GANGAMALA JĀTAKA
The Master told this tale while dwelling at Jetavana, concerning the observance of the weekly holy days. One day he addressed the lay-brethren who were keeping the holy day, and said:
“Lay-brethren, your conduct is good. When men keep the holy day, they should give alms, keep the moral precepts, abstain from anger, cherish kindness, and fulfill the duties proper to the day. Wise men of old gained great glory even from a partial keeping of the holy day.”
And at their request, he told them a tale of the past.
Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was reigning in Benares, there was a rich merchant in that city named Suciparivāra, whose wealth reached eighty crores, and who took delight in charity and other good works. His wife, children, household, and even the servants down to the calf-herds kept six holy days every month.
At that time the Bodhisatta was born into a poor family, and lived a hard life on workman’s wages. Hoping to find employment, he came to Suciparivāra’s house. Saluting and sitting on one side, he was asked his errand, and replied, “It is to seek work for wages in your house.”
When other workmen came, the merchant used to say, “In this house the workmen keep the moral precepts; if you can keep them, you may work for me.” But to the Bodhisatta he made no such mention of moral precepts. Instead he said, “Very well, my good man, you may work for me and settle your wages.”
Thenceforth the Bodhisatta did all the merchant’s work meekly and heartily, without a thought for his own weariness. He rose early to work, and returned only at evening.
One day a festival was proclaimed in the city. The merchant said to a female servant, “This is a holy day. You must cook rice for the workpeople in the morning. They will eat early, and then fast the rest of the day.” The Bodhisatta, not having been told to fast, rose early and went to his work. The other workpeople ate in the morning and then kept the fast. The merchant, with his wife, children, and attendants, likewise kept the fast, each in his own abode, meditating on the moral precepts.
The Bodhisatta worked all day and came home at sunset. The cook-maid gave him water for his hands, and offered him rice from the boiler. The Bodhisatta asked, “Why is it so quiet this evening? On other days there is much noise. Where have they all gone to-day?”
“They are all keeping the fast, each in his own abode,” she replied.
He thought to himself: “I will not be the only one misconducting myself among so many people of virtue.” So he went to the merchant and asked if the fast could still be kept by undertaking the duties of the day at that hour. The merchant told him, “The whole duty cannot be done, for it was not undertaken in the morning; but half the duty may yet be fulfilled.”
“So be it,” answered the Bodhisatta. In his master’s presence he undertook the observance, and then retired to his abode to meditate upon the precepts.
Now he had taken no food all day, and in the last watch of the night he felt pain as though pierced by a spear. The merchant brought him remedies, urging him to eat; but he answered, “I will not break my fast. I have undertaken it, though it cost my life.” The pain became intense, and at sunrise he was near to death. They carried him out and set him in a quiet place, saying he was dying.
At that moment the king of Benares, riding in a noble chariot with great retinue, passed by on a royal progress around the city. The Bodhisatta, beholding the royal splendour, felt a desire for kingship, and prayed for it. Then, dying, he was conceived again in the womb of the chief queen, by the power of his half-fast.
After the due time of pregnancy, the queen bore a son, who was named Prince Udaya. When he grew up, he mastered all the sciences. By the memory of his former births, he recalled his past deed of merit. Reflecting that so great a reward had come of so small an act, he sang a song of ecstasy again and again.
At his father’s death, he gained the kingdom, and, observing his own great glory, he sang the same song of ecstasy.
One day a festival was proclaimed in the city. A great multitude gathered, intent on amusement. A certain water-carrier, who dwelt by the north gate of Benares, had hidden a half-penny in a brick of a boundary wall. He cohabited with a poor woman, also a water-carrier. She said to him, “My lord, there is a festival in the town. If you have any money, let us enjoy ourselves.”
“I have, dear.”
“How much?”
“A half-penny.”
“Where is it?”
“In a brick by the north gate, twelve leagues from here. There I keep my treasure. But have you anything at hand?”
“I have.”
“How much?”
“A half-penny.”
“So yours and mine together make a whole penny. With one part we will buy a garland, with another perfume, and with the third strong drink. Go and fetch your half-penny from where you put it.”
Delighted by his wife’s words, he said, “Do not trouble, dear. I will fetch it.”
He was as strong as an elephant. Though the sand was burning hot, as though strewn with live coals, he journeyed more than six leagues at mid-day, filled with delight at the thought of gain. Dressed in old yellow cloth, with a palm-leaf stuck in his ear, he passed by the palace court, singing for joy.
King Udaya, standing at an open window, saw him coming and marveled: “Who is this man that, heedless of wind and heat, goes singing so joyfully?” He sent a servant to call him up.
“The king summons you,” said the servant.
“What is the king to me? I do not know the king,” replied the water-carrier. But he was taken by force and brought before the king, standing on one side.
Then the king spoke two stanzas of enquiry:
“The earth is like live coals, the ground like burning embers hot;
Yet still you sing your song of joy—this mighty heat harms you not.The sun on high, the sand below are blazing, fierce and hot;
Yet still you sing your song of joy—this mighty heat harms you not.”
Hearing the king’s words, he spoke the third stanza:
’Tis these desires that burn, and not the sun;
’Tis all these pressing tasks that must be done.
The king asked what his business was. He replied:
“O king, I lived by the south gate with a poor woman. She proposed that we should amuse ourselves at the festival and asked if I had anything in hand. I told her I had a treasure stored inside a wall by the north gate. She sent me to fetch it so we might enjoy ourselves. Those words never leave my heart, and as I think of them, hot desire burns me. That is my business.”
“Then what delights you so much that you disregard wind and sun and sing as you go?” asked the king.
“O king, I sing in hope that when I fetch my treasure, I shall amuse myself with her.”
“Then, my good man, is your treasure, hidden by the north gate, a hundred thousand pieces?”
“Oh no.”
The king asked in succession if it were fifty thousand, forty, thirty, twenty, ten, five, four, three, two, one gold piece, half a piece, a quarter piece, four pence, three, two, or one penny. The man said “No” to all, then:
“It is a half-penny, indeed, O king, that is all my treasure. But I am going in hopes of fetching it and then amusing myself with her. In that desire and delight, the wind and sun do not annoy me.”
The king said: “My good man, do not go there in such heat. I will give you a half-penny.”
“O king, I will take your gift, but I will not lose the other. I will still fetch it.”
“My good man, stay here! I’ll give you a penny, two pence…” The king offered more and more, up to a crore, a hundred crores, boundless wealth, if the man would remain. Yet he always answered, “I’ll take it, but I will fetch the other too.”
Then the king tempted him with posts—treasurer, viceroy, and at last offered him half the kingdom if he would stay. Finally, he consented. The king commanded his ministers: “Go, have my friend shaved, bathed, and adorned, and bring him back.” They did so. The king divided his kingdom in two and gave him half. Yet they say he took the northern half out of love for his half-penny. He was thereafter called King Half-penny. They ruled the kingdom in friendship and harmony.
One day, they went together to the park. After amusing themselves, King Udaya lay down with his head in King Half-penny’s lap and fell asleep, while the attendants went about their amusements. King Half-penny thought: “Why should I always have only half the kingdom? I will kill him and be sole king.” He drew his sword, but recalling that the king had made him, when poor, his partner and entrusted him with great power, he realized that this thought to kill a benefactor was wicked. He sheathed the sword.
A second and third time, the thought arose. Seeing that repeated temptation could lead him to the evil deed, he threw the sword to the ground and woke the king.
“Pardon me, O king,” he said, falling at his feet.
“Friend, you have done me no wrong.”
“I have, O great king; I did such and such a thing.”
“Then, friend, I pardon you. If you desire it, be sole king, and I will serve under you as viceroy.”
The man answered: “O king, I have no need of the kingdom. Such desire will cause rebirth in evil states. The kingdom is yours; take it. I will become an ascetic. I have seen the root of desire—it grows from a man’s wish. Henceforth, I will have no such wish.”
In ecstasy, he spoke the fourth stanza:
I have seen thy roots, Desire: in a man’s own will they lie.
I will no more wish for thee, and thou, Desire, shalt die.
So saying, he spoke the fifth stanza, declaring the law unto a great multitude devoted to desires:
Little desire is not enough, and much but brings us pain.
Ah! foolish men, be sober, friends, if ye would wisdom gain.
So declaring the law unto the multitude, he entrusted the realm to King Udaya. Leaving the weeping multitude with tears on their faces, he went to the Himalaya, became an ascetic, and attained perfect insight. At the time of his renunciation, King Udaya spoke the sixth stanza in complete expression of ecstasy:
Little desire has brought me all the fruit;
Great is the glory Udaya acquires;
Mighty the gain if one is resolute
To be a Brother and forsake desires.
No one knew the meaning of this stanza. One day, the chief queen asked him its meaning. The king would not tell.
There was a certain court-barber, called Gangamala, who, when attending to the king, first used the razor and then grasped hairs with his tweezers. The king liked the first operation, but the second caused him pain. At the first, he would have granted the barber a boon; at the second, he would have cut off his head.
One day he told the queen about it, saying the court-barber was a fool. When she asked what he ought to do, he replied: “Use the tweezers first, and the razor afterwards.” She sent for the barber and instructed him:
“My good man, when you trim the king’s beard, take his hairs with the tweezers first, and use the razor afterwards. If the king offers you a boon, request nothing else, but ask to know the meaning of his song. If you do, I will reward you handsomely.”
He agreed. The next day, while trimming the king’s beard, he followed her instructions.
The king said: “Gangamala, is this a new fashion of yours?”
“O king,” replied the barber, “barbers have a new fashion.” He grasped the king’s hairs with the tweezers first, then used the razor. The king offered him a boon.
“O king, I want nothing else; tell me the meaning of your song,” said Gangamala.
The king was ashamed to reveal his humble occupation in days of poverty and hesitated. “My good man, what use is such a boon to you? Choose something else,” he said. But the barber persisted, and the king, fearing to break his word, agreed.
As described in the Kummasapinda Birth, the king made all arrangements, seated Gangamala on a jewelled throne, and recounted the entire story of his former act of merit in his last existence.
“That explains half the stanza,” he said. “For the rest, my comrade became an ascetic; I, in my pride, am now sole king. That explains the second half of my song of ecstasy.”
Hearing this, Gangamala thought: “So the king attained glory for keeping half a fast-day. Virtue is the right course. What if I were to become an ascetic and work out my own salvation?”
He left all relatives and worldly goods, gained the king’s permission to become religious, and went to the Himalaya. There he became an ascetic, realized the three qualities of mundane things, attained perfect insight, and became a Pacceka-Buddha. By supernatural power, he obtained a bowl and robes.
After spending five or six years on the mountain, Gangamala wished to see the king of Benares. Passing through the air to the royal park, he sat upon the royal stone seat. The park-keeper informed the king that Gangamala, now a Pacceka-Buddha, had come through the air and was sitting in the park.
The king went at once to salute the Pacceka-Buddha. The queen-mother followed with her son. The king entered the park, saluted him, and sat on one side with his retinue.
The Pacceka-Buddha spoke in a friendly manner: “Brahmadatta” (calling him by his family name), “are you diligent, ruling the kingdom righteously, and performing charitable and other good works?”
The queen-mother was angered. “This low-caste barber’s son dares call my kingly son Brahmadatta!” she exclaimed, and spoke the seventh stanza:
Penance, forsooth, makes men forsake their sins,
Their barber’s, potter’s stations every one;
Through penance Gangamala glory wins,
And ‘Brahmadatta’ now he calls my son.
The king checked his mother and, declaring the qualities of the Pacceka-Buddha, spoke the eighth stanza:
Lo! how, e’er his death befall,
Meekness brings a man its fruit!
One who bowed before us all,
Kings and lords must now salute.
Though the king admonished his mother, the rest of the multitude rose up, saying: “It is not decent that such a low-caste person should address you by name in that way.”
The king rebuked the multitude and spoke the final stanza, declaring the virtues of the Pacceka-Buddha:
Scorn not Gangamala so,
Perfect in religion’s ways;
He has crossed the waves of woe,
Free from sorrow now he strays.
So saying, the king saluted the Pacceka-Buddha and asked him to forgive the queen-mother. He did so, and the king’s retinue also received his forgiveness.
The king wished him to promise to stay in the neighbourhood, but he refused. Standing in the air before the eyes of the whole court, he admonished the king and then departed to Gandhamadana.
After the lesson, the Master said, “Lay-brethren, you see how the fast is properly to be observed.” Then he identified the Birth:
“At that time, the Pacceka-Buddha entered Nirvana; King Half-penny was Ananda, the chief queen was the mother of Rahula, and King Udaya was myself.”
Source : The Jataka ,Vol 4, by W.H.D. Rouse, 1901