Part 3: The Brāhman and Sagara

After comforting them all in this way, the Brāhman took a corpse that had been left unclaimed on the road and went to the city Vinītā. He went to King Sagara’s palace-courtyard, stood with upraised arms, and uttered loud lamentations:

“O Cakravartin, acting with justice, having unbroken power of arm, a very wicked thing, a disgraceful deed has been committed here, alas! I have been robbed; robbed in this country called Bharata, though protected by you like heaven by Purandara.”

When Cakrin Sagara heard these words never heard before, as if the man’s grief had penetrated himself, he said to the door-keeper: “By whom was he robbed? Who is he, and where from? Ascertain all this, and have him come in here.”

The door-keeper quickly approached the Brāhman and questioned him, but he pretended not to hear and continued his lamentations in the same way. The doorkeeper said again:

“Listen, Brāhman, are you deaf from grief or deaf by nature? The brother of Ajita Svāmin, the King himself, the protector of the poor and protectorless, the refuge of the seekers of a refuge, earnestly questions you lamenting, as if you were his brother. Tell us by whom you were robbed, who you are, and where from. Or rather, come yourself and describe to the King the cause of your sorrow, like the manifestation of illness to a doctor.”

So addressed by the door-keeper, the Brāhman, with tearful eyes, like a pool with lotuses covered with drops of frost; with the moon of his face faded, like a winter midnight; like a bear with thick disordered hair; like an old monkey with emaciated cheeks, stepping very slowly, entered the Cakrin’s house. Then the Cakrin himself, compassionate, questioned him:

“Did some one somewhere steal some gold from you? Or did some one steal jewels or garments? Or did some one, breaking a trust, conceal a trust? Or has some village-policeman, etc., injured you, or did some customs-officer oppress you by seizing a wealth of merchandise? Or has some kinsman inflicted humiliation on you, or has some one ruined you by running away with your wife? Does some powerful enemy attack you, or some mental ailment afflict you, or some severe disease? Does poverty, very easy acquired by the twice-born castes, trouble you, or does something else cause you pain? Tell me, great Brāhman.”

At once stopping his fictitious, unwearied tears like an actor, the Brāhman replied to the King, his hands folded submissively:

“O King, this land of Bharata with six divisions is ruled by you resplendent with justice and power, like heaven by the king of the gods. No one steals gold, jewels, etc., from any one else. Rich men sleep even in the (open) space between villages as in their own houses. No one conceals a deposit like his own good family. The village-policemen, etc., guard the people like their own sons. Even on the surplus wealth to be found, the customs-officers take a duty in proportion to the goods, like a fine in proportion to the crime. After taking their inheritance, heirs do not disagree again, like pupils who have attained the highest doctrines in regard to their teacher. The whole people, devoted to good behavior, consider other men’s wives like sisters, like daughters, like daughters-in-law, like mothers. There is no unfriendly talk in your kingdom like a monastery. There is no mental distress among your people filled with contentment, as there is no heat in water. There is no disease on the earth provided with all medicinal herbs, as there is no thirst in the rainy season. With you as a wishing-tree, there is no poverty. There is no cause whatever of pain to any one among the people. Nevertheless, this has happened to me only, an ascetic.