs?’
The Forest of Thieves and the Magic Garden: An Anthology of Medieval Jain Stories (Penguin Classics) Page 8