太子須大拏經

Thus have I heard:

At one time, the Buddha was staying in Prince Jeta’s Grove, the park of Anathapindika, in the kingdom of Shravasti, together with innumerable bhikshus, bhikshunis, upasakas, and upasikas.

At that time, as the Buddha sat amid the fourfold assembly of disciples, he smiled, and five-colored rays of light issued from his mouth. Venerable Ananda rose from his seat, arranged his robes properly, knelt, joined his palms, and addressed the Buddha:

“Since I began attending upon the Buddha more than twenty years ago, I have never seen you smile as you do today. Are you perhaps thinking of the Buddhas of the past, present, or future? Surely there is some profound meaning in this, and I wish to hear it.”

The Buddha told Ananda:

“I am not thinking of the Buddhas of the past, future, or present. I am recalling how, innumerable asamkhya kalpas ago in the past, I practiced the paramita of giving.”

Venerable Ananda addressed the Buddha:

“How did you practice the paramita of giving?”

The Buddha taught:

“In the distant past, so long ago that it cannot be reckoned, there was a great kingdom named Yepa. The king of that land was named Shipa. He governed the country according to the true Dharma and was not harsh toward the people.

“The king had four thousand great ministers, presided over sixty lesser kingdoms and eight hundred villages, and possessed five hundred great and beautiful white elephants. He had twenty thousand consorts but no child, so he personally went to pray to the deities of the rivers and mountains. Thereupon, one of his consorts knew that she had conceived.

The king himself took care to provide her with a bed, blankets, cushions, food, and every other necessity, all of which had to be soft and delicate. When precisely ten months had passed, the consort gave birth to a crown prince. When the twenty thousand consorts in the palace heard that a crown prince had been born, they all rejoiced, and milk flowed naturally from their breasts.

The prince was therefore named Sudana. Four nurses attended and raised him: one was responsible for nursing him, one for carrying him, one for bathing him, and one especially for taking him out to stroll and play.

“By the age of sixteen, the prince had fully mastered all branches of learning and thought, the arts of archery, and the various rites and forms of music. He revered and served his parents as though serving heavenly deities.

“The king ordered a separate palace to be built for the prince. From childhood until maturity, the prince always delighted in giving. Whether to human beings or even to flying birds and running beasts, he constantly wished that all sentient beings might share in the merit of this giving. Foolish, greedy, and miserly people who refuse to give dwell in darkness and delusion, deceive themselves, and gain no benefit whatsoever. The wise in the world understand that giving is meritorious, and those who give are praised by the Buddhas, pratyekabuddhas, and arhats of the three times.

“When the prince came of age, the great king arranged his marriage. The prince’s consort was Princess Mandi, whose radiant beauty was beyond compare. She adorned herself with lapis lazuli, gold, silver, jewels, and jeweled necklaces. The prince had a son and a daughter. He constantly contemplated practicing the paramita of giving. The prince informed the great king that he wished to travel about and see the land, and his royal father consented.

“When the prince went beyond the royal city, Lord Shakra immediately transformed himself into poor, blind, deaf, mute, and speech-impaired people sitting beside the road. When the prince saw them, he promptly ordered his carriage to return to the royal palace, deeply sorrowful and troubled. His royal father asked:

“‘Why have you returned from your excursion unhappy?’

“‘Royal Father, as soon as I left the royal city, I saw people who were poor, blind, deaf, mute, and speech-impaired. For this reason, I am unhappy. I wish to ask one thing of you, Royal Father, but I do not know whether you will consent.’

“‘Whatever you require, I shall never go against your wishes.’

“‘Royal Father, I wish to take the jewels from your treasury and place them outside the four city gates and in the marketplaces, so that they may be given according to the needs of those who ask, without denying their wishes.’

“‘I consent to your request. Do as you wish; I shall not hinder you.’

“The prince ordered the officials to place the jewels outside the four city gates and in the marketplaces and to distribute them according to whatever people requested. In all eight directions, above and below, the merit of the prince became known. People came from hundreds, thousands, and tens of thousands of miles away. Those who desired food received food; those who asked for clothing received clothing; and those who wanted gold, silver, or precious jewels were given whatever they needed. No one’s wishes were denied.

“At that time, the ruler of a hostile kingdom heard that the prince gladly gave to everyone who came to ask and never denied anyone’s wishes. That king therefore assembled his ministers and religious mendicants to deliberate together: ‘The king of Yepa possesses a breed of white elephant that walks upon lotus flowers. One of them is named Sudanyan and is tremendously powerful in battle. Whenever other kingdoms send armies to invade, this elephant always brings victory. Who can now go to that kingdom and ask for this precious elephant?’

“All the officials addressed the king:

“‘We are unable to go and ask for it.’

“Among them was a religious mendicant named Baturen, who addressed the king:

“‘I can go and ask for it. I request that the great king provide me with provisions.’

“The king immediately supplied him with provisions and said:

“‘If you can obtain the precious elephant, I shall reward you generously.’

“The mendicant Baturen took up his staff and departed. After laboriously crossing many rivers and mountains, he arrived in the kingdom of Yepa and went to the gate of the prince’s palace. Leaning upon his staff, he stood on tiptoe facing the gate and waited.

“At that time, the gatekeeper went in and reported to the prince:

“‘Outside there is a religious mendicant leaning upon a staff and standing on tiptoe as he waits. He says that he has come from afar to ask for something.’

“When the prince heard this, he was filled with joy. He went out in person to welcome the mendicant and bowed in greeting as a son would greet his father. He then inquired solicitously:

“‘From where have you come, mendicant? Was your journey very arduous? What do you seek that you stand upon one foot in this manner?’

“The mendicant Baturen said:

“‘I have heard that the prince is benevolent and gives according to people’s wishes, never denying anyone. The prince’s name has spread everywhere, reaching upward to the blue heavens and downward to the Yellow Springs. The merit of the prince’s giving is immeasurable. It is known throughout all lands, near and far, and everyone celebrates and praises it. Everything people have said in praise of the prince is entirely true. You are now the son of a divine being, and the words of divine beings are never false. If the prince is indeed able to give without ever denying the wishes of those who ask, I have now come from afar to request the prince’s white elephant that walks upon lotus flowers.’

“The prince immediately went to the elephant stable and ordered someone to lead out a white elephant and give it to the mendicant.

“The mendicant Baturen said:

“‘The one I wish to obtain is the white elephant that walks upon lotus flowers, named Sudanyan.’

“The prince said:

“‘That great white elephant is an animal dearly cherished by my royal father. He regards that elephant as no different from me, and therefore I cannot give it to you, mendicant. If I were to give you this elephant, I would offend my royal father, and he might expel me from the kingdom.’

“The prince reflected: ‘Previously, I made a vow that in giving I would never deny the wishes of anyone who asked. If I do not give it to him now, I shall be acting contrary to my original intention. If I do not give this elephant away, how can I attain the unsurpassed Dharma of impartial giving? Therefore, I must give away the elephant so that my unsurpassed, impartial vow and practice may be fulfilled.’ The prince then said inwardly:

“‘Excellent! I shall give it to him.’

The prince immediately ordered his attendants to prepare a golden saddle and bridle and quickly bring out the elephant. With his left hand, he held a water vessel for the ritual washing and offered it to the ascetic; with his right hand, he led the precious white elephant and handed it over to him. Having received the elephant, the ascetic Bát Nhân pronounced a blessing for the prince. After giving the blessing, he mounted the white elephant and joyfully departed.

The prince said to the ascetic:

“Ascetic, make haste! If my royal father learns of this, he will send men in pursuit to take it back.”

The ascetic Bát Nhân immediately urged the elephant onward at great speed.

When the ministers throughout the kingdom heard that the prince had given the precious white elephant to the enemy, they were utterly terrified and fell from their seats to the ground, filled with anxiety and sorrow. They thought, “The kingdom relies solely upon this precious white elephant to withstand invading enemies!”

The ministers went before the king and reported:

“Your Majesty, the prince has given to the enemy the precious elephant that protects the kingdom against its foes.”

Upon hearing this, the great king was profoundly astonished.

The ministers further reported:

“Your Majesty was able to triumph and rule the realm because of that precious white elephant. This white elephant possesses strength sixty times greater than that of other elephants, yet the prince has given it to the enemy. We fear that we will surely lose the kingdom. By giving alms as he pleases, the prince is causing the state treasury to become emptier by the day. We fear that the prince will even give away the entire kingdom, as well as his wife and children.”

Hearing these words, the great king became still more sorrowful. He summoned a chief minister and asked:

“Is it true that the prince has given the precious white elephant to the enemy?”

“Your Majesty, it is indeed true.”

Only after hearing the chief minister’s report did the king become truly horrified. He fell from his throne and fainted, tears streaming from his eyes. A long while passed before he regained consciousness. The twenty thousand royal consorts were likewise distressed. The king and his officials deliberated together:

“How should the prince be dealt with?”

One official reported:

“Because the prince’s feet entered the elephant stable, his feet should be cut off; because his hands led away the elephant, his hands should be cut off; and because his eyes beheld the elephant, his eyes should be gouged out.”

Another said:

“The prince should be beheaded.”

Thus did the officials deliberate. After hearing them, the king was deeply grieved and said:

“My son delights greatly in the practice of giving to others. How could he possibly be prohibited or restrained?”

One minister declared that the others’ proposals were improper. Since the king had only one son and loved him dearly, how could he bear to inflict the severe punishments they had proposed? The chief minister then reported to the king:

“I, too, would not dare ask Your Majesty to restrain or prohibit the prince. However, Your Majesty should banish the prince from the kingdom for a period of twelve years and have him dwell amid the wild mountains and forests, so that he may feel ashamed and repent.”

The king accepted this chief minister’s counsel and immediately sent someone to summon the prince. He asked:

“Is it true that you gave the precious white elephant to the enemy?”

The prince replied:

“Royal Father, it is indeed true.”

The king again asked the prince:

“Why did you do this? Why did you give my precious white elephant to the enemy on your own authority without reporting it to me?”

The prince answered:

“Royal Father, I previously asked your permission to give away everything and never deny the wishes of anyone who came seeking alms. Therefore, I did not report this matter to you.”

The king said:

“What you previously requested meant that you could give away such things as gold, silver, jewels, and treasures. It did not mean that you could give away the precious white elephant!”

The prince replied:

“Royal Father, all wealth and possessions belong to Your Majesty. How could the precious white elephant not be included among those possessions?”

The king then commanded the prince:

“Leave the kingdom at once! I banish you to Mount Đàn-đặc for twelve years.”

The prince addressed his royal father:

“Royal Father, I dare not disobey your command. Yet, so that I may fulfill my deepest aspiration, I beg you to permit me to continue giving alms for seven more days. Afterward, I shall leave the kingdom.”

The king said:

“Of your own accord, you have given away everything in the state treasury, and you have also caused me to lose the precious treasure used to ward off our enemies. For this reason, I banish you. You may not continue giving alms for another seven days. I do not consent. Leave the kingdom immediately!”

The prince then replied:

“Royal Father, I dare not disobey you. However, I still possess a little wealth of my own. Please allow me to give it all away before I depart. I would not dare trouble the kingdom’s precious resources.”

The twenty thousand royal consorts went together before the king and pleaded that the prince be allowed to remain and give alms for seven more days before leaving the kingdom. The king consented.

The prince ordered his attendant officials to announce everywhere, far and near, that whoever desired money or material goods should come to the palace gate, where the prince would provide according to each person’s needs. Human wealth and material possessions cannot be preserved forever; even when acquired, they eventually decay and disperse.

People from everywhere came to the gate of the royal palace. The prince provided them with food and drink and gave them gold, silver, jewels, and treasures according to their wishes. By the seventh day, all his possessions had been exhausted. The poor had all become wealthy, and everyone rejoiced.

The prince called his wife:

“Rise quickly and listen to what I have to say. The great king has now banished me to dwell on Mount Đàn-đặc for twelve years.”

When the princess heard the prince’s words, she was utterly astonished and asked:

“What offense has the prince committed that the royal father should treat you in this way?”

The prince answered:

“Because I gave away too much, exhausting the state treasury, and also gave the strongest and most valiant precious white elephant to the enemy, my royal father and the ministers of the court have all become enraged and have banished me.”

Mạn-đề said:

“May the kingdom flourish and prosper. May the great king, the officials, and all subjects, high and low, enjoy abundance and peace. As for me, I shall strive to follow you into the mountains and forests to seek and learn the Way.”

The prince said:

“The mountains and forests hold many fearsome dangers, and it is truly difficult to remain at ease there. They are filled with tigers, wolves, and ferocious beasts. You are accustomed to a life of wealth, honor, comfort, and pleasure; how could you endure it?

In the palace, you wear soft and delicate garments, sleep behind curtains and canopies, and eat fine delicacies prepared according to your wishes. But now you would sleep in the mountains and forests with grass as your mat and fruit as your food. How could you be comfortable and happy?

There will also be rain, wind, falling frost, thunder, and lightning, keeping one constantly afraid. When it is cold, it is bitterly cold, and when it is hot, it is unbearably hot. There is truly nowhere to take shelter, and all around are thorns, stones, and venomous creatures!”

Mạn-đề replied:

“Prince, how could I accept separation from you merely for silken garments, curtains and canopies, or fine delicacies? Throughout my life, I could never leave the prince. Please allow me to accompany and attend you wherever you may go. A king uses banners to convey his commands; fire is signaled by smoke; and a wife takes her husband as her refuge. Therefore, I know only to rely upon the prince. The prince is my very heaven. When the prince dwelt in the palace and gave alms to people everywhere, far and near, I supported you wholeheartedly. Now that the prince is going far away, if someone comes seeking alms, how shall I respond? If I hear that people are again going to the prince to make requests, I shall be so overcome with emotion that I will surely die.”

The prince said:

“I delight in giving and never go against anyone’s wishes. If someone follows me and asks me for my children or for you, how could I refuse to give? If you do not consent to what I have said, my wholesome mind will be troubled. Therefore, you should not go.”

Mạn-đề said:

“Please allow me to follow the prince, so that wherever we go, we may always practice giving. In this world, no one has ever practiced giving as the prince does.”

The prince said:

“If you can truly do so, that would be very good.”

The prince, together with his wife and two children, went to bid farewell to his mother. He said to her:

“Mother, please frequently admonish the great king to govern the country according to the true Dharma and not to rule the people harshly.”

When his mother heard the prince’s words of farewell, her heart was filled with immeasurable sorrow. She said to those around her:

“Is my body made of stone and my heart of hard iron? In serving the great king, I have never committed any fault. Now I have only one son, yet he abandons me and departs. How could my heart not break, as though I were about to die? While a child is in his mother’s womb, he grows day and night like the branches and leaves of a tree. I raised my son until he reached adulthood, yet now he leaves me and goes away. All the other royal consorts will rejoice! My king no longer shows me any consideration, but heaven will not oppose my prayer. May it cause my son swiftly to return to his ancestral land.”

The prince, together with his wife and two children, reverently bowed to his parents and departed. Each of twenty thousand royal consorts took a string of pearls and fashioned it into a necklace to present to the prince. Four thousand ministers offered him garlands made of the seven precious substances.

The prince left the northern palace and passed through the city gate. He gave all the garlands of the seven precious substances and all the precious necklaces to the people who had come from every direction, and in a brief moment nothing remained. Several tens of millions of people in the country, young and old, accompanied the prince as he departed.

They quietly discussed among themselves: “The prince is a virtuous man and truly the guardian spirit of the nation. How could his parents banish such a precious son?”

All who heard this grieved for the prince.

The prince sat beneath a tree outside the city and bade farewell to those who had escorted him, saying, “You have come this far; please return.” Everyone wept. The prince, together with his wife and two children, drove the carriage themselves and set out. After they had traveled quite far, they stopped to rest beneath a tree. A brahmin then came and asked for their horses. The prince gave the horses to him and took their place himself. He seated his two children in the carriage; his wife pushed from behind, while he grasped the shafts and pulled it on foot.

After the family had traveled some distance, they encountered another brahmin who came to ask for the carriage. The prince gave him the carriage and continued on. They then encountered yet another brahmin who came to beg. The prince said:

“I give to others without begrudging anything, but now none of my possessions remain.”

The brahmin said:

“If you have no possessions, then please give me the robe you are wearing.”

The prince immediately removed his precious robe and gave it to him. Wearing only an old robe, he continued onward. They then met another brahmin who came to beg. The prince gave him his wife’s garments and continued on, whereupon they met still another brahmin who came to beg. The prince then gave him the garments of his two children.

The prince had given away the horses, carriage, wealth, and garments until nothing at all remained to give, yet he felt no regret and regarded giving as lightly as a feather. The prince carried his son on his back, while his wife carried their daughter, and they continued on foot. The whole family joyfully made their way toward the distant mountain.

Mount Đàn-đặc was more than six thousand li from the kingdom of Diệp-ba. On the road far from their homeland, the prince’s family stopped in a desolate wilderness, suffering greatly from hunger and thirst. Śakra, the ruler of the Trāyastriṃśa Heaven, caused a fortified city and streets suddenly to appear in that deserted place. At every crossroads there were music, garments, food, and other provisions. People came out of the city to welcome the prince and invited him to remain there to eat, drink, rest, and enjoy themselves together.

The princess said to the prince:

“The journey has been exceedingly arduous. Might we stop here for a while?”

The prince said:

“My royal father has banished me to Mount Đàn-đặc. If I remain here, I will be disobeying my royal father’s command and will therefore not be a filial son.”

The whole family left the city. When they turned to look back, the fortified city and its streets had suddenly vanished. They continued toward Mount Đàn-đặc, but at the foot of the mountain they encountered a deep river that could not be forded. The princess said:

“We should remain here and wait until the water subsides before proceeding.”

The prince said:

“My royal father has banished us to Mount Đàn-đặc. If we stop here, we will be going against my royal father’s instruction, and I will not be a filial son.”

The prince then entered the samadhi of loving-kindness. A great mountain immediately arose in the river and held back the water, allowing the entire family to lift their garments and cross. After they had crossed the great river, the prince thought, “If I leave the mountain blocking the water and depart, the great river will overflow and kill the people and the tiny insects.” The prince turned back and said to the river:

“Flow again as before. Let anyone who wishes to come to where I am be able to ford you.”

As soon as the prince had spoken, the river resumed its former course. The family advanced toward the forest and arrived at Mount Đàn-đặc. The mountain rose loftily into the sky; its trees were fresh, luxuriant, and flourishing. Myriad birds chirped, streams flowed, and clear ponds held sweet water. Delicious fruits grew there. There were many kinds of forest birds, such as wild ducks, geese, brilliantly colored chá birds, mandarin ducks, and others.

The prince said to his wife:

“I see that on this mountain the trees mingle with the sky, yet they do not break or fall and harm people. There are sweet springs for drinking and delicious fruits for eating. People who cultivate the Way also dwell here.”

When the prince entered the mountain, the birds and beasts chirped and called in welcome. On the mountain lived a practitioner of the Way named A-châu-đà, who was five hundred years old and possessed extraordinary merit and virtue. The prince bowed his head at the practitioner’s feet and asked:

“Where on this mountain are delicious fruits found, and beside which stream might we stay?”

A-châu-đà replied:

“Every place on this mountain is blessed ground where one may stay. This very place is presently pure and peaceful. Why have you brought your wife and children here? Do you wish to cultivate the Way?”

Before the prince could answer, Mạn-đề asked the practitioner:

“How many years have you cultivated the Way here?”

The practitioner replied:

“I have dwelt on this mountain for four or five hundred years.”

Mạn-đề said:

“If one still reckons in terms of ‘self and person,’ when will one ever attain the Way? Even if one dwells for many years in the mountain forests, one is merely like the trees and grasses. Only one who does not cling to ‘self and person’ can attain the Way.”

“I truly do not understand this matter.”

The prince asked the practitioner:

“Have you heard the name of Prince Tu-đại-noa, son of the king of Diệp-ba?”

The practitioner replied:

“Yes, I have heard of him, but I have never seen the prince in person.”

The prince said:

“I am Prince Tu-đại-noa.”

The practitioner asked:

“What do you seek?”

The prince replied:

“I seek the Mahayana Way.”

The practitioner then said:

“The prince is a person of such merit and virtue that before long you will attain the Mahayana Way. When the prince attains unsurpassed, right, and true enlightenment, I shall become your disciple, foremost in supernormal powers.”

The ascetic showed the prince a suitable place to dwell. The prince, in turn, asked the ascetic how to braid his hair and bind it atop his head. The prince used spring water and fruit as food and drink, and built a small grass hut from branches. He also built grass huts for Mạn-đề and the two young children, making three grass huts in all. The son, named Da-lợi, was seven years old. He wore a garment of grass and followed his father. The daughter, named Tân-noa-diên, was six years old. She wore a deerskin garment and followed her mother. All the birds and wild animals in the forest joyfully gathered around the prince.

The family had spent only one night in the mountain forest when all the dried-up ponds and lakes in the mountains began flowing again like springs. Withered trees put forth leaves and blossomed. Venomous creatures and ferocious beasts disappeared of their own accord, while those that had preyed upon one another began eating only grass.

All the fruit trees naturally flourished, lush and abundant. The calls of hundreds of birds sounded like a harmonious concert. Mạn-đề devoted herself to gathering fruit as food for the prince and their two young children.

The two children would also leave their parents to play, frolicking with the forest animals beside the stream. One night, while the boy Da-lợi was playing astride a lion, the lion leapt about, causing Da-lợi to fall to the ground and injure his face, which began to bleed. Seeing this, a monkey hurried to gather leaves and place them over the bleeding wound on the boy’s face.

The monkey then led him to the stream and washed him clean. Observing this from afar, the prince thought to himself, “Even animals possess such loving-kindness.”

At that time, in the kingdom of Cưu-lưu, there lived an impoverished Brahmin who did not take a wife until he was forty years old. His wife was exceedingly beautiful. This Brahmin had twelve ugly features. His body was black as pitch; his face bore three haggard features; the bridge of his nose was sunken and flat; his eyes were blue; his face was wrinkled; his lip was cleft; he stammered when he spoke; his belly protruded greatly; his legs were bowed; and his head was bald. His appearance resembled that of a demon, and thus his wife detested the sight of him. She cursed him and wished that he would die. While on her way to fetch water, the Brahmin’s wife encountered some youths who were laughing and talking about her husband’s ridiculous appearance. They asked:

“You are very beautiful. Why did you marry such a man?”

The wife replied:

“He is an old man whose hair is white as frost. As he sits beneath a tree, morning and evening I wish that he would die, yet I do not know when he will finally consent to do so.”

The wife carried the water home, weeping as she walked. When she arrived, she said to her husband:

“When I went to fetch water just now, I met some youths who compared our appearances and mocked me. Go and find a servant girl for me. I must have a servant so that I will no longer need to fetch water and people will no longer ridicule me.”

Her husband said:

“I am exceedingly poor. How could I obtain a servant girl?”

His wife replied:

“If you cannot find a servant girl for me, I shall leave and will no longer remain here.”

She continued:

“I have heard that Prince Tu-đại-noa gave away a great many things, and for that reason his royal father banished him to Mount Đàn-đặc. He has a son and a daughter. You can go there and ask him for them.”

Her husband said:

“Mount Đàn-đặc is more than six thousand miles from here. If I do not go to that mountain, where else am I to look?”

His wife exclaimed:

“If you do not find a servant girl for me, I shall kill myself before your very eyes!”

Her husband immediately said:

“I would rather die than see you die in such a way. If you want me to go, then prepare my travel expenses and provisions.”

His wife said:

“Go! I have neither wealth nor provisions.”

The Brahmin himself arranged his travel expenses and provisions and set out. He journeyed to the kingdom of Diệp-ba. Arriving before the palace gate, the Brahmin asked the gatekeeper:

“Where is Prince Tu-đại-noa now?”

The gatekeeper entered and reported to the king:

“Outside the gate is a Brahmin who has come seeking Prince Tu-đại-noa.”

When the king heard that someone had come seeking the prince, anger arose in his heart, and he said:

“It was because of people such as this that I banished my son, the prince. Why has he now come here? It is like adding firewood to a blazing fire. My grief burns like fire, and this man’s coming here to ask about the prince is like adding more wood to the flames.”

The Brahmin said:

“I have come here from far away because I heard of the prince’s renown. From the blue heavens above to the Yellow Springs below, the prince gives alms without ever going against anyone’s wishes. Therefore, I have endured this arduous journey to come here and seek one thing.”

The king said:

“The prince dwells alone in the deep mountains, impoverished and suffering. What could he possibly have left to give you?”

“Although the prince no longer possesses anything precious, I still wish to see him.”

The king then ordered someone to show the Brahmin the way. The Brahmin traveled to Mount Đàn-đặc. When he reached a great river, he thought of the prince and was able to wade across and enter the mountains. The Brahmin encountered a hunter and asked:

“You live in these mountains. Do you know Prince Tu-đại-noa?”

The hunter knew that the prince had been exiled to the mountains because he had given alms to Brahmins. He seized the Brahmin and bound him to a tree, then thrashed him with a whip until his body was battered and torn, cursing him:

“I want to shoot you in the belly and eat your flesh because you dared to ask about the prince.”

The Brahmin thought, “This man will probably kill me. I must devise a lie.” He then said:

“Do you not need to question me first?”

“What do you wish to say?”

“Because the prince’s royal father wishes to see him, he sent me here to find the prince and summon him back to the kingdom.”

The hunter hastily untied the Brahmin and apologized:

“I truly did not know.”

He then showed him where the prince was dwelling. The Brahmin went to the prince’s abode. Seeing him approach, the prince was filled with joy. He went out to welcome him, bowed respectfully, and solicitously inquired:

“From where have you come? Was your journey very arduous? For what purpose have you come here?”

The Brahmin said:

“I have come here from a distant land. My entire body is aching, and I am hungry and thirsty.”

The prince invited the Brahmin to enter and sit down, then offered him fruit and water. After the Brahmin had eaten and drunk, he said to the prince:

“I am a man of the kingdom of Cưu-lưu. For a long time I have heard of the prince’s delight in giving alms, and your fame has spread throughout all ten directions. I am exceedingly poor and have come here to ask one thing of you.”

The prince said:

“There is nothing I would begrudge giving you. Yet by now I have already given away everything I possessed, and so I have nothing left to give.”

“If you have nothing left, then I ask you to give me your two children, so that they may attend upon me in my old age.”

The Brahmin repeated this request three times. The prince replied:

“You have come here from afar to ask for my son and daughter. How could I refuse to give them to you?”

At that time, the two children were out playing. The prince called them back and said:

“This Brahmin has come here from far away to ask for you both, and I have promised to give you to him. You must go with him.”

The two children ran beneath their father’s arms, weeping, and said:

“We have seen Brahmins many times, but never have we seen anyone like this man. He is not a Brahmin; he is a demon. Our mother has gone to gather fruit and has not yet returned, yet Father is giving us to a demon to be eaten. We will surely die. When our mother returns and searches for us but cannot find us, she will be like a mother cow searching for her calf.”

Having said this, the children wailed most piteously. The prince said:

“Father has already promised you to him, so how can you remain here? This is a brahmin, not a demon. He will never eat you, so go with him.”

The brahmin said:

“I wish to leave at once, for I fear that when the children’s mother returns, she will not allow us to go. You have graciously given them to me, but when their mother returns, she will thwart your benevolent intention.”

The prince replied:

“From the time I was born until now, I have never regretted an act of giving.”

The prince poured water over the brahmin’s hands, then led his two children forward and handed them over to him. The earth trembled. The two children refused to follow the brahmin and ran back to their father. Kneeling before him, they said:

“What wrong did we commit in the past that we must now undergo this suffering? Though born of royal lineage, we are to become servants. Father, please forgive us. Through these causes and conditions, may our offenses be extinguished and merit arise, and may we never again encounter such a fate in life after life.”

The prince said to his two children:

“In this world, those bound by affection must all eventually part. Everything is impermanent; how could anything be preserved forever? When I attain the unsurpassed, impartial Way, I shall deliver you both.”

The two children said to their father:

“Father, please allow us to bid farewell to Mother. From this day onward, we may be separated forever, and we grieve that we cannot see her before departing. What wrong did we commit in the past that we must endure such anguish?

“When Mother discovers that she has lost us, how worried and distressed she will be!”

The brahmin said:

“I am already old and feeble. They will abandon me and run back to their mother; how could I catch them? Please bind them to me.”

The prince took the children’s hands and allowed the brahmin to bind them himself. With one end of a rope, the brahmin tied them together. When the two children refused to follow him, he beat them with a whip until their blood flowed onto the ground. Seeing this, the prince’s tears fell upon the earth, causing it to seethe.

The prince and all the animals accompanied the two children on their departure and returned only after they had passed from sight. The wild animals followed the prince back to the place where the children had played. There they cried out resoundingly and cast themselves upon the ground.

As the brahmin led the two children along the road, they wound the rope around a tree and refused to follow him, hoping their mother would arrive. The brahmin took his whip and beat the brother and sister. The children said:

“Do not beat us. We will walk by ourselves.”

The two children looked up to the sky and lamented:

“Spirits of the mountains and spirits of the trees, please have compassion for us. We must now journey far away, taken by another to become servants, without having had time to bid farewell to our mother. Please tell our mother to cast aside the fruit and hurry here to see us.”

While the children’s mother was in the forest, the sole of her left foot began to itch and tingle, her right eye twitched, and milk flowed from both her breasts. She thought, “I have never before experienced such strange signs. I must gather no more fruit, but hurry home to see whether my two children are there!”

The mother immediately cast aside the fruit and hastened home. At that time, Shakra, dwelling in the second Trayastrimsha Heaven, knew that the prince had given his children to another. Fearing that the prince’s wife would disrupt his virtuous resolve, he transformed himself into a lion and stood blocking the road with his legs spread wide. The wife said to the lion:

“You are the king among beasts, and I too am the daughter of a king among humans. We both dwell together in these mountains, so please step aside a little and let me pass. I have two children who are both still very young. They have had nothing to eat or drink since morning and are eagerly awaiting my return.”

Knowing that the brahmin had already gone far away, the lion rose and moved aside, allowing the children’s mother to pass.

When the wife returned, she saw the prince sitting alone, but the two children were nowhere to be found. She went to the children’s leaf hut to search for them, but they were not there. She then entered her own leaf hut, but her children were not there either. The mother went to the bank of the stream where they usually played, yet still could not find them. At the place where the children had played, she saw only the wild animals—deer, antelopes, lions, monkeys, gibbons, and others—gathered before her. Manti writhed upon the ground and cried aloud, while the pond where the children had played had dried up.

Manti returned home and asked the prince:

“Where are our two children?”

The prince did not answer. Manti continued:

“Every day, when the children saw me returning from afar with fruit, they would run to me and pull me down to the ground. Then they would scamper about, crying joyfully, ‘Ah! Mother has returned!’ They would sit beside me, and when they saw dust and dirt clinging to my body, they would brush it away with their hands. Yet now I do not see the children, nor do they come to my side. Have you given them to someone? Not seeing them, my heart is breaking. Quickly tell me where they are; do not drive me to madness.”

Manti spoke thus three times, but the prince still did not answer. In even greater anguish, Manti said:

“Our two children are already nowhere to be seen, and now you remain silent as well, causing me to become even more delirious with grief.”

The prince said:

“A brahmin from the kingdom of Kuru came here and asked me for our two children, so I gave them to him.”

When she heard the prince’s words, she was overcome with emotion and fell headlong to the ground like Mount Tai collapsing. She wept and lamented without cease.

The prince said:

“Cease your weeping! Do you remember the vow you made in a former time, in the age of Dipankara Buddha? At that time, I was a brahmin named Pingduowei, and you were a brahmin maiden named Sudala.

You were holding seven flowers, and I paid you five hundred silver coins for them because I wished to scatter the flowers as an offering to the Buddha. You also entrusted two flowers to me to present to the Buddha and made this vow: ‘May I, in future lives, always become this man’s wife, and whether circumstances be good or bad, may we never be separated.’ At that time, I said to you, ‘If you wish to become my wife, you must comply with my wishes and never oppose me in the practice of giving.

Only my parents shall I not give away; apart from them, I may give anything according to my will.’ You then replied that you agreed. Now that I have given away our children, you are disrupting my virtuous resolve.”

Hearing the prince’s words, his wife’s mind opened, and she recalled her former lives. She willingly followed the prince in practicing generosity so that his aspiration might swiftly be fulfilled.

Seeing the prince give in this manner, Shakra wished to test what the prince sought. He transformed himself into a brahmin who also bore twelve ugly features and came before the prince, saying:

“I have often heard that the prince delights in giving and fulfills the wishes of others without opposing anyone. Therefore, I have come here to ask you to give me your wife.”

The prince said:

“Very well! You may have her.”

His wife asked:

“If you now give me to another, who will attend to and care for the prince?”

“If I do not give you away, how can I fulfill my aspiration to attain unsurpassed, impartial liberation?”

The prince poured water over the brahmin’s hands, then led his wife forward and gave her to him. Shakra knew that the prince felt no regret. Heaven and earth trembled, and the devas praised him, saying:

“Excellent!”

The brahmin then led her seven steps away. Afterward, he brought her back and entrusted her to the prince, refusing to accept her. The prince asked:

“Why will you not accept her? Is there perhaps something unsatisfactory about her? Among all wives, she is a virtuous wife. She is the daughter of a king, and she is her parents’ only daughter. For my sake, this wife has braved boiling water and blazing fire. Though enduring meager food and drink, she has never abandoned me and has always remained diligent. Her appearance is also dignified and beautiful. When you led her away just now, only then did my heart rejoice.”

The brahmin said to the prince:

“I am not a brahmin. I am Śakra, Lord of the Gods, who has come here to test what you desire.”

Having spoken, the brahmin revealed his true form as Śakra, majestic and extraordinarily radiant. The wife immediately knelt, bowed at the feet of Śakra, and asked for three wishes:

“May you cause the brahmin who took my two young children to return and sell them in their own country.

“May you ensure that my two children do not suffer from hunger or thirst.

“May you allow the prince and me to return soon to our homeland.”

Śakra said:

“You shall receive all that you have wished for.”

The prince said:

“I vow that all sentient beings may attain liberation and no longer suffer along the paths of birth, aging, sickness, and death.”

Śakra then said:

“Excellent! Your supreme aspiration is truly exalted. If you wished to be born in the heavens, to become lord of the sun or moon, or to become a king in the human world with a long life, I could grant whatever you desired. But if you wish to become the Honored One of the three realms, that is not within my power to bestow.”

The prince said:

“I now wish to obtain wealth and to delight continually in giving even more generously than before, and to cause my royal father and his close ministers all to long to see me.”

Śakra said:

“Your wish shall certainly be fulfilled.”

Having spoken, Śakra immediately vanished.

The brahmin from the kingdom of Kuru led the two children home, but his wife rebuked him:

“How could you bear to bring these two children here? They are of royal lineage, yet you had no compassion and beat them until their bodies bled, festered, and broke out in sores. Quickly take them away and sell them to someone who needs servants.”

Heeding his wife, the brahmin immediately took the two children away to sell them. Śakra, Lord of the Gods, went about the marketplace, saying, “These two children are exceedingly precious; no one can afford to buy them.” When they suffered from hunger and thirst, Śakra sustained them through his divine power until they were satisfied. The Lord of the Gods caused the brahmin to change his mind and lead the two children to the kingdom of Śibi. All the ministers and people throughout Śibi knew that they were the prince’s children and the Great King’s grandchildren. Everyone in the kingdom felt compassion for them. The ministers asked the brahmin where he had obtained the two children. The brahmin replied:

“I received them by asking for them myself. Why do you question me?”

“You have come into our kingdom, so of course we must question you!”

The great ministers and the people all wanted to seize the two children back from the brahmin. But an elder among them dissuaded them:

“This situation has arisen precisely because of the prince’s resolve to practice giving. If we now seize the two children back, would that not go against the prince’s original vow? It would be better to report this to the Great King. When he learns of it, he will redeem his two grandchildren.”

Therefore, everyone abandoned the intention of taking back the two children. The ministers went to report to the king:

“Your Majesty’s two grandchildren are being offered for sale by a brahmin.”

When the king heard this, he was horrified and ordered the brahmin to bring the two children into the palace. When the king, his consort, his close ministers, and the palace maidens saw the two children, they were all overcome with emotion. The king asked the brahmin:

“How did these two children come into your possession?”

The brahmin replied:

“I received them by asking the prince for them.”

The king called to his two grandchildren and wished to embrace them, but the children wept and refused to approach. The king asked the brahmin:

“I wish to redeem these two children. How much money do you want?”

Before the brahmin could answer, the boy said:

“A male is worth one thousand pieces of silver and one hundred calves. A female is worth two thousand pieces of gold and two hundred calves.”

The king asked:

“Males are held to be precious. Why do you value females highly and males lightly?”

The child replied:

“The palace maidens are not related to the king. Some come from lowly origins, and some were bondservants; yet if they are fortunate enough to win the king’s favor, they are immediately honored, clothed in precious garments and jewels, and served a hundred delicacies. The king had only one son, yet he banished him deep into the mountains. Day after day, the king delights in the palace with his maidens and gives no thought whatsoever to his only son. Thus it is clear that males are lightly esteemed while females are highly valued.”

Hearing his grandson’s words, the king was filled with sorrow and emotion. Tears streamed down his face as he said:

“You have defeated me. Why will you not come and embrace me? Are you angry with me, or are you afraid of the brahmin?”

“Your Majesty, I dare not resent you, nor am I afraid of the brahmin. Formerly I was Your Majesty’s grandson, but now I am a bondservant. What bondservant would dare approach and embrace the king? That is why I dare not do so!”

When the king heard the child speak thus, his grief deepened further, and he said:

“I shall pay the brahmin his recompense.”

The king called his two grandchildren forward, embraced them, and tenderly caressed their bodies all over. He asked the two children:

“What does your father eat and drink in the mountains, and what does he wear?”

The child replied:

“Your Majesty, our father gathers greens and fruit for food and wears garments of coarse hemp cloth. Surrounded by myriad birds singing joyfully, he feels no sorrow.”

The Great King then told the brahmin to depart.

The grandson said to the king:

“This brahmin is suffering terribly from hunger and thirst. Please grant him a meal.”

The king asked:

“Do you not hate this man? Why do you ask for food on his behalf?”

The child replied:

“Your Majesty, our father cherishes the Way and had no possessions left to give, so he gave me away. This man is therefore my great benefactor. I have not yet served him sufficiently to fulfill my father’s intention in following the Way; how, then, could I bear to see him hungry and thirsty without showing compassion? Our father gave both my sibling and me to the brahmin, so why should Your Majesty begrudge him a single meal?”

The king bestowed food upon the brahmin. After eating, the brahmin joyfully returned to his country. The king ordered a messenger to hasten and welcome the prince back to the palace. Obeying the king’s command, the messenger went to welcome the prince. A deep river blocked his way, and he could not wade across; but as soon as he called the prince to mind, he was able to cross.

The messenger conveyed the king’s command to the prince, telling him to return quickly to the kingdom, for the king longed to see him.

The prince replied:

“My royal father banished me to the mountains for a term of twelve years, but only one year has passed. When the full number of years has elapsed, I shall return of my own accord.”

The messenger returned and reported this to the king. The king wrote a letter and ordered the messenger to deliver it to the prince: “You are a man of wisdom. You must be patient both in departing and in returning. Why do you remain resentful and refuse to come back? You must have sufficient food and drink.”

The messenger carried the letter back. Upon receiving his royal father’s letter, the prince reverently bowed to the ground, circumambulated it seven times, and then opened it to read.

When the birds and beasts of the mountain forests heard that the prince was returning to the kingdom, they leaped about, rolled upon the ground, struck the earth, and cried aloud. The streams dried up, the animals ceased to give milk, and myriad birds raised mournful cries at the loss of the prince. The prince put on his robe and returned to the royal palace together with his wife. When the enemies of the rival kingdom heard that the prince was returning, they sent messengers to prepare gold and silver saddles and harnesses for the white elephant, together with a golden bowl filled with silver grain and a silver bowl filled with golden grain. They met the prince along the road home and restored these things to him. They offered their apologies and expressed their remorse:

“Because we were formerly foolish, we asked for the white elephant, causing the prince to be exiled far away. Now, hearing that the prince is returning, we are greatly delighted and ask to return the white elephant to him. We also offer the prince gold, silver, and grain. May the prince compassionately accept them, so that our former offenses may be eradicated.”

The prince said:

“Suppose someone were to serve a hundred kinds of food to a person, and after eating, that person vomited all over the ground. Could it still be clean enough to eat again? My giving now is like that vomited food; I shall never take it back. Take the elephant and carriage home. I thank the king, who sent messengers on this arduous journey from afar to inquire after me.”

The messengers brought the elephant and carriage back and reported all this to their king. Because of this matter concerning the white elephant, the enemies of the hostile kingdom became benevolent. The king and all the people gave rise to the aspiration for unsurpassed, impartial liberation.

The prince’s father rode an elephant out to welcome him. The prince came forward, bowed his head in reverence to his father, and followed him home. All the people throughout the kingdom rejoiced. They scattered flowers, burned incense, hung silk canopies, banners, and pennants, and strewed flowers over the ground as they awaited the prince’s return.

Upon entering the palace, the prince immediately went to see his mother. He bowed his head in reverence and inquired after her health. The king entrusted the treasury to the prince, allowing him freely to give even more than before. The prince continued giving without cease until he attained Buddhahood.

The Buddha told Venerable Ananda:

“In a former kalpa, I practiced giving in this way. Prince Sudana was none other than I myself. His father, the king, was my present father, Suddhodana. His mother was Maya, and his wife was Gopi. The ascetic A-chau-da in the mountains was Mahamaudgalyayana. Sakra, Lord of the Devas, was Sariputra. The hunter was Ananda. The boy named Jali was Rahula, my son; the girl Tan-noa-dien is now the arhat Mac-loi-mau. The brahmin who asked for the two children was Devadatta. The brahmin’s wife was Cinca-manavika. For innumerable kalpas I endured hardship in this way, and for innumerable kalpas I practiced wholesome karma. You should expound this sutra to all the śramanas, explaining how the perfection of giving is practiced.”