Part 11: Story of Kapila

The ministers answered: ‘Master, there is a fine city, Kauśāmbī, and in it there was a king suitably named Jitaśatru. He had a chaplain, a Brāhman named Kāśyapa, who had crossed the ocean of the entire sphere of knowledge. He had a wife, Punaryaśas, and they had a son, Kapila. In his infancy Kaśyapa died and Kapila was without a protector. The king, disregarding the boy, appointed another Brāhman to Kāśyapa’s position. Of what value is custom without suitability? The Brāhman roamed in the city, mounted on a prancing horse, with the splendor of an umbrella, his body untouched by the sun's rays. At the sight of him, Kapila’s mother recalled her husband’s splendor and wept. Weeping is the friend in misfortune of the unhappy-fated. Kapila wept aloud also when he saw his mother weeping. Sorrow is reflected in a friend like an image in a mirror.

Shedding tears from both eyes, Kapila lifted up his face that resembled a strainer with two streams and said to his mother, “Why are you crying?” She replied: “Just as this Brāhman is flourishing with splendor, so was your father. Recalling that, son, I weep. Your father’s wealth has been obtained by him, indeed, since you have not acquired the (necessary) qualities. The father’s wealth is not preserved even by sons, if they are worthless.” Kapila said, “Then, mother, I shall study to become qualified.” She said: “Everyone here is envious. Who will teach you? If you have such an intention, go to the city Śrāvastī. There is a friend of your father, a Brāhman named Indradatta. Son, he, well-pleased, will make you having come seeking knowledge full of arts, like a son, equal to your father.”

Kapila went to Indradatta, bowed, made himself known, and said, “Teach me, father. There is no one else to be my protector.” The teacher replied: “You are the son of my brother, certainly. Your father is not disgraced by you seeking knowledge thus. However, I say I am helpless in. the matter of hospitality, as I am poor. Where will your daily food come from, now that you have come here to us? For the desire for knowledge is really useless to one without food. Not even the drum sounds without food.”^[1]

Kapila said: “Father, food will come from alms. Indeed, from the tiṃe of tying on the mauṭji-girdle, the words, ‘Give alms,’ are an accomplishment of Brāhmans. A Brāhman, even mounted on an elephant, is not ashamed, begging for alms. The mendicant, like a king, is dependent on no one, no place.” Indradatta said: “Son, alms are most excellent for those practicing austerities. In your case, if they are not received even once, what will become of your study?”

With these words, the Brāhman took the boy by the arm and at once took him to the house of a very rich man Śālibhadra. He stopped outside and made himself known as a Brāhman by repeating the gāyatrī beginning, “Om! Earth, air, heaven.” The rich man summoned the Brāhman and asked, “Pray, what do you want?” “Give food daily to this young Brāhman,” he requested. The rich man granted this and so Kapila always ate in his house and studied every day with Indradatta.

Now, when Kapila went to Śālibhadra’s house to eat, a young slave-girl always offered him special food, Young and fond of laughter, he fell in love with her. For young men the presence of young women is a pregnancy-whim of the tree of love. She also fell in love with him and in the course of time they became lovers. One day the slave-girl, though she had no inclination toward any other man, said to him secretly: “You alone are my husband, but you are poor. Therefore, for the sake of subsistence, I shall take another man.” He agreed.

One day in this city, there was a slave-girls’ festival, and this girl became very sad at the thought of flowers, leaves, et cetera. Kapila saw her sorrowful and asked, “Fair lady, why are you pale like a frost-bitten lotus?” She said: “Today there is a slave-girl’s festival. I have no flowers, nor leaves, nor anything. I shall have to hide myself among the slave-girls. What alternative is there for me? “Kapila, possessed by a Vyantara of sorrow for her stood silent from unhappiness. The slave-girl spoke as follows: “Do not be downcast. There is a rich sheth here. Whoever wakens him at daylight, to him he gives two māṣas of gold.^[2] Go to his house before the night has become light and recite with gentle speech, ‘Good fortune, son of a fortunate lady.’” She urged Kapila, who had agreed, (to go) to the house of the rich man this very night at midnight. Wandering on an unfrequented street in the city, he was soon captured and bound by the guards with the idea that he was a thief. For such is the conduct of thieves.

At daybreak he was taken before King Prasenajit and on examination told the story in full of the māṣas of gold. The king heard this as it was and, filled with the water of compassion, said to him, “Sir, ask for whatever you wish and I shall give it.” He said, “I shall make a request after I have reflected.” Then the Brāhman went to a grove of aśokas, concentrated on one thing like a yogi, and reflected:

“Two māṣas of gold would not be sufficient for clothes, et cetera. Therefore, I should ask the king for one hundred. When you gain a request, should the request be very small? Even with one hundred (māṣas) of gold there would not be high position, carriages, et cetera. I should ask for one thousand, the price of obtaining the things desired. Even with one thousand, whence would come the festivals of children’s marriages, et cetera? Therefore, I should ask for a lac. For I am clever in asking. Even with a lac, whence would come the support of friends, relatives, and the poor? Therefore, I should ask for a crore, a hundred crores, a thousand crores.”

As he was reflecting thus, from the maturing of good karma there was a thought with good development—for thought conforms to karma: “The contentment that was mine at the (prospect of the) acquisition of two māṣas of gold, that has left me today at the acquisition of even a crore, as if frightened by it. That is a great calamity for me who came here for the sake of knowledge, like one, who wished to go to the sea, going to Himavat. The teacher’s imparting knowledge to me was like planting a lotus in dry ground, since I practiced slavery, not suited to a good family, to a slave-girl. Therefore, enough of these worldly desires.” With these reflections he attained desire for emancipation and, the memory of former births having arisen, he became self-enlightened. He pulled the hair from his head himself and took the broom, the mouth-cloth, and other things brought by a deity.

When he went to the king, the king asked him, “What did you decide?” So he related the expansion of his desires and said: “Just as gain, so is desire. From gaining (what you desire), desire increases. The result which was planned within the limits of two māṣas of gold, that is not accomplished even with a crore.” The king, astonished, said, “I shall give even crores. Enjoy pleasures. Give up your vow. There was no witness to your vow.” Kapila said: “Enough of objects that cause evil, king. I have become free from desire. May you acquire dharma, sir.” Saying this, Muni Kapila, free from all worldly connections, desireless, free from egotism, went away then and wandered over the earth. When he had thus observed the vow for six months, brilliant omniscience came to the great muni Kapila.

Now, there was a terrible forest, eighteen yojanas in extent, on the way to Rājagṛha, where there were five hundred thieves, named Kaḍadāsa, Balabhadra, and others whom Kapila knew were worthy of enlightenment. In order to benefit the thieves, the muni, giving protection to all living things, approached the forest. One thief climbed to the top of a tree, like a monkey, and saw Kapila, the best of ascetics, coming at a distance. The thief thought, “Who is this that comes, disregarding us?” He described him to the leader. Kapila approached the leader who, saying in his ignorance, “Thank heaven for the sport that has come,” ordered the muni, “Dance, dance, ascetic.” Ṛṣi Kapila said: “There is no musician. How is dancing possible without music? There is no result without cause.” So the five hundred thieves made music by clapping their hands and Kapila danced and sang aloud in a way pleasing to the ear.

“In this transitory existence full of painful experiences, that action should take place by which I shall not come to a low status.” Kapila sang five hundred verses beginning with this one, all in Prakrit, charming with beautiful melody. When the great sage Kapila had sung these verses, the thieves were enlightened by these verses, one by each verse. Then Muni Kapila had the five hundred thieves take the vow of mendicancy. Indeed, this was (fore) seen by his intellectual vision.

The Brāhman sage, Kapila, having accepted the teaching of the god of gods in Rājagṛha, is right here, purifying your city. He, omniscient, self-enlightened, the crest-jewel of the Śvetāmbaras, will make the consecration. There is a maturing of your merit.’

Then Muni Kapila, requested by the lord of Avantī, consecrated the statue, throwing powder purified by sacred verses on it.^[3]

After he had anointed it and worshipped it, the king lifted the statue in his arms and set it on the door of his heart as a miser would a treasure. The king set the statue on Anilavega’s shoulder and, mounted near it, supported it himself like a minister. He went on the elephant swifter than the vehicles of the servant-gods to Vītabhaya and gave the statue to the slave-girl. She deposited the statue in the shrine, took the original one, and came. The king mounted the slave-girl and the statue on the elephant. The king also mounted the elephant and arrived in Avantī so quickly that the city appeared to have come to meet him.

Footnotes and references:

[1]:

I.e. the drum is smeared with paste.

[2]:

The māṣa is a jeweler’s weight which varies, but the one in most general use is 17 gr. Troy.

[3]:

The powder is kept in the hands, mantras are recited, then the powder is thrown on the statue.