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VII. The Story of Agastya - SE Quadrant, Upper Register, Reliefs 27 - 28 |
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THE JATAKAMALA The
Tigress |
Adapted from the 19th century translation by J. S Speyer Not at all desirous of any pleasures or cause for rejoicing that were connected with existence, and thinking it painful even to ask for anything since he had attained the state of contentment, the Bodhisattva said: "If you wish to bestow a boon that would please me, I ask that the fire of covetousness--which heats the minds of men and is never to be satisfied even after they have obtain a beloved wife, children, power, and abundant riches--let that fire never enter my heart." The Jatakamala’s Story of Agastya would have been of particular interest to the Javanese because it describes an unnamed island of the Southern Sea. In the Vedic texts of India, the celestial steersman of the ship Argha of the wandering Sun is known as Agastya. A hymn from the Rig Veda describes how Agastya's wife once succeeded in turning the great sage away from his vow of chastity in order to conceive a child. The composer of the hymn says that while Agastya had perfected his power of asceticism, his wife had also perfected the exercise of her feminine charms. The Rig Veda also describes Agastya through the use of the Sanskrit word "vrsam," which means to shed seed or rain. The author of the Jatakamala employs the same concept by comparing the sage’s munificence to a great cloud that pours rain onto the field. (7) By the era in which Borobudur was constructed, Agastya had come to be regarded as the "Sage of the South"--a holy man (rishi) who employed his ascetic powers to conquer and control the Asuras who occupy the Earth's southern hemisphere. He is represented in the firmament by the bright star Canopus, which is located in the general vicinity of the Earth's celestial South Pole. (8) Sea journeys between India and the islands of the Southern Sea were particularly perilous during the era in which Borobudur was constructed. The following Jatakamala tale of the steersman Suparaga concerns a fateful journey to the “Land of Gold” (Suvarnadvipa), the name that greater India formerly used to refer to the island of Sumatra and adjacent portions of the Malay peninsula. Sea journeys between India and the islands of the Southern Sea were particularly perilous during the era in which Borobudur was constructed. The following Jatakamala tale of the steersman Suparaga concerns a fateful journey to the “Land of Gold” (Suvarnadvipa), the name that greater India formerly used to refer to the island of Sumatra and adjacent portions of the Malay peninsula. |
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Once the Bodhisattva was born into an illustrious family of Brahmans, which, due to great purity of conduct, might pass for an ornament of the earth. The birth of the Bodhisattva enhanced the luster of this family in the same way that the full and spotless orb of the rising moon beautifies the firmament during autumn. In due order, he obtained the different sacraments set forth by the sacred texts and tradition. After he had studied the Vedas and the Brahman rituals, the fame of his learning became known throughout the world. Begging from charitable people who were the lovers of virtue, he amassed considerable wealth in the form of the large gifts that he received. Like a huge cloud that bestows showers onto the fields, he gladdened with his wealth his family, friends, clients, guests, and teachers, bestowing boons upon the distressed as well as those deserving of honors. Despite attaining fame and fortune, the Great-minded One soon understood that the state of a householder is a source of sorrow that affords but meager comfort for the state of a householder is occupied with the pursuit of wealth and the guarding of fortunes. Besieged by hundreds of arrows made up of calamities, evil habits and obstructions to tranquillity, the state of a householder is also accompanied by toil in as much as it implies the necessity of accomplishing innumerable tasks. The Bodhisattva became convinced that only by renouncing the world could he achieve freedom from such evils, find a state that was truly favorable to the performance of religious duties and form the proper basis for undertaking those religious practices that are required for salvation. So he cast away his great abundance of wealth as if it were a straw and gave himself up to the observance of the discipline and the self-restraint of a world-renouncing ascetic. Despite the Bodhisattva's decision to leave the world, those whose affection he had gained over the years continued to seek his guidance. But preferring the happiness that arises from being entirely detached from the world, he repaired to the island of Kara in the Southern Sea, where he aspired to solitude. |
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The shores of that island are moistened by sapphire-blue waves that are blessed with the caress of the wind. White sands blanket the ground and the trees are adorned with branches that are full of twigs, flowers and fruits. Near the shoreline and next to a lake of pure water he embellished this lovely country with the splendor of his hermitage. It was there that he manifested the luster of his penance. Though his body was emaciated, it shone like the crescent Moon, which continues to radiate loveliness despite its small size. Absorbed in vows and penance, his modest actions attested to the tranquillity of his mind. Even the four-footed animals and the birds of the forest could see that there was a sage living in the forest. Though their intellect was small, they nevertheless became aware of his presence and ever attempted to imitate his behavior. While staying in the grove of penance, the Great-minded One, being in the habit of giving, continued to honor any guests who happened to arrive. On those rare occasions, he provided fresh water and dispensed with such hearty and kind words of welcome and blessings as are appropriate for ascetics to bestow. In the aftermath of such visits, he lived on only as much of his forest-produced food as his guests had left behind, limiting his meals to only what was strictly needed to sustain his body. The glory of his excessive penance soon reached the ear of Sakra, the Lord of the Devas. Touched by the news, Sakra desired to prove the sage's constancy. In the part of the forest where the Great Being dwelt, the Lord of the Devas caused the successive disappearance of all roots and fruits that were fit for an ascetic to eat. Absorbed in mediation and being accustomed to feeling content, the Bodhisattva remained indifferent to the needs of the body, and so did not direct his thoughts to the cause of these disappearances. For his meal he partook of young leaves that had been dressed on the fire, neither feeling any discontent nor longing for something better to eat. Calm as ever, he went on living much in the same way as he had before. Indeed, the livelihood of those who practice continence in earnest is no where difficult to obtain. For where are not found grass, leaves, and ponds to be found? Although both his astonishment as well as his high opinion of the Bodhisattva grew even stronger, the Lord of the Devas elected to resort to yet another ruse for testing the sage's resolve. Like the wind at summertime, Sakra stripped the leaves off all the trees, shrubs, and grasses that grew in that grove of penance. Unperturbed by this outcome, the Bodhisattva took such fallen leaves as were still fresh, boiled them in water, and ate them without feeling any uneasiness. Happily engaged in meditation, he stayed right there in the grove as if he had just feasted upon ambrosia. The splendid virtues that comprise the highest treasures are modesty in the learned, disinterestedness in the wealthy, and contentment in the ascetics. |
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The constancy of the Bodhisattva's contentment further surprised the Lord of the Devas. As if angry on account of it, Sakra assumed the form of a Brahman and then appeared before the Great Being at the very moment when the Bodhisattva was looking about for some guest as prescribed by his vow. Upon seeing the Brahman, the Bodhisattva rejoiced, went out to meet him, and welcomed him into the hermitage. Addressing kind words to his guest, he announced that it was mealtime. Rejoicing his guest with gentle words that were both pleasant to the mind and to the ear, the Great-minded One served up the entire portion of the boiled leaves that had been so troublesome to procure, preferring to dine on joy alone. The next day, Sakra reappeared in the same manner and at the same time as before. This time, however, the Bodhisattva exhibited even greater joy as he received his guest. No suffering, indeed, not even peril of life, can compel the virtuous to infringe upon their love for giving, for it is a love that has been fostered by their practice of commiseration. Overcome by the utmost amazement, Sakra began to fear that the Great-minded One, through his excess of penance, could actually gain possession of the brilliant realm of the Devas if he did but ask for it. Reassuming the wonderful beauty of his own celestial form, the Lord of the Devas questioned the Bodhisattva in an attempt to determine the purpose behind the Great-minded One's performance of penance. "For what reason have you left behind your beloved relations, household and possessions and why do you resort to this toilsome life of penance?" asked Sakra. "It cannot be for a trifling motive that the wise despise enjoyments easily obtained, afflict their relations with grief, and retire to a forest that is destructive of pleasures. Please, satisfy my curiosity and tell me what is the object of your wishes." "Repeated births lead to great sorrow and so do the dismal plagues of calamitous old age and illnesses," replied the Bodhisattva. "The necessity of death is also a disturbance to the mind. From those evils, I am resolved to save the creatures." Understanding now that it was not his own celestial splendor that the Bodhisattva was hoping to claim, the Lord of the Devas decided to honor the Great-minded one's fine speech by offering him a boon. "Ascetic, Kasyapa, for this right and well-said response I would like to bestow some boon. Tell me then, what do you desire.” Not at all desirous of any pleasures or cause for rejoicing that were connected with existence, and thinking it painful even to ask for anything since he had attained the state of contentment, the Bodhisattva said: "If you wish to bestow a boon that would please me, I ask that the fire of covetousness--which heats the minds of men and is never to be satisfied even after they have obtain a beloved wife, children, power, and abundant riches--let that fire never enter my heart." |
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Delighted to a still higher degree, Sakra praised the Bodhisattva again, saying: "Excellent, excellent!" and once more urged the Great-minded One to choose some boon. "Great sage, for this right and well-said sentence I gladly offer you a second boon in return." Then the Bodhisattva, in order to show Sakra the difficulty of getting rid entirely of the innate evil passions, preached the Dharma once again under the guise of asking for a boon. "May that fire of hatred, subdued by which the creatures come to their loss of wealth, caste and good reputation as if they had been vanquished by a hostile attack--may that fire be far from me." "Justly Fame, like a loving woman, attends upon those who have renounced the world," replied the Lord of the Devas. "Well, accept some other boon from me for this well-said sentence." Then the Bodhisattva, induced by his hostility to innate evil passions to blame the intercourse with such creatures as are not free from those passions, under the guise of accepting the boon, said this: "May I never hear a fool, nor obtain the sight of such a one, nor speak to such a one, nor endure the annoyance and the pain of staying with such a one! This is the boon I ask thee for." "What are you saying?" replied Sakra. "Anybody who is in distress deserves the commiseration of the pious. As the root of all calamities, foolishness is held to be the vilest condition. How is this that you, although compassionate, so abhor the sight of a fool who is so fit for commiseration?" "Because there is no help for him sir," answered the Bodhisattva. "If any fool were curable by treatment, then someone like me would waste no effort in bring about his good. But you must understand that such a one can derive no profit at all from medical treatment. He follows the wrong course of conduct, as if it were the right one, and desires to put also his neighbor in the same way. Unaccustomed to the performance of decent and upright behavior, he even becomes angry when someone admonishes him for his own well being. A person such as this burns with the infatuation of self-conceit, yet thinks himself wise. Provoked to anger by those who speak only for his good, he refuses to soften his impetuous behavior due to the deficiency of his moral education. So pray tell me, o most excellent of the Devas, what means exist whereby profit can be brought to him? Because there is no help for him, not even through the power of compassion, I do not ever wish to see a fool, since he is the most unfit object." |
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On hearing the Bodhisattva's reply, Sakra praised him and spoke again. "Any material equipment cannot reward these invaluable jewels. But like a handful of flowers that is extended in worship, I gladly offer yet another boon in exchange for these well-said sentences." To show that the virtuous are welcome in every circumstance, the Bodhisattva replied: "May I see a wise man, and hear a wise man, dwell with such a one, and converse with such a one! This boon, O best of the Devas, do grant me." Sakra said: "You do indeed seem to be a warm partisan of the wise. But tell me, what have the wise done for you? Say, Kasyapa, for what reason do you display this foolish greediness for the sight of a wise man?" In order to display the magnanimity of the virtuous, the Bodhisattva replied: "The wise man not only walks in the path of virtue, he also and others to that path. Words said for his benefit, even though they be harsh, do not ever rouse his impatience. Being adorned by uprightness and decency, it is always possible to make him accept what is said for his own well being. For this reason my mind, which adheres to virtue, is inclined to the partisan of virtue." Then Sakra, once again summoned the Bodhisattva to ask for some boon. "Surely you have already obtained everything, since you are wholly satisfied. Nevertheless, you should take some boon from me, considering it as a means of gratifying me. For a favor that is offered out of reverence, an abundance of power, and with the hope of affording a benefit, can become a cause of great pain if it is not accepted." Perceiving that Sakra's utmost desire was to do good, and wishing to please him and to benefit him, the Bodhisattva answered in a way that affirmed the superiority of the strong desire for almsgiving. "May your food, which is free from destruction and corruption, may your mind, which is lovely because of its practice of charity, and may those mendicants who are adorned by the pureness of their good conduct, be mine! This is the blessed boon for which I ask." Your Reverence is a mine of jewels," replied Sakra. "Not only will everything that you have requested be accomplished, but also on account of this well-said sentence I shall give you some other boon." The Bodhisattva said: "If you would like to bestow the boon that encloses the highest favor for me, O most excellent of all Celestials, do not ever come to me again in this blazing splendor of yours." |
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Both irritated and highly astonished by the request, Sakra replied: "Do not speak like this to me sir. By every kind of ritual--prayers, vows, sacrifices, penance and toilsome exertions--the people on earth seek to obtain the sight of me. But you have no desire for this. For what reason do you replay in this manner after I have offered to bestow my boons upon you?" "Do not yield to anger," replied the Bodhisattva. "It is not for want of courtesy that I ask for such a boon, nor is my request a sign of irreverence, no do I aim to display any lack of devotion towards Your Majesty. But contemplating your superhuman wonderful shape, which though shining gently still blazes brilliantly, I fear the sight of you, lest it should cause any want of strictness in the fulfillment of my penance." In response,
Sakra bowed to the
Great-minded One, circumambulated him from left to right and then
disappeared. At dawn on the following day, the Bodhisattva perceived
that the power of Sakra had delivered to the hermitage a large supply
of divine food and drink. In addition, hundreds of divine being had
assembled at the hermitage at the invitation of Sakra in order to
assist the Great-minded one. Supplied with all the wants of the holy
sages, the Great Sage obtained the sublime joy, delight and
tranquillity of ascetic life by returning to the performance of his
boundless vow of meditation.
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FOOTNOTES: (7) The Rig Veda, I. 179. (Although the Bodhisattva is never specifically called Agastya within the Jatakamala story that bears the name, other versions of this tale to be found in the Pali Canon do indeed refer to the sage as Agastya.) (8) Star Names: Their Lore and Meaning by Richard Hinckley Allen, p. 66. (9) Glimpses of Early Indo-Indonesian Culture by Himansu Bhusan Sarkar, p.264-265. (10) Historic East Java: Remains In Stone by Nigel Bullough, copyright 1995, p. 13. |
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