Prosimetric Narratives

214

Transformation Text on Mahāmaudgalyāyana Rescuing His Mother from the Underworld, with Pictures, One Scroll, with Preface

Anonymous (late 9th–early 10th century)

Now, on the fifteenth day of the seventh month, the heavens open their doors and the gates of the hells are flung wide. The three mires dissipate, the ten virtues increase. Because this is the day when the company of monks end their summer retreat, the deity who confers blessings and the eight classes of supernatural beings all come to convey blessings. Those who undertake to make offerings to them in the present world will have a supply of blessings and those who are dead will be reborn in a superlative place. Therefore, a purgatorian feast¹ is spread before the Three Honored Ones² who, through the grace of their welcoming the great assembly, put a priority upon saving those who are distressed by hanging in limbo.

 

Long ago, when the Buddha was in the world, he had a disciple who was styled Maudgalyāyana. When he was still a layman and had not yet left home to become a monk, his name was Turnip. He believed deeply in the Three Precious Ones³ and had a high regard for Salvationism.⁴ Once he wanted to go to another country to engage in trade. So he disposed of his wealth, ordering his mother later on to arrange for vegetarian food to be provided for the many members of the Buddhist Trinity and the numerous beggars who would come. But after Turnip departed, his mother became stingy and hid away for herself all the riches which had been entrusted to her.

Before many months had elapsed, the son had completed his business and returned home. “As you had charged me,” the mother said to her son, “I held vegetarian feasts which shall bring us blessings.” Thus did she deceive commoners and saints so that, when her life came to an end, she fell into the Avīci Hell,⁵ where she endured much harsh suffering.

After Turnip finished observing the three full years of mourning, he immediately surrendered himself to the Buddha and left home to become a monk. Having inherited the good deeds of his former lives, he actualized these inherent causes by paying heed to the Law and attaining arhatship.⁶ Whereupon he sought his mother in the six paths of transmigration with his unlimited vision, but nowhere did he see her.

Maudgalyāyana awoke from meditation full of sadness. “In which place is my dear mother enjoying happiness?” he inquired of the World-Honored.

The World-Honored then informed Maudgalyāyana: “Your mother has already dropped down into the Avīci hell, where she is now undergoing much suffering. Although you have attained the fruit of the saintly life, your knowledge will be to no avail. You can save her only if you employ the might of the assembly on the day when the companies of monks in all directions disband at the end of the summer retreat.” Therefore, the Buddha in his compassion instituted this expedient method. This, then, is the story of how the purgatorian offerings were founded.

From the time when Turnip’s father and mother had passed away,

After three full years of ceremonial sorrow, the period of mourning came to an end;

Listening to music did not make him happy—his appearance became emaciated,

Eating fine foods gave him no pleasure—he wasted away to skin and bones.

But then he heard that the Tathāgata⁷ was in the Deer Park,

Where he comforted and cared for all men and deities;

“Now I shall study the Way and seek the Tathāgata!”

And so he journeyed to the twin trees⁸ to visit the Buddha.

At that time, the Buddha came immediately to receive him,

The monk prostrated himself before him who is most honored among men and deities;

To his right and left were the mighty Indra and Brahma with their hosts,

To his east and west were the great generals and other sundry spirits.

The sauvastika ⁹ on the front of his breast had a crystalline glow,

The halo behind his neck was like the disc of the moon;

Don’t you know, the hundreds of gems and the thousands of flowers on his throne,

Were just like the five-colored clouds at the edge of the horizon.

“I, your disciple, am a mediocre person who is limited by his desires,

Neither can I renounce nor free myself from desire and anger;

Just because the sinful karma of my whole life was of such enormity,

It extended to my dear mother, causing her to enter the gates of Hades.

I only fear that impermanence will press upon her,

And that she will sink in the ocean of misery beside the ford of births and deaths;

May you, oh Buddha, show compassion by saving your disciple,

Allowing me to concentrate on studying the Way so that I may repay my parents.”

As soon as the World-Honored heard what Turnip was saying,

He knew that he was upright and was not being deceitful;

He began by enumerating and explaining the doctrine of the Four Noble Truths,¹⁰

Then lectured him on the necessity of avoiding the seven rebellious acts.¹¹

Even though one amasses so much treasure that it towers to the Milky Way,

This is not as good as urgently persuading others to leave home and become monks;

It is precisely the same as a blind turtle bumping into a floating log,

Or yet like a lotus blossom issuing from a great expanse of water.¹²

It is difficult to escape from a house which is wrapped in flames,¹³

The raging sea of misery is so broad that it has no shores;

Just for the reason that all living beings are different,

The Tathāgata established three types of conveyances to nirvāṇa.

The Buddha summoned Ānanda to perform the tonsure,

And his clothing was then exchanged for a monk’s cassock;

Instantaneously, Maudgalyāyana achieved sainthood,

And subsequently he received the commandments for monks.

During the time that Turnip was there in front of the Buddha,

Incense smoke curled up in wreaths from a golden censer;

The fabulous forest shaken by the six kinds of earthquakes¹⁴ moved heaven and earth,

The four divine flowers were wafted on the air and scattered through the clear skies.

A thousand sorts of elegant brocades were spread on the couches and seats,

Ten thousand styles of pearled banners hung in the air.

The Buddha himself proclaimed: “Now you are my disciple!”

And he styled him “Mighty Maudgalyāyana of Supernatural Power.”

At that moment, Maudgalyāyana achieved sainthood beneath the twin trees. How did it happen like this? It is just as in the Lotus Sūtra: “The prodigal son first received his worth, then later was cleansed of his impurities.” This is precisely the same in that he first obtained the fruit of sainthood and afterward engaged in the study of the Way.

Look at the place where Maudgalyāyana sits meditating deep in the mountains—how is it?

After Maudgalyāyana’s beard and hair had been shaved away,

Right away he took himself into the depths of the mountains;

It was a remote and quiet place where there was no one else,

Right away, he contemplated unreality and sat in meditation.

He sat in meditation and contemplated unreality, learning good and evil,

He subdued his mind, he settled his mind, until nothing more adhered to it;

Facing a mirror, its image was clear and unwavering,

And all the while he pressed his right foot down upon his left foot.¹⁵

    He sat with his body erect on a large rock,¹⁶

    And with his tongue touching the roof of his mouth;

    White bones became for him completely empty,¹⁷

    His breathings no longer were intertwined.¹⁸

Just at that time, a herd of deer stopped to drink in the woods,

They drew near to the clear pool and looked across its waters;

Beneath the bright moon in front of the courtyard, he listened to religious discourses,

Under the pines on the green hills, he sat meditating.

The lake air on the horizon was like colored clouds,

The watchtowers on the green hills outside the frontier were visible;

The autumn wind soughed as it passed through the center of the forest,

Yellow leaves drifted down and floated on the water.

Maudgalyāyana sat reposefully in a state of incorporeality,

Gradually he cultivated his internal and external experiential mind;

By realizing discipleship, he occupied his hoped-for position,

He entered and left the mountains¹⁹ as free as he pleased.

    Maudgalyāyana awoke from abstract meditation,

    Then swiftly exercised his supernatural power;

    His coming was quick as a thunderclap,

    His going seemed like a gust of wind.

    Wild geese honked at the hunter’s darts,

    Gray hawks escaped from nets and cages;

    The mist in the center of the pond was greenish,

    The sky was clear, the distant road was red.

    With his supernatural power, he gained freedom,

    So he hurled up his begging-bowl and leaped into space;

    Thereupon, instantaneously,

    He ascended to the heavenly palace of Brahmā.

In an instant, Maudgalyāyana arrived at the heavenly court,

All that he heard in his ears was the sound of music and drums;

Red towers²⁰ were faintly reflected on the golden halls,

A profusion of green lattices opened on white jade walls.

With his metal-ringed staff, he knocked at the gate three or four times,

Unaware of the tears which were crisscrossing his breast;

An elder came out from within to have a talk with him,

He brought his palms together ²¹ and began to speak of his sincere filiality.

“I wonder if you know me?” he inquired of the elder,

“I, a poor monk, am an inhabitant of Jambūdvīpa.

When I was still young, I was bereft of my father and mother;

Although our family was quite wealthy, it was lacking in sons and grandsons,

I was orphaned and, furthermore, had no future before me.

The dear mother of this poor monk was styled Nīladhi,

   My father’s name was Śūlakṣaṇa;

All his life was spent in doing kind and charitable works,

After he died, it would have been fitting for him to be reborn in this heaven.

This is such a delightfully splendid and charming place,

Just gazing at it brings happiness to the hearts of men;

Bells and drums resound in harmony with elegant music,

The sound of harps being strummed is also loud and clear.

How sad it is that they never relaxed from their parental chores!

The affection she showed in nursing me is not easily forgotten;

I wonder whether they have been peaceful and well since leaving me,

And that is why I am now searching for them in this place.”

When the elder heard these words, he seemed to be sympathetic,

But his mind was in a whirl and he spoke haltingly:

“I, your disciple, had a son in Jambūdvīpa,

But I wasn’t aware that he had left home to become a monk.

Do not blame me, Your Reverence, if I question you closely,

There are so many different types of people in the world;

As I observed you speaking for the first time, I took you for a stranger,

But now that I reflect upon it, I am somewhat nonplussed.

Among laymen, there are many people who have the same name and surname,

And there are hundreds of types of faces which are similar;

Your appearance and disposition are familiar,

But then when I think about it, I cannot place you.

If, oh Teacher, you insist on seeking to be recognized,

Please tell me some more about your family matters.”

Maudgalyāyana went to the palaces of heaven in search of his father. He arrived at a gate where he met an elder. “When I was young,” he informed the elder, “my name was Turnip. After my parents died, I surrendered myself to the Buddha and left home to become a monk. My whiskers and hair were shaved off and I was given the title ‘Mahāmaudgalyāyana, Preeminent in Supernatural Power.’”

When the elder heard him say his childhood name, he knew right away that it was his son. “We have long been separated. Have you been well?”

After Turnip-Maudgalyāyana had been acknowledged by his dear father and had inquired about how he was getting along, he asked: “In what place is my dear mother enjoying happiness?”

The elder replied to Turnip: “Your mother’s activities while she was alive were different from mine. I practiced the ten virtues and the five commandments, so that, after I died, my soul was reborn in heaven. Throughout her life, your mother committed a large number of sins and, at the end of her days, she fell into hell. If you search for your mother along the infernal paths of Jambūdvīpa, you’ll soon find out where she has gone.”

After hearing these words, Maudgalyāyana took leave of the elder. He vanished and descended to Jambūdvīpa. There he searched for his mother along the infernal paths but could not find her. However, he did see eight or nine men and women wandering about aimlessly with nothing to do.

This is the place where he goes forward and asks the reasons for this situation:

    “Please do not pay me any reverence.

    Who are you, my good friends,

    That have all gathered here in this place—

    Wandering about aimlessly with not a thing to do,

    Roaming around outside the walls of the city?

I, who am a humble monk, only arrived here today,

To my mind, it is really quite extraordinary.”

The men and women answered the reverend one with these words:

“It’s only because we had the same name and same surname as someone else,

Our names were mixed up with theirs and so we were escorted here;

The interrogation lasted just four or five days,

We were judged ‘not guilty’ and released to return to our homes.

Long since sent to the grave by our wives and sons,

Our solitary bodies were flung into the wilderness;

On all four sides, there were neither relatives nor companions,

Foxes, wolves, crows, and magpies competed to divide us up.

Our houses fell into disrepair leaving us with no place to take refuge,

We appealed to the King of the Underworld with plaintive voices;

His judgment was that we be released as wandering ghosts with nothing to do,

Having received this supplemental verdict, what more is there to say?

Today, we have already been cut off from the road of births and deaths,

Once the gates of Hades slam shut, they never open again.

Though there be a thousand kinds of food placed on our grave-mounds,

How can they alleviate the hunger in our stomachs?

All our wailing and weeping, in the end, will be to no avail,

In vain do they trouble themselves to make folded paper money.²²

Take a message to the sons and daughters in our homes telling them:

‘We entreat you to save us from infernal suffering by performing good deeds.’”

Maudgalyāyana waited a long while before speaking. “I wonder whether you know of a Lady Nīladhi?”

“None of us know her,” the men and women replied.

“Where does the Great King Yama dwell?” Maudgalyāyana continued with his questioning.

“Reverend sir!” the men and women replied. “If you walk several steps farther toward the north, you’ll see in the distance a tower with triple gates where there are thousands and ten thousands of stalwart soldiers, all holding swords and cudgels. That is the gate of the Great King Yama.”

Upon hearing these words, Maudgalyāyana walked several steps farther toward the north. From there he could see the tower with its triple gates into which stalwart soldiers were driving countless sinners. Maudgalyāyana went forward and made inquiries but could not find his mother, so he sat by the side of the road and cried loudly. When he had finished crying, he went forward again and was taken in to see the King by functionaries.

This is the place where Maudgalyāyana is led in by the gatekeepers to see the Great King who asks him his business:

When the Great King saw Maudgalyāyana enter,

He quickly joined his palms in salutation and was about to stand up:

“What is your reason for coming here, reverend sir?”

Hurriedly, he bowed respectfully from behind his table.

“Your coming here embarrasses me, oh Exemplar!

I, your disciple, am situated here in this infernal region,

   Where I flog sinners to determine whether they shall remain dead or be reborn;

   Although I do not recognize you, reverend sir,

It was long ago that I had heard of your name.

It must be either that the Buddha has sent you here on a mission,

  Or that there is some private family business;

The Lord of Mount T’ai’s²³ verdicts are, in the end, difficult to alter,

For all were sanctioned by heaven’s bureaucrats and earth’s pen-pushers.

A sinner’s karmic retribution is in accord with conditional causation,

Who is there that could rescue them on the spur of the moment?

Fetid blood and congealed fats stink through the Long Night,²⁴

Leaving an offensive stain on your clothing, which is so pure.

These infernal paths are no place for you to spend much time,

It is my humble wish that you, oh Exemplar, make an early departure.”

Maudgalyāyana replied to him as best as he could:

   “Perhaps you may be aware, oh Great King,

That I, poor monk, had a father and mother who, when alive,

Day and night observed the laws of abstinence, never eating after noon?

Based on their behavior while in the World of Mankind,

After their deaths, they should have been reborn in the Pure Land.

My father alone is dwelling in the mansions of heaven,

But I cannot locate my dear mother in any of the heavens;

In my estimation, she should not even have passed through hell,

My only fear is that she may have been unjustly punished by High Heaven.

I have followed her traces to the edges of heaven and earth,

Filled with sorrowful vexation, I heave a long sigh;

If she has come to this realm because of her karmic retribution,

Perhaps you, oh Great King, would have been made aware of it.”

When Maudgalyāyana had finished speaking, the Great King then summoned him to the upper part of the hall. There he was given audience with Kṣitigarbha Bodhisattva,²⁵ to whom he quickly paid obeisance.

“Have you come here in search of your mother?”

“Yes,” replied Maudgalyāyana, “I am searching for my mother.”

“In the days when your mother was still alive, she committed a large number of sins. So limitless and boundless were they that she must have fallen into hell. Would you please come forward? My duty-officer will be here in just a moment.”

The King then summoned his karma-watcher, fate-investigator, and bookkeeper, who came immediately.

“The name of this reverend monk’s mother is Lady Nīladhi. How long has it been since she died?”

The karma-watcher replied to the Great King: “Three years have already passed since Lady Nīladhi died. The legal records of the criminal proceedings against her are all in the casebook of the Commandant of Mount T’ai, who is Recorder for the Bureau of the Underworld.”

The King summoned the two Good and Evil Boys and told them to examine the books at Mount T’ai to find out which hell Lady Nīladhi was in.

“Reverend sir,” the Great King said, “Follow along with the Boys. If you ask the General of the Five Ways, you should be able to find out where she has gone.”

After Maudgalyāyana had heard these words, he took leave of the Great King and went out. He walked several steps and soon came to the banks of the Whathellwedo River.²⁶ There he saw numberless sinners taking off their clothes and hanging them on trees. There were many sounds of loud crying by those who wished to cross but could not. Distraught and apprehensive, they clustered in groups of threes and fours. They held their heads as they wept and wailed.

This is the place where Maudgalyāyana asks them the reason for this:

The waters of the Whathellwedo River flow swiftly to the west,

Broken stones and precipitous crags obstruct the road they walk on;

They take off their clothes and hang them on the sides of tree branches,

Pursued, they are not allowed to stand still for even a moment.

At the edge of the river, when they hear their names being called out,

They are unaware of the tears which are drenching their breasts;

Today, at last, they know that their bodies have really died,

They stand next to trees in pairs and weep sorrowfully for a long time.

“When I was alive, I was in thrall to my prized possessions,

I went out in a golden four-in-hand carriage with crimson wheels;

Saying that it would never change in ten thousand ages,

Who would have thought that it long ago was transformed into dust?

Oh! Alas and alack! What pain there is inside my heart!

In vain have my white bones been buried in a tall tumulus.

My sons and grandsons ride the dragon-horses in the southern stables,

My wives and concubines use the scented carriage outside the northern window.”

Their many mouths all said the same thing—“It is inexpressible!”

Long did they sigh but all their complaining went for nought;

Every person who commits sins will fall into hell,

He who does good will certainly be reborn in heaven.

Now each must follow his own circumstantial karma,

It is certain that it will be difficult to meet again later on;

They grasp each other’s hands and repeatedly enjoin, “You must cheer up!"

Looking back, they wipe away their tears as they look longingly at one another.

In their ears, all they hear are cries of “Hurry along!”

As they are driven forward by the thousands and ten thousands;

On the river’s southern bank, ox-head guards hold their truncheons,

At the water’s northern edge, hell’s jailers raise their pitchforks.

The eyes of the people in the water are filled with distress,

The tears of those who are on the banks flow copiously;

If only they had known earlier that they were to sink in a place of hardship,

Now all they can do is regret that they had not done good works while they were still alive.

Maudgalyāyana asked a man who was beneath a tree at the side of the Whathellwedo River:

“Heaven’s Mansions and Hell’s Halls are not insubstantial;

It goes without saying that Heaven punishes those who do evil,

The minions of the underworld also promptly join in prosecution.

This poor monk’s dear mother did not accumulate goodness,

So that her lost soul fell into the three mires leading to hell;

I have heard tell that she has been taken inside hell,

All I want to ask is whether or not you have any news of her?”

As all the sinners looked at Maudgalyāyana the teacher,

Together they wept mournfully and knitted their brows:

“It is only recently in time that we, your disciples, died,

Truly, we do not know of your dear mother, reverend sir.

While we were alive, we committed numerous sins,

Now, today, that we endure such suffering, we at last begin to feel regret;

Even though one has wives and concubines enough to fill the mountains and rivers,

Who among them would be willing to die in his place?

Whenever you are able to depart from the underworld gates,

Inform those sons and grandsons of ours who are still at home

That it is unnecessary to make coffins and caskets of white jade,

And that gold is spent in vain when it is buried in the grave.

Endless sorrow and sighs of resentment are ultimately to no avail,

For we hear not the sacred drum music and songs to string accompaniment;

If they wish to obliterate the suffering of the dead,

Nothing is better than cultivating blessedness to save these souls from darkness.”

“When you go back, reverend sir, pass this news to all men. Instruct them to create blessings whereby they may save the dead. Except for the Buddha and him alone, there is no other way to be saved. We wish, reverend sir, that you achieve perfect wisdom and nirvāṇa, which, even on ordinary occasions, is not concealed, and that it will serve as a conveyance for all living beings. May your blade of knowledge be assiduously sharpened and not be obstructed by the forest of moral affliction. Thus will your awe-inspiring mind be active everywhere throughout the world and so realize the great vow of all the Buddhas. If we are to escape from this joyless place, it will be due to the universal bestowal of your compassionate regard, reverend sir.”

After Maudgalyāyana heard this, he went forward once again and, within a short period of time, he arrived at the seat of the General of the Five Ways.

This is the place where he asks for news of his mother:

The General of the Five Ways had a frightful disposition,

The bright gleam of his golden armor intersected with the light from his sword;

  To his left and his right, there were more than a million men,

  And assistants who were continuously flying back and forth.

His yelling and shouting were like the terrifying rumble of thunder,

His angry eyes resembled the dazzling flash of lightning.

There were some whose bellies were being rent and whose chests were being opened,

  And others whose faces were being skinned alive;

  Although Maudgalyāyana was a holy person,

  Even he was completely frightened out of his wits.

Maudgalyāyana wept mournfully as he thought of his dear mother,

He exercised his supernatural powers with the speed of the windborne clouds;

If you ask which is the most crucial place on the infernal paths,

None exceeds that of the great General of the Five Ways.

To the left and the right, a concentration of spears blocks the way,

To the east and west, there are more than ten thousand men with staves erect;

All together, they raise their eyes and gaze toward the southwest,

What they see is the imposing Spirit of the Five Ways.

He has been guarding this road for numerous eons,

He fixes the type of punishment for thousands and ten thousands;

Starting with the very first one, each of them follows his own karmic conditions.

“The dear mother of this poor monk deviated from the practice of almsgiving

So that her souls were sent drifting along these infernal roads;

Whenever I ask which of the three mires leading to hell is the most painful place,

Everyone says that it is the devils’ barrier of the Five Ways.

Men mill everywhere about the evil way to rebirth as an animal,

But the good way to the heavenly mansions is vacant morning and night;

All of those who are sinners must pass along this way,

It is my humble wish that you, General, will make a check of them.”

The General brought his palms together in salutation and said to the exemplar,

“You must not weep so mournfully that you do harm to your appearance.

The crowds on this road are usually as numberless as the sands of the Ganges,

But you have, on the spur of the moment, asked me if I know who Nīladhi is.

In Mount T’ai’s regency, there are many sections dealing with names,

Investigations include heaven’s bureaus and earth’s offices;

Each of the overseers of documents also has these names,

And all warrants which come down pass through this place.

Today, it just so happens that I, your disciple, am the officer of names,

I shall spend a few moments trying to check up on this for you, oh Teacher;

If we are so fortunate as to come across her name,

It will not be very difficult to locate her whereabouts.”

“Have you seen a Lady Nīladhi or not?” the General asked his attendants to the left and right.

On the left side there was an officer-in-charge who informed the General: “Three years ago, there was a Lady Nīladhi who was summoned away by a warrant sent up from the Avīci Hell. She is at this very moment in the Avīci Hell undergoing torture.”

When Maudgalyāyana heard these words, he spoke to the General, who replied to him: “Reverend sir, all sinners receive their sentences from the King and only then do they descend farther into hell.”

“Why didn’t my mother see the King face to face?” Maudgalyāyana importuned him.

“Reverend sir,” replied the General, “there are two kinds of people in the world who do not get to see the King’s face. The first are those people who, during their lifetimes, cultivate the ten virtues and the five commandments. After they die, their souls are reborn in heaven. The second are those people who, during their lifetimes, do not cultivate good karma but commit a large number of sins. After their lives come to the end, they enter hell forthwith and they, too, do not get to see the King’s face. Only those people who are half-good and half-bad are taken into the presence of the King to be sentenced. Then they are reincarnated, receiving their retribution in accordance with conditioning causes.”

This is the place where Maudgalyāyana, when he hears these words, goes forthwith to the various hells in search of his mother:

Maudgalyāyana’s tears fell, his thoughts wandered aimlessly,

The karmic retribution of sentient beings is like being tossed on the wind;

His dear mother had sunk into a realm of suffering,

Her souls had already by that time long since dissipated.

Iron discs continuously plunged into her body from out of the air,

Fierce fires, at all times, were burning beneath her feet;

Every place on her chest and belly had been stripped to shreds,

Every inch of her bones and flesh had charred to a pulp.

Bronze-colored crows pecked at her heart ten thousand times over,

Molten iron poured on the top of her head a thousand repetitions;

One might ask whether the tree of knives up ahead were the most painful,

But can it compare with the cleaving mill which chops men’s waists in two?

Beyond description

Is the congealed fat and ground flesh so like a bṛọạd ferry-crossing;

There are wild mountains all around for several hundred miles,

Which, from their jagged peaks, plummet downwards for a league.

Ten thousand iron lances are installed at the bottom,

A thousand layers of smoke and fire obscure the four gates;

Should one ask what sort of crimes are being punished herein,

It is just for those who have killed others in the world of men.

After Maudgalyāyana had finished speaking, he went forward again. Before long, he came to another hell. “Is there a Lady Nīladhi in this hell?” he asked the warden. “It is because she is my mother that I have come hunting for her.”

“Everyone in this hell is a man, reverend sir,” replied the warden. “There are no women at all. If you go on ahead and ask whether she is in the hell with the hill made of knives, I am sure that, through your inquiry, you will get to see her.”

Maudgalyāyana went forward and again he came to another hell. The left side of it was named Knife Hill and the right was named Sword Forest. Inside the hell, spear tips and swords were pointed from opposite sides and blood flowed copiously. He saw the warden driving countless sinners into this hell.

“What is the name of this hell?” Maudgalyāyana asked.

“This is the Knife Hill and Sword Forest Hell,” answered an ogre.

“What sinful karma did the sinners who are in this hell produce that they should have fallen into this hell?” Maudgalyāyana asked.

“While they were alive,” the warden informed him, “the sinners who are in this hell trespassed upon and damaged the perpetual property of the assembly of monks. They befouled the monastery gardens, were given to eating the fruit of the orchards held in perpetuity by the monasteries, and stole firewood from the forests held in perpetuity by the monasteries.”

Here is the place where they are now being made to climb up the trees of swords with their hands, causing them to be stripped bare of every limb and joint.

The white bones on Knife Hill were strewn chaotically every which way,

The human heads in Sword Forest numbered in the thousands and ten thousands;

Those who wish to avoid clambering up the hill of knives,

Should never pass by the monastery holdings without adding good earth.

Propagate fruit trees and present them to the monastery orchards,

Contribute seeds to increase the crops from the fields held in perpetuity.

Oh, you sinners! it is absolutely indescribable,

How you will endure punishment through eons as numerous as the sands of the Ganges.

Even when the Buddhas achieve nirvāṇa, you still will not get out.

This hell stretches for hundreds of miles from the east to the west,

The sinners race through it wildly, bumping against each other’s shoulders;

The winds of karma blow upon the fire which advances as it burns,

The jailers holding pitchforks jab at them from behind.

Their bodies and heads are all like so many broken tiles,

Their hands and feet immediately become like powder and froth;

Boiling iron, light leaping from its surface, is poured into their mouths,

Whomever it touches is pierced to the left and penetrated to the right.

Bronze arrows fly beside them and shoot into their eyes,

Wheels of swords come straight down, cutting them in mid-air;

It is said that it will be a thousand years before they are reborn as men,

With iron rakes they are scraped together and revivified.²⁷

When Maudgalyāyana heard these words, he wept mournfully and sighed with grief. He went forward and asked the warden: “Is there a Lady Nīladhi inside this hell?”

“What relationship has she to you, reverend sir?” the warden answered in reply.

“She is the dear mother of this poor monk,” Maudgalyāyana informed him.

“Reverend sir, there is no Lady Nīladhi inside this hell,” the warden told him. “Inside those hells which are on ahead, there are some which are all for women. You ought to be able to find her there.”

After Maudgalyāyana had heard these words, he went forward again. He came to a hell which was about a league in depth. Great clouds of black smoke issued from it and malodorous vapors reeked to the heavens. He saw a horse-head ogre standing there arrogantly and holding a pitchfork in his hands.

“What is the name of this hell?” Maudgalyāyana asked him.

To which the ogre answered, “This is the Copper Pillar and Iron Bed Hell.”

“Of the sinners who are in this hell,” asked Maudgalyāyana, “what sinful karma did they create while they were alive that they should have fallen into this hell?”

To which the warden answered, “While they were alive, be it the woman who led on the man or the man who led on the woman, they indulged their sexual passions on their parents’ beds. Those who were disciples did so on their masters’ beds, and slaves did so on their owners’ beds. Thus they were bound to fall into this hell.”

The breadth from east to west was immeasurable and, in it, men and women complemented each other half-and-half.

Women lay on the iron beds with nails driven through their bodies,

Men embraced the hot copper pillars, causing their chests to rot away;

The iron drills and long scissors were sharp as lance-tips and sword-edges,

The teeth of the plows with their sharp metal points were like awls.

When their intestines are empty, they are at once filled with hot iron pellets,

If they cry out that they are thirsty, molten iron is used to irrigate them;

The metal thorns which enter their bellies rend them like knives,

Swords and halberds shoot by wildly like stars in mid-air.

Knives scrape the flesh from their bones, pound by pound it breaks,

Swords cut the liver and intestines, inch by inch they are severed;

Indescribable,

How opposite to each other are heaven and hell!

In heaven’s mansions, morning and night there is resounding music,

But there is not one who can beg his way out of hell.

Although parents in this present existence may have blessings created for them,

They receive only one-seventh out of the total;²⁸

Even though the eastern sea be transformed into mulberry orchards,²⁹

Those who are suffering punishment will still not be released.

After Maudgalyāyana had finished speaking, he again went forward. Before long, he came to another hell. “Is there a Lady Nīladhi inside this hell or not?” he asked the warden.

To which the warden asked in reply, “Is Lady Nīladhi your mother, reverend sir?”

“Yes, she is my dear mother,” Maudgalyāyana answered him.

“Three years ago,” the warden informed the venerable monk, “there was a Lady Nīladhi who arrived in this hell. But she was summoned away by a warrant sent up from the Avīci Hell. She is at this very moment inside the Avīci Hell.”

Stifled with sorrow, Maudgalyāyana collapsed. It was quite a long while before he revived.

This is the place where he slowly goes forward and soon happens upon an ogre who is guarding the road:

Maudgalyāyana was greatly distressed as he walked along,

The knives and swords by the side of the road were like wild grass;

He inclined his ear to listen for noises of the hells in the distance,

Abruptly, there was the howling sound of a strong wind.

For thinking of his dear mother, his heart was on the verge of breaking,

Walking without stopping along the road in front of him, he soon arrived;

Suddenly, he happened upon a prince of demons,

Hand resting on his sword, he sat there blocking the main way.

Maudgalyāyana addressed him, saying: “I am a poor monk,

A disciple of the Tathāgata, Śākyamuni Buddha,

I have witnessed the three insights³⁰ and have escaped from the cycle of birth and death.

How pathetic is my dear mother whose name was Nīladhi;

After she passed away, her souls descended into this place.

I have just now come from inspecting in order all the other hells,

Everyone whom I asked all said, ‘No, this is the wrong place’—

But lately they’ve been saying that she was taken into Avīci,

Surely Great General, you are aware of this matter.

Do not hesitate to tell me truthfully whether she is here or not,

For the most profound human kindness is that of suckling one’s child;

When I hear talk of my mother, it pains me to the marrow of my bones,

Yet there is no one who can readily understand this poor monk’s heart.”

Upon hearing these words, the demon’s heart started to waver,

He spoke directly and, moreover, without mincing his words:

“Your filial devotion, reverend sir, is rare in all ages,

You have not shirked making a personal search along these infernal paths.

It seems as though there may be a Lady Nīladhi,

But I can’t quite put my finger on what sort of appearance she has;

Poured steel has been used to make the outer walls, copper for the inner—

With a thunderous roar, the winds of karma abruptly begin to blow,

Turning the carcasses of those who enter to smithereens.

I advise you, oh Teacher, to return early to your own home,

In vain do you trouble yourself by seeking her in this place;

It would be better to leave early to see the Tathāgata—

What good is it for you to beat your chest in vexation?”

When Maudgalyāyana heard of the difficulties of this hell, he immediately turned around. Hurling up his begging-bowl, he leaped into space. Before very long, he had arrived at the Teak Tree Grove. Three times he circled around the Buddha, then withdrew and sat off to one side. He looked reverently upon the countenance of the Honored One, not averting his eyes for even a moment.

This is the place where he speaks to the World-Honored:

“For many days have I been negligent in my services to you, oh Tathāgata,

Because I was following my parents’ traces to the ends of heaven and earth;

Only my father obtained rebirth in heaven above,

So I was unsuccessful in reuniting myself with my dear mother.

I have heard it said that she is suffering punishment in Avīci,

When I think of it, before I know what has happened, I become deeply aggrieved;

Due to the fierce fires, dragons, and snakes, it was difficult to go forward,

Nor was I able to come up with a suitable plan on the spur of the moment.

Your supernatural strength, oh Tathāgata, can move mountains and seas,

For which you are much admired by all living beings,

‘Always has it been that a subject in distress unburdens himself to his lord’—

How will I be able to see my dear mother again?”

The World-Honored called out to him, saying, “Mahāmaudgalyāyana!

Do not be so mournful that you cry yourself hẹạṛtbrọḳẹn;

The sins of the world are tied to those who commit them like a string,

They are not stuck on clay-fashion by anyone else.

Quickly I take my metal-ringed staff and give it to you,

It can repel the eight difficulties³¹ and the three disasters,³²

If only you remember diligently to recite my name,

The hells will certainly open up their doors for you.”

Having received the Buddha’s awesome power, Maudgalyāyana flexed his body and went downward as swiftly as a winged arrow. In an instant, he had arrived at the Avīci Hell. In mid-air, he met fifty ox-headed and horse-faced guards. They were ogres and demons with teeth like knife-trees, mouths similar to blood-basins,³³ voices like the peal of thunder, and eyes like the flash of lightning. They were headed for duty in the Bureau of the Underworld. When they met Maudgalyāyana, they informed him from a distance: “Don’t come any farther, reverend sir! This is not a good way; it is the road to hell. In the middle of the black smoke³⁴ on the western side are all the poisonous vapors of hell. Should you be sucked up by them, reverend sir, you will turn into ashes and dust.”

This is the place:

“Haven’t you heard tell, reverend sir, of the Avīci Hell?

Even iron and steel, should they pass through it, would be disastrously affected;

If you’re wondering where this hell is situated,

It’s over there on the west side in the midst of the black smoke.”

Maudgalyāyana repeated the Buddha’s name as often as there are sands in the Ganges,

And said to himself, “The hells are my original home—”

He wiped his tears in mid-air, and shook the metal-ringed staff,

Ghosts and spirits were mowed down on the spot like stalks of hemp.

Streams of cold sweat crisscrossed their bodies, dampening them like rain,

Dazed and unconscious, they groaned in self-pity;

They let go of the three-cornered clubs which were in their hands,

They threw far away the six-tined pitchforks which were on their shoulders.

“The Tathāgata has sent me to visit my mother,

And to rescue her from suffering in the Avīci Hell.”

Not to be stayed, Maudgalyāyana passed by them with a leap,

The jailers just looked at each other, not daring to stand in his way.

Maudgalyāyana walked forward and came to a hell. When he was something over a hundred paces away from it, he was sucked in by the fiery gasses and nearly tumbled over. It was the Avīci Hell with lofty walls of iron which were so immense that they reached to the clouds. Swords and lances bristled in ranks, knives and spears clustered in rows. Sword-trees reached upward for a thousand fathoms with a clattering flourish as their needle-sharp points brushed together. Knife-mountains soared ten thousand rods in a chaotic jumble of interconnecting cliffs and crags. Fierce fires throbbed, seeming to leap about the entire sky with a thunderous roar. Sword-wheels whirled, seeming to brush the earth with the dust of starry brightness. Iron snakes belched fire, their scales bristling on all sides. Copper dogs breathed smoke, barking impetuously in every direction. Metal thorns descended chaotically from mid-air, piercing the chests of the men. Awls and augers flew by every which way, gouging the backs of the women. Iron rakes flailed at their eyes, causing red blood to flow to the west. Copper pitchforks jabbed at their loins until white fat oozed to the east. Thereupon, they were made to cṛạẉl up the knife-mountains and enter the furnace coals. Their skulls were smashed to bits, their bones and flesh decomposed; tendons and skin snapped, liver and gall broke. Ground flesh spurted and splattered beyond the four gates; congealed blood drenched and drooked the pathways which run through the black clods of hell. With wailing voices, they called out to heaven—moan, groan. The rọạṛ of thunder sḥạṛḳes the earth—rumble, bumble. Up above are clouds and smoke which tumble-jumble; down below are iron spears which jangle-tangle. Goblins with arrows for feathers chattered-scattered; birds with copper beaks wildly-widely called. There were more than several ten thousands of jailers and all were ox-headed and horse-faced.

This is the place where, though your heart be made of iron or stone, you too will lose your wits and tremble with fear:

Staff in hand, Maudgalyāyana went forward, listening,

As he thought about Avīci, he became more and more preoccupied;

Inside all of the other hells, there are periods of rest,

But within this Avīci, they never see a pause.

Crowds as numerous as the sands of the Ganges simultaneously enter,

Together their bodies are transformed into a single shape;

Supposing that, there being no one else, someone entered alone,

His body itself would fill up the surrounding iron walls.

Relentlessly, lamentlessly, iron weapons are flourished;

Queruḷọụs, periḷọụs, the cloud-filled sky is turbulent,

Howling, growling, the wind which blasts the ground is terrifying.

There are long snakes which glisten and have three heads that are black,

There are large birds which glare and have pairs of wings that are dark-green;

In ten thousand red-hot ovens, heaped-up coals are fanned,

From a thousand tongues of crimson flames, shooting sparks explode.

On the east and the west, iron augers stab at the muscles of their chests,

To the left and the right, copper scissors puncture the pupils of their eyes;

Iron spears descend chaotically like the wind and the rain,

Molten iron from out of mid-air seems to be a baptismal sprinkling.

Lackaday! Welladay! How difficult it is to bear!

And to top it all off, long spikes are lowered into their bellies and backs.

When Maudgalyāyana saw this, he cried out “Horrors!”

Steadfastly he invoked the Buddha many thousands of times.

Though one breathe the poisonous vapors borne on the wind at a distance,

Right while you’re watching, his body will become a pile of ashes.

With one shake of his staff, the bars and locks fell from the black walls,

On the second shake, the double leaves of the main gate flew open;

Before Maudgalyāyana there even had a chance to call out,

The jailers came right out, carrying pitchforks in their hands.

“About whom, reverend sir, do you wish to find information?”

The gates in the walls of this hell were ten thousand leagues wide,

What sort of person could open and close them so easily?

Inside, knives and swords cluttered with a brilliant light,

The people undergoing punishment were remorsefully sad;

Great fires flamed and flared making the entire ground luminous,

Misty fog spread everywhere, filling the sky with blackness.

“Suddenly we saw an exemplar standing here in hell,

And furthermore, one with whom we have never been acquainted;

From the looks of things, it would appear that there is no one else,

It must be due to the compassionate power of the Three Jewels.”

“For what reason, reverend sir, did you open the gates of this hell?” the warden asked him.

“If this poor monk didn’t open them, who would?” he replied. “The World-Honored entrusted me with an object for opening them.”

“What object did he entrust to you for opening them?” asked the warden.

“He entrusted me with his twelve-ringed metal staff to open them,” Maudgalyāyana informed the warden.

“For what purpose have you come here, reverend sir?” a jailer asked again.

“The name of this poor monk’s mother is Lady Nīladhi,” Maudgalyāyana informed him. “I have come in order to see if I might find her.”

Upon hearing this, the warden went back inside hell and climbed up on a tall tower from which he signaled with a white flag and beat a steel drum.

“Is there a Lady Nīladhi inside the first compartment?” he called out. There was none in the first compartment, so he went on to the second compartment. The warden signaled with a black flag and beat a steel drum.

“Is there a Lady Nīladhi inside the second compartment?” Neither was there any in the second compartment, so he went on to the third compartment. He signaled with a yellow flag and beat a steel drum.

“Is there a Lady Nīladhi inside the third compartment?” Again there was none. So he went on to the fourth compartment and again there was none When he reached the fifth compartment and asked, the answer there was also “none.” He went on to the sixth compartment, where again the answer was: “No Lady Nīladhi.” The jailer walked to the seventh compartment, where he signaled with a green flag and beat a steel drum.

“Is there a Lady Nīladhi inside the seventh compartment?”

At that very moment, Lady Nīladhi was inside the seventh compartment. All up and down her body, there were forty-nine³⁵ long spikes nailing her to a steel bed. She dared not respond.

The warden repeated the question: “Is there a Lady Nīladhi in the seventh compartment or not?”

“If you’re hunting for Lady Nīladhi, this sinful body is she.”

“Why didn’t you speak up earlier?”

“I was afraid, warden, that you’d take me away to another place to receive punishment so I didn’t dare to respond.”

“There is a Buddhist monk outside the gate,” the warden informed her. “His hair and beard have been shaved off and he wears a monastic robe. He claims to be your son and that is why he has come to visit you.”

After Lady Nīladhi heard these words, she thought for quite a while and then replied: “Warden, I don’t have any son who left home to become a monk. Isn’t there some mistake?”

Upon hearing this, the warden turned around and walked back to the tall tower. “Reverend sir!” he said. “Why do you pretend to recognize a sinner in hell as your mother? For what reason do you tell such a lie?”

When Maudgalyāyana heard these words, tears of sadness fell like rain. “Warden,” he said, “when I explained things just now, my message was garbled. When I, poor monk, was a child, my name was Turnip. After my father and mother died, I surrendered myself to the Buddha and left home to become a monk. The title given me upon receiving the tonsure was Mahāmaudgalyāyana. Do not be angry, warden. Go and ask her once again.”

After hearing these words, the warden turned around and went to the seventh compartment. “Sinner!” he announced. “As a child, the name of the monk outside the gate was Turnip. After his parents died, he surrendered himself to the Buddha and left home to become a monk. The title given him upon receiving the tonsure was Mahāmaudgalyāyana.”

“If the name of the monk outside the gate as a child was Turnip, then he is my son,” said Lady Nīladhi when she heard his words. “He is the precious darling of this sinful body.”

When the warden heard Lady Nīladhi say this, he helped her up by pulling out the forty-nine long spikes. With steel chains locked about her waist and surrounded by gyves, she was driven outside the gate.

This is the place where mother and son see each other:

The interlocking links of the gyves were as numerous as gathering clouds;

A thousand years of punishment is beyond comprehension,

Trickles of blood flowed from the seven openings³⁶ of her head.

Fierce flames issued from the inside of his mother’s mouth,

At every step, metal thorns out of space entered her body;

She clanked and clattered like the sound of five hundred broken-down chariots,

How could her waist and backbone bear up under the strain?

Jailers carrying pitchforks guarded her to the left and the right,

Ox-headed guards holding chains stood on the east and the west;

Stumbling at every other step, she came forward,

Wailing and weeping, Maudgalyāyana embraced his mother.

Crying, he said: “It was because I am unfilial,

You, dear mother, were innocently caused to drop into the triple mire of hell;

Families which accumulate goodness have a surplus of blessings,

High Heaven does not destroy in this manner those who are blameless.

In the old days, mother, you were handsomer than P’an An,³⁷

But now you have suddenly become haggard and worn;

I have heard that in hell there is much suffering,

Now, today, I finally realize, ‘Ain’t it hard, ain’t it hard.’³⁸

Ever since I met with the misfortune of father’s and your deaths,

I have not been remiss in sacrificing daily at your graves;

Mother, I wonder whether or not you have been getting any food to eat,

In such a short time, your appearance has become completely haggard.”

Now that Maudgalyāyana’s mother had heard his words,

“Alas!” she cried, her tears intertwining as she struck and grabbed at herself:

“Only yesterday, my son, I was separated from you by death,

Who could have known that today we would be reunited?

While your mother was alive, she did not cultivate blessings,

But she did commit plenty of all the ten evil crimes;

Because I didn’t take your advice at that time, my son,

My reward is the vastness of this Avīci Hell.

In the old days, I used to live quite extravagantly,

Surrounded by fine silk draperies and embroidered screens;

How shall I be able to endure these hellish torments,

And then to become a hungry ghost for a thousand years?

A thousand times, they pluck the tongue from out of my mouth,

Hundreds of passes are made over my chest with a steel plow;

My bones, joints, tendons, and skin are everywhere broken,

They need not trouble with knives and swords since I fall to pieces by myself.

In the twinkling of an eye, I die a thousand deaths,

But, each time, they shout at me and I come back to life;

Those who enter this hell all suffer the same hardships,

It doesn’t matter whether you are rich or poor, lord or servant.

Though you diligently sacrificed to me while you were at home,

It only got you a reputation in the village for being filial;

Granted that you did sprinkle libations of wine upon my grave,

But it would have been better for you to copy a single line of a sūtra.”

Maudgalyāyana choked and sobbed, his tears fell like rain,

Right away, he turned around and petitioned the warden:

“Although I, poor monk, did leave home so that I could take orders,

How can I rescue my mother with my small strength?

One should cover up for the faults of those to whom he has mourning obligations,

This has been the teaching of sages and saints since ancient times;

My only wish, warden, is that you release my mother,

And I myself will bear the endless suffering for her.”

But the warden was a man of unyielding temperament,

He glared silently and vacantly at Maudgalyāyana;

“Although I, your disciple, do serve as a warden,

All of the decisions come from the Impartial King.

If your mother has sinned, she will receive the punishment for it,

And if you, oh Teacher, have sinned, you will bear the punishment for it;

The records of sins on the gold tablets and jade tokens cannot be wiped or washed away,

In the end, there is no one who can readily alter them.

It is simply that, today, the time has already arrived for her to be punished,

I must lead her back to the hall of punishments and apply the knife and spear;

If, reverend sir, you wish to obtain your mother’s release,

You cannot do better than return home and burn precious incense.”

The words of Maudgalyāyana’s mother sounded plaintive,

But jailers holding pitchforks prodded her from both sides;

Just as she was about to reach the front of the hell, she nearly fell over,

Quickly she called out long and sad, “Take good care of yourself!”

With one of her hands, Lady Nīladhi held fast to the gate of hell and turned back to gaze at him. “Take good care of yourself!” she said. “Oh precious darling of this sinful body!”

“In the old days, your mother behaved avariciously.

I failed to provide myself with grace for the karmic retribution of the next life;

The things which I said deceived heaven and denied hell,

I slaughtered pigs and goats on a grand scale to sacrifice to ghosts and spirits.

My only concern was for the pleasures of the moment,

How could I have known that on these infernal paths they flog lost souls?

Now that I have already suffered the hardships of hell,

I finally learned to awaken to repentance of my own person.

But even though I do repent, what good does it do me?

‘There’s no use crying over spilt milk,’ so says the well-known proverb;

When shall I be able to escape from this horrible suffering?

And how can I dare to hope that I’ll ever again be a human being?

You, oh Teacher, are a disciple of the Buddha,

And are capable of understanding the kindness of your parents;

If, one day, you should attain the enlightenment of a sage,

Do not forget your mother who suffers so grievously here in hell.”

After Maudgalyāyana had watched his mother depart,

He wished with all his heart that he could destroy himself;

Then, like Mount T’ai collapsing, he fell to the ground and pummeled himself,

Blood spattered from all the seven openings of his head.

“Mother, do not go back in for a while yet!” he said to her,

“Turn back and listen again to a word from your son;

The affection between a mother and her son is innate,

The kindness of her suckling him is a natural impulse.

Today, mother, you and I shall take leave of each other,

No one can tell for certain when we shall meet again;

How can I bear to listen to this horrible suffering?—

Sharp is the pain in my heart from the anxiety which weighs upon me.

Hell does not allow one to substitute for another,

All I can do is weep and wail and state my grievance loudly;

Since there is nothing at all I can do to save you,

“I too, will follow you, mother, and myself die before the gate of hell.”

Maudgalyāyana watched his mother go back into hell. Grief-stricken and brokenhearted, he sobbed until his voice became hoarse. Then, as though he were five Mount T’ais collapsing, he fell to the ground and pummeled himself. Blood flowed with a gush from all of the seven openings of his head. After quite a long time, he died, and then he revived again. He got up by pressing against the ground with both hands.

This is the place where, having rearranged his clothing, he leaps into space and goes to the World-Honored.

Maudgalyāyana’s consciousness was all hazy,

It seemed he could not hear people’s voices, they were so indistinct;

After quite a long time, he moaned deeply and came to his senses,

Hurling up his begging-bowl, he leaped into space and called upon the World-Honored.

Facing the Buddha, Maudgalyāyana stated his bitter grievances,

He spoke both of the knife-mountains and of the sword-trees;

“I received supernatural strength from you, oh Buddha, and borrowed your surplus majesty,

Thus was I enabled to visit my dear mother in Avīci.

Smoke and flames flared up from the fires atop the iron walls,

The forests of sword blades were in ranks many ten thousands deep;

Human fat and ground flesh mixed together with molten copper,

The spattering flesh collected in pools of coagulated blood.

How can my dear mother’s features endure such harsh treatment?

The whole night long she confronts the assault of knives and swords;

Her white bones climb the sword-trees ten thousand times over,

Her red face ascends the knife-mountains, making hundreds of passes.

In all the world, what is the most important thing?

It is the affection of one’s parents and their kindness most profound;

You, oh Tathāgata, are the compassionate father and mother of all living beings,

I beseech you to illuminate this ignorant and trifling heart of mine!”

The Tathāgata was by nature of great mercy and compassion,

When he heard these words, he knitted his brows with sorrow:

“All living beings emerge and disappear in the net of transmigration,

Just like chaff-gnats which have rushed against a spider’s web.

In times past, many were the sins your mother committed,

As a result, her souls fell headlong into Avīci;

For these crimes of hers, an eon will elapse before she can get out,

An ordinary person, one who is not a Buddha, cannot understand this.”

The Buddha then summoned Ānanda and the company of his followers:

“I will go to the infernal regions and save her myself!”

The Tathāgata led the eight classes of supernatural beings who surrounded him, front and back.

This is the place where, radiating light and shaking the earth, they rescue the sufferers in hell:

The Tathāgata in his holy wisdom was, by nature, impartial,

Out of mercy and compassion, he rescued all the beings of hell;

A numberless host composed of spirits of the eight classes,

Following each other, they went forward as a group.

Such pomp and circumstance!—

In heaven above and on earth below, it was an incomparable sight;

Sinking on the left, disappearing on the right,

They were like mountains projecting high above the clouds.

Precipitous—precarious—

Heaven’s mansions and hell’s halls opened their doors at once;

Like driving rain—like rumbling thunder—

They made as full a circle as the moon rising over the ocean.

Commandingly, he walked by himself with a lion’s pace,

Confidently, he moved alone with an elephant king’s gait;

Amidst the clouds, there were strains of the “Willow Branch” tune,

In space, there fluttered “Plum Blossoms Falling.”

Sovereign Śakra went forward carrying a jade token;

Brahmā followed behind holding a jade tablet;

It was a sight indescribably indescribable!—

The Tathāgata, with supernatural strength, rescued them from the gates of Hades.

To his left and right, there were deities and the host of the eight spirit realms.

To his east and west, there were attendant guards and the generals of the four directions;

Between his brows appeared a tiny hair that had a thousand different forms,

Behind his neck was a halo of five-colored clouds.

Saturated by the light, hell dissolved completely,

The sword-trees and knife-forests crumbled as though they were dust;

Saturated by the light, all of the jailers fell to their knees,

They joined their palms in heartfelt respect and prostrated themselves at his feet.

This day, the Buddha’s mercy and compassion were aroused,

He destroyed hell, leaving it completely in ruins;

The steel pellets were transformed into luminous jewels,

The knife-hills were transformed into sheets of lapis lazuli.

Molten copper was changed into the water of merit and virtue;

Meandering round pools and in currents, it was refreshing and clear,

Mandarin ducks and other waterfowl nestled together like beads on a necklace.

Every night, emerald mists lifted from the red waves,

Every morning, purple clouds rose above the green trees;

All of the sinners obtained rebirth in heaven above,

There was only Maudgalyāyana’s mother who became a hungry ghost.

Everything within hell was utterly transformed,

And it was all because of the might of the holy Śākyamuni Buddha.

Having been granted the awesome power of the Buddha, Maudgalyāyana was enabled to visit his mother. But the roots of her sin were deep and fast; the karmic forces difficult to eliminate. Thus, although she was freed of the torments of hell, she fell upon the path of hungry ghosts. Here the sorrow and suffering were dissimilar, for misery and joy were completely polarized. When placed next to her previous existence, the difference was intensified hundreds, thousands, even ten thousands of times. Her throat was like the eye of a needle, through which a drop of water could not pass. Her head seemed to be Mount T’ai, which the three rivers could hardly fill. She never even heard the words “broth” or “water.” Months would accumulate and years would pass while she endured the miseries of hunger and emaciation. She might see in the distance some clear, cool water but, when she came near, it would turn into a river of pus. Even though she obtained delicious food and tasty meals, they would immediately be transformed into fierce flames.

“Mother, now you are so distressed by hunger that your life is as though it were hanging by a thread. If your plight does not arouse in me compassion and mercy, how can I be called a filial son? Once we are separated by the road between life and death, it will be hard to expect that we shall meet again. If I wish to rescue you from this precarious danger, the urgency of the situation demands that I not delay. The way of those who have left home to become monks is to rely upon the donations of the faithful to maintain themselves. Even though you had a constant source of food and drink, I am afraid that it would be difficult for you to digest.

“I shall take leave of you now, mother, and go toward the center of Rājagṛha. There I will get some rice and then come to see you again.”

Maudgalyāyana took leave of his mother. He hurled up his begging-bowl and leaped into the air. Within an instant, he had already arrived in the center of Rajagṛha. As he went from house to house begging for rice, he walked up to the gate of a householder.

This is the place where the householder detains and questions Maudgalyāyana when he sees that he is begging for food at the wrong time:

“The morning meal is already over, reverend sir. Since the time for eating has already past, for what purpose do you intend to use this food which you are begging?”

Maudgalyāyana replied to the householder:

“After this humble monk’s mother had passed away,

Her souls³⁹ fell straightaway into the Avīci Hell;

Recently, I obtained her release with the help of the Tathāgata,

Her body was like a bunch of dried bones, her breath was wispy.

This poor monk’s heart was rent in many tiny pieces,

How can anyone else understand the pain which afflicts me?—

Even though I realize that it is inappropriate, I am begging out of time.

Because it is to give to my dear mother to feed her.”

When the householder heard these words, he was greatly startled,

Reflecting on the impermanence of things, he began to feel unhappy.

“Her golden countenance is forever deprived of being made up with rouge and mascara,”

Her jade-like appearance has no cause for entering the dressing-room.

We sing for a while—we are happy for a while—

Human life is frittered away like a sputtering candle.

We seek not the mansions of heaven where we could enjoy happiness,

Even though all we hear of is how numerous are the sinners in hell;

Sometimes to eat—sometimes to clothe ourselves—

We should not imitate those stupid people who accumulate much.

It would be better to create many good works for the future,

For who can guarantee that his life will be preserved from morning to evening?

While two people are looking at each other, death steals upon them,

After which their riches are certainly no more to be grudged by their bodies.

When, one fine morning, we breathe our last and enter our eternal coffins,

Who knows what good are the libations sprinkled vainly upon our graves?

The wise man uses his money to create many blessings,

The fool spends his gold by purchasing fields and houses.

Throughout our lives, we search laboriously for riches,

But, after we die, it is all divided up by someone else.”

When the householder heard these words, he was suddenly surprised,

It is not often that one has the opportunity to make offerings to a monk;

Hurriedly, he urged his assistants not to delay,

They brought rice from inside the house to give to the exemplar.

“From the sudden and complete dissolution of hell,

The ineffableness of the Buddhas is clearly perceived.”

The householder held in his hand the rice which he had obtained,

And gave it over to the exemplar while making a grand vow:

“May this serve not only for you to present to your dear parent, reverend sir,

But may it serve, as well, to fill all the sinners in the whole of hell!”

Maudgalyāyana was successful in begging for table-rice;

He picked up his begging-bowl and took it to present to his dear mother.

Thereupon, he walked as far as the deserted outskirts of the city;

Holding a golden spoon in his hand, he fed her himself.

Although she had undergone the hardships of hell, Lady Nīladhi’s avarice had, after all, not been eradicated. When she saw her son bringing the bowl of rice, the mere expectation of his approach excited her greed.

“The monk who is coming is my own son! He has fetched rice for me from the world of men. The whole lot of you others shouldn’t get any ideas! I’ve got to appease my own hunger right now. There won’t be enough extra to help anybody else!”

Maudgalyāyana offered up the rice which was in the begging-bowl. His mother, afraid that it might be snatched away, raised her eyes and looked about continuously on all four sides. She shielded the bowl with her left hand and scooped up the food with her right. But, before it entered her mouth, the food was transformed into a fierce fire. Although the householder’s vow was a solemn one, unfortunately the obstructiveness of her greed was even greater.

Seeing his mother like this, Maudgalyāyana felt as though his heart were being sliced with a knife. “The strength of my doctrinal understanding is still inferior. I am a wretched person of little wisdom. The only thing I can do is address my questions to the World-Honored. Then I shall surely learn the way to extricate her.”

Look, now, at the place where he gives his mother the rice:

When the Lady saw the rice, she went forward to receive it,

Because of her avarice, she senselessly bickered before she began to eat:

“My son brought this rice from far away in the world of men,

I intend to take it to cure my own bottomless pit;

If I eat it all by myself, it still looks like it won’t be enough to satisfy me,

All you others should give up your ideas of getting any—go slow with your hopes!”

The karmic force of Nīladhi’s avarice was strong,

As the food entered from her mouth into her throat, fierce flames erupted.

When Maudgalyāyana

Saw the rice his mother was eating become a fierce fire,

He pummeled himself all over and fell to the ground like a mountain collapsing;

Blood began to flow from both his ears and his nostrils,

Tearfully, he cried out to high heaven: “Oh, my mother!”

This rice was given as charity in the world of mortal men,

Above the rice, there was a spirit-light seven feet high;

They took it to be a savory, flavorsome sustenance,

But before the food entered her mouth, it had already turned into fire.

Her appetite was avaricious and her heart had not changed,

With the result that, year after year, she underwent punishment;

Now he was painfully afflicted that he had no further means to save her,

But karmic retribution did not allow that one substitute for another.

The people of the world should not entertain jealous envy,

For, once they fall into the three mires of hell, the punishment is endless;

Before the savory rice had even entered her throat,

Fiery flames began to issue from his mother’s mouth.

Though the sins of the mundane world fill the universe,

It is this very sin of avarice which is most frequent;

Unexpectedly, the flames issued from her mouth,

Which shows clearly that karmic retribution does not devolve upon others.

One should always exercise impartiality toward everything,

And should, furthermore, single-mindedly recite the name of Amitābha;

If only one can rid himself of his greedy heart,

The heavenly mansions of the Pure Land will be gained at his pleasure.

“My obedient son,” Nīladhi called out to him,

“I cannot discard this sinful body by myself;

If I am not favored by your exercise of filiality, oh Teacher,

Who would be willing to exert themselves to save your mother?

I saw the rice but, before I could scoop it into my mouth,

It unexpectedly burst into flames and burned me;

Thinking over in my mind this display of avarice,

It simply must be due to the leftover ill effects of my past.

You, oh Teacher, who are your mother’s obedient son,

Give me some cold water to relieve the hollowness in my stomach.”

Maudgalyāyana listened to his mother’s request for water, her breath catching and her voice harsh. While he was considering what to do, he suddenly recalled that, south of the city of Rājagṛha, there was a great river. Its waters were so wide as to be boundless and it was called by the name Ganges. Surely it would be sufficient to rescue his mother from the torment of her fiery calamity.

When the living beings of the mortal world saw the river, to them its waters were refreshing and cool. When the various deities saw the river, to them it was a precious pond of greenglass. When fish and turtles saw this river, to them it was either torrent or marsh. But when Nīladhi saw the river, to her it was a stream of pus and fiery flames. She walked up to the water’s edge and, without waiting for her son to utter the requisite vows, immediately supported herself against the bank with her left hand in consequence of her selfishness and scooped up the water with her right hand in consequence of her greed. Her avaricious heart was simply not to be restrained. Before the water entered her mouth, it had already become fire.

Maudgalyāyana had seen how the rice his mother started to eat had become a fiery fire and how the water she was drinking became a fiery fire. He beat his chest and struck his breast, moaning sorrowfully and weeping. He came before the Buddha and circled three times around him. Then, standing off to one side, he addressed him with these words: “Your disciple’s mother, oh World-Honored, did many things which were not good, and so she fell down into the three mires. Having been blessed by your mercy and compassion, I was able to rescue my mother from her suffering there. But now the rice which she eats becomes fire and the water she drinks becomes fire. How can I rescue my mother from the torment of her fiery calamity?”

“Maudgalyāyana!” the World-Honored called out to him, “it is true that your mother, up to now, has not been able to eat any food. She will obtain food to eat only if you observe annually, on the fifteenth day of the seventh month, the provision of a purgatorian feast on a large scale.”

Maudgalyāyana looked at his starving mother and then spoke: “World-Honored, may it not be held monthly on the thirteenth and fourteenth? Must she wait each year for the fifteenth day of the seventh month before she gets any food to eat?”

“Not only is this the prescribed date on which to provide a purgatorian feast on a large scale for your mother,” the World-Honored replied to him, “it is also the day on which those who have been sitting in meditation in the monasteries end their summer retreat, the day on which arhats achieve the fruit of their religious practice, the day on which Devadatta’s⁴⁰ sins are annihilated, the day on which King Yama rejoices, and the day on which all hungry ghosts everywhere get to eat their fill.”

Having received the Buddha’s clear instructions, Maudgalyāyana went to the front of a temple which was near the city of Rājagṛha. There he read aloud the Mahāyāna sūtras and performed the good deed of providing a purgatorian feast on a large scale. It was from these basins of food that his mother was finally able to eat a full meal. But after she received the food, he did not see his mother again.

Maudgalyāyana searched for his mother everywhere but could not find her. Tears of sorrow falling like rain, he came before the Buddha and circled three times around him. Then, standing off to one side, he joined his palms in reverent greeting and knelt respectfully. “World-Honored,” he addressed him, “when my mother ate rice, it became fire; when she drank water, it became fire. Having been blessed by your compassion and mercy, I was able to rescue my mother from the torment of her fiery calamity. But, ever since the fifteenth day of the seventh month, when she received the meal, we haven’t seen each other again. Perhaps she has fallen into hell. Or perhaps she went toward the path of hungry ghosts?”

“Neither has your mother fallen into hell nor is she on the path of hungry ghosts,” the World-Honored replied. “Having obtained the merit of your reading the sūtras and the good deed of providing a purgatorian feast, your mother’s body as a hungry ghost has been transformed. She has gone into the center of Rājagṛha, where she has taken on the body of a black dog. If you wish to see your mother, go from house to house begging for food, seeing that your mind and actions are impartial and that you do not question whether they are rich or poor. When you walk up to the gate of a certain very wealthy householder, a black dog will come out. It will tug at your cassock and, holding it in its mouth, will make human sounds. That will be your mother.”

Having been granted the Buddha’s clear instructions, Maudgalyāyana immediately took up his begging-bowl in one hand and a basin in the other and went in search of his mother. Without asking whether they were for the rich or the poor, he walked a complete circle through the city’s wards and alleys, but nowhere did he see his mother. He walked up to the gate of a certain householder where he saw a black dog which came out from the house. It tugged at Maudgalyāyana’s cassock and, holding it in its mouth, started to make human sounds.⁴¹

“Oh, obedient son of your mother!” it said, “if you could rescue your mother from the infernal paths of hell, why do you not rescue her from the torment of having the body of a dog?”

“My dear mother!” Maudgalyāyana addressed her, “because your son was unfilial, you met with misfortune and fell into the three mires. But wouldn’t you prefer to be living here in the form of a dog rather than existing as a hungry ghost?”

“Obedient son!” his mother called out, “I have received this body of a dog and my dumbness as a due reward. I spend my life walking, standing, sitting, or lying. When I’m hungry, I eat human excrement in the latrines. When I’m thirsty, I drink the water which drips from the eaves to relieve the hollow feeling. In the morning, I hear the householder invoking the Three Treasures. In the evening, I hear his wife reciting the esteemed sūtras. I would rather have the body of a dog and endure the filth of the earth than hear in my ears the name of hell.”

Maudgalyāyana led his mother away to the front of a Buddhist stupa in Rājagṛha. There, for seven days and seven nights, they read aloud the Mahāyāna sūtras, confessing and repenting, and reciting the prohibitions. Availing herself of this merit, she was transformed out of her dog-body. She sloughed off her dogskin and hung it on a tree. Then, getting back her body of a woman, she was once again in complete possession of a perfect human form.

“Mother,” Maudgalyāyana said to her, “it is difficult to obtain a human body, difficult to be born in the Central Kingdom,⁴² difficult to hear the Law of the Buddha, and difficult to manifest a good mind. I call upon you, mother, now that you have regained human form, swiftly to cultivate blessings.”

Maudgalyāyana took his mother to the twin Sāl trees. He circled three times around the Buddha and then, standing off to one side, addressed him in these words: “Oh World-Honored! Would you look over for me the path of my mother’s karma up to the present, examining it from the very beginning to see if she has any other sins?”

The World-Honored was not opposed to Maudgalyāyana’s request. Observing her from the standpoint of the three types of karma, he found that there were no further individual sins.

Seeing that his mother’s sins had been annihilated, Maudgalyāyana rejoiced greatly at heart. “Mother,” he said to her,

    “Let us go back!

The world of mortal men is not fit to remain in;

    Birth, life, death—

  It wasn’t really a place to stay in anyway.

It is the Kingdom of Buddha in the West which is the finest!”

Deities and dragons were moved to lead the way in front and heavenly maidens came to welcome her. She was received forthwith into the Trayastriṁśā Heaven to enjoy happiness.

 

In the very beginning,⁴³ the Buddha uttered the stanzas with which he converted the first five disciples. At the time (the time this sütra was preached) there were 84,000⁴⁴ bodhisattvas, 84,000 monks, 84,000 laymen, and 84,000 laywomen, all circling around the Buddha and making obeisance to him. They rejoiced in the receptivity and obedience of their faith.

     Transformation Text on Mahāmaudgalyāyana, One Scroll

Written on the sixteenth day of the fourth month in the seventh year of the True Brightness reign-period by Hsüeh An-chün, lay student⁴⁵ at the Pure Land Monastery.

Chang Pao-ta’s copy

Translated by Victor H. Mair

This tale is about the Buddist saint Mu-lien (the Chinese version of his Sankrit name, which is given in the title), who saves his mother from the tortures of hell. It belongs to the popular genre called pien-wen (transformation text). This genre had a close relationship to pictures that were used as illustrations for oral storytelling, a trait evident even in the formula that occurs before the verse portions. Transformation texts constitute the earliest extended vernacular narratives in Chinese. The manuscript on which this translation is based was discovered around the turn of this century in a cave in the Chinese part of Central Asia at Tun-huang (far western Kansu province). The copying was completed on a date equivalent to May 26, 921, although the original composition occurred approximately 150 or more years before that date. Other manuscripts discovered at Tun-huang contain abbreviated versions of the tale, but this one offers the complete story.

Roughly 40,000 manuscripts were unearthed from one of the Caves of the Thousand Buddhas at Tun-huang, where they had been sealed up sometime during the first half of the eleventh century. Written in about twenty different languages, a number of which are now extinct, the Tun-huang manuscripts represent one of the most important archeological recoveries of written texts in history. Their reemergence in this century has revolutionized our understanding of medieval Chinese literature, religion, politics, institutions, economics, society, dance, music, art, and other areas of human endeavor.

The dots under some of the words in the translation indicate places where sinographs are missing on the manuscript and have had to be restored. Three dots equal roughly one sinograph.

1. The presumed source of the Yü-lan-p’en (“All Souls”) festival.

2. Amitābha Buddha and his two attendant bodhisattvas (saviors).

3. The Three Precious Ones or the Buddhist Trinity are the Buddha, dharma (his doctrine), and saṇgha (Buddhist community).

4. Mahāyāna, the Greater Vehicle of Buddhism.

5. The deepest of the eight hot hells.

6. Sainthood.

7. The “Thus-come/gone,” an epithet of the Buddha.

8. The pair of śāla trees under which the Buddha entered nirvāṇa.

9. The Buddha’s lucky mark, which is a reversed form of the swastika.

10. These are: 1. misery is a condition of life, 2. origination of misery, 3. stopping of misery, and 4. the eightfold path that leads to the stopping of misery.

11. Shedding a Buddha’s blood; killing one’s father or mother, a monk, teacher, or arhat (saint); disrupting religious organizations.

12. Both this and the preceding line are metaphorical expressions of the improbability of a man being reborn as a man or meeting with a Buddha and his teaching. The implication is that one should accumulate as much good karma as possible to better his chances of a happy rebirth.

13. This is the famous parable of the burning house in the Lotus Sūtra.

14. Auspicious signs of the Buddha’s power.

15. The posture for overcoming evil spirits.

16. To symbolize solidity.

17. The ninth and final stage of meditation on the decomposition of a corpse for the purpose of curbing desire.

18. He had achieved carefully controlled yogic breathing.

19. In Buddhist parlance, “mountain” oftens stands for monastery.

20. Means “splendid mansions” (compare with selection 213).

21. In salutation.

22. Chinese still present such offerings to the dead.

23. T’ai-shan Lao-chün, the Taoist counterpart of Yama.

24. Of transmigration (saṃsāra).

25. Overlord of Yama, he is guardian of the earth.

26. The Styx of the Chinese Buddhist underworld.

27. This does not constitute genuine rebirth. It is only part of the torture process.

28. This reflects the folk-Buddhist concept that one who “pursues the departed with rites for their happiness” will receive a full complement of blessings while those for whom the ceremony is held will receive one seventh of the total.

29. I.e., “a long, long time.”

30. Three types of knowledge of an arhat (saint): 1. memory of past lives, 2. supernatural insight into the future, and 3. knowledge of present mortal sufferings.

31. Situations in which it is difficult to see a Buddha or hear his dharma: in hell; as a hungry ghost; as an animal; in the comfortable northern continent of uttarakuru; in the long-life heavens; as someone deaf, blind, and dumb; as a worldly philosopher; in the interim between a Buddha and his successor.

32. Major: fire, water, and wind. Minor: war, pestilence, and famine.

33. There is a hell in which women who die in childbirth are tortured by having to bathe in an enormous pool of blood.

34. Similar black gasses are also mentioned by Dante in Canto V of the Inferno.

35. This number was probably suggested by the length of the funeral service (forty-nine days).

36. Eyes, ears, nose, and mouth.

37. P’an An-jen (P’an Yüeh). The story goes that the ladies of Loyang were so taken by his beauty that they tossed fruit at him when he went out on the street.

38. The title of a popular ballad during the Six Dynasties and T’ang periods.

39. Celestial (yang) and terrestrial (yin).

40. The son of King Droṇodana and a cousin of Śākayamuni with whom he competed by cultivating supernatural powers. He was said to have been swallowed up in hell for his evil behavior toward the Buddha. Later, however, a tradition emerged which predicted that he would be a future Buddha known as Devarāja.

41. Dogs are, of course, normally dumb. That the dog is able to speak to Maudgalyāyana in this particular case is due to a special dispensation of the Buddha.

42. The “Central Kingdom” here refers to India, not China.

43. Of the transmission of the Law of the Buddha after his enlightenment.

44. The supposed number of atoms in the human body. As such, it was a frequently used figure for a large number of various phenomena or objects.

45. Lay students pursuing a largely secular curriculum under the auspices of various monasteries at Tun-huang were primarily responsible for the copying of transformation texts. They were thus extremely important in the creation of a written vernacular for China.