Trishashti Shalaka Purusha Caritra

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

This page describes War between Kunika and Cetaka which is the seventh part of chapter XII 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.

Part 7: War between Kūṇika and Ceṭaka

Then Padmāvatī saw her brothers-in-law Halla and Vihalla mounted on Secanaka, adorned with divine earrings, wearing the divine necklace and divine garments, like gods come to earth, wonderfully beautiful. In accordance with women’s nature, Padmāvatī thought: “Without the divine necklace, earrings, garments and Secanaka, the kingdom appears like a face without eyes.”

Then with the determination to take these from Halla and Vihalla, the queen spoke to Kūṇika and Kūṇika replied: “It is not fitting for me to take from them objects given by my father. They are especially entitled to favor from me since Father died.” From her excessive persistence the king considered asking for the necklace, et cetera. For the persistence of women certainly exceeds the persistence of a termite.

One day the king, abandoning brotherliness, asked Halla and Vihalla for four things—the necklace, et cetera. Consenting, “Your command is authority,” they went home and both, shrewd, took counsel. “His purpose is not favorable. What is his motive? We shall go elsewhere. Everywhere there is good fortune for the strong.” After reaching this decision, they went in the night to Vaiśālī, taking their harems, the elephant Secanaka, the necklace, et cetera.

Their maternal grandfather, Ceṭaka, embraced them when they arrived and looked on them like an heir-apparent with affection and respectful welcome. When Kūṇika knew that they had gone to Vaiśālī, like a deceived rogue, his chin resting on his hand, he reflected: “I have no jewels, the elephant, et cetera and no brothers, either. I am deprived of both from the domination of a woman. Very well! Since this calamity has happened, if I do not bring them back, what difference is there between me, enduring humiliation, and a merchant?”

Then he sent a messenger with instructions to Ceṭaka at Vaiśālī to demand the brothers who had gone with the jewels. The messenger went to Vaiśālī to Ceṭaka’s assembly, bowed to Ceṭaka, sat down in the proper place and said with self-confidence: “Hand over to Kūṇika the princes Halla and Vihalla who fled here with the jewels, the elephant, et cetera. If you do not deliver them, you will cause the destruction of your kingdom. You ought not to destroy a temple for the sake of a nail.”

Ceṭaka said: “Any one who has come for protection should not be given up; how much less these, my daughter’s sons, trusting, dear as sons.” The messenger said, “If you, affording protection, will not give them up, then take their jewels and deliver them to my master, king.”

Ceṭaka replied: “This law is the same to kings and poor men. Certainly no one else is able to give another’s property. Neither by force nor by persuasion will I take anything from them. For a daughter’s sons, suitable persons for good works, are especially entitled to liberality from me.” The messenger, calm in the wind and fire of anger, went to Campā and told his master what Ceṭaka had said.

Then Kūṇika had the drum of victory sounded. For the powerful, like lions, do not endure a challenge from others. The soldiers of the king, whose splendor was extraordinary, prepared at once for an attack with the whole army. Ten powerful princes, Kāla and others, were in front, having equipped themselves with complete armor. Three thousand elephants, as many horses, as many chariots, three crores of foot-soldiers—this force of each one of the ten princes, so great, was in addition to Kūṇika’s might. The Lord of Campā, going against Ceṭaka with so great an army, covered the earth and the sun with clouds of dust.

Ceṭaka with unlimited troops went to attack Kūṇika, accompanied by eighteen crowned kings. Three thousand elephants, as many horses, as many chariots, and three crores of foot-soldiers—that was the army of each one of the eighteen kings. King Ceṭaka also had an army equal in number. Ceṭaka went to the border of his own country and halted with his army. He made a deep ocean-formation hard to break. The lord of Campā went there with an army of the number mentioned before and made the garuḍa-formation unbreakable by an enemy-army. The terrible war-drums of both armies were beaten by the thousands, their sound filling the space between heaven and earth. Soldiers of both armies, who had taken the oath to die fighting, met, with their hands which were whitened with dust lifted up like pillars of fame.

Prince Kāla, general of Kūṇika’s army, in the beginning advanced to fight with Ceṭaka’s army. Horseman fought with horseman, elephant-rider with elephant-rider, charioteer with charioteer, foot-soldier with foot-soldier in both armies. Then the earth appeared to have mountains of big rocks from the elephants and horses that had been felled by blows from spears. The rivers of blood looked like they had islands with water-men from the broken chariots and from the men killed in battle. There was the appearance of a plantation of asipatra[1] from the flashing swords of eminent heroes on the battle-field. Rākṣasas satisfied their desire for garlands with heroes’ lotus-hands, cut off by swords, springing up. Soldiers’ heads fell, cut off by sword-blades, instructing their own trunks for fighting, as it were, by groans. Kāla plunged into the ocean-formation like a boat into the ocean and went near Ceṭaka like the shore. Ceṭaka saw Kāla coming like death at the wrong time and reflected: “He was hindered by no one, like a thunderbolt. So, I shall instantly kill him, rushing near, Mandara in the ocean of battle, with the divine arrow.” Striking him with the divine arrow, thief of the wealth of enemies’ lives, Ceṭaka killed Kāla.

Then the sun set, like Prince Kāla, and the world was devoured by darkness like the army of Campā’s lord by grief. Giving up fighting, the army of Campā’s lord stayed awake. Whence comes sleep to men living in enmity, like men with faithless wives? But the heroes in Ceṭaka’s army passed the night holding a dance of victory with music from the drums of victory. On the next day Ceṭaka killed Mahākāla, installed as general by Campā’s lord, like Kāla. Ceṭaka killed eight other generals, sons of Śreṇika, one a day, as before.

The King of Campā reflected: “Ten brothers equal to myself, Kāla and the others, have been killed by Ceṭaka. Victorious by the favor of a deity and a single arrow, Ārya Ceṭaka can not be killed by mortals numbered by crores. Alas! As I did not know that power of Ceṭaka, ten godlike brothers were sent to death by me alone. My fate will be the same as theirs. It is not fitting for me, having seen the slaughter of my brothers, to retreat. Propitiating a deity, I shall conquer the enemy by his power. For divine power is restrained by divine power.”

Having determined on this device and having put the god in his heart, the king, Śreṇika’s son, observed a three-day fast. Impelled by his penance and the friendship in a former birth, Śakra and Indra Camara came to him then. The Indra of the gods and the Indra of the Asuras said, “Sir, what do you wish?” He said, “If you are pleased, let Ceṭaka be killed.” Śakra said again: “Ask for something else. Ceṭaka is a co-religionist of mine, Certainly, I will not kill him. Nevertheless, king, I shall give you bodily protection, so that you will not be conquered by him.” He said, “Very well.” Indra Camara thought fit to make a battle which had big stones and a thorn,[2] and a second which had a chariot and a mace, leading to victory. In the first a pebble that had fallen would resemble a large stone. The thorn would be superior to a large weapon. In the second the chariot and the mace roam without an operator. The enemy-army, which had risen for battle, is crushed on all sides by them. Then the three, the Indra of the gods, the Indra of the Asuras, and the Indra of men, Kūṇika, fought with Ceṭaka’s army. A general, named Varuṇa, a grandson of the charioteer Nāga, an observer of the twelve vows, possessing right-belief, making a two-day fast, his mind always disgusted with worldly existence, having made a three-day fast at the end of the two-day fast, because of the attack on the king, strongly urged by King Ceṭaka himself, entered the battle, faithful to a promise, the chariot-mace being so irresistible.

He, insulting the king of Campā’s general for the sake of a battle, very strong, set out in a chariot with unexcelled speed. They approached, their chariots facing each other, with a desire to fight, beginning hostilities, terrifying like Ravi and Rāhu come to earth. The king of Campā’s general shouted to Varuṇa who was before him seeking a fight, “Strike! Strike!” Varuṇa said: “Powerful sir, I have the layman’s vow. I may not strike even an enemy before I am struck.” “Very Well! Very well! noble sir.” The King of Campā’s general discharged an arrow and Varuṇa was wounded in a vital spot. Then Varuṇa, red-eyed, led Kūṇika’s general to the house of Yama by one blow. Suffering from the deep blow, Varuṇa left the battle-field, made a couch of grass, sat down, and reflected:

“My master’s work has been done with all my soul and body. Now death is at hand. It is certainly time for my own business. May all the revered Arhats, Siddhas, and sādhus, the religion taught by the Omniscient, be my refuge.

I pardon all souls. May they all pardon me. There is friendliness on my part toward all existing things. There is hostility on my part toward no one. Nothing is mine; nor do I belong to any one. Whatever action in my own interest I performed, I renounce that. What abodes of evil, did I, deluded, not serve? May that sin of me, free from passion now, be uncommitted, as it were. Whatever sin I committed as god, man, animal, or hell-inhabitant, I repent that. The Arhat, Śrī Vīra, is my refuge.” After making an ārādhanā like this, he renounced the four kinds of food and thought of the namaskāra in deep meditation.

At that time a friend of Varuṇa, a heretic, left the battle, came to Varuṇa and said: “Friend, bought by your friendship, now without knowing it I have accepted the path followed by you.” Desisting from the namaskāra, absorbed in pious meditation, Varuṇa attained a death in concentrated meditation and went to Saudharma. After completing a life of four palyopamas in its palace Aruṇābha, born in the Videhas, he will attain emancipation.

As a result of Varuṇa’s path though followed in ignorance, after his friend had died, he again became a human in good family. After again attaining a human-birth in a good family in the Videhas and adopting the path to emancipation, he will reach the place of emancipation.

When Varuṇa had died, Ceṭaka’s soldiers became doubly energetic in fighting, like a wild boar touched by a stick. Kūṇika’s army was beaten angrily by Ceṭaka’s soldiers, biting their lips from anger, commanded by the vassal-kings. When Kūṇika had seen his own army being beaten, he ran forward, fierce with anger, like a lion struck by a clod. Kūṇika, the elephant of heroes, playing on the battle-field like a pool, threw the enemy-army here and there, like a collection of lotuses. Ceṭaka, very angry, with a wealth of courage, knowing that Kūṇika was hard to conquer, fitted the divine arrow to the bow. Now Hari made an armor of diamond in front of Kūṇika and Indra Camara an armor of iron at his back. The arrow, discharged by the King of Vaiśālī who had drawn his bow to his ear, was stopped on the way by the diamond coat-of-mail. From the sight of the failure of the unerring arrow, Ceṭaka’s soldiers conjectured a decrease in merit. Ceṭaka, observing his promise, did not discharge a second arrow but retreating, fought in the same way on the next day. On the next day Ceṭaka’s arrow was useless in the same way. Thus day after day there was terrible fighting of the two. The crore and eighty lacs of soldiers on both sides who died were born as animals and hell-inhabitants.

When the vassal-kings had escaped, going to their respective cities, Ceṭaka fled to his city and Kūṇika besieged it. Then the heroes Halla and Vihalla, mounted on Secanaka, attacked the King of Campā’s whole army at night. No one could either hit or catch the elephant, like a dream-elephant, when it had come to the King of Campā’s camp for a night attack. Kūṇika said to his circle of ministers: “After they have killed and killed at night, Halla and Vihalla go away safely. Almost our whole army has been destroyed by them. So, speak: What device is there for conquering Halla and Vihalla?”

The ministers said: “They can not be conquered by any one so long as, man-elephants, they are mounted on the elephant. So we must exert ourselves to kill the elephant. Have a ditch made in the road filled with charcoal made from acacia.[3] By covering it, it will be made hard to see like a pit for capturing elephants. Secanaka, running along quickly, will fall into it.”

The King of Campā had the ditch dug, filled with acacia-charcoal, covered over on top, in the road by which they came. Then in the night Halla and Vihalla, mounted on the elephant Secanaka, thinking themselves conquerors, came to attack. When Secanaka came near the charcoal-ditch, discerning it from the furrow, he. stopped, paying no attention to the goad. Then the elephant was abused by Halla and Vihalla: “You are an animal, you are ungrateful, since you have become afraid of fighting. Going to a strange country and abandonment of relatives were made for your sake. Ārya Ceṭaka was thrown into this calamity for you. Better a dog had been nourished, well-disposed, that is always devoted to its master, than you who are indifferent to work of ours from love of life.”

Abused in this way, the elephant, thinking himself devoted, quickly made the princes dismount from his back by force. The elephant himself jumped into the ditch of charcoal, died at once, and was born in the first hell. The princes thought: “Alas! Alas! What have we done! It is evident that we are animals, but Secanaka is not an animal. For whose sake the noble Ārya has been hurled into calamity for a long time, after leading him to death ourselves, we evil-minded, are still alive. Like pledges of destruction for the great army of Āryas, we have caused destruction in vain. A brother has been led to hostility. So it is not fitting for us to live now. Henceforth, if we live, it will be as disciples of the Arhat, Vīra Svāmin, not otherwise.” Then, having become ascetics in mind, they were led by the messenger-deity and quickly took the vow at Śrī Vīra’s feet. Then Aśokacandra (Kūṇika) was not able to take Vaiśālī, though Halla and Vihalla had taken the vow. Such being the case, Campā’s king made such a vow—for the valor of the powerful increases greatly from a vow: “If I do not dig up that city with a plough hitched to a donkey, then I shall die by jumping off a precipice or entering a fire.” After he had made this promise, unable to break down Vaiśālī, Kūṇika became distressed in turn. Then a goddess, angered at the ascetic Kūlavāluka, standing in the air, said this to the miserable Aśokacandra: “If the ascetic Kūlavāluka enjoys the courtesan Māgadhikā, then King Kūṇika will take Vaiśālī.”[4]

Kūṇika, hearing this speech of the goddess in the air, at once breathing easier with the hope of victory produced, said: “The speech of children, the speech of women, and speech concerned with portents, they do not prove false. Where is the ascetic, Kūlavāluka? How will he be found? Where is the courtesan, named Māgadhikā, to be found?” Hearing that, the ministers said: “In your own city, Majesty, there is a courtesan, Māgadhikā. We do not know Kūlavāluka.”

Just then leaving half of his army to besiege Vaiśālī, the king, the lord of Campā, went to Campā with the other half. As soon as he arrived, the son of the King of Magadha summoned the courtesan Māgadhikā in haste, like the best of ministers. He instructed her: “Lady, you are clever; you possess the arts. From birth you have had a constant livelihood from many men. Make fruitful your courtesan’s art in my business, having delighted the ascetic Kūlavāluka by marriage.” “I will do it,” she promised, clever, and was rewarded by Campā’s lord with garments, ornaments, et cetera. Dismissed, she went home and, a depository of intelligence, considered. At once, like deceit embodied, she became a fictitious laywoman. Like a laywoman from birth she showed the people the twelvefold lay-vows properly and veraciously. The simple-minded ācāryas knew her as a laywoman, constantly engaged in temple-pūjās, et cetera, devoted to listening to dharma. One day she asked the ācāryas, “Who is the sādhu, Kūlavāluka?” Not knowing her intention, they told her as follows:

“Pious lady, there is an excellent muni, devoted to the fivefold practices. He has a young disciple, unsteady like a monkey. The young disciple, having fallen away from the practices of sādhus, impelled by the memory of restraints, et cetera, very badly behaved, becomes angry. The guru gave zealously instruction in the practices, hard to listen to, to the young disciple, for it is said in the scriptures: ‘Let an enemy be angry or not; let it appear like poison or not, beneficial speech must be spoken, productive of good qualities in one’s own followers.’ He paid no attention to the guru’s admonitions, harsh or gentle. For the guru’s words are powerful in the case of a disciple with light karma.

One day the ācārya went in his wandering to Girinagara and climbed Ujjayanta with the young disciple. The evil-minded disciple, after he had paid homage to the god, let loose a large stone to crush his guru as he was descending the mountain. When he heard the noise, khaḍa, khaḍā, squinting his eyes, the guru saw the rock falling like a round thunderbolt. His legs being bent in a circle, the stone passed between them. Generally calamities do not prevail over an intelligent man.

Angered by that act, the guru cursed the young disciple, ‘Wretch, you will break your vow from the presence of a woman.’ The young disciple said, ‘Guru, I will make your curse false. I shall live in a forest where I shall not see a woman.’ At once, evil-minded, he left the guru as well as the bounds of propriety and, like a tiger, entered a forest devoid of humans. Always standing in statuesque posture in the proximity of a mountain-river, he broke his fast of a month or a fortnight with grapes, et cetera. While the muni was practicing penance thus in the proximity of a river, the rainy season appeared, with the sky covered with clouds. From the excess of water rivers broke both banks like two families, going on the wrong roads, like unchaste women. The river being in flood, its bank occupied by the young disciple, the goddess, devoted to the commands of the holy Arhats, thought, ‘This muni, standing on the bank, like a bank-tree, will be carried away now by the volume of water, if I show indifference.’ Then the deity turned the mountain-river to its own bank from another direction. Everywhere there is safety indeed for those practicing penance. Kūlavāluka was the name of that muni. Now he is in that place, a great ascetic.”

Her eyes open with astonishment, she went away at once, like one satisfied from the information about Kūlavāluka, a tree whose fruit is deceit. Paying homage to the temples, under pretext of a pilgrimage, she went to the place where the sage Kūlavāluka was. After paying homage to the excellent muni, the fictitious laywoman said, “I want to pay homage to the holy places, Ujjayanta, et cetera through you, muni.’ The muni gave up kāyotsarga, gave her the blessing “Dharmalābha,” paid homage to the holy places, and asked, “Whence have you come, lady?” She said: “I have come from Campā to pay homage to the holy places. You have been worshipped here, the best tīrtha of tīrthas. Favor me, great sage, by breaking your fast with these provisions of mine, free from faults for alms.”

His mind softened by her devout behavior, the muni went to take alms in her caravan, the abode of evil. The false laywoman, delighted, gave him sweetmeats in which (other) substances had been previously mixed. He became very ill from dysentery as soon as the sweetmeats had been eaten. For the result of the inherent quality and efficacy of substances can not be changed. The sage became weak from dysentery so that, his strength diminished, he was not able to move his limbs.

Māgadhikā, remembering the courtesan’s art at the right time, said to him: “You broke your fast from a desire to favor me. Immediately after eating my food, Master, you have reached this evil condition. Shame on me, a river of evil! Leaving you alone after you have reached such a state, my feet are unable to go, as if they were chained.”

With these words, she stayed there and approached him every minute to massage his limbs with ointment and to give him medicine. Māgadhikā arranged the massage, et cetera in such a way that she made him have contact with her body. He was gradually made well by her care and he was fragrant from her devotion like a garment from a campaka flower. From the side glances of her eyes, from the contact with her body, from her gentle speech, the muni’s mind wavered. Of what account is penance in association with women! The relation of husband and wife of the muni and Māgadhikā expanded from day to day from the couch, seat, et cetera together. Kūlavāluka was led to Campā by Māgadhikā. What does a man, blind from love, not do, like a slave of women?

She announced to the King of Campā, “Majesty, here is Kūlavāluka. After making him my husband, I have brought him. What is he to do? Give orders.” The king instructed Kūlavāluka earnestly, “Monk, arrange it so that Vaiśālī will fall quickly.” When he had heard the king’s instruction, Kūlavāluka, a depository of intelligence, went with an unstumbling gait to Vaiśālī in the guise of an ascetic. The lord of Campā then besieged Vaiśālī with all his forces, though it had been besieged before, eager from the hope of victory.

Māgadhikā’s husband began to look at objects in the city and he saw the mound of Munisuvrata Svāmin. When he had seen it he thought: “The moment of its dedication is very strong. Surely because of its power the city does not fall. If this mound can be destroyed by some device, then Vaiśālī will fall, but not otherwise, even by Vajrin.” With these thoughts, Kūlavāluka roamed through Vaiśālī and was asked by the people worn out by the siege of the city, “We are tamed by the enemy’s siege of the city, ascetic. If you know, then tell us when it will be raised.” He said: “I know for certain that so long as that mound is in the city, the siege will not be raised, people. This mound being destroyed, you will have this proof: the enemy’s army will go away at once like the ocean-tide. When the mound is completely destroyed, you will have prosperity, people. This was erected at an inauspicious moment. Do not make a mistake about this, sirs!”

The people, deceived by the rogue’s intelligence, began to destroy the mound. Generally, everyone worn out by misfortune can be easily deceived. As soon as the destruction of the mound was started, Māgadhikā's husband left and ran two kos to Kūṇika. The people, with the intelligence of a frog in a well, convinced, tore up the mound, down to the stone resting on a tortoise,[5] so that it was completely destroyed.

At the end of twelve years, Kūṇika made a breach into Vaiśālī. The power of the mound itself was difficult to overcome before. Then the fighting between the kings of Campā and Vaiśālī ceased. Never had there been such fighting in this avasarpiṇī. Then the lord of Campā said to the lord of Vaiśālī: “Ārya Ceṭaka, you are entitled to be honored. What can I do to please you?” Depressed in mind, Ceṭaka replied to Kūṇika, “Do you, eager for a festival of victory, delay your entrance into the city.” Ceṭaka’s speech was reported by the messenger and Kūṇika, embarrassed at the thought, “What does he want?” agreed.

Now, a Vidyādhara, named Satyaki, a son of Sujyeṣṭhā, Ceṭaka’s grandson, came and reflected as follows: “How can I see the subjects of my maternal grandfather plundered by enemies? I shall take them somewhere else.” By a magic art, he lifted up all the people of the city and took them to Mt. Nīlavatī, cherishing them like a wreath of flowers.

Then tying an iron doll to his neck, like a sign of death, Ceṭaka fasted and jumped into deep water. Sinking, he was led to his own house by Indra Dharaṇa, who had seen him, thinking, “He is a co-religionst.” There is no death of those whose life-terms are unbroken. Ceṭaka, noble-minded, his pious meditation praised by Dharaṇa, remained unafraid of death as of battle in the past. He, clever, himself recalled the four: Arhat, Siddha, sādhu and dharma, conferring happiness, the essence of happiness, most superior.

“The Arhats, giving instruction in the principles of soul, non-soul, et cetera, supreme gods, bestowing enlightenment, self-enlightened, are my refuge. The Siddhas, whose karma has been burned by the fire of meditation, consisting of splendor, imperishable, possessing limitless omniscience, are my refuge. Sādhus, desireless, free from egotism, indifferent to worldly affairs, tranquil-minded, observing the great vows, resolute, are my refuge. The highest dharma, consisting of non-injury, truthfulness, honesty, chastity, and poverty, taught by the omniscients, is my refuge. Whatever sin was committed against creatures in a hundred births, that I repent, steadfast, threefold in three ways. Whatever transgressions were committed by me when I was observing the twelvefold lay-dharma, I renounce all these. Whatever, injury, et cetera, was done in three ways by me always overcome by anger, conceit, deceit, and greed, shame on me!”

After making final propitiation thus, engaged in reciting the namaskāra, Ceṭaka died and became a participant in the joys of heaven. Aśokacandra ploughed up the city, like a field, with ploughs hitched to donkeys; and fulfilled his vow. After crossing his vow like a river hard to cross, the lord of Campā went to the city Campā with a very great festival.

One day Śrī Vīra, the Teacher of the World, purifying the earth by his wandering, went to Campā and stopped (in a samavasaraṇa) there. The wives of Sreṇika, the mothers of Kāla and the others, disgusted with the world from the slaughter of their sons, took initiation under Śrī Vīra Svāmin. Kūṇika went to the samavasaraṇa to pay homage to the Supreme Lord, the destroyer of the doubts of the three worlds. After bowing to the Lord and seating himself in the proper place, Kūṇika, choosing the proper time, his folded hands placed on his head, asked, “To what status do the cakrins go, who from birth have not abandoned the pleasures of love, Supreme Lord?” The Master said, “They go to the seventh hell.” Kūṇika asked again, “What is my future status?” The Blessed One replied, “You will go to the sixth hell,” Kūṇika said, “Why shall I not go to the seventh?” The Blessed One said, “You are not a Cakravartin. Being pious, good works are considered (by you), son of Śreṇika.” Kūṇika asked: “Why, Lord, am I not a cakrin? My four-part army is equal to that of a cakrin.” The master said: “Sir, you have no jewels, the cakra, ct cetera. Without a single jewel, the name of ‘cakrabhṛt’ is hard to be accomplished.” After hearing that, the lord of Campā got up, a mountain of egotism, and had made one-sensed jewels of iron. He of little wit made Padmāvatī a woman-jewel, and the jewels, the elephant et cetera, tormented by his desire. Conquering Bharatakṣetra, Kūṇika, whose power was invincible, gradually reached Tamisrā, the cave of Vaitāḍhya, with his army. Not knowing himself, like a crazy man, corrupted by an evil fate, he knocked on the doors of the entrance to the cave three times with a staff. The god, Kṛtamāla, the guardian of the cave’s door, said, “Who is this who, wishing to die, knocks on the cave door, not knowing himself?” Kūṇika said, “Do you not know me who have come, intending to conquer? I am a Cakravartin, named Aśokacandra, who has arisen.” The god Kṛtamālin said: “There were twelve cakrins. You are seeking the unsought. Be advised. Good fortune to you, sir!” Kūṇika said: “I am the thirteenth cakrin, arisen from merit that had been acquired. What, pray, is hard to acquire with merit? Do you not know my power, Kṛtamāla? Open wide the door of the cave. Otherwise, you cease to exist, look you!”

From anger Kṛtamāla quickly reduced to ashes Kūṇika talking wildly as if from a fault inflicted by the gods. After death King Aśokacandra went to the sixth hell. The speech of the Arhat does not prove false.

When Kūṇika had died all the ministers installed his son, Udāyin, on the throne. Udāyin governed the people by the proper path, his commands unbroken, spreading the Jain doctrine on earth. His enemies, unable to endure his splendor as he occupied his place, a sun in brilliance, entered a mountain-cave like owls. Wonderful power of his developed by dharma, liberality, fighting and dividing, for an example of past, present, and future kings. At no time did he suffer from fear arising from his own or an enemy’s circle, but on the other hand, he was always afraid of breaking the lay-vows. Maintaining his purity by fasts of one-day, et cetera on the four moon-days engaged in sāmāyika,[6] he remained comfortably in the fasting-house. “Arhat, god, teacher, and sādhu,” to be meditated on like the words of a charm, did not leave his heart day and night. With his commands unbroken, always compassionate, King Udāyin ruled this three-part world, successful. Wise, he purified himself by sipping constantly the preaching, resembling nectar, of Śrī Vīra Svāmin.

The retinue of the Master, the last Arhat, as he wandered over the earth, from the manifestation of omniscience was as follows: fourteen thousand sādhus; thirty-six thousand sādhvīs with tranquil minds; three hundred ascetics who knew the fourteen pūrvas; thirteen hundred with clairvoyance; seven hundred with the art of transformation; the same number of those who will go to the Anuttara heaven; the same number of omniscients; five hundred with mind-reading knowledge; four hundred disputants; one lac and fifty-nine thousand laymen; three lacs and eighteen thousand lay women. Nine gaṇadharas, except the great munis Gautama and Sudharman, had gone to the bliss of emancipation. The Master, his feet served by gods, asuras, and Vidyādharas, the Blessed One, went to the city Apāpā.

Footnotes and references:


A kind of sugar-cane with sword-shaped leaves. MW.


Hemacandra’s interpretation of mahāśilākaṇṭaka is different from Abhayadeva’s com. to the Bhagavatī, according to Hoernle, Uv., App. III, p. 59. Hemacandra makes two separate things: mahāśilā and kaṇṭaka, whereas Abhayadeva takes kaṇṭaka to equal mahāśilā.


Acacia wood is extremely hard.


The chāyā of the śloka is:

gaṇikāṃ cet māgadhikāṃ śramaṇaḥ kūlavālakaḥ |
ramet kūṇika ilāpatiḥ tadā vaiśāliṃ gṛhīṣyati ||


I.e. the foundation-stone.


The effort to avoid commission of any sin. See I, n. 122.

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