Trishashti Shalaka Purusha Caritra

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

This page describes The story of Acchandaka which is the eighth part of chapter III of the English translation of the Mahavira-caritra, contained within the “Trishashti Shalaka Purusha Caritra”: a massive Jain narrative relgious text composed by Hemacandra in the 12th century. Mahavira in jainism is the twenty-fourth Tirthankara (Jina) and one of the 63 illustrious beings or worthy persons.

A year after the day of his initiation, the Master went to the hamlet Morāka and stood in statuesque posture in a garden outside. In this hamlet there was a heretic, Acchandaka by name, who lived by means of astrological charms, spells, et cetera. Unable to endure his high standing and desiring worship of the Master, the Vyantara Siddhārtha entered the Master’s body. He summoned a passing cowherd and said:

“Sir, you have eaten millet and boiled rice with pickle and you are going to take care of cattle. As you came along you saw a snake; in your sleep you cried out very loud. Does this accord with the truth? Say, cowherd.” He said, “It is certainly the truth,” and Siddhārtha again told him various things that created confidence. Astonished, the cowherd went to the village and told, “Outside in a garden there is a devārya who knows the three times and has filled me with confidence.”

Hearing that, all the villagers full of curiosity went quickly to the Master’s vicinity, carrying flowers, unhusked rice, et cetera for a pūjā. Siddhārtha entered the Master and said to the villagers, “You have all come here to see my supernatural power, haven’t you?” The villagers affirmed this, and Siddhārtha told them what they had seen, done, heard, and said both in the past and at that time. Siddhārtha foretold the future also. When the people heard this, then they made a pūjā and paid homage to the Lord together with a great festival. As the people came and went daily in this way, the Vyantara Siddhārtha felt very great satisfaction.

One day the villagers there said, “Master, a man by the name of Acchandaka lives in this village and he also has knowledge like you.” Siddhārtha said to them: “He knows nothing. He fills his stomach by deceiving you simple people.” They went to Acchandaka and told him: “You know nothing. The devārya knows everything—past, present and future.” Fearful of losing his high position, Acchandaka said: “He knows only in the presence of you who are ignorant of the real truth. If he knows in my presence, then he really knows, I think. Now I shall go and expose his ignorance. Watch.”

Saying this, Acchandaka, angry, surrounded by curious villagers, went very quickly to the Lord engaged in kāyotsarga. He took hold of some grass with his fingers on both sides and said to the Lord, “Shall I break this grass or not?” His intention was, “I shall do the opposite of whatever the devārya says, so he will prove to be speaking falsely.” Siddhārtha replied, “You will not break the grass.” His fingers fixed on it, Acchandaka began to break the grass. Just then, Śakra thought, “How does the Master wander now?” Employing knowledge and perception, he saw Acchandaka’s actions. “A speech uttered by the Master’s mouth must not be untrue.” With this thought Vajrabhṛt cut off Acchandaka’s ten fingers with a thunderbolt. Astonished, ridiculed by all the people because he did not break the grass, Acchandaka went elsewhere, his mind confused like a madman.

Then Siddhārtha said to the villagers, “This Acchandaka is certainly a thief.” The villagers asked, “Master, what has he stolen and from whom?” Siddhārtha said, “There is a laborer here, Vīraghoṣa.” Hearing that, Vīraghoṣa bowed and showed himself, saying, “At your service.” Siddhārtha said again, “A dish of yours of ten palas in weight disappeared from your house in the past.” Ghoṣa agreed and Siddhārtha said: “It was certainly taken by that heretic. The proof can be seen from this. Afterwards it was thrown under a horseradish tree a foot and a half to the east of his house. Go and get it.” Surrounded by the curious people, Vīraghoṣa found the dish just as described at his (Acchandaka’s) house and returned.

Again Siddhārtha said to the excited villagers: “Listen again. Is there a householder, Indraśarman, here?” The people replied, “There is.” Indraśarman presented himself before him, his hands extended, saying, “I am he. Give your orders.” Siddhārtha said, “Sir, did a goat of yours disappear in the past?” Astonished, Indraśarman said, “That is true.” Siddhārtha said: “It was killed and eaten by the ascetic. Moreover, its bones are in the ash-heap to the right of the jujube tree.” Out of curiosity the people went and looked for its bones. Saying, “They are here,” they returned to that place.

Siddhārtha said again: “There is a third act of his, but let it go. I will not tell it.” “Please tell us everything,” the villagers said to him again and again. “Should a pleasing story be half-told?” Siddhārtha replied: “Nevertheless, I am not going to tell it. If you are curious, go to his house and ask his wife.” The people went to his house. He had beaten his wife that day and she, angry and tearful, thought: “It was a good thing that his fingers were cut off and that he is despised by all the people. If the people come here now, I shall make public all his misconduct, so that the wretch will experience the fruit of beating me.” Then the villagers came and asked her about his conduct. She said: “Who would even speak the name of the scoundrel? For he enjoys sexual pleasure with his own sister, alas! A cāṇḍāla in behaviour, he does not desire me at all.”

Hearing this, the villagers made an outcry and each went to his own house, denouncing Acchandaka. Reviled on every side, “Scoundrel! Scoundrel!” the miserable mendicant received no alms any place. Alas for the man who has fallen from high estate! Secretly the wretched man went to Śrī Vīra, bowed, and said:

“Blessed One, go elsewhere. The man deserving honor is honored everywhere. Only here am I respected. Even my name is not known elsewhere. For a jackal has courage only in his own cave, not outside. I have experienced the fruit of any disrespect I showed you from ignorance, Lord. Now take pity on me.” As the Blessed One had taken a vow to avoid hostile persons, he went to the hamlet Uttaracāvāla.

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