佛說婦人遇辜經

Thus have I heard:

At one time the Buddha was dwelling at the monastery of Jeta's Grove, the Garden of Anāthapiṇḍika, in the country of Śrāvastī, together with a great assembly of bhikṣus, twelve hundred and fifty in number.

At that time, there was a man, as yet unmarried, who came to the country of Śrāvastī, took a wife, and then returned to his native village, where he begot two children. The elder was seven years old, and the younger was still being carried in arms. His wife was again with child and was drawing near to the day of her delivery.

According to the customs and traditions of the land of India, a woman near her day of "the full moon when the flower opens" must return to the home of her father and mother to give birth; and so the husband and wife, together with their two children, drove their cart back toward the country of Śrāvastī. On the road they halted to rest, taking their meal and feeding the ox. At that moment a venomous serpent coiled itself about the leg of the ox.

The ox bolted out of its yoke, and the husband seized it, intending to discipline it sternly, but he saw that the ox had already been bitten to death by the venomous serpent. At that very instant, the serpent released the ox, turned back, and killed the husband as well. When the wife beheld such a sight, she trembled and was seized with terror; she cried out to Heaven and wept piteously, not knowing of whom she might beg for help.

When the curtain of night had fallen, the wife had no choice but to set out upon the road. Having gone a short distance, she came upon a river. On the far side of the river she saw houses, but because the night was dark and the wife was hard-pressed, fearing that she might be set upon by bandits and robbers, she abandoned the cart and brought her two children to the bank of the river, leaving the elder upon the shore while carrying the younger in her arms to wade across.

She had only just waded to the middle of the river when, back on this side, the elder child was attacked by a wolf. He cried out loudly: "Mother! Oh, Mother!" When the mother turned back, she saw that her child had already been devoured by the wolf.

In horror and terror the wife let go of the child she was carrying, who fell into the stream and was swept away by the current. Overwhelmed with grief and anguish, bewildered and bereft of her senses, she collapsed in the water and thereupon miscarried as well. When she climbed up onto the bank, she asked a passerby on the road:

"My father and mother, my family—are they safe and well?"

The passerby replied:

"Last night, the family was consumed by fire; your father and mother are all dead."

"And what of my husband's father and mother?"

"Also last night, savage bandits and robbers slaughtered that household; your husband's father and mother are all dead, and not a single one survived."

When she heard this, she grew yet more distraught and grief-stricken; her mind became deranged and frenzied, and, having lost her senses, she no longer knew anything at all. She stripped off her garments and, naked, fled running. The passersby on the road found it truly strange; some said, "Is she afflicted by an evil sickness, disturbed by ghosts and spirits?" Others said she was overcome with sorrow and bewilderment and had lost her mind; some reviled and cursed her, keeping their distance and going away; and there were also some who took pity on her and were moved with concern for her.

At that time the Buddha was dwelling at the monastery of Jeta's Grove, the Garden of Anāthapiṇḍika. In the great assembly the World-Honored One was expounding the Dharma for the fourfold assembly of disciples, the devas, the nāgas and spirits—all the ten directions were listening attentively to the sūtra; for if one hears the Dharma of the Buddhas, then the blind in both eyes regain their sight and behold the Buddha, the deaf are able to hear, the mute are able to speak, illnesses and diseases are dispelled, the frail and sickly become strong and well, poison can no longer run its course, and the disordered mind becomes tranquil.

At that time, the wife, racing onward, ran all the way to this place; and as she passed through the Garden of Jeta's Grove and beheld the Buddha, her mind at once became tranquil and was no longer sorrowful. Seeing herself naked, she was overcome with shame and bent down close to the ground. The Buddha bade Ānanda fetch a garment for her. Ānanda, receiving the instruction, went and brought back a garment; and when she had put it on, she bowed her head to the very feet of the Buddha and sat to one side.

The Buddha expounded a sūtra concerning: how sin and merit manifest in the present; how the lives of human beings are impermanent; that where there is meeting there is parting, where there is birth there is death; that the unborn and the unceasing are all fundamentally empty; that arising of themselves and ceasing of themselves, beings revolve through the five paths, just as a wheel, once dismantled, can turn no more.

When she heard the Buddha speak, her mind opened and her understanding was set free; she at once gave rise to the resolve for the true and right Way, attaining the stage of non-retrogression, and her sorrow and grief melted away like the sun freed of clouds. When the Buddha had spoken thus, the fourfold assembly rejoiced; and the devas, the nāgas, and the spirits bowed their heads in homage and withdrew.