26
Jain Stories Inspiring Renunciation
The following three stories are typical of many that appear in the Jain didactic story collections. Two are taken from the Dharmābhyudayamahākāvya, written by the Śvetāmbara monk Udayaprabhasūri sometime before 1271 C.E., and the other is from the Digambara Bṛhatkāthākośa, composed by Hariṣeṇa in 931 C.E. These stories were meant to instill in their audience a deep revulsion for the world as we know it and a desire for renunciation and for ultimate release from the cycle of transmigration. They do so by deconstructing our notions of reality, particularly our normal understanding of human relationships as fixed and definable categories. Two stories show how relationships we assume to be one thing in this life were very different in the past; a third story tells us how in a single lifetime circumstances can arrange our lives for us in such a way that our assumptions about our relationships to those closest to us are totally wrong. This genre of story relies on shocking us to make its point; these are accounts of murder, incest, and cannibalism, but they are meant to show us how all our relationships can and do have this dark underside. The only way to be safe is to renounce human ties and seek salvation as a monk or nun.
The Dharmābhyudayamahākāvya, edited by Jina Vijaya Muni, was published in the Singhi Jain Series, vol. 4 (Bombay: Bhāratīya Vidyā Bhavan, 1949). The Bṛhatkathakośa, edited by A. N. Upadhye, was published as vol. 17 of the same series (Bombay: Bhārātiya Vidyā Bhavan, 1943). These stories have also been published in “Life as Ritual Process: Remembrance of Past Births in Jain Religious Narratives,” in Phyllis Granoff and Koichi Shinohara, eds., Other Selves: Autobiography and Biography in Cross-Cultural Perspective (Oakville, Ontario: Mosaic Press, 1994).
THE STORY OF MAHEŚVARA FROM THE DHARMĀBHYUDAYAMAHĀKĀVYA
There was a famous city named Tamālinī, where the pillars of the lofty temples to the gods seemed to reach so high that they could support the very vault of the heavens, and the many palaces of the rich were like a garland around the city. There lived the wealthy merchant Maheśvaradatta, who was the foremost citizen of the town, and he was famed for being like an elephant that sported at will in the ocean of false belief. His wife was like the mistress of the school of wanton women. Her name was Nāgilā, and she was famous in the city for being a water channel to make bloom the garden of erotic delights. Now one day, on the occasion of the death anniversary of his father, Maheśvaradatta killed a buffalo as an offering to the dead. And he even fed his son, whom he held on his lap, with the meat of the sacrificed buffalo. Just at that moment a sage came to his house; his face was all wrinkled, and he had seen for himself the true nature of things. He recited this verse again and again:
“He feeds his own enemy, whom he holds on his lap, with the flesh of his very own father. And that he considers to be a proper sacrificial offering in honor of his father. Alas, could there be any more deluded act?”
When he heard those words Maheśvaradatta quickly rushed over to the lord of monks. He bowed to him and asked, “O Lord! What is this strange thing that you say?” And when he saw that Maheśvaradatta was determined to find out the truth, then that foremost of those who are restrained in speech, knowing through his great wisdom that he could help Maheśvaradatta, and being filled with compassion, replied: “That lover of Nāgilā whom you once killed long ago is now playing happily in your lap. He died just as he released his semen into Nāgilā, and because he was reborn in Nāgilā’s womb, he became thereby your very own son. And that buffalo, with whose flesh you satisfied your deceased father, was really the soul of your father, Samudradatta. And, O wise one! There is a she-dog bt the door that is eating the bones of the buffalo. Know wise one that the dog is none other than your very own mother, named Bahulā. Knowing through my supernatural knowledge that all of these terribly strange and improper things were going on in your home, I hastened here to enlighten you.”
“What proof is there that what you say is true, O lord?” When Maheśvaradatta asked the monk this question, the monk in turn replied, “When you take the dog inside the house it will remember its previous births and reveal to you where some jewels were buried long ago.”
At this the monk took his leave. And the dog that he had told Maheśvaradatta about indeed showed Maheśvara the buried jewels when it was brought inside the house, just as the monk had said it would. And that merchant Maheśvaradatta, like an elephant brought under control by a good trainer by means of an elephant goad, was brought to his senses by the monk, by means of his pointed words. And he gave up his wrong religious beliefs and accepted the correct religious beliefs. Knowing that the whole net of relationships—father, son, and everything else—was all topsy-turvy, he realized that even he could not save himself, and that of course no son could help him.
THE STORY OF THE MONK SUḌṚSTI FROM THE BṚHATKATHĀKOŚA
In the glorious realm of Avantī was the wonderful city Ujjain. Prajāpāla was king there, and his wife was named Suprabhā. Now this king had a jeweler named Suḍṛṣti, who was very knowledgeable about gems. The jeweler’s wife was named Vimalā. The jeweler had a student named Vaṅka; Vimalā was in love with the student and her mind was filled with lustful thoughts about him. One day, just as Suḍṛṣti was making love to Vimalā, Vimalā had that deceitful Vaṅka kill Suḍṛṣti. And Suḍṛṣti. having been slain by Vaṅka, was reborn in Vimalā’s womb. He had the ability to remember his past births and this made him not want to do very much at all. For this reason, the child, playing like all children his age, nonetheless came to be known as “the biggest lazybones in the whole world.” One day when Queen Suprabhā was in her pleasure garden, her necklace broke and no one could find it. After much seeking it was only through a stroke of great luck that the king’s men were able to find the necklace somewhere deep in the woods. No one among the many goldsmiths in the city was able to put the necklace together properly, not even the cleverest and most skilled of them all. Then it was that “Lazybones” rushed to the palace and fixed the necklace so that it made the very heavens shine with its radiance. The king beheld that necklace, so magnificently repaired, and then looked at the child who had always lived right there in the city. His mind was filled with wonder. “Where did you learn such skill, skill possessed by my former jeweler, Suḍṛṣti. and by no one else? Tell me child, for I am amazed by your deeds.” When he heard these words of the king, the child replied, “I died and was reborn as my own son in my own wife. That Vimalā, who was formerly my wife, is now my mother. I died without a son and then became my own child. Isn’t that something?” When he heard all of this about Suḍṛṣti, the king, along with many other kings, decided to practice austerities according to the Jain doctrine under the instruction of Abhinandana. Many other people were astonished at the tale, and wisely took refuge in the Jain doctrine, the source of true happiness. And that Lazybones, fearful of transmigratory existence, also became a Jain monk under the same teacher. After performing many austerities, his mind as firm in its religious resolve as Mount Mandara is strong and unshakable, in the course of his monastic wanderings Lazybones reached the northern region of the city of Sauri. In the end he died the pious death of a Jain monk, in meditation.
THE STORY OF KUBERADATTA AND KUBERADATTĀ FROM THE DHARMĀBHYUDAYAMAHĀKĀVYA
There was in the city of Mathura a courtesan named Kuberasenā. She was so beautiful that it seemed that the moon was just a poor copy of her face, made by the Creator in the same way a sculptor makes a special image of a god that can be used for the bathing ceremony, so that the more valuable image in the temple is not harmed by the eager devotees as they wash it. One day with great difficulty she bore a son and a daughter, just as the sword of a great king gives rise to glory and victory. Kuberasenā fought off the harsh words of the madame of the house, who urged her to abandon the twins, and she nursed them for a full eleven days. She made a signet ring for the boy inscribed with the name Kuberadatta, and a similar ring for the girl, marked with the name Kuberadattā. And then the cowardly mother, terrified of the madame, placed the two children in a casket studded with jewels. She set the casket afloat in the waters of the River Yamunā, as if it were the vessel containing all of her own future happiness, and she bade it farewell, washing it with the tears from her eyes, as one might send off a beloved guest with sprays of consecrated water. It so happened that a pair of merchants were delighted to discover the casket which had floated down the River Yamunā as far as the city of Sūryapura. They quickly opened the box and there they discovered the two children. Like heirs sharing their rightful inheritance, the two merchants divided up equally the contents of the box, each one taking home one of the two children. The brother and sister were raised with loving care by the merchants, and they grew more charming with every day, like the moon and the moonlight in the moon’s waxing phase. Those two best of merchants then married off the boy and girl, who were known by the names that had been inscribed on the signet rings found with them, even though they seemed indeed to be twin brother and sister. Now one day Kuberadatta placed his own ring in his wife’s hand, as if to give her a letter that would announce her renunciation of the world. Seeing that ring, so like her own, Kuberadattā was astonished, and she said to her husband, “How is it that these rings are so like each other, just as our names are so similar? I fear that we are in truth brother and sister, and that we are not the two children of those merchants at all. They must have found us somewhere and out of ignorance of the true state of affairs they married us to each other. We must find out the truth from our parents, no matter how much we have to ask them. We must know the circumstances of our birth.” And after she said this, the two of them together went to the merchants. They asked them again and again about their birth and then, realizing that their suspicions were true and that they were indeed brother and sister, they deeply regretted their marriage. They lost all taste for worldly life, which they regarded as without value and as their enemy; filled with the desire for renunciation, they just stood there, heads bowed low, bereft of all their natural beauty, like the moon and the moon-lotus as early dawn breaks. And then Kuberadattā, being very wise, bid farewell to her brother and her parents and became a Jain nun. She then hid her jeweled signet ring, on which her name was inscribed; the ring was as radiant as the knowledge that would also come to Kuberadattā one day.
Kuberadatta, for his part, made his way to the city of Mathura as a trader, selling various toys. He became the lover of that very Kuberasenā who had given birth to him, as the moon is said to be the lover of the night. O fie on the Creator who makes us all do such things!
In time Kuberasenā bore Kuberadatta a son, created as it were by the ultimate delusion that governs transmigratory existence. Now Kuberadattā had perfected her knowledge to the extent that she now had the ability to know some things that were beyond the range of the senses. She desired to enlighten her brother, and she knew through her supernatural knowledge the terribly improper things that he was doing. She told her superior about herself and showed her the signet ring that she had kept concealed all that time, and like a boat to rescue her brother who was sinking quickly in the ocean of trans-migratory existence, she hastily made her way to Mathura. She asked Kuberasenā for a place to stay and found lodgings there, in that unsuitable place; for religious people will do anything that they have to in order to help someone else.
Now one day the nun Kuberadattā saw the robust son of Kuberadatta, and knowing how monks and nuns enlighten others, she spoke these absolutely true words, “Child! You are my brother-in-law, for you are the brother of my husband. And our mother is the same woman, and so you are also my brother! My husband begot you, and so that makes you also my child. But your father is the child of my rival in love, and that would make you my grandson. You are the brother of my mother’s husband, which makes you my uncle. And you are my brother’s child, which makes you my nephew. Your mother is my mother, who bore us both in her womb. And that woman is also the mother of my mother’s lover, which makes her my grandmother. She is the wife of the young man who was born from my co-wife, which makes her also my daughter-in-law. And she is the mother of my husband, which makes her my mother-in-law as well. She is the wife of my brother, which makes her my sister-in-law, and she is the wife of my husband, and so is my co-wife. And as for your father, who is the lover of my mother, I guess that makes him my father, too. You are my uncle, and he is your father, and an uncle’s father is your grandfather, so he is my grandfather as well. My mother and his mother are the same woman, and so he is my brother. He is the husband of the woman who bore my husband, and so he is my father-in-law, too. He took my hand in marriage, and so he became my husband in addition to all of this. And he is the son of my co-wife, and so is my son as well.”
Now when Kuberadatta heard these words of the nun, which seemed to contradict themselves at every step, he was amazed, and he asked her, “What does all of this mean?” And the nun then told everything to that Kubera, who kept asking her what she had meant. And she gave him the jeweled signet ring, which was like a lamp to enlighten the darkness of his delusion. By that signet ring, which was bright like the sun, Kubera became enlightened, and he gave up his deluded beliefs as a bee leaves a lotus. He was ashamed of his own behavior and he became a monk, and that wise Kuberadatta, though still a young man, renounced the householder’s life and went into the forest. The forests were made radiant by that one, who was like a lion to destroy the elephant of karma, and who was like a mountain with natural rushing springs of his own glory; he was like a tree bearing as its fruits one austerity after another. He meditated on the Jain teachings and constantly recited Jain prayers to the Tīrthaṅkaras and sages of old, and he went to heaven, a lion that had killed the elephant of sexual desire. Even Kuberasenā saw how topsy-turvy the world of sense objects is, and she became disgusted with life in this world and took on herself the vows of the Jain householder.