眾許摩訶帝經

Volume 5

At that time, Mahānāma again came to the northern gate of the city and asked in a loud voice:

"Who here stays awake to keep watch?"

King Amṛtodana answered:

"I am keeping watch here."

Mahānāma said:

"If you stay awake to keep watch, there will be no oversight."

Having said this, he then spoke a verse:

After Mahānāma had spoken the verse, he then went on patrol to the various marketplaces and to the other roads within the city, to remind the officials and soldiers that they must always stay awake to attend to the watch, and he spoke a verse:

When he had finished speaking the verse, dawn was just breaking. Mahānāma came to report to King Śuddhodana:

"A full day and night have passed; within and without, all is peaceful with no error whatsoever. I beg Your Majesty to order the officials and soldiers to devote their strength to keeping watch for a full seven days and nights, until the Prince ascends the throne as a Wheel-Turning Monarch."

The watch was kept in this way for six days and nights. At that time the king of the Trāyastriṃśa Heaven, observing that the Prince still wished to renounce the household life, spoke a verse:

At that time the Prince was enjoying himself with the palace consorts when he suddenly thought: "I now have three wives, and in addition sixty thousand attendant women, yet I have no child and am about to renounce the household life. I fear sentient beings will say that Prince Siddhārtha is not a true man." Because he thought thus, the Prince caused Yaśodharā to conceive. Then, for the sake of the palace consorts, the Prince expounded the teaching of dependent arising and the cycle of rebirth:

"If one cannot perceive the true mind, then one can never put an end to the cycle of birth and death. Therefore, if one continues to draw near and live together with women, it is no different from walking upon fire—one will immediately meet with great suffering. For this reason my heart has grown weary and wishes to depart far away."

No sooner had the Prince spoken these words than one of the attendant women, with saliva foaming from her mouth, her hands and feet flailing, her hair in disarray, fell down unconscious, which caused the palace consorts great fright. Seeing this, the Prince grew all the more compassionate, and lamented:

"How wretched—why does the image of death still appear here!"

And he spoke a verse:

In an instant, transformed and decayed, evil signs arise,
Hands and feet convulsing, mouth spewing saliva.
Beholding impermanence and the suffering of the body,
I now resolve firmly to seek liberation.

Having spoken the verse, the Prince observed sentient beings and saw that all were without any firm and real characteristic of self, person, being, or life-span; like entering the Śītavana forest where there is nothing to delight in; like wading through mire that only adds defilement; like raising a venomous snake that brings no benefit at all. The ten thousand things are illusory like a flash of lightning, like a dream, or like bubbles of water, covered over by ignorance so that sentient beings do not know.

At that time King Śuddhodana spoke of four dreams he had just seen.

The first was seeing the full moon become waning; the second was seeing the newly risen sun suddenly set in the East; the third was dreaming of many large people coming to kneel and bow; the fourth was seeing himself both laughing and weeping.

Princess Yaśodharā also spoke of eight dreams she had just experienced. The first was seeing her relatives scattered and parted; the second was seeing her peaceful seat damaged and ruined; the third was seeing the gold and jewels worn upon her hands break and fall from her hands; the fourth was seeing her teeth fall out; the fifth was seeing her hair in disarray and falling loose; the sixth was seeing the auspicious clouds fly away from the palace; the seventh was seeing the full moon obscured by an eclipse; the eighth was seeing the sun rise but, before it had risen high, suddenly set again in the East.

The Prince then recalled his own five dreams: The first was seeing a couch and seat as firm as Mount Sumeru, upon which he lay and sat at ease. The second was seeing his two hands—the left hand supporting the Eastern Sea and the right hand supporting the Western Sea—while his two feet sank down into the Southern Sea. The third was seeing trees, flowers, fruits, and all kinds of medicinal herbs growing so tall that they touched the sky.

The fourth was seeing many kinds of birds with white bodies and black heads, together with many other kinds of small birds of every color and hue, flying from the four directions before him, then appearing as a single color in homage at the Prince's feet. The fifth was seeing great boulders upon a high mountain walking in meditative pacing, walking while turning to look back as if in expectation. The Prince reflected that these dreams surely foretold that he would renounce the household life and realize the fruit of great Bodhi.

Princess Yaśodharā brought those eight dreams and spoke of them to the Prince, asking him to divine whether they were auspicious or inauspicious. The Prince said:

"Seeing your kinsfolk scattered means the clan will be temporarily parted at first, but will afterward be reunited. Seeing your peaceful seat damaged and fallen means this seat remains just as it was before. Seeing the jewel-bracelet fall from your hand means it still remains upon your arm.

Seeing your teeth fall out means that not a single one has fallen at all. Seeing your hair fall loose in disarray arises from your having once seen hair fall loose. Seeing the auspicious clouds fly away from the palace is an auspicious omen, for I still dwell within the palace.

Seeing the moon obscured—yet the moon still remains in the sky; what is there to obscure it? Seeing the sun rise and then set again—because at that time it was midnight, how could the sun have risen? Thus those dreams are all auspicious dreams, with nothing to be worried about."

Having spoken, the Prince thought to himself: "These eight dreams are omens corresponding to the fact that I shall renounce the household life." He then said to the Princess:

"Because I wish to liberate all sentient beings, I shall go into the mountains and forests with the aspiration to find for certain the method of liberation, Nirvāṇa."

Yaśodharā said:

"If the Prince has such an aspiration, then I vow to follow you."

At that time the Śakras and Brahmā gods addressed the Prince:

"Excellent! Swiftly depart from the five desires, leave the palace, illuminate the true reality, and realize Omniscience."

The Bodhisattva said to Śakra:

"Kauśika, I dwell within the palace like a tiger in its lair. Surrounding me are four divisions of troops keeping guard; all the gates within the palace are firmly locked, bells are hung as alarms, and the watch is kept strictly. How can I get out?"

The deva Śakra said to the Bodhisattva:

"Recall the countless kalpas of the past in which you cultivated with the vow to rescue sentient beings from suffering and to liberate all beings in the world."

Having said this, the four Great Heavenly Kings used their divine power to cause that nothing would obstruct. Śakra then conjured a jeweled ladder and said to the Yakṣa king Pāñcika:

"The Bodhisattva is now upon the high tower. You should use this ladder to go and welcome him."

The Yakṣa king obeyed and did so. The Bodhisattva descended from the tower and went to find Chandaka to instruct him to prepare a good horse. Seeing Chandaka asleep, he then spoke a verse:

Excellent! Chandaka, arise swiftly,
Saddle the horse Kaṇṭhaka,
And bear me into the mountains to cultivate the Buddha's path,
That I may realize the fruit of Unsurpassed Awakening.

Chandaka awoke from sleep, sat up, joined his palms, and addressed the Bodhisattva:

"What urgent matter is there, that in the middle of the night you bid your servant swiftly saddle a horse to travel afar? Moreover, within the palace there are no bandits or robbers, nor any calamity of flood or fire—why such haste?"

The Bodhisattva said:

"Until now you have always been obedient; why now do you have a mind to resist me?"

Chandaka said:

"It is only midnight, the sky is still dark; I fear there may be some mishap and I would incur a transgression."

The Bodhisattva said nothing, and silently walked toward the stable. The deva Śakra held a torch and led the way for the Prince to arrive there, and brought out the chief horse. The horse seemed frightened, its two feet stamping upon the ground. The Bodhisattva had to use his hands of merit and virtue to stroke the horse's head, saying:

"Kaṇṭhaka, you have an affinity with me. If you bear me to the Snow Mountains to cultivate, then later, when I realize the fruit of unsurpassed Bodhi and propagate the true Dharma to deliver sentient beings, you will gain very great merit."

Kaṇṭhaka heard these words and so stood still obediently. At that time there were four Great Heavenly Sons: the first named Kula, the second named Upakula, the third named Pākunu, the fourth named Pālanuśvapati, who came before the Bodhisattva, joined their palms reverently, and said:

"Today we know that the Bodhisattva renounces the household life to cultivate the practice of Bodhi; we vow to follow and protect you."

The Bodhisattva asked:

"Do you possess sufficient divine power?"

The first Heavenly King said:

"There is firm earth to support you as you go."

The second said:

"For travel by sea, there are great seas and long rivers to support you as you go."

The third said:

"All the hills and mountains will help you to go."

The fourth said:

"There is the great earth, mountains and hills, and rivers and seas to help you set forth without weariness."

Hearing this, the Bodhisattva placed his foot lightly upon the earth, causing the great earth to quake. Those four Heavenly Sons were frightened, never having imagined that the Bodhisattva possessed such great might, and they worried over how to repent and atone for their fault to the Bodhisattva.

At that time, Chandaka, seeing the Bodhisattva's divine power thus, then led the horse before him. The Heavenly Kings of awesome virtue, together with the Nāga spirits, all showed sorrow at being about to part from the Bodhisattva, weeping so that tears fell down from the sky. Chandaka said:

"Why, with no clouds to be seen, does rainwater fall?"

The Bodhisattva answered:

"It is not rain. Because I am about to renounce the household life, the devas are moved and shed tears."

Hearing this, Chandaka reverently joined his palms and stood in attendance.

The Bodhisattva reflected upon the great merit of the Buddha-Dharma toward sentient beings, and further reflected upon the deep kindness of his parents; if he were to depart without bidding farewell to the two who gave him life, he would not fulfill the way of filial piety. Thinking thus, the Prince then entered the palace and saw his royal father in deep slumber. He circumambulated the king's bed once, keeping it to his right, then joined his palms and said:

"Today I go into the Snow Mountains to cultivate, to seek the Unsurpassed Path, in order to rescue all beings from birth, old age, sickness, and death, that they may attain complete liberation."

Having spoken, the Prince took his leave and departed. There was a kinsman named Mahānāma who, seeing that the Prince was about to leave, mournfully wept and lamented:

"How can you bear to forsake the royal palace and depart?"

The Prince said:

"For the benefit of all sentient beings, I go to seek the fruit of Buddhahood."

Mahānāma said:

"The king has commanded us, his servants, to keep watch always and to prevent the Prince from forsaking the palace."

The Prince answered:

"From of old I have given rise to the bodhi-mind; through three great asaṃkhyeya kalpas I have cultivated practices in seeking awakening, to deliver and liberate sentient beings. This royal palace is not the place where I dwell."

Hearing this, Mahānāma grew all the more sorrowful, weeping and lamenting:

"How truly painful! The hope of our king has now come to nothing—he has an eldest son, yet that son forsakes the palace and departs to cultivate the path!"

At that time Princess Yaśodharā heard of it and was so frightened that she fainted and fell to the ground; after a short while she revived and said to the Prince:

"For what cause and condition do you today abandon me and depart?"

The consorts Gunhanikā and Mṛganī, together with the palace consorts, all wept and ran to report to King Śuddhodana:

"The Prince has suddenly wished to leave the palace for the mountains and forests, as though urged on by demons, so that he cannot be stopped. We beg the king to use his royal authority to detain the Prince."

The king, hearing the report, then wished to come and detain the Prince. But at that time the Śakras and the Heavenly Kings had already escorted the Prince out beyond the city. To the right of the Bodhisattva was the king of the Form-realm heavens, manifesting an awe-inspiring bearing; to the left of the Bodhisattva was the king of the Desire-realm heavens, holding banners and pennants in his hands; in front were countless devas playing music to lead the way; and there were hundreds of thousands of Heavenly Sons who from the sky scattered all kinds of flowers, such as the utpala flower, the kumuda flower, the white lotus, and the mandārava flower, and sprinkled all kinds of fragrances such as aloeswood incense, powdered incense, and sandalwood incense, and many kinds of marvelous garments.

There were also Heavenly Sons singing and dancing, chanting and performing, and Heavenly Sons who with their hands held up the horse's hooves, gazing upon the Bodhisattva. In but a moment they had arrived at the Snow Mountains, twelve yojanas from the city of Kapilavastu.

At that time Śakra together with the Great Brahmā gods joined their palms and said:

"We devas have given rise to the resolve to exert ourselves diligently in escorting the Bodhisattva to reach the Snow Mountains. Hereafter, when the Bodhisattva realizes Unsurpassed Perfect Complete Awakening, we beg the Bodhisattva, out of compassion, to gather us in and deliver us."

Having spoken, the devas stood to the right side, joined their palms, and reverently gazed upon the Bodhisattva. The Bodhisattva then spoke a verse:

Having spoken the verse, the Prince removed his crown and garments and handed them to Chandaka, saying:

"Take these garments and this horse back, and report to my royal father that if I do not realize the Path of Bodhi, I shall never return."

Then he spoke a verse:

Take the king of horses and the garments,
Swiftly return to the land of Kapilavastu;
I go to the Snow Mountains to cultivate the holy life,
And without realizing Bodhi, I resolve not to return.

When Chandaka had heard the Prince's verse, he grew sorrowful and, weeping, said:

"In the mountains there are countless tigers, leopards, lions, and savage beasts—how can the Prince dwell there alone? Moreover, the mountain forests, trees, thorns, earth, and stones are rugged and tangled—how will the Prince walk about morning and evening?"

The Prince said:

"Chandaka, why are you so deluded? The bodies of sentient beings arise from the impulse of karma; the four great elements unite and disperse, and the sufferings of old age, sickness, and death, once they reach the body, spare none—the noble and the lowly, the rich and the poor, the old and the young, foe and kin—none escape the principle of impermanence. So why, in cultivating the path, should one fear peril and hardship?"

Chandaka said:

"Such is the Prince's resolve to cultivate. But when I return, and the king sees me yet does not see the Prince, he will surely give rise to suffering; and if the king should fall ill, what then is to be done?"

The Prince said:

"I now renounce the household life to cultivate the path of Bodhi, practicing giving, keeping precepts, forbearance, diligence, meditative concentration, and wisdom, accomplishing the Ten Powers and the Four Fearlessnesses. How could this not bring goodness to my parents?"

Having spoken thus, the Prince joined his palms and bowed in homage. Then, taking a sword like the leaf of the utpala plant, he cut his own hair and cast it into the sky, and Śakra, employing his divine power, received that hair and, together with the Heavenly Sons, brought it back to the palace of the Trāyastriṃśa Heaven, making offerings in accordance with the Dharma. At the place where the Prince had cut his hair, the brahmins, elders, and lay devotees of later times who had faith built a stūpa to enshrine and venerate it.

When his hair was cut, the Prince asked Chandaka:

"What is your intention—can you remain here to cultivate together with me?"

Chandaka said:

"Without the king's leave, how would I dare to remain?"

At that time the Bodhisattva, with his hand of might and his hundreds of thousands of merits and virtues, stroked the head of the king of horses, Kaṇṭhaka, and blessed it with his vow; then he had Chandaka return to the city of Kapilavastu. Chandaka traveled for seven days and nights, and at the second watch of the seventh day arrived at the flower garden outside the city. The king sent palace attendants and kinsfolk to the garden to receive him.

Arriving there, they saw only the horse and not the Prince, and the palace attendants and kinsfolk all rushed forward, embraced the horse's neck, and lamented. The horse Kaṇṭhaka, hearing the weeping and lamenting, and in its heart longing for the Prince, grieved sorrowfully and shed tears, then turned its head to look from side to side, and after a moment fell down and breathed its last. By virtue of past affinity, the horse was reborn into a brahmin household, possessing keen faculties, light karma, and intelligent, clear wisdom.

Later, when the Prince became a Buddha, that brahmin came to hear the Dharma and realized the forbearance of non-arising.

At that time the Bodhisattva reflected: "Now I have cut my hair and taken on the appearance of a śramaṇa, but how shall I obtain a kāṣāya robe?" During that same time, in the city of Anupama there was an elder with numerous kinsfolk and countless wealth, no different from Vaiśravaṇa. In his household there were ten children, all endowed with the marks of merit, dignified and proper, with wisdom, intelligence, and quick wit, and all delighting in the life of renunciation, purely cultivating the holy life; through observing that the ten thousand things are impermanent, they realized the fruit of Pratyekabuddhahood. After the father had died, the mother, with deep faith, sewed a kāṣāya robe to offer to the Pratyekabuddhas. One of the children said to the mother:

"Before long I shall enter Nirvāṇa; even if I now receive this kāṣāya, I shall not use it. Not far from here is Prince Siddhārtha, son of King Śuddhodana, who before long will become the Unsurpassed Perfectly Enlightened One. Now use this kāṣāya to make an offering to the Bodhisattva, by which, Mother, you will gain a great fruit of merit."

Having spoken, the Pratyekabuddha then employed his spiritual powers and flew up into the sky, conjuring clouds, thunder, lightning, wind, and rain, then transformed into fire to consume his own body and entered final extinction.

At that time the aged mother, on the point of death, then gave the kāṣāya to one of her daughters and bade her offer it to the Bodhisattva. Unexpectedly, when she had reached the shade of a tree, she contracted an illness and died. Before passing away she hung the kāṣāya robe upon a branch of the tree and prayed to the tree-spirit:

"This kāṣāya—I rely on the spirit to offer it to Prince Siddhārtha, son of King Śuddhodana."

The deva Śakra, knowing of this, then transformed himself into a hunter and came to take the kāṣāya. When he saw the Prince approaching, he then put it on and sat by the roadside. The Prince arrived there and, seeing this, asked:

"You are a hunter—why are you wearing a kāṣāya robe? Can you tell me?"

The hunter said:

"I too have no liking to wear this kāṣāya robe. I now wish to give it to you, but I fear that others may seize it and harm your life."

The Bodhisattva said:

"All in this world know me; just give the kāṣāya to me, and have no concern."

Śakra then revealed his true form, prostrated himself at the feet of the Bodhisattva, and offered the kāṣāya. The Bodhisattva put it on but found it did not fit; seeing this, Śakra gave rise to doubt in his heart, but the awesome divine power of the Bodhisattva caused the kāṣāya to fit his body at once. The devas of the Trāyastriṃśa palace then reverently made offerings; later, the elders and brahmins established a stūpa-shrine to venerate it at that place, and there were always bhikṣus who came there to pay homage.

At that time the Bodhisattva, with full dignity of bearing, was setting forth upon the road, when he suddenly saw a sage named Bhārgava with a sorrowful countenance, striking his own face with his hand. The Bodhisattva asked:

"Why do you strike yourself thus?"

The sage answered:

"I dwell beneath the shade of this Tāla tree. Formerly the tree always had many flowers and fruits, fragrant and delicious in taste, but now it has suddenly become withered and dry, which afflicts me with vexation."

The Bodhisattva said:

"A sage is here in order to cultivate the path—why give rise to affliction because a tree has withered?"

Hearing this, the sage's mind suddenly awakened. Seeing a Bodhisattva of dignified and proper form and features, he gave rise to a heart of fondness, gazing upon him without cease, then spoke and asked:

"Are you a Bodhisattva who has renounced the household life?"

The Bodhisattva answered:

"You truly have a clear and discerning vision."

The sage Bhārgava then cut off his doubts and perplexity and attained the pure Dharma-eye. He then invited the Bodhisattva to be seated and, using flowers and fruits, made offerings in accordance with the Dharma. After a while, the Bodhisattva asked the sage:

"How far is the city of Kapilavastu from here?"

The sage said:

"From here to there is twelve yojanas."

The Bodhisattva reflected: "This place is not very far from the city; if the people of the Śākya clan come to find me, it will cause trouble." Having thought thus, the Bodhisattva then took leave of the sage, crossed the Gaṅgā River, and came to the city of Rājagṛha. With skill, the Prince plucked leaves from the trees and fashioned an alms-bowl, held it close to himself, and entered the city to beg for food. At that time King Bimbisāra was sitting upon a high tower and, gazing into the distance, saw the Bodhisattva, dignified and proper in body and form, awe-inspiring and serene, his body clad in a kāṣāya, his hand holding an alms-bowl, going from house to house in turn to beg for food. The king then praised:

"In my city no one has such an awe-inspiring bearing as this bhikṣu! He surely is not of the common folk or of an ordinary clan, but is of royal lineage who has forsaken his throne to renounce the household life and cultivate, in order to eradicate evil karma and preserve pure conduct."

After he had finished begging for food, the Bodhisattva left the city and went into the mountains, set down his bowl upon the ground, and sat in stillness, entering meditation and contemplating: "King Bimbisāra, seeing me cultivating, surely has some other intention." At that same time, the king was speaking with his great ministers:

"From the tower I gazed out and saw a bhikṣu, dignified and proper in body and form, awe-inspiring and composed in bearing; he surely is not of the common folk or of a lowly clan. So you must seek out where that one is and report it to me."

The envoy who was dispatched came to the mountainous region and met that bhikṣu sitting calmly and tranquilly. When the king heard the news, he came in person to the place, saw the Bodhisattva, and, joyful in heart, then said:

"Your features and form are truly dignified and proper, and to be a bhikṣu truly does not suit you. I have palaces and towers, consorts and beautiful women, and wealth and nobility of the utmost degree; I shall hand them over for your use—do not be a bhikṣu. What is your name? To what clan do you belong? Tell me, I pray."

The Bodhisattva answered:

"Near the Snow Mountains is the city of Kapilavastu; my royal father is of the Kṣatriya lineage, named Śuddhodana, who governs that city. I have forsaken the throne in order to seek the path of Bodhi. As for the foolish and greedy, even though wealth and treasures fill the four seas, they still consider it not enough—just like a fire that devours dry firewood, the mind of greed and craving is likewise.

O Great King, I regard wealth and nobility as a foe, like a venomous snake, the very source of grief, sorrow, and fear. O Great King, suppose a great wind were to blow and shake all the mountains—yet Mount Sumeru cannot be shaken. Suppose the wealth and treasures of the world, together with cities and ramparts, wife and children, elephants and horses, servants and attendants, could delude and confuse the minds of all sentient beings—yet my mind would still not be moved.

Only Nirvāṇa and liberation are the true and ultimate end."

King Bimbisāra asked:

"Now that you are here, what is it you seek?"

The Bodhisattva replied:

"I seek only to find the fruit of the path of Unsurpassed Perfect Complete Awakening."

The king said:

"If you attain the Path, I beg you to receive and deliver me first."

The Bodhisattva consented, and so the king was greatly delighted and returned to the city.

At that time the Bodhisattva came to the summit of Mount Gṛdhrakūṭa. On the mountainside there were sages cultivating the holy life; one was able to stand on one foot throughout an entire day. Hearing of this, the Bodhisattva also stood on one foot, but throughout two days. Another sage practiced asceticism by exposing himself beneath the blazing rays of the sun and passing an entire day. The Bodhisattva did likewise, but for as long as two days. Those sages were all astonished and filled with admiration; they held that only this was truly cultivation, that only this was truly a Great Śramaṇa.

The Bodhisattva asked:

"You cultivate in this way—what is it you seek?"

The sages answered: some wished to ascend to heaven to become Śakra; some wished to become Brahmā; and some wished to be reborn in the realm of Māra. The Bodhisattva reflected: "The direction of cultivation of these ascetics is all a deviant path, not the direction that I must seek. My fundamental vow is to wish to realize the fruit of Buddhahood, in order to bring peace and joy to all sentient beings. Their path is not the true and right one; I must depart far away from them."