Part 16: Gośāla’s misconduct

The Master went to a village of Brāhmans. It had two divisions and their chiefs were two brothers, Nanda and Upananda. To break a fast of two days, the Master entered Nanda’s division and Nanda gave him curds and old^[1] boiled rice. Gośāla entered the other division and seeing Upananda’s lofty house, went there, zealous, for alms. At Upananda’s order, a slave-girl gave him old boiled rice. As he did not wish that, Gośāla, malicious, cursed Upananda, who said, “If he does not take the food, throw it on his head at once,” and she did so. Angered, Gośāla said: “If my guru has power from penance or a psychic fire may that man’s house burn down at once. May the curse from not receiving holy men not be fruitless.” The Vyantaras who were present burned the house like a bundle of straw.

The Master went to Campā for the third rainy season and stopped there, with two two-month fasts proposed. By means of kāyotsarga and various postures—the squatting-posture, et cetera, the Master remained completely absorbed in concentrated meditation, as if he were emancipated even in this world. After he had made his second fast-breaking of a two-month fast outside the city, the Master went with Gośāla to the hamlet Kollāka.

There the Lord stood in statuesque posture in an empty house through the night; but Gośāla stood cowering in the door, trembling like a monkey. Then the son of the village-chief, Siṃha, recently grown up, came there with the intention of amusing himself with a slave-girl, Vidyunmati. He called aloud, “If any one is here, ascetic, Brāhman, or traveler, let him speak up, that we may go elsewhere.” The Master remained silent at that time because he was engaged in kāyotsarga; but Gośāla, hearing that, did not answer from deceitfulness.

As he received no answer, Siṃha dallied with her for a long time; and, having stopped suddenly, started to leave the house. Gośāla, malicious by nature, irresponsible, standing in the door, touched the slave-girl, Vidyunmatī, as she was leaving. “Master, some one touched me,” she said aloud. Siṭha, angry, turned, seized Gośāla, and said: “Wretch, you remained hidden by trickery and watched our misconduct. Even when you were spoken to, you did not answer then.” So saying, Siṭha beat him and went to his own house. Gośāla said to the Master, “I am beaten while you look on.” Siddhārtha said: “Why do you not observe good behaviour like us? Are you not beaten because you show lack of consideration, staying in a door like this?”

The Master left and went to the village named Patrakāla. As before he stood in statuesque posture in an empty house during the night. Cowering from fear, Gośāla stayed in a corner in that house. Skanda, the son of the village-chief, came to sport with a slave-girl Dantilā. Like Siṃha, he called out and no one answered. After he had amused himself, Skanda left and Gośāla laughed aloud. Saying, “Who, pray, laughs aloud, after staying hidden like a piśāca?” Skanda beat him and then went home.

Gośāla told the Lord, “Is this your duty as master, that you do not protect me when I am beaten, though innocent?” Siddhārtha said to him again, “Fool, several times you have brought injury on yourself in this way by the fault of your mouth, like a partridge.”^[2]

Then the Blessed One went to the hamlet Kumāra and stood in statuesque posture in a garden named Campaka-ramaṇīya. There lived a potter, Kūpanaya by name, rich in money and grain, addicted to drink, always like a liquor-worm. At that time a very famous disciple of Pārśvanātha, Ācārya Municandra, attended by a flock of disciples, was stopping in his house. The sūri put a disciple, Vardhana, in charge of the group and practiced the extremely difficult practices of the Jinakalpa.^[3] One day he was meditating on himself, deeply concentrated, with regard to the second division of reflection—penance, strength of character, scripture, solitariness of the soul, and power (of mind and body).^[4]

Now Gośāla said to the Lord at noon, “It is time for us to go inside the village for alms.” Siddhārtha said, “We fast today.” But Gośāla entered the village for alms, as he was very hungry. He saw Pārśva’s disciples, who were wearing various garments, carrying bowls, et cetera, and he asked “Who are you?” They replied, “We are Nirgranthas, disciples of Pārśva.” Gośāla laughed and said: “Out upon you telling falsehoods. How can you be Nirgranthas when you have possessions, clothes, et cetera? This hypocritical pretence is only for the sake of a living. Devoid of interest in clothes, et cetera; indifferent to the body also—of which kind is my teacher of religion and Nirgranthas are such.” They did not know the Lord Jina and replied: “Such as you are, such is your teacher of religion. Has he himself taken an outfit?” Gośāla angrily cursed, “If there is psychic fire from penance of my teacher in religion, may this rest-house burn down.” They said, “Indeed, we are not burned from your speech.” Gośāla, ashamed, went and told the Master: “I saw today ascetics with possessions who were contemptuous of you. I cursed them angrily, ‘May that rest-house burn,’ yet their rest-house did not burn at all. Tell me truly, Master, the reason for that.” Siddhārtha said: “They are indeed disciples of Śrī Pārśva Svāmin. How, look you! would their rest-house burn at your speech?”

Meanwhile, it happened that Sūri Municandra in the night had gone outside the rest-house and stood in statuesque posture at that time. Kūpanaya had drunk wine at a guild-feast outside and, staggering home intoxicated, saw the ācārya. With the idea that he was a thief, the hard-hearted potter seized the ācārya by the neck pitilessly and quickly choked his breath. Unmoved from pure meditation, enduring the pain, having clairvoyance produced at once, the ācārya died and went to heaven. Vyantaras nearby showed him honor, raining flowers on him, like the wind at dawn.

Now Gośāla saw a brilliant line of gods in the sky like a streak of lightning and said to the Lord: “Master, is the rest-house of your enemies burning? That fire is to be inferred from the mass of flames in the sky.” Siddhārtha replied: “Do not talk so. The sūri has gone to heaven because of pure meditation. For pure meditation is a cow of plenty. These brilliant gods (have come) to show him honor, because of whom you of little wit have the mistaken idea of a fire.” From curiosity to see that, Gośāla went quickly, but the gods went to their own place. When do such men have a sight of the gods! When he had seen the shower of flowers and perfume on him (Municandra), delighted, he went to the rest-house and said to his (the sūri’s) disciples who were asleep: “Do you, miserable disciples, shaven-heads,^[5] sleep the whole night, like pythons, after eating alms as you like by day? You certainly do not know this: that the sūri has died. This is affection for gurus, indeed! on the part of you, well-born.” Because of his words, the sages arose, thinking, “Who is this man who talks in this way like a piśāca?” They went near the ācārya and, when they had seen him like that, they blamed themselves for a long time, like sons in a good family. After Gośāla had ridiculed them, a clown from talking as he liked, he went to the Lord, and the Lord went to the hamlet Corāka.

The Master, engaged in kāyotsarga, and Gośāla were seen by guards searching there for spies from fear of enemies. The Lord was questioned by them, “Who are you? Say.” But he gave no answer at all because he had a vow of silence. Indeed, munis observing silence are the same as deaf.

“He is certainly some one’s spy, since he remains silent.” They, cruel at heart, took the Master and Gośāla prisoners. They bound Gośāla like a witch and threw him down a well. They drew him up and let him down repeatedly, like a water-jar. Two disciples of Pārśva, sisters of Utpala, Somā and Jayantikā, best of nuns, mendicants, were living in Corāka at that time. They heard from the people, “Two men of such and such appearance are being tortured by the guards by throwing them in and lifting them out of water.” “That might be the ascetic, the last Tīrthakara,” and they approached the Lord instantly and saw him in such a condition. They said to the guards: “Fools, wishing to die, do you not know that he is the lord, son of King Siddhārtha?” Terrified, they released the Master, bowed, and begged his forgiveness again and again. Indeed great men do not become angry, but are indulgent with people terrified of themselves.

After he had spent several days there, the Supreme Lord went to the city Pṛṣṭhacampā to pass the fourth rainy season. Observing a four-month fast, standing in statuesque posture repeatedly, the Lord of the World remained there four months. After he had broken his fast somewhere outside on the last day of the rainy season, the Lord of Three Worlds went to the town Kṛtamaṅgala. Heretics, called Daridrasthaviras,^[6] who had big enterprises and property, lived there with wives and children. In their section of town there was a large temple adorned with statues of their hereditary family-gods. In one corner of that temple, motionless as one of its pillars, the Lord stood in kāyotsarga. absorbed in meditation.

At that time in the month of Māgha the cold at night was very hard to endure. A great festival of these heretics took place in the temple. They gathered in the temple together with their sons, et cetera joyfully and danced and sang and kept watch. Gośāla said with laughter: “Who are these heretics, alas! whose wives drink wine, sing, dance, et cetera publicly?” Angered at hearing that, they seized Gośāla by the neck and expelled him at once from the temple like a dog. Gośāla stood crouched down from the cold like the letter aitch, making music with his teeth like a lute-player on a lute. They took pity on Gośāla and let him enter again; and, warmed in a few minutes, he talked in the same way again. He was put out again and again allowed to enter. From anger and pity for him, they did this three times.

When Gośāla entered the fourth time, he said: “Why are you of little wit angry at the mention of true facts? Why are you, heretics, not angry at your own misconduct? Why do you try to injure me repeatedly because I speak clear facts?” The young heretics got up with the intention of beating him, but their elders restrained them and said firmly:

“He may be the stool-bearer or umbrella-bearer or some other attendant of the holy man, a heap of penance, a mahātma. Enough of this talk. Let him talk as he likes. If you cannot bear to hear him, beat the drums.” They did so.

At sunrise the Master went to Śrāvastī and stood outside in statuesque posture. When it was time for food, Gośāla said to the Lord: “Blessed One, come for alms. For food is the foundation of life.” Siddhārtha said as before, “Oh! we are fasting.” Gośāla asked, “What kind of food shall I get today?” Siddhārtha replied: “Now you will eat human flesh.” Gośāla said, “I shall not eat anything that has even the smell of flesh.” With this determination he entered the city Śrāvastī for alms.

Now, in this city there was a house-holder, Pitṛdatta. The children of his wife Śrībhadrā were born dead. She asked a fortune-teller, Śivadattaka, earnestly, “How can my offspring live?” He said: “Grind up the still-born infant’s flesh and blood with ghī and honey and make a pudding with milk. If you give this to cat to an ascetic whose feet arc dusty, then your children will live, O woman whose children now die. After he has eaten it and gone, you must change the door of the house, so that he can not burn down your house from anger when he has found out what the food was.” Desiring children, she made a pudding of her dead infant just as he said and gave it with devotion to Gośāla who came at that time. After he had eaten, he went to the Master and said, “After a long time, you are mistaken.” Siddhārtha told him how the pudding was made. Gośāla put his finger in his mouth, vomited, and saw pieces, nails, et cetera, in it and was very angry. He went to look for the house and, as the door had been changed, Gośāla did not know its marks, just like a cowherd.^[7] Then Gośāla said, “If my guru has psychic fire from penance, may the whole district burn down.” “The power of the Jina must not be frustrated,” and the Vyantaras, who were present there, burned the unfortunate district.

After staying for a time, the Lord went to a village named Haridruka, and stood outside in statuesque posture under a sandal (haridru) tree. A large caravan on its way to Śrāvastī camped under the same tree which served as an umbrella from the shade of its leaves. The caravan, afraid of the cold as well as terrified of tigers, kept a fire burning during the night. At daybreak the caravan got up and went ahead. The fire, which had not been put out from carelessness spread gradually like a disease and went near Mahāvīra, like the submarine fire in the ocean. Saying, “The fire is coming, Blessed One. Run! run!” Gośāla fled elsewhere speedily like a flight of crows. Even though he had heard his speech, the Master remained motionless, considering the fire to be a fire of meditation for burning the fuel of karma. The Master’s feet were turned very dark by the fire, like the calyxes of lotuses by the frost of winter.

After the fire had gone out, the Master and Gośāla went to the village Lāṅgala; and the Master stood in statuesque posture in a temple of Vāsudeva. Gośāla, out of curiosity, changed his figure to look like a ghost and thoroughly terrified the village-boys who had gone ṭhere to play. The boys fled with stumbling gait to the village, some losing their clothes, some bursting their noses, from fear. Their fathers came and saw Gośāla such as he was (a preta) and saying, “Why did you scare the boys?” beat him very hard. Their elders saw the Master and said to their men: “Let him go. He is probably a disciple of this holy man.” They turned Gośāla loose and he said: “Master, why did you look on with indifference just now when I was beaten? You are cruel as a thunderbolt indeed!” Siddhārtha said, “You were beaten just now deservedly because of your own nature which is like a disease that has developed in your body.”

After he had completed kāyotsarga, the Master went to the village Āvarta and stood in statuesque posture in a temple of Baladeva. There also Gośāla scared the boys as before and was beaten by their fathers like an unruly donkey. After their fathers had gone away, he scared the boys again. Even when life is in danger, it is difficult for men to give up their nature. Their fathers, angry, came and said to each other: “We Have beaten this wretch, this abuser of boys, enough. His master, who does not restrain him, should be beaten. Punishment of the master for the crime of servants is the custom.” Leaving Gośāla in his crime like a house-dog, with malicious intent they ran at Śrī Vīra with raised sticks. Sīrin’s (Balarāma’s) statue, presided over by a Vyantara, who was present, devoted to the Arhat, angrily stood up with his plough raised to threaten them, like Sīrin in person. Filled with terror and astonishment, the villagers fell at the Master’s lotus-feet and begged forgiveness, blaming themselves.

Then the Master went to the hamlet Corāka and stood in statuesque posture in a secluded place in it. Gośāla said to the Lord, “Are we going for alms or not?” Siddhārtha replied,” We are fasting today.” Gośāla was hungry and entered the village, eager for alms, and saw food for a party being cooked just then. With the idea that it was not yet the time for alms, Gośāla watched, hidden. At that time there was a great fear of thieves in that village. The villagers surmised, “This man is a thief or a spy for thieves, since he watches from hiding,” and they beat the miserable Gośāla. Poor Gośāla cursed, “If my teacher in religion has any psychic force from penance, may their pavilion burn down very soon.” The pavilion was burned by Vyantaras devoted to the Blessed One and the Lord of the World went to the hamlet Kalambuka.

Two brothers were there, lords of a mountain, Megha and Kālahastin. At that time Kālahastin was pursuing thieves with soldiers. He saw the Lord traveling with Gośāla and was frightened at the thought, “They are thieves.” Such is the intelligence of such men. “Who are you?” he asked. The Master said nothing, because he had a vow of silence: and Gośāla remained silent, also, from love of strife, like a monkey. Kālahastin bound Gośāla and the Master and turned them over to his brother. Megha was a servant of Siddhārtha and had seen the Master before. He apologized and released the Lord.

Footnotes and references:

[1]:

I.e. rice that has stood after cooking, perhaps overnight.

[2]:

IS 4879 says that the tittira, partridge, along with parrots and mainas, owes its captivity to its facility in talking. See IV, p. 67; and Bloomfield’s. On Talking Birds in Hindu Fiction.

[3]:

The Puritans of the Jains.

[4]:

These divisions of tulanā (= bhāvanā) are discussed in great detail with various interpretations in Rājendra., s.v. jinakappa.

[5]:

A term of reproach—their heads were shaven, instead of the hair being pulled out.

[6]:

Literally, ‘poor and old.’ The Rājendra. has no additional information about them.

[7]:

Apparently the idea is that a cowherd would have trouble in distinguishing his animals, which he surely would not have.