Tibetan tales (derived from Indian sources)

by W. R. S. Ralston | 1906 | 134,175 words

This page related the story of “the story of rishyashringa” from those tibetan tales (derived from Indian sources) found in the Kah-gyur (Kangyur or Kanjur). This represents part of the sacred Tibetan canon of Buddhist literature. Many of such stories correspond to similar legends found in the West, or even those found in Polynesia.

Chapter 15 - The story of Ṛṣyaśṛṅga

[Source: Kah-gyur, iv. fol. 136, 137. A Buddhistic version of the well-known narrative in the Mahābhārata, i. 9999, &c., and the Rāmāyaṇa, i. 8, &c.—S.]

In very remote times, in a forest region free from villages and richly provided with flowers, fruits, water, and roots, there lived a penance-performing Rishi, who fed upon roots, fruit, and water, and clothed himself with leaves and skins. As he had attained the five kinds of insight, the wild gazelles themselves were wont to dwell in the hermitage keeping him company. One day a gazelle doe came to a spot where he had lately been. And as the results of human actions are beyond mental comprehension it came to pass that she became pregnant. When the time came for her to bring forth, she went to that place and there gave birth to a boy. When she had smelt it, and perceived that it was a creature that did not resemble herself, she was terrified, and deserted it. When the Rishi came to that place and saw the child, he began to consider whose child it could be, and perceived that it was his own child. So he took it with him into his hermitage and there brought it up. When the boy had grown up, gazelle horns appeared on his head, on which account the Rishi gave him the name of Ṛṣyaśṛṅga (Gazelle-horn).

The Rishi fell ill, and was treated with fitting remedies, but the illness would not abate. When he saw that he must die, he spake shortly before his decease to the boy as follows:—

“O son, as from time to time many Rishis come to this hermitage from all manner of regions, you must from love to me welcome them with the customary greeting, receive them in a friendly manner, invite them to repose on the couch, and set before them roots and fruits according to your means.”

Then, according as it is said that the end of collection is diffusion, the end of the high is to fall, the end of coming together is separation, and the end of life is death, so he discharged his obligations to this law. The youth burnt the Rishi’s corpse in the usual manner, and then, as he mourned, being depressed by grief at the loss of his father, he became possessed of the five kinds of insight.

One day, when he had gone to fetch water in a pitcher, the deity began to let rain fall. As he walked along with the pitcher’, which was quite full of water, he let it fall, so that it broke. Rishis are very quickly moved to wrath. So spilling the little water there was left, he reproached the deity, saying, “As my full water pitcher has been broken in consequence of your bad behaviour’, you shall not let rain fall for twelve years from this day.” On account of this curse the deity let no rain fall. A great famine consequently arose in Vārāṇasī, and its inhabitants emigrated in all directions. The king sent for the diviners and said to them, “Honoured sirs, to whose power is it due that the deity sends no rain?” They replied, “To a Rishi’s anger. If he can be disturbed in his penances the deity will again send rain. Otherwise it is not possible.” The king sat absorbed in thought. His wives, the princes, and the ministers asked him, “Wherefore, O king, are you displeased?” He replied, “On account of a Rishi’s anger the deity sends no rain. The diviners have declared that if the Rishi can be disturbed in his penances the deity will send rain again, but that otherwise it is impossible.”

One of the king’s daughters, Śāntā by name, said, “O king, if that be the case, be not disturbed. I will contrive so that the Rishi shall be completely distracted from this penance.” The king said, “By what means?” She replied, “Let me and other women he taught mystic lore by the Brahmans. And let a hermitage, provided with flowers, fruits, and water, be prepared on a ferry-boat.” The king allowed her and other women to be taught mystic lore by the Brahmans, and a hermitage to be constructed on a ferry-boat. Then she gave orders for the preparation of tempting objects, and fruits filled with wine, and other very bright fruits of various kinds. And she made herself look like a Rishi, dressed herself in bark and grass, and betook herself to that Rishi’s hermitage, attended by the women to whom the Brahmans had taught mystic lore. His pupils said to the Rishi, “O teacher, many Rishis have come to the hermitage.” He replied, “It is well that Rishis should have come; bring them in.” When they had come in and he had looked at them, he said in verse, “Alas! a Rishi’s appearance was never like this of old—a loosely flowing step, a face free from beard, a rising and falling breast.” His mind a prey to doubt, he offered his visitors roots and fruit. They partook of them, and said to the Rishi, “Your fruits are harsh and acid. The fruits which are to be found in our hermitage on the water are Amṛta-like. Therefore do we invite you to our hermitage.”

He accepted their invitation and went with them to the pleasure-ground on board the ferry-boat. There they spread before him stupefying substances, cocoa-nuts filled with wine, and other fruits. When he had become intoxicated with wine, and seduced by the alluring substances, he gave himself up to pleasure with the women, and his magic power vanished. The deity rejoicing in rain called the clouds together from every side and got the better of the Rishi. Śāntā said, “Now, do you know what the power is?” Having fettered the Rishi with amorous bonds she brought him to the king and said, “O king, this is the man.”

As the deity now began to send rain a good harvest ensued. The king gave Śāntā to the Rishi as his wife, together with her attendants. But when the Rishi, deserting her, began to indulge in love with other women, she also began to treat him with small respect, her good humour being destroyed by jealousy. One day, when during a wrangle with him, she hit him a blow on the head with a shoe, he said to himself—

“I, who used not to allow power to the thunder of the cloud, must now, being fettered by love bonds, allow myself to be set at nought by a woman!”

Thereupon he again devoted himself to ascetic exertion, and once more became possessed of the five kinds of insight.

Like what you read? Consider supporting this website: