by Sarah Shaw
One day, when the king was in his leisure garden, he went to Lake Anotatta 3 and the bird arrived with water on one wing and sandalwood powder on the other. While everyone was watching, he sprinkled the king with the water and scattered the powder on him right there, and went back to Cittakuta. From that time on the king longed to see the Great Being and sat and watched the way he came, saying, ‘Today my good friend will come.’
Now, two of the youngest goslings in the Great Being’s flock decided that they would like to have a race with the sun, and asked the Great Being’s permission. ‘We’d like to race the sun!’ But the Great Being replied, ‘Children, the speed of the sun is very swift: you will not be able to race him but will perish on the way, so do not go.’ They asked a second time and then a third time, and even on the third time he refused them. But they, stubborn in their pride, and without a true reckoning of their strength, decided to race the sun without informing the Great Being. So just before sunrise they went to the top of Mount Yugandhara and perched there. The Great Being, missing them, asked where they had gone. When he heard what had happened he thought, ‘They won’t be able to race the sun. They’ll perish on the way: I’ll go and save their lives.’ And he too went to perch at the top of Mount Yugandhara. As the rim of the sun came up the goslings took off and flew alongside the sun. The Great Being flew with them. The youngest raced into the morning, and then felt exhausted, as if a fire had been started in the joints of his wings. Then he made a sign to the Bodhisatta, ‘Brother, I cannot.’ And the Great Being said, ‘Don’t be frightened: I’ll save your life.’ Enclosing him in his wing, as a cage, he soothed him and took him to the Cittakuta Mountain, settled him in the midst of the geese and then flew back again, caught up with the sun and accompanied the other. Now this one raced with the sun almost until noon, and then became tired, and it was as if a fire had been kindled in the joints of his wings. Then he made a sign to the Bodhisatta, ‘Brother, I cannot.’ And again the Bodhisatta comforted him, and, using his wing as a cage, went back to Cittakuta.
Now at that moment the sun reached its zenith in the sky. And the Bodhisatta thought, ‘Today I’ll put my bodily strength to the test.’ With one swoop he flew up to the top of Yugandhara, perched there and then, with one swoop, caught up with the sun: at one point he was in front of it, at another behind. ‘My race with the sun is pointless and has arisen from unwise attention. What is the sun to me? I’ll go to Varanasi and give my friend the king a talk about dhamma, that is suitable and to the point.’ Then he turned, before the sun had passed the middle of the sky, and encircled the whole world from end to end, then, dropping his speed, he crossed Jambudipa from one end to the other, and arrived in Varanasi. It was as if for twelve leagues the entire city was under the shadow of the goose, and no chink could be discerned. As he gradually slackened his speed chinks could be seen in the sky. The Great Being slowed down his speed, descended from the sky and came to rest in front of a window. ‘My friend has come!’ cried the king in happiness and laid down a golden seat for the bird to perch upon. ‘Come in, dear sir, sit here!’ he said, and spoke the first verse:
1.‘Fly down right here, Goose, your sight is dear to me
You have become master here: make known whatever you wish.’
The Great Being sat on the golden seat. The king anointed his wings with ointments a hundred or even a thousand times refined and, offering him sweet rice and sugared water in a golden dish, gave him a welcome of honeyed words. ‘Friend, you have come on your own. Where have you come from?’ The bird gave him a detailed account of what had happened. And then the king said, ‘Show me a quick race with the sun.’ ‘Great king: it is not possible to show this speed,’ he replied. ‘Then show me something like it.’ ‘Very well, great king. I’ll show you something like it. Summon some archers who are as swift as lightning.’ The king summoned them. The Great Being took four and went with them down from the royal abode to the royal courtyard where he had set up a stone pillar and had a bell tied around his own neck. Then, perching on the top of the stone pillar, he set the four archers facing the four directions and gave instructions, ‘Great king, let these four archers release their four arrows at the same moment to the four directions. I will catch these arrows before they fall to the ground and lay them at their feet. You’ll know that I have gone for the arrows by the sign of the sound of the bell, but I won’t be seen.’ Then in the space of one moment he caught the arrows that were released, laid them at their feet and was seen still sitting on the stone pillar. ‘You have seen my speed, great king. Great king, this speed was neither my fastest nor my middling. It was my very slowest. This is how fast my speed is,’ he said. And then the king asked, ’Sir, is there any other speed which is faster than yours?’ ‘Yes, sir. Far faster than me, by a hundred times, or even a thousand times, no, even by a hundred thousand times, are the lifespans of the constituents of these beings, which decay and break up as they come to an end.’ And so he revealed the break-up of the elements of form, as they come to an end, moment by moment.
The king heard this talk from the Great Being, and, terrified with the fear of death, could not keep his senses, but fell to the ground. People were terrified and sprinkled water on the king to restore him to consciousness. And then the Great Being instructed him, ‘Great king, do not be frightened: cultivate mindfulness of death. Practise the dhamma. Perform meritorious deeds such as generosity. Be vigilant.’ Then the king said, ‘Lord, I cannot live without a teacher endowed with knowledge, such as you. Do not go back to Mount Cittakuta, but stay here and be my instructor, teaching me the dhamma.’ And he made his request in two verses:
2. ‘By hearing of someone love is fed, but by seeing someone desire falls away.
By both seeing and hearing love grows: O how dear you are to me, because I see you.
3. The sound of you is dear to me, and so much more the sight
As you are so beloved to my sight, stay, goose, and be with me.’
The Bodhisatta said:
4.‘I would stay in your house forever, with homage paid to me,
But you might, drunk one day, say the words,
“Let the goose king be cooked for me!”’
And then the king said, ‘But I certainly will not touch any strong drink’. To give him a promise he spoke this verse:
5. ‘A curse be on any food or drink that is dearer to me than you.
I’ll not touch any drink while you live in my house!’
After this the Bodhisatta said six verses:
6. ‘It is easy to understand the cry of jackals and vultures
But the cry of men, much more that of a king, is far harder to divine.
7. A man might reckon “he is my kin, my friend",
But the one who has been a friend before, might an enemy end.
8. The spirit that is kindred is near to you wherever he is,
But the one that lives apart is so, even though he is near.
9. Wherever inside a friendly heart may be
There is a friendly heart too, when across the sea.
Wherever inside a corrupt heart may be
There is a corrupt heart too, when across the sea.
10. Even though they live with you, O Lord of the chariots, enemies live apart:
But, benefactor of the kingdom, even in remoteness, some may live near, in heart.
11. Even a dear one who stays too long may become a foe:
So before I become hated by you, I’ll take my leave and go!’
And then the king replied:
12. ‘You do not register the anjali that pays homage thus and beseeches you.
You do not speak a word to those who would attend on you.
May we just beg of you this: that some time again you return.’
Then the Bodhisatta said:
13.‘If no accident comes to our lives!
If you live, great king, and if I do too, benefactor of the kingdom!
Then may it be we will see each other, after nig
hts have passed.’
After he had said this to the king the Great Being went on his way to Cittakuta. When the Teacher had given this teaching, he said, ‘Thus, bhikkhus, formerly, even though I was born amongst animals, I showed the fragility of the elements of life, and taught the dhamma.’ Saying this he made the connections with the birth. ‘At that time Ananda was the king, Moggallana was the youngest, Sariputta was the next and the rest of the flock of geese were the followers of the Buddha; I was the swift goose.’
Notes
1 This is a reference to a sutta which may be found at S I 265–6.
2 Ahetukam (see A I 82), referring to this kind of rebirth, is a technical term meaning ‘without a cause’, and has been taken here to mean ‘without a natural cause’: without the usual form of birth. This would mean a spontaneous birth, one of four kinds (yoni), which is usually associated with heaven realms or hells: the others are from an egg, a womb or from moisture. Birth from an egg was perhaps considered unsuitable by the ancient editors for a life in which wisdom and the ability to teach, as well as to behave, are such pre-eminent qualities. This is the only birth in the Jatakas described in this way.
3 One of the seven great lakes of Himava. It is surrounded by five mountains, including Cittakuta or Citrakuta. It is said to be one of the last to dry up at the end of the world (A IV 101). During periods when there is no Buddha, paccekabuddhas who dwell in Gandhamadana are said to come amongst men and wash their faces before starting on their journey to Isipatana. A sense of the auspicious accompanies offering water from this lake.
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The story of Campeyya
Campeyya Jataka (506)
Vol. IV, 454–68
After the enlightenment a black serpent king, Mucalinda, emerges from the river depths, opens his hood and shields the Buddha as he sits in contemplation, a scene often shown on images of the Buddha. 1 Magnificent and highly coloured nagas can also be seen on gateways to temples in Thailand, where they are considered lucky and protective. In this story, the Bodhisatta is born as one of these fabulous creatures, which are half-serpent, half-human and can change their form at will. The Bodhisatta features in several naga rebirths, which share a number of characteristics. 2 They involve the Bodhisatta acquiring wonderful powers through this rebirth, but also feeling shame at the form that he has taken—a sentiment recorded for none of his other rebirths in a ‘bad destiny’. They involve his temporary emergence from the realm to keep the uposatha, a day when extra precepts are taken, above ground in his serpent-like form: this will ensure a fortunate rebirth in future. He is captured by a snake charmer and treated with some cruelty; despite his highly developed psychic powers, a feature of naga existence, he does not use them to attack his captor. 3 He is then eventually freed and renews the aspiration to take a human birth. The stories are all attributed by the introduction to the Jatakas to the cultivation of the second perfection, of virtue (sila).
All sorts of reasons have been posited as to why nagas feature so markedly in early Buddhist texts. It has been suggested that they represent an earlier cult worship that predates the Buddha that is to a certain extent validated by appearing within Buddhist suttas and the Jatakas. 4 They may anticipate the association of serpent power as a means of meditative practice. Curiously, a candidate wanting to become a Buddhist monk is still asked to this day whether he is a naga, for there is an ancient rule that they are not allowed to assume the robe. This is perhaps a vestigial wariness of earlier cult practices in India, not felt to be suitable to one ordaining in the Buddhist order. 5 From the point of view of the stories, however, it is for their great splendour and character that they are memorable. They are like dragons in Western culture, though with auspicious rather than sinister connotations, and their palaces, fruitful trees, great treasure and good living provide a sumptuous world, hidden away from the outside world. The realm may be ‘bad destiny’ but it is fun too: all enjoy food, drink and music in endless supply. It is populated with naga women who are beautiful and extremely free with their favours. Nagas do emerge from the waters sometimes in Jatakas, and on land they either assume the form of a snake or take on a human appearance. Exhibiting their kinship with mermaids and merman, they never really seem at home there, as if they lack the solidity of body for a world where beings need to ‘keep their feet on the ground’. In the Bhuridatta Jataka (543) a naga lady seduces an ascetic but, fearful of her own venomous power and jealousy, does not want to go with him to take his throne, and returns to her own realm. 6 When nagas feature in stories they sometimes intercede in human events by passing on wish-fulfilling gems, guarding men from danger and, when venerated, presiding over wishes for children. Above ground, their existence is vulnerable, however, and they need to protect their young from their natural predator, the garuda bird, another mythical creature, who swoops down from the skies to attack them. 7
For the Bodhisatta, a life in a naga realm is for the development of virtue (sila), for, he says, it is what he misses and craves for most. When the Bodhisatta is enjoined to cultivate this second perfection, he is told to protect it always as a ‘camari cow her tail’. 8 This involves keeping the five precepts (panca silani), the code of behaviour proper to a realm which has the wholesome mind (kusala citta) as its base. The five precepts that form the basis of Buddhist practice usually accompany the homage to the Triple Gem, described in the first story from the present (1). These are often chanted daily by Buddhists as part of their usual practice and involve five undertakings: first, to refrain from killing or harming other beings; second, to refrain from stealing; third, to refrain from harmful sexual conduct; fourth, to refrain from lying or harsh speech; and fifth, to refrain from intoxicants that muddle and confuse the mind. Within the Buddhist tradition, the simple practice of sila is felt to be a protection against harm and dangers, both within the mind and in the outside world. On uposatha or poya days, lay people often take eight or ten precepts for a period of twenty-four hours: the usual five, with the third being replaced by the undertaking to refrain from sexual intercourse. 9 The others are refraining from activities such as eating after noon, going to shows or wearing adornments, and refraining from sleeping in a high and luxurious bed. The practitioner wears white, goes to a temple and spends the day there. As in medieval western Europe, virtue is considered a power that is proper to a particular species, plant, animal or jewel that constitutes its innate strength and even defines its identity. For humans, keeping the uposatha is, in abhidhammic terms, a way of finding and keeping the natural radiance of a birthright. 10 Lower rebirths do not have this base in skilfulness: for nagas, it is the only way of being part of the world of men.
In this story, the naga realm is described as a heaven of the Thirty-Three Gods, reflected on dark waters. The primeval shame that constantly clouds a naga’s existence, particularly on land, gives the rebirth here great poignancy. This reaches a climax in the Bodhisatta’s retreat into the basket so that his wife cannot see his enslaved dance before the snake charmer and a large audience. In this story the place of the Bodhisatta’s spouse is crucial. Sumana is at first introduced as a typical naga woman, intent on sexual pleasure and gratification, who alights upon the Bodhisatta because his good looks remind her of Sakka, the king of the heaven of the Thirty-Three Gods. She does, however, become an active and articulate defender of her husband in his time of need. Forsaking the familiarity of her home waters and acting on her own initiative, she too surfaces in the ‘real’ world. She argues on her husband’s behalf, overrides the snake charmer’s authority and releases the Bodhisatta from the confinement created by his refusal to misuse his great psychic power and thus break the precepts. In Jatakas, the interceding goddess, dea ex machina, personifies the power of femininity purified by virtue (538, 539 and 540). Here the Bodhisatta’s spouse assumes this role: after the time of his shame she gives him the courage to stand with her, momentarily, freed and as a human, before they both return to fulfil their kamma in their life beneath the waters.
The Campeyya Jataka features widely in ancient Indian art. It is shown in mural paintings at Bharhut, which show the Bodhisatta on his own, with Sumana, with the snake charmer, and the scene of Campeyya hiding away when his wife appears. He is also depicted in a sculpted frieze with Sumana. Both he and his wife have beautifully formed human bodies, but serpent hoods. The pictures can be seen produced digitally at the website of the Indira Gandhi National Centre for the Arts—Digital Slideshow. The story is depicted on painted murals in Cave 1 at Ajanta.
Story from the present
‘Who is this shining like lightning?’
While staying in the Jetavana Grove, the Teacher told this story about keeping the uposatha day. At that time the Teacher said, ‘It is good for you lay people to observe the uposatha. In times past, the wise abandoned the state of being a naga just so that they could observe the uposatha.’ And, when asked, he narrated this story of long ago.
Story from the past
Once upon a time, when Anga was king of the kingdom of Anga and Magadha was king of the kingdom of Magadha, there was a river between the two realms called Campa, in which there was a naga realm; the king of the nagas was called Campeyya. Now, sometimes the king of Magadha seized the kingdom of Anga and sometimes the king of Anga seized the kingdom of Magadha. One day the king of Magadha waged war against Anga and was defeated. Mounting his horse, he fled from the king of Anga and, followed by his warriors, reached the river of Campa, which was in full flood. Thinking that it was better to die by plunging into the river than at the hands of others, he went down with his horse into the river. At that time the naga king, Campeyya, had created beneath the water a jewelled pavilion and was drinking deep of the water. 12 The horse, with the king on it, plunged into the water in front of the naga king. The naga king saw the king in all his regalia and conceived an affection for him. He rose from his seat and told him not to be frightened, offering him his own seat upon a couch and asking him his reason for plunging into the water. The king told him everything that he could. Then, encouraging him, the naga king said, ‘Do not be afraid, great king, I will make you the lord of the two kingdoms.’ When he had entertained him for seven days in great splendour, on the seventh day he left the naga realm with the king of Magadha. Through the power of the naga king, the king of Magadha captured the king of Anga, killed him and exercised kingship over two kingdoms. From that time there was a firm friendship between the king and the naga king and the king of Magadha had a jewelled pavilion built [455] on the shore of the river Campa. Every year he made offerings to the naga king with great generosity. The naga king used to leave the realm of nagas with a large retinue and accepted the offerings while a large crowd watched his good fortune.