Trishashti Shalaka Purusha Caritra

by Helen M. Johnson | 1931 | 742,503 words

This page describes Episode of Vishakhanandin and Vishvabhuti which is the eleventh part of chapter I of the English translation of the Shreyamsanatha-caritra, contained within the “Trishashti Shalaka Purusha Caritra”: a massive Jain narrative relgious text composed by Hemacandra in the 12th century. Shreyamsanatha in jainism is one of the 63 illustrious beings or worthy persons.

Part 11: Episode of Viśākhanandin and Viśvabhūti

Now in the city Rājagṛha King Viśvanandin had a son, Viśākhanandin,[1] by his wife Priyaṅgu. Viśvanandin had a younger brother, crown prince, Viśākhabhūti, intelligent, heroic, well-bred, politic. Marīci’s jīva[2] became the son of Viśākhabhūti by his wife Dhāriṇī because of rewards gained in a former birth. His parents gave him the name Viśvabhūti[3] and he gradually grew up, cherished by nurses. He learned all the arts and acquired all the virtues and gradually attained youth—the embodied ornament of the body.

He amused himself with the women of his palace in the garden Puṣpakaraṇḍaka, which was the chief of very delightful spots, like Nandana brought to earth. Viśākhanandin, the king’s son, also wished to play there, but the garden was never free from Viśvabhūti. The slave-girls of Viśākhanandin’s mother, who had gone for flowers, saw Viśvabhūti playing there with the women of his household. Jealous, they went to Queen Priyaṅgu and said: “Viśvabhūti, the son of the crown prince, is king here; no one else. For he is always playing in Puṣpakaraṇḍaka with the women of his household, but your son, forbidden (to enter), remains outside.” Angered at hearing that, the queen went to the anger-room.[4] At once she was asked by the king, “What is the matter?” and she replied: “Viśvabhūti plays in Puṣpakaraṇḍaka like a king; even though you are here, my son stays outside like a beggar.” The king said, “This is the rule in our family, honored lady. When one prince is playing (in the garden), a second should not enter.” She, high-spirited, was not enlightened even by this explanation by the king.

Then the king, knowing devices, had the marching-drum sounded. The king issued a proclamation, “Because our vassal, Puruṣasiṃha, does not obey our command, we are marching against him.” When he heard that, Viśvabhūti came in haste and said, “When I am here, why will our father himself go to battle?” Restraining the king by persisting in such remarks, Viśvabhūti marched with an army to the vassal’s country. Hearing that the prince was coming, the vassal came in haste like a servant and respectfully conducted him to his own house. Saying, “Master, what can I do?” standing in front of him with folded hands, he conciliated Viśvabhūti by giving presents of elephants, horses, et cetera. Seeing that there was some inconsistency, then Viśvabhūti returned by the same way he had come. Who can be angry with an innocent man?

Now, Viśākhanandin had been allowed by the king to enter the garden. After traversing the country, Viśvabhūti came there as before. Halted by the door-keeper who said, “Viśākhanandin is inside,” he stood just there, an ocean of valor (stopped) by the shore of propriety.[5] Viśvabhūti thought, “At that time I was enticed away from the garden by a trick, like a forest-elephant from a forest. What shall I do?” Thus angered, the prince struck a wood-apple tree, which was laden with fruit, with his fist, like an elephant striking it with a tusk. Pointing to the ground beneath which was completely covered with wood-apples shaken down, Viśvabhūti said to the door-keeper:

“In the same way I would make fall the heads of you all, if devotion to my father’s elder brother did not prevent. Enough for me of these delights terrifying as the coils of a serpent, for the sake of which such a deceitful trick is used, alas!”

With these words Viśvabhūti abandoned power like straw, went and took the vow under Muni Sambhūta.

When he heard about it, Viśvanandin went there himself with the women of his household and his attendants, accompanied by the crown prince. After bowing to the sūri and approaching Viśvabhūti, Viśvanandin, joyless, said with sobs: “Son, you have always done everything after obtaining our consent. Have you done this impulsively because of our loss of good fortune? Dear boy, we have always had hope in you as the support of the kingdom. Why have you, a protector in calamity, suddenly destroyed our hope? Today give up the vow, son. Enjoy pleasures at will. Play in Puṣpakaraṇḍaka as you like, as before.”

Then Viśvabhūti said: “Enough for me of the wealth of pleasures. This pleasure of the senses is in reality only pain. Threads of affection for one’s own people act as bonds in the prison of existence; people verily are bewildered by them, like spiders by spider-webs.[6] Henceforth, in order not to be censured for anything I shall practice penance to a high degree. That certainly goes along as a companion to the next world.”

When he had so spoken, the king went home remorsefully. Viśvabhūti wandered as a muni with his guru. Engaged in fasts of two and three days, zealous in service to his guru, learning texts and interpretations, he gradually passed a very long time. Wandering alone by permission of his guru, observing pratimā, he began to wander in villages, mines, cities, et cetera.

One day, as the great sādhu Viśvabhūti wandered, observing numerous special vows, he went to the city Mathura. Just at that time Viśākhanandin went there with his retinue to marry his paternal aunt’s daughter, the daughter of the king of Mathurā. Viśvabhūti, wandering to break his fast at the end of the month, came near Viśākhanandin’s camp. Viśākhanandin’s men pointed him out as he went along, saying repeatedly, “There is Prince Viśvabhūti.” At the sight of him Viśākhanandin’s anger arose at once. Just then Viśvabhūti fell, knocked over by a cow. Viśäkhanandin laughed and said to Viśvabhūti, “What has become of that strength of yours which knocked off wood-apples?” When he saw Viśākhanandin, Viśvabhūti, angry, seized the cow by the horns and whirled it around like a bunch of straw. Then as he went away, Viśvabhūti thought in his heart, “He, evil-minded, was just now, angry with me, though I am free from attachment,” and he made a nidāna, “May I be very strong in my next birth from the power of this severe penance.” When his life of a crore of years was completed, Viśvabhūti died without confessing that[7] and became a god with a maximum life-term in Mahāśukra.

Footnotes and references:

[1]:

Prebirth of Aśvagrīva.

[2]:

See I, pp. 352 ff.

[3]:

Prebirth of Tripṛṣṭha.

[4]:

A room to which an angry queen retires in order to gain something desired. It is referred to in the Rāmāyana II. 9. 22 as ‘krodhāgara.’

[5]:

The compound maryādāsthāmavāridhiḥ might be interpreted in several ways, but as Hemacandra often uses the comparison of the ocean stopped by the shore, I think maryādā has a double meaning here. The editor of the text interprets it as maryādā and sthāman.

[6]:

Cf. II, p. 5 and n. 14. “Spiders other than geometrical spiders become entangled in the circular snare.” Kingston, A Naturalist in Himalaya, p. 143.

[7]:

The nidāna. See II, n. 29.

Like what you read? Consider supporting this website: