‘We cannot leave Katcha behind.’ Then turning to a pair of mahouts, he asks: ‘Will you take the risk with the largest elephants?’
‘We were Maharaja Bindusara’s elephant hunters, Lord!’
‘The two of you, please try. We are going to protect the Prince,’ cries Kappa.
Both mahouts turn around the massive war elephants which calmly amble towards the house. Through his rage the bull sees the two tame animals coming and the memory of the piercing hooks proves very unpleasant. It swings away from the dwelling, trumpets loudly and charges off towards Tirha. The others follow ferociously and the ground resounds under their thundering feet.
‘This will end badly for Tirha, Lord!’
‘Tirha? Send messengers!’ shouts Kunala.
Kappa gives his swiftest horseman orders to ride instantly to Tirha by another route.
‘Wild elephants!’ The cry causes great excitement in the whole settlement. There is bellowing, shouting, crying for their children. An indescribable confusion takes over. All flee to places they regard safe from the kings of the mahavana. Some climb the sturdier trees from where they watch the catastrophe. They hear the thudding along the road, the angry trumpeting of the herd quickly approaching the houses. Enraged, the animals attack the simple dwellings, tear apart the thatched roofs, take everything down with their trunks, stamp on and break everything under their heavy feet. Not a single house is spared; it is as if the rage of the animals has turned against the possessions of the people who had earlier laid siege to them with arrows and spears but now shelter safely in the tall trees beyond the reach of the trunks of the provoked animals. After everything has been destroyed the bull screams loud and all the beasts immediately follow, fearful of losing sight of the herd. They run wildly through paddy and wheat fields and invade the mahavana with a deafening cracking of branches and trees. Eventually, all sounds fade into the distance and the inhabitants of the devastated village return hesitatingly from their hiding places, searching through the remains of the houses and property for anything left unharmed.
Anxiously, they wonder what sin has caused such a disaster to befall on the village: Have the rituals and offering not been conducted in an appropriate way? Kodini then returns, weeping. ‘Where is Upamatali? Diti! Where is Upamatali! Tell me, slut!’
‘I do not know, mother Kodini,’ cries Diti.
‘You forgot to take him with you!’ screeches Kodini. ‘Oh, gods! Where is my son, my darling! Gone! Trampled by the elephants! Upamatali!’
People approach Kodini and enquire. ‘What is it?’
‘Oh! Upamatali is gone!’ She tears at her clothing, her hair, and throws herself to the ground, kicking and screaming.
‘What do you want, fool?’ asks Matali, who has drawn near.
‘My son! That is the punishment! Help me, Varuna!’
Kodini, the guilty one? The villagers gather from all around.
‘What punishment? Why? Tell us!’ Matali grabs a stick.
‘Oh, Kawi! The hunters! The elephants! Upamatali is dead because of me!’
‘Have you …? Speak up or I will beat you!’
Through her tears and sobs, Kodini relates what happened. When she mentions Katcha, the Brahmin, most of the people turn away. A Brahmin! One does not meddle with a Brahmin! But Matali chastises Kodini severely, until Upamatali suddenly comes sliding down from a tree and clutches his mother.
Kunala, Kappa and Santanu have drawn nearer. The Yuvaraja, shrewd as his father, immediately makes the connection between Diti, the elephant stampede, and Kodini’s words. Some guards are sent for Kawi, others to fetch Katcha. However, Kawi’s camp has been vacated, and the hunters have fled. Katcha has also disappeared without a trace. A courier is sent to Pataliputra and a few days later a large detachment of Ashoka’s builders arrives to rebuild the destroyed village. A mission from the Ashokarama also arrives under the leadership of Utanka. The residents of Tirha have built simple thatched huts to sleep in, and during the day they live outside. Life goes on. The men go out to reap what is left of the harvest. When the sun sets and all have returned from their work, they trek to the camp of the men in the yellow robes, hesitant in the beginning, but slowly growing more courageous as they see the Yuvaraja and his bride also coming to listen to the monks. Utanka has informed Kunala of the Emperor’s wishes. The Yuvaraja and his bride have taken their places on a skilfully woven rug from Arachosa. Utanka waves the villagers to draw near and sit down. Only his slender figure rises above the squatting people. Far back at the rear sits Diti, hunched up; she does not dare to sit amongst the others. So rarely does a storyteller come to Tirha. His narration will be as the seasoning on the rice, as honey with the ghee. Full of expectation, they look at Utanka in his yellow robe. Only his left arm and chest, his powerful neck and head, are uncovered. They wait. Now and then their eyes wander over the Brahmin lady, Kanchanamala, and the noble Yuvaraja or to the beautifully decorated elephant a little to the side under the shade of the tall sal trees, or to the guards who always accompany the Prince. Utanka then raises his voice and all listen.
THE BUDDHA
‘Surya climbs down behind the hills and the dark clouds. His rays no longer penetrate through to us. But in the distance, to the north, you can see the shimmering mountains of the holy Hymavant1, which rise from deep within the earth. The mahavana stretches towards its sides but reaches no further than the feet of the giants. Above, the peaks glitter pure and unblemished in Rohita’s dazzling light. Why will Surya’s rays no longer shine upon us when they still shine upon the mighty crags and peaks of the glittering mountains? Because they are high up, higher than any construction of man, than all creations of nature, than all that grows against its walls; because they are so holy that the gods chose them for their dwelling. Thus shines also an exalted light upon Ashoka, the holy Maharajah of Aryavarta, because he is the highest among all men. But not only is he the highest in might and rank but also the highest in manas, in human greatness. That is why the Light of the world shines upon him while you grope around in the darkness of the mahavana. The great Light of the world! The Tathagata, who went the way of the Buddha, the Sugata, who took the right course, the Bhagwan, the blessing of mankind, the Exalted One. The holy Maharajah glows in the Light of the glorious Accomplished Buddha. When famine plagues the people he saves them from hunger. Why does he save them? When the summer sun scorches the fields, he has canals dug which quench the thirsty fields with water from the rivers. Why has he scattered the sacred waters over the fields? Pilgrims and merchants travel along the roads, dying of thirst, with no roof or refreshment along their hard journey: the holy Maharajah maintains the roads, has wells dug, rest houses built and mango trees planted. Why does he care for the travellers trudging on the roads? Wild elephants destroy homes, paddy and wheat fields in villages. He sends his builders, his helpers and his food supplies, to support you during your calamities. Why does he send them?
Because the Light of the world shines upon him, the compassion and love of the Prince of Kapilavastu, the Enlightened Buddha!
The Bodhisattva has experienced countless rebirths. His good karma has been built up to the heavens and after his last incarnation he appeared as Vessantara amongst the devas of the Tushita-heaven. Just once more is he to return to earth, to lead the lost humanity, including you, to the way of liberation from suffering and rebirths. Where will he appear, to which mother will he be born? His eyes fall upon the kingdom of the Shakyas of Raja Suddhodana in Kapilavastu, under the protection of the heavenly-high Hymavant, and upon his queen Maya, with her fine, smiling face, beautiful presence, her lovely voice, her friendliness and soft-heartedness. When the Bodhisattva descends from heaven, a gleaming light shines over the world and penetrates the darkness, because it is without shadow and pales the sun and moon alike. It is in the month of Vaisakha, when the earth is covered with a carpet of flowers and the trees burst with clouds of blossoms. There is an atmosphere of benevolence and love among the people; hatred and envy
, passion, blinding pride and cruelty, fall away from them. The air is filled with heavenly sounds and songs. Rani Maya falls asleep: she dreams of gods who take her from the earth high up to the shimmering peaks of the Himalayas. Goddesses bathe her in holy waters and adorn her with heavenly robes. She sees a holy elephant, with six pure-white ivory tusks, approach. He becomes tinier and tinier and burrows into the right side of her motherly body. It will be a happy time for her. Miraculous healing powers exude from her unborn child. The possessed are relieved of their demons, the blind from the darkness, the sick are cured of their ills. After ten moons the time of birth has arrived, the winds die down; there is a deep stillness in nature, the spring flowers open earlier than usual, glorious fragrances fill the air. Then, Queen Maya goes to the lovely gardens of Lumbini, where all the trees are in blossom. There the Bodhisattva is born, Savarthasiddhi2 is his name. A glowing light with no end shoots through the heavens. All vile feelings in nature are muted. Seven days later Rani Maya dies and is taken up to the heaven of the thirty-three devas, because she is too exalted to be touched yet by earthly passions. The Rani’s sister cares for the young Prince. In the Himalyas lives a recluse, the elderly and holy Asita. He sees the glowing light and feels that a great happiness has descended on earth; he descends from the mountains to Kapilavastu and continues on to the palace. The king hands the child over to him and Asita notices that he bears the thirty-two signs of the mahapurusha, the highest human being. He foretells the king that one day the little Prince will be the most powerful ruler, or an enlightened Buddha, who will bestow the teachings of compassion. As Siddharta grows older his father is troubled that the young Prince shows little inclination of becoming a world-ruling King but that his being develops into earnestness and meditation, to retreat from the world. He wants his son to marry so he will turn away from the path leading to Buddha-hood! After a long search, they find a girl for him, Bimbadevi3, who satisfies all requirements, and she becomes his wife. Many women are offered to him to gladden his life. Raja Suddhodana still hopes that the joys of the life of a Prince will keep him away from the path of the Buddha. He builds three palaces for him, one for winter, one for summer and one for the rainy season. The gateways are secured so that he will not escape by night. The most beautiful women are provided to give him joy with music, songs and dance. Anything that may injure the Prince is painstakingly kept away from his path. Wherever he goes there are flowers strewn. But one day, when he leaves the gateway of the city on the Easterly side, the devas dispatch on to his path an old man, grey of beard and ailing, as an omen. The charioteer4 tells him that all people grow old. The Prince, whose heart overflows with compassion, returns to the palace, saddened. The next time he leaves through the Southern gateway and meets a fatally ill man, again sent by the devas. Until this moment, he had not known illness and once again he returns to the palace filled with pain. The third time he leaves, he uses the Western gateway and sees a dead man lying on the road. He is alarmed and the charioteer explains what a dead man is, one who has left his family to cross over into the other world. Again, the Prince is shocked and laments about the transience of youth, life, and the suffering because of old age, sickness and death. And he returns. When he again leaves through the Northern gateway, he meets a mendicant monk. His gaze radiates mildness, his being serenity, his bearing is self-controlled. He is dressed in the robe of an ascetic and stands with his begging bowl beside the road. In answering the Prince’s question about who he is, the charioteer says, a bhikshu, free of carnal lust, passion and hate, living in peace for his own spiritual well-being. The Prince is overjoyed, praises the life of the bhikshu. Frightening dreams trouble Yashodara but the Bodhisattva knows what is to come, separation. During the night he goes to his father to ask permission to leave. Through his tears, the King tries to stop him, promising everything he wants if he would just stay.
‘If you can promise me four things, Father, I will stay. Eternal youth, whereupon no ageing follows, unfading beauty, eternal good health not threatened by illness, and eternal life without death.’
The King acknowledges that this is impossible.
‘Then promise me at least that when I die I will not be born again.’
Again, the King cannot, whereupon he declares his willingness to let his son go, for the benefit of the world. Still he has much difficulty letting him go. He strengthens the guards at the gateways, surrounds his son with all kinds of enticement, prepares feasts at the palace at which the most beautiful women from the country must attempt to enchant him through music and dance, a delighting of senses, that should keep him away from his lofty goal. Amidst all the splendour of the glorious court festivities, the Bodhisattva falls into dhyana, meditation. When he awakens, he sees by the light of the fragrant lamps that the women, now that the Prince is no longer paying attention to them, have fallen asleep. The false beauty has fled away. The girls lay, unbecomingly, all around. There is nothing charming or enchanting left; on the contrary, the wide-open mouths, the unmelodious sounds they emit, fill him with disgust. More than ever, he longs for the life of the ascetic, because all this sensuality carries within it the seed of death and suffering. He orders Chandaka, his charioteer, to saddle his horse Kanthaka. Chandaka tries to convince the Prince to enjoy his youth. When he gets older there will be time enough to renounce the world.
‘Pleasure is fleeting, Chandaka, like rushing waters from the mountains, like autumn clouds that arise and then suddenly disappear, as lightning in the heavens, like bubbles in the water, like mirages in the desert, like a dream! It is, Chandaka, like the thirst after drinking salt water, dangerous as the head of a cobra.’
His decision is as steadfast as Mount Meru: the great separation, for the good of the world. He goes to Yashodara’s sleeping chambers to say farewell to her and their newborn child. Yashodara is asleep, her arm protectively enfolding the little boy. Silently he leaves the room, mounts his steed Kanthaka, and in the night with Chandaka leaves the sleeping city. Yakshas5 absorb Kanthaka’s footsteps so that no one can hear. The horse trots forth in the darkness as if knowing the road the Bodhisattva must take. Above, the stars twinkle and shed their light upon the darkness of the mahavana. The night-time ride takes them through many regions. When they reach Anuvaineya the first light of the day breaks through the dark. The tired stars begin to pale. The Bodhisattva dismounts from his steed Kanthaka, gives Chandaka his Princely clothes, ornaments and his sword, after first using it to cut his hair off and having put on the ochre robe that is suitable for his life in the woods. He then sends Chandaka back to Kapilavastu. His precious horse is relinquished forever by his beloved master, who forsakes joy and pleasures for the good of the world.
Thus the noble Prince wanders now as a mendicant monk through the world, from hamlet to hamlet, from hermitage to hermitage. Yogi Arada6 teaches him to rise to a state of deep meditation, and Yogi Uddraka7 to reach a state beyond consciousness and un-consciousness. But he knows that this is not enough to take him to Nirvana. He journeys on with five pupils. Each is struck by his exalted mien and divine presence. King Bimbisara of Magadha tries to persuade him to remain in his kingdom; he will even give up a portion of his territory to him. He refuses. For six long years he practises the strictest asceticism. This should bring him to the realm of clear-knowing! Finally, he arrives in Uravela on the Nairanyana with its lovely shores and calm waters. Here he wishes to stay. Because of his great spiritual skills he is able to withstand the rigours of ice-cold nights and sweltering hot days. He curbs all his senses so that he needs no more than one cola-berry, one grain of rice, one sesame seed and finally … nothing more. His body shrivels. The villagers mock him for his gauntness, pale colour and disheveled appearance. The Bodhisattva, great in truth, realises then that this severe asceticism will not lead him to the ultimate state of knowing and clairvoyance, that will end the cycle of rebirths, ageing and death. He resumes eating. The five pupils turn away from him in complete disdain. ‘The bhikshu Gautama has adopted the care
ssing of the senses!’ And they leave Uruvela and go to Kashi. Ten girls from Uruvela, touched by his misery, offer him food made of vegetables and ghee. His body slowly recovers and gains strength and the girls call him the handsome ascetic. His colour comes back, glowing and healthy. Then, one day, the Bodhisattva looks for a bodhi-tree, an Asvatta, the tree of wisdom. Along the path that leads from the lovely river bank to the tree, the blossoms suddenly burst forth from the trees. In the ponds, the lotuses unfold their lovely rosettes of red, white and blue. It is as if an aura shines forth from the Holy One, over earth and heavens, making the people forget all that is evil and do all that is good. Sitting cross-legged, his body upright, his face turned to the east from where the sun commences its day, he seats himself under the bodhi-tree and vows not to rise up before he has awakened to the highest state of consciousness, the everlasting salvation, the Light of the Buddha. But in the world of senses rules Mara, the evil one. The Bodhisattva knows that he will not reach the highest Light of the Buddha if he does not know also the knowledge of Mara. He lures him and Mara appears with all his hellish weapons. Yet, nothing can touch the Bodhisattva. That which is to destroy him, changes into flowers and wreaths. Mara offers him a world-power, but the Bodhisattva laughs at him. In earlier lives he has already had as much power as he wanted and sacrificed all. He has even offered his life many times before for the benefit of other beings. He calls the earth to bear witness, by touching it with his right hand. Mara sends his daughters, the most beautiful women, to tempt the Bodhisattva, but Gautama remains unmoved. Mara sends his warriors from hell one more time, to strike the Bodhisattva fatally. But the evil one and his armies prove to be merely shadows, and maya, like the reflection of the moon in the water. Mara has been conquered!
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