Part 3: Wandering of Mahāvīra and Gośāla (continued)

As the Master went along, he met a bride and groom with completely disfigured shapes, whose marriage had taken place at that time. The wretched Gośāla saw them and said: “Look! These two are pot-bellied, snaggle-toothed, with long necks and chins, bleared eyes, and ugly noses. Shame upon the suitability of the union made by the Creator. Since these two were made bride and groom, I think he was playing a joke.” He said this again and again before them and gave a burst of laughter repeatedly, like a clown. The bridal couple's servants, angered, quickly trussed him up like a peacock, as if he were a robber, and threw him into a bamboo-thicket.

Gośāla said:” Master, why do you look at me with indifference when I am tied up? You are compassionate to other people. Why not to your attendant?” Siddhārtha said to him: “These misfortunes which happen constantly to you like a wanton monkey are caused by your own evil acts, nothing else.” The Master went a short distance with the intention of waiting for him. The bridal couple’s servants saw the Lord and reflected, “He is the stool-or umbrella-bearer, or some other servant of this holy man, a heap of penance, since he waits for him.” With this idea they released Gośāla out of regard for the Master.

Wandering with him the Master gradually reached the cow-country (Gobhūmi). Gośāla said to the herdsmen: “Mlecchas with a disgusting appearance, heroes of the cow-pen, where does this road go? Tell us, sirs.” The herdsmen replied: “Why, traveler, do you abuse us so without cause? Certainly you are not our brother-in-law.”^[1] Gośāla said again: “Sons of slaves, miserable sons of animals, will you not endure it then if I abuse you very much? This description of your own nature was not abuse committed by me. Did I speak an untruth when I said, ‘You are disgusting Mlecchas?”’ Angered, they beat him and bound him and threw him in a bamboo-thicket. Other travelers, compassionate, released him.

The Master went to Rājagṛha and spent the eighth rainy season, observing a fast of four months, with numerous vows. At the end of four months, the Master broke his fast outside.

He reflected: “This very day much of my karma is to be destroyed.” Accompanied by the miserable Gośāla the Master went to the Mleccha countries—Vajrabhūmi, Śuddhabhūmi, Lāṭa, and others—for the destruction of karma. There the Mlecchas, resembling Paramādharmikas,^[2] persecuted Śrī Vīra as they liked with various and numerous attacks. Some seized the Master; some laughed aloud. Some surrounded him with vicious dogs, et cetera. The Master was delighted by these attacks because of the destruction of karma, like one wounded by an arrow by cuts for the purpose of removing the arrow. The Lord looked on the Mlecchas—assistants in the destruction of karma—as brothers, or even more than that, himself a doctor for the disease of karma. This very Vīra, from the pressure of whose big toe Mt. Meru trembled, wandered, oppressed by karma.

Siddhārtha, who had been appointed by Śakra to ward off calamities, was attentive at the time of an answer to Gośāla, not at any other time. The lndras too, alas! were all indifferent to the pain of him at whose feet they act as servants and roll on the ground again and again. At whose mere name as a charm great troubles disappear, he is oppressed by small ones. Before whom are we to complain? Alas for the kind acts to people, because of which, even though they originated with the Master, the Master, whose soul is assailed by obstacles, is not rescued from an evil fate by ingrates! The Lord did not esteem his own strength which tolerated the failure of the world to rescue (him). People eager for worldly pleasures take the fruit of their own strength. Without obtaining a dwelling, partaking of heat, cold, et cetera, the Master, vigilant, passed six months which were watchful of dharma. Absorbed in pious meditation, occupying an empty house or standing under a tree, the Master passed the ninth rainy season.

Then the Master and Gośāla went to the city Siddhārtha and then went on to the village Kūrmagrāma. Seeing a stalk of sesame on the road, Gośāla said to the Lord: “Master will this stalk of sesame ripen or not?” Then by the power of fate, the Blessed One broke his silence and said himself: “Sir, it will ripen. But the seven flower-souls that are present on it will be the same number of sesame seeds in only one seed-pod.” Gośāla did not believe his words, dug up the sesame-stalk, and threw it with a ball of dirt (clinging to it) somewhere else. “May the Master’s words not be false,” then nearby gods created a shower of rain and the sesame-stalk revived. Pressed down with her hoof by a cow passing in its vicinity, it was pushed into the damp earth and then became firmly planted. Its root grew strong gradually and gradually a shoot appeared and flowers began to grow on the sesame-stalk. The Blessed One went to the village Kūrmagrāma, accompanied by stupid Gośāla, thinking himself devoted.

Now, between Rājagṛha and Campā there is a wealthy village named Gobāra, the ornament of the whole earth. In it lived a house-holder, Gośaṅkhin, chief of the Ābhīras, whose wife, Bandhavatī, very dear to him, was barren. Near this village was a village named Kheṭaka which had been destroyed by robbers who came, and prisoners were taken also. At that time a woman named Veśikā had given birth to a son. Her husband, Surūpa, had been killed and she was driven off by the robbers. Suffering from child-birth, carrying the child, she was not able to keep up with the swift thieves, like a cow with wild bulls. And the thieves said to her, “If you wish to live, abandon the child who is like an embodied disease of yourself.” Terrified, she left the child under a tree and went with the robbers. For nothing is as dear as life to every one.

At dawn Gośaṅkhin came there with the cows, saw the baby, and picked it up, saying, “He is well-formed.” He gave the baby to his own wife as a son. Even another’s child becomes infinitely dear to the childless. He killed a goat and smeared the baby with blood and, clever, took clothing of his wife that was suitable for child-birth. “My wife was secretly pregnant. Now she has borne a son,” he announced to the people and held a great celebration.

The child's mother, Veśikā, had been placed for sale at the crossroads in the city Campā by the thieves and was bought by a courtesan with the idea, “She is suitable.” The courtesan taught her the courtesan-business and she became a well-known courtesan, by whom Apsarases were excelled in beauty.

Gradually Gośaṅkhin’s son became a young man and went with a friend to Campā to sell a load of ghī. He saw the townsmen there amusing themselves surrounded by clever young women. After he had seen them, he went to the courtesans’ quarter, wishing to dally. He saw his mother, Veśikā, among the courtesans and he wished to enjoy her and no one else. For ignorant people are like cattle. At that time he had a retainer given to her alone and at night set out for her house, bathed and anointed. As he went on the road, his foot slipped in dirt, but, confused by love, he did not know that he had slipped in something. To enlighten him at once, his household-divinity created a cow and calf and stood nearby on his path. When he began to rub his dirty foot on the calf, the calf spoke in a human voice to the cow:

“Look, mother! this shameless animal of a man, devoid of dharma, pitiless, wipes his own foot covered with dirt on me.” The cow replied: “Do not be distressed. Nothing is impossible for him who, an ass for love, hastens to enjoy his own mother.”

Hearing that, he reflected: “How do these cows speak with human voices and how am I the son of the courtesan? I shall see the courtesan herself.” With this thought he went to her house and she gave him respectful welcome by rising up, et cetera. Disturbed by the speech of the cow, putting off the business of love, after a moment he said to her, “Tell your own history.” She pretended not to hear and displayed emotions and feelings.^[3] For that is the chief instruction in love of courtesans. He said: “I will give double the money agreed on. Tell the truth about yourself. There is a curse on you from your parents.” Questioned again and again in this way by him, she told the true facts. He, anxious, left and went to his village.

He asked his parents there: “Am I your natural-born son or some one else, obtained or bought? Tell me the facts” When they said, “You are our natural-born son,” he did not eat, grieved by the falsehood. Then the parents described truly how they got him; and he knew that the courtesan Veśikā was his mother.

He went to Campā and told his own history to Veśikā. She too knew that he was her son and wept, her face hidden from shame. He paid money and released his mother from the procuress. He took her to his village, released her, and set her on the path in dharma. Because he was the son of Veśikā, he was called Vaiśikāyana. At that very time, disgusted with worldly things, he took the vows of an ascetic. Devoted to the study of his religious books, expert in his religion, he gradually went to Kūrmagrāma before Śrī Vīra’s arrival. Outside the village, he endured the sun’s heat at midday, holding his arms erect, his gaze fixed on the sun, with a mass of twisted hair hanging down, like a banyan tree, motionless, naturally reverent, compassionate and courteous, tranquil, absorbed in pious meditation. From the sun's heat a louse fell to the ground. He, a depository of compassion, picked it up and threw it on his head again.

Gośāla observed him from the Master’s side, approached him, and said: “Do you know the truth or are you offering a refuge to lice? Are you a woman or a man? For you can not be distinguished at all.” The ascetic, patient, made no reply at all, when he was addressed in this way. Again and again Gośāla spoke to him in the same way. Even if a dog’s tail were put in a machine many times, it would be crooked. Then the ascetic became angry and discharged a hot flash. A fire is produced even from sandal by excessive rubbing. Terrified by the terrible flame of the hot-flash, the miserable Gośāla went to the Lord, like a forest-elephant, terrified by a forest-fire, to a river. To rescue the wretched Gośāla the Master discharged a cold flash. The hot flash was put out by the cold flash like a fire by water. When he had seen the Master’s power, Vaiśikāyana, astonished, approached Mahāvīra and said respectfully: “Blessed One, I did not know that this man was a disciple of yours. So pardon such incorrect conduct on my part in this matter.”

After he had said this and had gone away, Gośāla said to the Lord, “Blessed One, how is this hot flash acquired?” The Master said: “If any one observes two-day fasts constantly and, self-controlled, breaks the fast with a handful of unhusked pulse and a mouthful of water, at the end of six months, a very powerful hot flash will arise, irresistible, terrifying to enemies.”

The Supreme Lord, accompanied by Gośāla, left Kūrmagrāma for the excellent town, Siddhārthapura. When they reached the place of the sesame-stalk, Gośālaka said, “The sesame-stalk has not ripened as the Master predicted.” The Master said, “The ripened sesame-stalk is found here.” Gośāla did not believe it and split open the sesame seed-pod. Seeing the seven sesame seeds in it, Gośāla said, “People are born again, having returned to the very same body.”

One day he went to the city Śrāvastī, abandoning the Master’s feet, to acquire the hot flash described by the Master. He stayed at a potter's house, practiced the prescribed penance for six months and the hot flash resulted. To test the hot flash he went to the proximity of a well and, to create anger against himself, broke a slave-girl's jar with a rock. She began to abuse him and he discharged a hot flash instantly. It fell like lightning and burned the slave-girl. With confidence acquired in this way, devoted to the sight of curiosities, Gośālaka began to wander, surrounded by people. Six disciples of Śrī Pārśva, learned in the eight divisions of the science of omens, who had abandoned their vows, joined Gośālaka. They were named Śoṇa, Kalinda, Karṇikāra, Acchidra, Agniveśāna, and Arjuna. the sixth. From friendship they explained the eight divisions of the science of omens to him. Friendship develops at once between men of the same character. Proud of the hot flash and the eightfold science of omens he began to wander over the earth, saying, “I am a Jina.”

The Lord went from Siddhārthapura to the city Vaiśālī and there Śaṅkha, a friend of his father, a vassal, paid honor to the Lord. Then the Blessed One started to Vāṇijakagrāma and on the way he crossed the river Maṇḍikikā by boat. As soon as he had debarked, the Blessed One was held on the hot sand on the bank by the sailors who asked for pay for taking him across the river. Just then the nephew, named Citra, of the vassal Śaṅkha, came on an embassy and saw the Lord being held by the boatmen. He reviled the boatmen and had the Lord released. After Citra had paid homage to the Lord with extreme devotion, he went to his own city.

And now the Blessed One went to Vāṇijakagrāma and stood outside in statuesque posture, absorbed in pious meditation. Then a lay-disciple, Ānanda, who had fasted for two days constantly engaged in enduring the heat of the sun, in whom clairvoyance had arisen, paid homage to the Lord. Extending his joined hands, he said:

“Blessed One, you have endured trials hard to endure and cruel attacks. Your body is as hard as a diamond and your mind is as hard as a diamond, since neither one is broken even by these trials and attacks. Now omniscience is near, Lord.”

With these words Ānanda bowed to the Lord again and went home. The Master completed kāyotsarga and went to Śrāvastī and passed the tenth rainy season since his initiation. He broke his fast outside and went to the village Sānuyaṣṭika.

There the Blessed One observed the bhadrā-penance. In this the Lord, fasting, stood a whole day facing the east first, his gaze fixed on a single object. Facing the south during the night, the west during the day and the north during the night, the Lord observed the penance with a two-day fast. Without breaking his fast the Lord performed the mahābhadrā-penance and stood four days and nights in the directions, cast, et cetera in turn. After the Lord had thus performed the mahābhadrā-penance with a four-day fast, he undertook the sarvatobhadrā with a ten-day fast. He stood a day and night in each of the ten directions. However, he set the high and low objects in the high and low directions in his mind.

After he had performed the three penances, the Teacher of the World entered the house of the householder Ānanda to break his fast. There a slave-girl, Bahulā, was cleaning the dishes and intending to throw out the left-over food, saw the Lord who had come. “Is it suitable for you?” she asked the Master. The Master held out his hand and she, devoted, gave him the food. Then the gods, pleased with the Master’s fastbreaking, made the five, divine things^[4] on that house and all the people rejoiced.

At that same time Bahulā was freed from slavery by the king. Indeed, souls capable of emancipation are freed from existence itself by the Master’s favor.

After the Lord had broken his fast there, wandering over the earth, he came to the Dṛḍha-country which was inhabited by many Mleccha-families. Near the village Peḍhāla in a garden Peḍhāla he entered a temple made of palāśa, observing a three-day fast. Standing on a stone slab that was devoid of injury to living creatures, his arms hanging down to his knees, his body slightly bent, his mind firm, unwinking, his gaze fixed on one gross object, the Lord stood there in statuesque posture for one night long.

Then Śakra in the council-hall Sudharmā surrounded by eighty-four thousand Sāmānikas. thirty-three Trāyastriṃśas, the three divisions of councilors, four Lokapālas, Prakīrṇakas beyond number, eighty-four thousand body-guards with firmly bound girdles in each of the four directions, seven generals surrounded by armies, groups of gods and goddesses who were Ābhiyogyas, Kilbiṣikas, et cetera,^[5] the protector of the southern half of the universe, was passing the time with amusements, the three kinds of musical instruments,^[6] et cetera, seated on Śakra’s (own) lion-throne. Knowing by clairvoyance that the Blessed One was standing so, Śakra rose, removed his shoes, put on his upper garment, placed his right knee on the ground, bent the left one somewhat, and, his head touching the ground, paid homage to him with a Śakrastava.^[7]

Śaśīpati rose and, having coat of mail from hair raised on all his body from delight, said to the whole assembly:

“Sirs, all of you, highest gods living in Saudharma, hear the wonderful power of the Master, Śrī Mahāvīra. Observing the five kinds of carefulness, purified by the three controls, not subject to anger, conceit, deceit and greed, devoid of channels of karma, his mind unrestricted in substance, place, time, and nature, his gaze fixed on one gross object, absorbed in meditation, he can not be moved from meditation by gods, asuras, Yakṣas, Rākṣasas, Nāgas, men, nor even by the three worlds.”

Hearing this speech of Śakra’s, a god who was one of Śakra’s Sāmānikas, terrifying from the frown that was made on the surface of his forehead, his lips quivering, his eyes protruding and red from anger, a soul not capable of emancipation, devoted to deep false belief, named Saṅgamaka, said:

“Majesty, if this mortal, a mere ascetic is described thus, power at will over true and false speech is the cause of that. ‘This one can not be moved from meditation even by the gods.’ Lord, how can this extraordinary idea be conceived in the heart or, if conceived, how can it be uttered? What is this mere mortal to gods of unequaled magnificence, of unlimited power, of fully gratified wishes, who raise Sumeru, which fills the sky with its peaks and the lower world with its roots, by the arm as easily as a clod of earth, for whom the ocean, whose power was apparent from the flooding of the earth with its mountain-ranges, makes only a mouthful, who support the great earth with many mountains with only one arm, as easily as an umbrella? I here will move him from meditation.”

Footnotes and references:

[1]:

‘Brother-in-law’ is a term of abuse in modern India.

[2]:

Demons who torture souls in hell. There are 15 divisions of them. Sam. 15, p. 29f.; com. to T. 3.5; com. to Uttar. 31. 12.

[3]:

Hāvabhāva. See III, n. 212; Sāhityadarpaṇa, 3. 93-94; Daśarūpa, 2. 48-51.

[4]:

The sound of drums, a shower of flowers, a shower of fragrant rain, a shower of jewels, and waving of garments took place on auspicious occasions. See I, p. 180 f.

[5]:

These are servant gods.

[6]:

There are conventionally 4 kinds of musical instruments. Abhi. 2. 200.

[7]:

A śakrastava is a set formula of praise. It is given in the Paṭcaprati., p. 33, sūtra 13.