Paṇḍara-Jātaka

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Source: Adapted from Archaic Translation by H.T. Francis
JATAKA No. 518

PANDARA-JATAKA

"No man that lets," etc.--This was a story told by the Master, while staying at Jetavana monastery, as to how Devadatta told a lie, and how the earth opened and swallowed him up. At that time, when Devadatta was being blamed by the Brethren(Monks), the Master said, "Not now only, Brethren, but of old too Devadatta told a lie and was swallowed up by the earth," and so saying he told a story of the past.

Once upon a time when Brahmadatta was king in Benares, five hundred trading folk took ship and set sail, and on the seventh day when they were out of sight of land, they were wrecked in mid ocean and all except one man became food for fishes. This one by favour of the wind reached the port of Karambiya, and landing naked and destitute he went about the place, begging alms. The people thought, "Here is an ascetic, happy and contented with little," and they showed him every hospitality. But he said, "I have enough to live upon," and when they offered him under and upper garments, he would have none of them. They said, "No ascetic can go beyond this in the way of contentment," and being the more exceedingly pleased with him, they built him a hermitage for a living-place, and he went by the name of the Karambiya ascetic. While he was living here, he met with great honour and gain, and both a snake-king and a garuda-king came to pay their respects to him, and the name of the former was Pandara. Now one day the garuda-king came to the ascetic and after saluting him took his seat on one side and said, "Sir, our people, when they attack snakes, many of them perish. We do not know the right way to seize snakes. There is said to be some mystery in the matter. You could, perhaps, flatter them out of the secret." "All right," said the ascetic, and when the garuda-king had taken his leave and departed, as soon as ever the snake-king arrived and with a respectful salutation had taken his seat, he asked him, saying, "King-snake, the garudas say that in seizing you, many of them are killed. In attacking you, how can they seize you securely?" "Sir," he replied, "this is our secret; if I were to tell it, I should bring about the destruction of all my family." "What do you really suspect me of telling some one else? I'll tell no one. I only ask to satisfy my own curiosity. You may trust and tell me without the slightest fear." The snake-king promised to tell him and took his leave. The next day the ascetic again asked him, and then too he did not tell him. But on the third day when the snake-king had come and taken his seat, the ascetic said, "To-day is the third day since I asked you. Why do you not tell me?" "I am afraid, Sir, you might tell some one else." "I'll not say a word to a creature: tell me without any fear." Then the snake made him promise to tell no one, and said, "Sir, we make ourselves heavy by swallowing very big stones and lie down, and when the garudas come, we open our mouths wide, and show our teeth and fall upon them. They come on and seize us by the head, and while they work hard to lift us up, heavy as we are, from the ground, the water streams from them, and they drop down dead in the midst of it. In this way a number of garudas perish. When they attack us, why in the world do they seize us by the head? If the foolish creatures should seize us by the tail and hold us head downwards, they could force us to disgorge the stones we have swallowed, and so, making us a light weight, they could carry us off with them." Thus did the snake reveal his secret to this wicked fellow. Then, when the snake had gone away, up came the garuda-king, and saluting the Karambiya ascetic he asked, "Well! Sir, have you learned his secret from the snake-king?" "Yes, Sir," he said, and told him everything just as it was told him. On hearing it, the garuda said, "The snake-king has made a great mistake. He should not have told another how to destroy his family. Well, to-day I must first of all raise a garuda (*1) wind and seize him." So, raising a wind, he seized Pandara the snake-king by the tail and held him head downmost; and having thus made him disgorge the stones he had swallowed, he flew up into the air with him. Pandaraka, as he was suspended head downwards in the air, intensely mourning cried, "I have brought sorrow upon me," and he repeated these stanzas:

The man that lets his secret thought be known, Random of speech, to indiscretion prone, Poor fool, at once is overcome by fear, As I king-snake am by a bird overthrown.

The man who in his wrongdoing could betray The thought that he should hide from light of day, By his rash speech is overcome by fear, As I king-snake fall to this bird a prey.

No comrade ought your inmost thoughts to share, The best of friends many times most foolish are, And if too wise, of treachery beware.

I trusted him alas! for was not he A holy man, of strict austerity? My secret I revealed; the deed is done And now I weep for very misery.

Into my confidence the wretch did creep, Nor could I any secret from him keep: From him the danger that I dread has come, And now for very misery I weep.

Judging his friend as faithful to the core And moved by fear, or the strong love he had, To some foul wretch his secret one betrays And is overthrown, poor fool, to rise no more.

Whosoever proclaims in evil company The secret thought that still should hidden lie, amongst men is counted as a poison-snake: "From such an one, please, keep aloof," they cry.

Fair women, silken robes and sandal wood, Garlands and perfumes, even drink and food, Yes all desires--if only you, O bird, Come to our aid--shall be by us avoided.

Thus did Pandaraka, suspended in the air head downwards, utter his mourn in eight stanzas. The garuda, hearing the sound of his crying, rebuked him and said, "King-snake, after divulging your secret to the ascetic, for which reason do you now mourn?" And he uttered this stanza:

Of us three creatures living here, please name The one that rightly should incur the blame. Nor priest nor bird, but foolish deed of yours, O snake, has brought you to this depth of shame.

On hearing this Pandaraka repeated another stanza:

The priest, I think, must be a friend to me, A holy man, of strict austerity: My secret I betrayed: the deed is done, And now I weep for very misery.

Then the garuda repeated four stanzas:

All creatures born into this world must die; Yet Wisdom's ways her children justify: By knowledge, justice, self-restraint and truth A man at length achieves his purpose high.

Parents are kind all other family above, No third there is to show us equal love, Not even to them betray your secret thought, otherwise perhaps they should prove traitors.

Parents and family of every degree, Allies and comrades all may friendly be: To none of them entrustyour hidden thought, Or you will later regret their treachery.

A wife may youthful be and good and fair, Own troops of friends, and children's love may share: Not even to her entrustyour hidden thought, Or of her treachery you must beware.

Then follow these stanzas:

His secret no man should disclose, but guard like treasure-trove: Disclosure of a secret thing no wise man would approve.

Wise men to woman or a enemy their secrets never betray; Trust not the slaves of appetite; creatures of impulse they.

Whosoever reveals his secret thought to one not overwise, Fears the betrayal of his trust and at his mercy lies.

All such as know the secret thing that you should rather hide, Threatenyour peace of mind; to none that secret thing confide.

By day to your own self alone the secret dare to name, But venture not at dead of night that secret to proclaim;

For close at hand, be sure, there stand men ready to betray The slightest word they may have heard: so trust them not, I request.

These five stanzas will appear in the Problem of the Five Sages in the Ummagga Birth.

Then follow these stanzas:

As some huge city fenced on every side With moat, of iron wrought, has long defied All entrance of a enemy to Fairy Land, So even are they that do their advices hide.

Who by rash speech to secrets give no clue, But ever devoted to themselves are true, From them all enemies do keep aloof, As men flee far when deadly snakes pursue.

When the Truth had been thus proclaimed by the garuda, Pandaraka said:

A shaven head, nude ascetic left his home And seeking alms did through the country roam: To him my secret I alas! did tell, And straight from happiness and virtue fell.

What line of conduct should a priest pursue, What vows take on him, and what faults avoid? How free himself from his obsessive sin, And at the last a heavenly mansion win?

The garuda said:

By patience, self-restraint, long-suffering, By defamation and anger abandoning, Thus may a priest get rid of every sin, And at the last a heavenly mansion win.

Pandaraka, on hearing the garuda-king thus told the Truth, begged for his life and repeated this stanza:

As mother gazing on her baby boy Is thrilled in every limb with holy joy, So to me, O king of birds, give That pity mothers to their children show.

Then the garuda in granting him his life repeated another stanza:

O snake, to-day from death I set you free; Of kinds of children there are only three, Pupil, adopted child and true-born son: Of these rejoice that you are surely one.

So saying, he descended from the air and placed the snake upon the ground.

The Master, to make the matter clear, repeated two stanzas:

The bird, so saying, straight released his enemy And gently took him to the earth below; "Set free to-day, go, safe from danger dwell In water or on land. I'll guard you well.

As a skilled leech to men with sickness cures, Or a cool tank to those that are thirsty, As house that shelters from a chilling frost, So I a refuge prove to you, when lost."

And saying, "Be off," he let him go. And the snake disappeared in the dwelling of the nagas. But the bird, returning to the living-place of the garudas, said, "The snake Pandaraka has won my confidence under oath and has been let loose by me. I will now put him to the test, to see what his feelings are towards me," and going to the dwelling of the nagas, he raised a garuda wind. On seeing him the snake-king thought the garuda-king must have come to seize him, so he assumed a form that stretched to a thousand fathoms (fathom=6feet) and making himself heavy by swallowing stones and sand he lay down, keeping his tail beneath him and raising the hood upon his head, as if minded to bite the garuda-king. On seeing this the garuda repeated another stanza:

O snake, you made peace with your old enemy; But now you show your fangs. From where comes this fear to you?

On hearing this the snake-king repeated three stanzas:

Ever suspect a enemy, nor trust your friend as faithful; Security breeds fear, to kill you root and branch.

What! trust the man with whom one quarrelled long ago! No, stand upon your guard. No one can love his enemy.

Inspire a trust in all, but put your trust in none, Yourself suspected not, be not to suspicion prone. He that is truly wise should make every nerve strain That his true nature never may be known to others plain.

Thus did they talk one with another, and becoming reconciled and friendly they went together to the hermitage of the ascetic.

The Master, to make the matter clear, said,

The godlike graceful pair of them now see, Breathing an air of holy purity; Like horses well matched neath equal yoke they ran, To seek the living of that saintly man.

With regard to this the Master uttered another stanza:

Then to the ascetic straight king-snake did go, And thus Pandaraka addressed his enemy, "Know that to-day, all danger past, I'm free, But it is not due to love of your for me."

Then the ascetic repeated another stanza:

To that bird-king, I sincerely say, I greater love than ever to you did bear, Moved by affection for that royal bird, I of set purpose, not through wrongdoing, erred.

On hearing this, the snake-king repeated two stanzas:

The man that looks at this world and the next, Never finds himself with love or hatred annoyed, Beneath garb of self-restraint you gladly would hide But lawless acts that holy garb belied.

You, seeming noble, are with meanness stained, And, as ascetic clad, are unrestrained; By nature with ignoble awful thoughts, You in all kinds of sinful act are versed.

So to rebuke him, he uttered this stanza, insulting him:

Informer, traitor, that would kill A deceitless friend, beyour head split By this my Act of Truth, I request, Piecemeal, all into fragments seven.

So before the very eyes of the snake-king, the head of the ascetic was split into seven pieces, and at the very spot where he was sitting the ground was split apart. And, disappearing into the Earth, he was re-born in the Avici hell, and the snake-king and the garuda-king returned each to his own dwelling.

The Master, to make clear the fact that he had been swallowed up by the earth, repeated the last stanza:

Therefore I say, friends never should treacherous be; Than a false friend worse man is none to see. Buried in earth the venomous creature lies, And at the snake-king's word the ascetic dies.

The Master here ended his discourse and said, "Not now only, Brethren(Monks), but of old too, Devadatta told a lie and was swallowed up by the earth," and he identified the Birth: "At that time the ascetic was Devadatta, the snake-king Sariputra, and the garuda-king was myself."

Footnotes:

(1)The wind agitated by the wings of Garuda. Nagananda: "Garuda was in the habit of devouring one snake daily, catching it up from hell, while the ocean was split apart from top to bottom by the wind of his wings."