Mallika-the-Flower-Girl-Queen
At the time of the Buddha, a daughter was born to the foreman of the guild of garland-makers in Sāvatthī. She was beautiful, clever, and well behaved and a source of joy to her father. Her name was Mallikā.
One day, when she had just turned sixteen, she went to the public flower gardens with her girlfriends, taking three portions of fermented rice along in her basket for her meal. When she was just leaving by the city gate, a group of ascetics came into town to obtain alms. Their leader stood out: one whose grandeur and sublime beauty impressed her so much that she impulsively offered him all the food in her basket.
That great ascetic was the Buddha, the Awakened One. He let her put her offering into his bowl. After Mallikā-without knowing to whom she had given the food—had prostrated at his feet, she walked on full of joy. The Buddha smiled. Ānanda, who knew that the Enlightened One does not smile without a reason, asked why. The Buddha replied that this girl would reap the benefits of her gift this very same day by becoming the queen of Kosala.
This sounded unbelievable. How could the king of Kosala elevate a woman of low caste to the rank of queen? In the India of those days, with its very strict caste system, this seemed quite impossible…… (But don’t forget that MERIT can change any rule in the world; there is nothing that can surpass the power of mighty merit.)
The ruler over the united kingdom of Benares and Kosala in the Ganges Valley was King Pasenadi, the mightiest monarch of his day. At that time he was at war with his neighbour, Ajātasattu, the parricide king of Magadha. The latter had won a battle and King Pasenadi had been forced to retreat. As he was returning to his capital on his horse, just before he entered the city he heard a girl sing in the flower gardens. It was Mallikā, who was singing melodiously because of her joy in meeting the illustrious sage. The king was enchanted by the song and rode into the gardens. Mallikā did not run away from the strange warrior, but came nearer, took the horse by its reins, and looked straight into the king’s eyes. He asked her whether she was already married and she replied in the negative. Thereupon he dismounted, lay down with his head in her lap, and let her console him about his ill luck in battle.
After he had recovered, he let her mount his horse behind him and took her back to the house of her parents. In the evening he sent an entourage with much pomp to fetch her and made her his principal wife and queen.
From then on she was dearly beloved to the king. She was given many loyal servants and in her beauty she resembled a goddess. It became known throughout the whole kingdom that because of her simple gift she had been elevated to the highest position in the state and this induced her subjects to be kind and generous toward their fellow men. Wherever she went, people would joyously proclaim:
“That is Queen Mallikā, who gave alms to the Buddha.”
After she had become queen, she soon went to visit the Enlightened One to ask him something that was puzzling her: how it came about that one woman could be beautiful, wealthy, and of great power; another beautiful but poor and powerless; yet another ugly, rich, and very powerful; and finally, another ugly, poor, and powerless. These differences can constantly be observed in daily life. But while the ordinary person is satisfied with such commonplace explanations as fate, heredity, and chance, Queen Mallikā wanted to probe deeper, for she was convinced that nothing happens without a cause.
The Buddha explained to her in great detail that the qualities and living conditions of people everywhere reflect the moral nature of their deeds in earlier lives. Beauty was caused by patience and gentleness, prosperity by generosity, and power by never envying others but rather by rejoicing in their success. Whichever of these three virtues a person had cultivated would show up as their “destiny,” usually in some mixture of the three. Only rarely would a person be favourably endowed with all three attributes. After Mallikā had listened to this discourse, she resolved in her heart to be always gentle toward her subjects and never to scold them; to give alms to all monks, brahmins, and the poor; and never to envy anyone who was happy. At the end of the Buddha’s talk she took refuge in the Triple Gem and remained a faithful disciple for the rest of her life (AN 4:197).
Mallikā showed her great generosity not only by giving regular alms but also by building a large, ebony-lined hall for the Sangha, which was used for religious discussions (MN 78; DN 9). She exhibited her gentleness by serving her husband with the five qualities of a perfect wife: by always rising before him, by going to bed after him, by always obeying his commands, by always being polite, and by using only kind words. Even the monks praised her gentleness in their discussions about virtue.
Soon she was to prove that she was also free of jealousy. The king had decided to marry another wife and brought a cousin of the Buddha home as his second chief queen. Although it is said that it is in the nature of a woman not to allow a rival into her home, Mallikā related to the other wife without the slightest malice (AN 6:52). Both women lived in peace and harmony at the court. Even when the second wife gave birth to a son, the crown prince, and Mallikā had only a daughter, she was not envious. When the king voiced disappointment about the birth of that daughter, the Buddha said to him that if a woman was clever, virtuous, well behaved and faithful, she was superior to a man. Then she might become the wife of a great king and give birth to a mighty ruler (SN 3:16). When the daughter, Princess Vajirā, grew up, she in fact became queen of Magadha.
After Mallikā had become a faithful lay devotee of the Buddha, she also won her husband over to the Dhamma. That happened as follows: One night the king had a succession of sixteen disturbing dreams during which he heard gruesome, unfathomable sounds from four voices, which uttered: “Du, Sa, Na, So.” He woke up in the middle of the night, gripped by terror, and sitting upright, trembling, he awaited the sunrise. The next day, when his brahmin priests asked him whether he had slept well, he related the terror of the night and asked them what he should do to counteract such a menace. The brahmins declared that he would have to offer a great sacrifice to pacify the evil spirits, and out of fear the king agreed to this suggestion.
The brahmins rejoiced, thinking of the gifts they would surely reap for conducting the sacrifice, and they busily began to make preparations. They had a sacrificial altar built and many animals tied to posts as victims for the offering. For greater efficacy, they demanded the sacrifice of four human beings as well, and these also awaited their death, tied to posts.
When Mallikā became aware of all this activity, she went to the king and asked him why the brahmins were running about so busily full of joyous expectation. The king replied that she did not pay enough attention to him and did not know his sorrows. Thereupon he told her of his dreams. Mallikā asked the king whether he had also consulted the first and best of brahmins about the meaning of the dreams: the Buddha, the foremost in the world of gods and humans, the best of all brahmins. King Pasenadi decided to ask the Awakened One’s advice and went to the Jetavana monastery.
He related his dreams to the Buddha and asked him what would happen to him. “Nothing,” the Awakened One replied, and explained the meaning to him. The sixteen dreams, he said, were prophecies showing that living conditions on earth would deteriorate steadily due to the increasing moral laxity of the kings. In a meditative moment, King Pasenadi had been able to see future occurrences within his sphere of interest because he was a monarch concerned with the well- being of his subjects.
The four voices which he had heard belonged to four men who had lived in Sāvatthī and had been seducers of married women. Because of that they were reborn in hell and for thirty thousand years they drowned in red-hot cauldrons, coming nearer and nearer to the fire, which intensified their unbearable suffering. During another thirty thousand years they slowly rose up in those iron cauldrons and had now come to the rim, where they could once again at least breathe the air of the human realm.
Each one wanted to speak a verse, but because of the gravity of the deed could not get past the first syllable. Not even in sighs could they voice their suffering, because they had long lost the gift of speech. The four verses, which start in Pāli with du, sa, na, and so, were recognized by the Buddha as follows:
Du: Dung-like life we lived, No willingness to give. Although we could have given much, We did not make our refuge thus.
Sa: Say, the end is near? Already 60,000 years have gone; Without respite the torture is In this realm of hell.
Na: Naught, no end near. Oh, would it end! No end in sight for us. Who once did misdeeds here For me, for you, for both of us.
So: So, could I only leave this place. And raise myself to the human realm, I would be kind and moral too, And do good deeds abundantly.
After the king had heard these explanations, he became responsive to the request of the compassionate queen. He granted freedom to the imprisoned men and animals and ordered the sacrificial altar to be destroyed (J 77, 314).
The king, who had become a devoted lay disciple of the Buddha, visited him one day again and met a wise and well-learned layman there. The king asked him whether he could give some daily Dhamma teaching to his two queens and the other ladies of the palace. The layman replied that the teaching came from the Enlightened One and only one of his ordained disciples could pass it on to the women. The king understood this and requested the Buddha to give permission to one of his monks to teach. The Buddha appointed the Venerable Ānanda for this task. Queen Mallikā learned easily in spite of her uneducated background, but Queen Vasabhakhattiyā, cousin of the Buddha and mother of the crown-prince, was unconcentrated and learned with difficulty (Vin IV 158).
One day the royal couple looked down upon the river from the palace and saw a group of the Buddha’s monks playing about in the water. The king said to Queen Mallikā reproachfully:
“Those playing about in the water are supposed to be arahants.”
Such was the reputation of this group of the so-called seventeen monks, who were quite young and of good moral conduct. Mallikā replied that she could only explain it thus, that either the Buddha had not made any rules with regard to bathing or that the monks were not acquainted with them, because they were not among the rules which were recited regularly.
Both agreed that it would not make a good impression on laypeople and on those monks not yet secure if those in higher training played about in the water and enjoyed themselves in the way of untrained worldly people. But King Pasenadi wanted to avoid blackening those monks’ characters and just wanted to give the Buddha a hint, so that he could lay down a firm rule. He conceived the idea to send a special gift to the Buddha to be taken by those monks. They brought the gift and the Buddha asked them on what occasion they had met the king. Then they told him what they had done, and the Buddha laid down a corresponding rule (Vin IV 112).
One day when the king was standing on the parapet of the palace with the queen and was looking down upon the land, he asked her whether there was anyone in the world that she loved more than herself. He expected her to name him, since he flattered himself to have been the one who had raised her to fame and fortune. But although she loved him, she remained truthful and replied that she knew of no one dearer to her than herself. Then she wanted to know how it was with him: Did he love anyone—possibly her—than himself? Thereupon the king also had to admit that in his case too self-love was predominant. But he went to the Buddha and recounted the conversation to find out how a sage would consider this.
The Buddha confirmed their statements, but drew from them a lesson in compassion and nonviolence:
Having traversed all quarters with the mind,
One finds none anywhere dearer than oneself
For others too each holds himself most dear;
Hence one who loves himself should not harm others.
(SN 3:8; Ud 5:1)
One day a man came to the Buddha utterly distraught over the death of his only child. He could not eat, could not work; he had become depressed, and spent all his time in the charnel ground, crying out,
“Where are you, my only child? Where are you, my only child?”
The Buddha taught him a tough lesson: “Those who are dear bring sorrow, lamentation, pain, grief, and despair”—the suffering that results from attachment. Though his own experience bore out the Buddha’s words, the man resented this maxim and left in an angry mood. The conversation was reported to the king, and he asked his wife whether it was really true that sorrow could result from love. “If the Awakened One has said so, O king, then it is so,” she replied devotedly.
The king demurred that she accepted every word of the Buddha’s like a disciple from a guru. Thereupon she sent a messenger to the Buddha to ask if the report were true and to obtain more details. The Buddha confirmed it and gave a fuller explanation. But Mallikā did not pass the Buddha’s reply on directly to the king. Instead she used an indirect approach. She asked him whether he loved his daughter, his second wife, the crown prince, herself, and his kingdom. Naturally he confirmed this: these five were dear to him and deeply loved. But if something happened to these five, Mallikā inquired, would he not feel sorrow, lamentation, pain, grief, and despair, which comes from such love? Then the king understood and realized how wisely the Buddha could penetrate all existence: “Very well then, Mallikā, continue to venerate him.”
And the king rose, uncovered his shoulder, prostrated deferentially in the direction where the Blessed One was residing, and saluted him three times: “Homage to the Blessed One, the Arahant, the Fully Awakened One!” (MN 87).
But their lives together did not remain altogether free of conflict. One day an argument arose between the couple about the duties of the queen. For some reason the king had become angry at her and was treating her as if she had disappeared into thin air. When the Buddha arrived at the palace the next day for his meal, he asked about the queen, who had always been present earlier. Pasenadi scowled and said:
“What about her? She has gone mad because of her fame.”
The Buddha replied that he himself had raised her up to that position and should therefore be reconciled with her. Somewhat reluctantly the king had her called. The Buddha then praised the blessing of amity and their rift was forgotten as if it had never occurred (J 306).
Later, however, a new round of friction set in between the couple, and again the king would not look at Mallikā and pretended she did not exist. When the Buddha became aware of this he asked about her, and Pasenadi again said that her good fortune had gone to her head. Immediately the Awakened One related an incident from a former life when both were heavenly beings, a deva couple, who loved each other dearly. One night they were separated from each other because of the flooding of a stream. They both regretted this irretrievable night, which could never be replaced during their life span of a thousand years. And for the rest of their lives they never parted from each other’s company and always remembered to use this separation as a warning so that their happiness would endure until the end of their days. The king was moved by this story and became reconciled to the queen. Mallikā then spoke this verse to the Buddha:
With joy I heard your varied words,
Which were spoken for our welfare;
With your talk you dispelled my sorrow,
May you live long, my ascetic, bringer of joy!
(J 504)
A third time the Buddha told of a former life of the royal couple when Pasenadi was a crown prince and Mallikā his wife. When the crown prince became afflicted with leprosy and had to relinquish his claim to the throne, he resolved to withdraw into the forest by himself so as not to become a burden to anyone. His wife, however, refused to desert him but accompanied him and looked after him with touching attention. Rather than lead a carefree life in pomp and splendour, she chose to remain faithful to her repulsive husband. Through the power of her virtue she was able to effect his recovery. But when the king ascended to the throne and she became his queen, he promptly forgot her and enjoyed himself with the dancing girls. Only when the king was reminded of his queen’s good deeds did he change his ways. He asked her forgiveness and lived together with her in harmony and virtue (J 519).
Queen Mallikā committed only one deed in this life which had evil results and which led her to the worst rebirth. Once, when she was drying herself after a bath, her pet dog approached her from behind and mounted her. Instead of driving the dog away, she allowed it to continue. The king had caught a glimpse of this bizarre incident through an open window and later scolded Mallikā for her transgression. However, rather than admit her guilt, the queen insisted on her innocence and convinced the king that his eyes had played a trick on him.
When Mallikā died her twofold transgression—her sexual contact with the dog and her mendacious attempt to free herself from blame— caught up with her and brought about a rebirth in hell. This evil, however, lasted for only seven days, after which it was overpowered by Mallikā’s great merits. At the time of her death King Pasenadi was listening to the Buddha give a Dhamma talk. When the news reached him he was deeply shaken, to such an extent that his grief could not be assuaged even by the Buddha’s reminder that there was nothing in the world that could escape decay and death (AN 5:49).
His attachment—“from love comes sorrow”—was so strong that he went to the Buddha every day to find out about the future destiny of his wife. If he had to get along without her on earth, at least he wanted to know about her rebirth. But for seven days the Buddha distracted him from his question through fascinating and moving Dhamma discourses, so that he remembered his question only when he arrived home again. Only on the seventh day would the Buddha answer his question and said that Mallikā had been reborn in the Tusita heaven, “the heaven of the blissful devas.” So as not to add to the king’s sorrow, he did not mention the seven days she had spent in hell. Although it was a very short-termed sojourn there, one can see that Mallikā had not yet attained stream-entry during her life on earth, since a stream-enterer cannot take rebirth below the human level. However, this experience of infernal suffering together with her knowledge of the Dhamma must have quickened Mallikā’s ripening for the attainment of stream-entry.
King Kosala’s Matchless Alms-giving (asadisa-dāna)
Once as the Buddha travelled and entered the great Jetavana Monastery in the company of five hundred monks, King Pasenadī Kosala went to the monastery and invited the Buddha to the next day’s āgantuka-dāna (gift for visitors). He prepared the dāna elaborately and made an announcement:
“Let the citizens see my dāna!”
Having come and seen the King’s dāna, the citizens became desirous of competing against the King and invited the Buddha for the following day’s alms-giving and made every gift perfect and invited the King, saying:
“Let the Great King, our recognized Lord (Sammuti Deva), come and observe our charity.”
Having observed the alms-giving of the citizens, the King thought to himself:
“The people have done their dāna that is greater than mine. I will again do another alms-giving that will excel theirs.”
The next day he prepared his dāna more elaborately and invited the people to witness it. The people saw the King’s gifts, and in order not to be outdone by him, they organized for the following day a greater alms-giving and sent an invitation to the King. In this way the King could not defeat the citizens nor the citizens the King.
At the sixth grand offering of alms, the people increased their gifts a hundred time, nay, a thousand times, and decided that their offering should be so perfect that nobody could not say tha, ‘Such and such a thing is not included in the dāna of the citizens.’
Seeing the people’s offerings, the King became desperate, thinking:
“What is the use of my living if I cannot perform better than the people in giving alms?”
So he lay down on his couch, finding ways and means to outdo his subjects. Queen Mallikā then went to the King and asked:
“Why are you lying down, Great King? Why do your sense faculties such as eyes, look as though they were fading?”
“Don’t you know, my dear Queen?” asked the king in return.
“No, I do not, Great King,” replied the queen.
Then the King related the matter to Mallikā.
Matchless Offering organized by Mallikā.
Queen Mallikā then said to the King:
“Do not have discursive thoughts, Great King. Where have you learnt that a monarch ruling over land and water is defeated by his subjects. I shall try to organize your charity.”
Having encouraged the King thus, the Queen gave her advice as she was desirous of taking the management of the Matchless Alms-giving (asadisa-dāna) in the following manner:
“Have a pavilion, Great King, built with fragrant planks of sāla-kalyāṇī trees for the five hundred monks in the precincts of the golden palace.
The people will stay outside the precincts.
“Have five hundred white umbrellas made; each of five hundred elephants will take hold of one umbrella with its trunk, and stand, sheltering each monk with it.
“Have eight boats made of nīphalaṃ gold. These boats are to be filled with perfumes in the middle of pavilion.
“Between each couple of monks will sit a princess grinding scented wood for perfumes. Another princess will hold a round fan and flap it for each couple of monks. Other princesses will convey ground perfumes and put them in the boats.
“Among these princesses, some will carry branches of blue lotus flowers and stir the perfumes in the boats so that they will be pervaded with the fragrance from the perfumes.
“Certainly, the people have no princesses, no white umbrellas, no elephants. For these reasons the citizens will be defeated.
“Do, Great King, as I now have told you.”
Replying: “Very well, my dear, you have given me good advice,” the King had everything done according to the Queen’s instructions.
While everything was being done accordingly, a tame elephant was yet required for a monk. Then the king asked:
“A tamed elephant is wanted, dear Queen. What shall we do?”
“Have you no 500 elephants?”
“Yes, I have dear. But the rest are all untamed. Like the verambha wind they might turn very wild on seeing monks.”
“I have got an idea, Great King, as to where should a young wild elephant be placed to make him hold an umbrella with his trunk.”
“Where is the place?”
“It is close to the Venerable Aṅgulimāla,” answered the Queen.
The King had all this done as advised by the Queen. The young wild elephant stood there quietly with his tail tucked between its thighs, its ears put down, and eyes closed. The people were amazed to watch the elephant, saying to themselves: “Even such a wild elephant has now become such a docile and quiet animal!”
Having treated the Sangha headed by the Buddha to alms-food, the King showed his respect to Him and said:
“In this pavilion of alms-giving, Exalted Buddha, I offer to you things suitable for monks (kappiya-bhaṇḍā) as well as things unsuitable for them (akappiya-bhaṇḍā).”
Things offered in this Matchless Dāna in a single day cost fourteen crores. Priceless were the four things offered to the Buddha, namely, (1) the white umbrella, (2) the throne for seat, (3) the stand to place the bowl on and (4) the wooden board to stand on after washing His feet. It was impossible to repeat such a grand offering to the Buddha. Therefore the alms-giving performed by King Kosala became famous in the religion as asadisa-dāna, the “Matchless Gift.”
Indeed, such an Asadisa Dāna should take place but once to every Buddha. And that asadisa-dāna which happened just once to each Buddha was organized by a wise woman.
Ministers Juṇha and Kāla
King Pasenadī Kosala had two ministers: Juṇha and Kāla. Between them, Kāla considered:
“Oh, a loss has indeed occurred to the King’s palace? The treasures amounting to many crores have come to nothing in a single day. Having taken the King’s gifts, these monks will return to their place and abandon themselves to slumber. Oh, the palace has come to ruin in unprecedented proportions!”
On the contrary, Juṇha thought like this:
“Oh, the King has properly and successfully given alms! True, one who is not established in kingship (he who is not a monarch) cannot give such alms. There is no alms-giver who does not share his merit with all other beings. I rejoice at the King’s excellent asadisa-dāna and say: Sādhu! Sādhu! Sādhu!”
Reflecting thus the minister Juṇha appreciated and took delight. When the Buddha had finished His partaking of food, King Pasenadī Kosala made himself ready to hear the sermon by holding a cup to pour the water of dedication, the sermon to be given by the Buddha in approval of the King’s dāna.
The Buddha reflected as follows:
“The King has indeed done at great sacrifice as though he let a great flood roll down waves after waves. Could he succeed in gladdening the hearts of the people or could he not?”
Then He came to know the reactions in the minds of the two ministers and came to know further thus:
“If I were to give a detailed sermon that goes well with the King’s dāna, the ministers Kāḷa’s head will be split into seven pieces but the other minister, Juṇha, will be established in sotāpatti-magga. Taking pity on Kāḷa, the Buddha delivered only a four-footed verse (catuppadika) despite such a great alms-giving performed by the King; then He rose from His seat and left for the monastery.
Venerable Angulimāla’s Courage
On their arrival back at the monastery, the monks asked the Venerable Aṅgulamāla:
“When you saw the wild elephant holding the umbrella over you, friend, were you not afraid?”
Getting the answer in the negative, the monks drew near to the Buddha and complained with contempt,
“The Venerable Aṅgulimāla, Exalted Buddha, professes to be an Arahat.”
“Monks,” addressed the Buddha, “Aṅgulamāla was not afraid indeed. Ascetics like my dear sons who are highly noble amidst Arahats have no fear.”
And the Buddha added the following verse as contained in the Brāhmana-vagga (of the Dhammapada):
Usabhaṃ pararaṃ vīraṃ, mahesiṃ vijitavinaṃ.
Anejaṃ nhātakaṃ buddhaṃ, tam ahaṃ brūmi brahmaṇaṃ
(Monks!) The Arahat with his āsavas destroyed, who is courageous as he knows no trembling like a bull-king, who possesses noble energy, who has sought and acquired the aggregate of virtues, who has triumphed over the three evils, namely, Māra as deity, Māra as moral defilement, and Māra as conditioning factors, who has quenched all craving for existences, who has washed away his mental dirt with the clear water of the Path and who has realized the Four Truths, him I declare an ultimate Brāhmana as he really is.
Destinies of The Two Ministers
King Pasenadī Kosala was unhappy and thought to himself as follows:
“The Exalted One has risen from His seat and left without giving me a sermon that would befit the occasion though I have performed a great dāna to the assembly of such greatness. Instead, He has merely uttered a verse. Perhaps, I have not done what is agreeable to Him, I must have done what is not agreeable. Perhaps, I have not given suitable things, I must have given unsuitable things. Perhaps the Buddha is averse to me. The alms-giving performed by me is known as Asadisa Dāna. The Buddha should have therefore delivered some discourse appropriate to this kind of gift.”
Thinking thus he went to the monastery, paid obeisance to the Buddha and said:
“Exalted Buddha, have I not done right dāna, or have I not given things good for the dāna or have I given things that are not good?”
When the Buddha replied:“Why do you ask me like this, Great King?” The King said: “You delivered no sermon in accord with my asadisa-dāna My Lord.”
The Buddha stated:
“You have given right things, Great King. Yes, the gift you have given is known as ‘Asadisa Dāna’. This kind of gift happened to each Buddha but once. It is not easy to repeat it.”
Then the King asked: “Why then, The Exalted Buddha, did not preach to us in accord with the greatness of the gift?”
“Because the audience was not pure.”
“What was the defect of the audience, Exalted Buddha?”
The Buddha then told the King of the reactions of the two ministers and explained that He did not preached elaborately out of compassion for Kāḷa. The King then asked Kāḷa whether it was true.
When Kāḷa answered in the affirmative, the King banished him from the Kingdom, saying:
“As I gave, with my family, our properties without taking a coin from you, what trouble did you suffer? You, Kāḷa, get out! But the wealth I have given you remains yours. (I will not take it back.) But you must leave the country on this day!”
Then the King summoned the other minister, Junha, and asked him whether it was true that he had favourably reacted, and on receiving the positive answer, the King said to Junha:
“Well done, uncle, well done! I adore you, uncle. Take over my retinue and give dāna for seven days the way I have done.”
So saying, the King handed over his kingship to Junha for seven days, after which, he addressed the Buddha:
“Look at what the fool has done, Exalted Buddha. He is the one who stood against my dāna given in such a manner!”
“Yes, Great King,” said the Buddha, “the fools are those who do not approve of another’s act of charity but condemn it and finally landed in a woeful abode. The wise, however, rejoice in other’s dāna and finally attained happy states.”
And the Buddha uttered the following verse:
Na ve kadariyā devalokaṃ vajanti
bālā have nappasaṃsanti dānaṃ
Dhīro ca dānaṃ amumodamāno
ten’eva so hoti sukhī parattha.
(Great King!) Indeed those who are hard and stingy do not attain celestial abodes. The fools, who are ignorant of the present world and the future, indeed do not admire dāna and are not happy about it. Only the far-sighted man of wisdom is able to rejoice in dāna. For, that very reason of his rejoicing, upon his death, he enjoys divine bliss.
At the end of the Teaching, the minister Junha became a noble sotāpanna. Enjoying the King’s favour, he performed charitable acts for seven days in the manner of the King
-End of King Kosala’s Asadisa Dāna.-
Sivi and Āditta Jātakas related with Reference to King Kosala’s Matchless Dāna
When the Buddha spoke the verse beginning with “Na ve kadariya devalokaṃ vajanti”, King Pasenadī Kosala was so pleased that he offered the Buddha an outer robe made in Sivi country and worth one hundred thousand coins. Thereafter, he entered the city.
The next day, at the assembly, the monks talked about the King’s generosity;
“Friends, King Kosala was not satisfied even with his matchless Dāna that had just been given; so, after the Exalted One had preached the Dhamma, he offered him again the Sivi-made outer robe worth one hundred thousand. The King is so much insatiable in his thirst for alms-giving.”
Then the Buddha came and asked what they were talking about and on hearing what was being discussed, He said:
“It is easy, monks, to give away one’s external belongings. The good wise Bodhisattas of old gave away daily their wealth to the value of six hundred thousand, making it unnecessary for the whole populace of the Jambudīpa to work with their ploughs. Yet they were not satisfied with giving such external things (bāhira-dāna). They believed unwaveringly that ‘he who gives what he is very fond of can enjoy the special benefit which he is so fond of.’ With this belief, they gave away even their pairs of eyes to those who came into their presence and asked for.”
At the request of the monks, the Buddha related the Sivi Jātaka, an event of the past.
One day, after King Kosala’s Matchless Alms-giving, the monks at the assembly discussed among themselves:
“Friends, only with discrimination did King Kosala give the Matchless Dāna to the Order of noble monks headed by the Exalted One, as he knows by himself that they form the fertile soil for sowing the seeds of meritorious deeds.”
The Buddha joined them and knowing what they were talking about, He said:
“Monks, it is no wonder that after careful selection, King Kosala has sown the seeds of unique alms-giving in the supreme field of my dispensation. Learned and virtuous Bodhisattas of past also performed great dānas only after discriminating the recipients very carefully.”
Then at the request of the monks, the Buddha narrated the Āditta Jātaka.
(From the book: GREAT DISCIPLES OF THE BUDDHA – NYANAPONIKA THERA AND HELMUTH HECKER , Edited with an Introduction by BHIKKHU BODHI)