Ordinary Men, Part 1

In the city of Rājagṛha there was an illusionist named Bhadra (which in the language of Liang is “Kindly Worthy”), who understood the scriptures clearly and knew the arts thoroughly; what he did was skilful and clever and he was capable of much, and he was well liked and his fame reached far. None of the people of Magadha came near him, and all in the kingdom, great and small, studied under him.

Bhadra happened to see the World-Honored One, his bodily color grave and exquisite, and thought he would test him, and so made a show of inviting the Buddha: if he knows my mind he will not accept the invitation; and if he does not know it, he will certainly accept it. The Buddha knew his mind and, wishing to deliver him, accepted in silence; and Bhadra supposed that the Buddha had no penetrating wisdom and did not see his mind.

He went into the city of Rājagṛha and in a clean place conjured up a lecture hall hung with silk and flower canopies, and under every tree spread lion seats for the monks, and in the hall set a lion seat especially for the Tathāgata, four fathoms and nine feet high, and made dishes of a hundred flavors.

Then the Four Heavenly Kings and Śakra, with thirty-two thousand gods, said to Kindly Worthy: you have truly obtained a good gain, in inviting the Tathāgata to a lecture hall and making offerings; we shall help you with what is lacking. And they conjured up halls and palaces like the Trāyastriṃśa palace.

The Buddha, with the bodhisattvas and the monks, went to that lecture hall, and saw the Buddha sit upon the seat he himself had made; and Śakra likewise saw the Tathāgata sit upon the adorned seat that he had made.

Kindly Worthy listened to what the Buddha taught, put away his self-importance, and threw his head down at the Buddha’s feet and said to him: I ask only that the Tathāgata forgive my fault. And he wished to make what he had conjured disappear, and the Buddha would not let it change; and he taught him further that all dharmas are like conjurings and illusions (Source: Sūtra of the Illusionist Kindly Worthy).

Anāthapiṇḍada lived at the foot of Mount Érlián, greatly rich in treasure; merchants from far off borrowed from him, and no beggar who went to him failed to get something.

At that time five hundred merchants were sailing at sea and their ship broke up and their treasure all sank; not a few died, and some got by on planks and lived, and they all came to Anāthapiṇḍada. Their host set out food; and their host, drawing his well, brought up boxes and hampers of treasure, each with the owner’s surname written on it.

When the merchants had eaten, they all grieved, and their host asked why. They answered: we were a company of five hundred and travelled together at sea, and our ship capsized and not a few died; we held on to small planks and barely lived, and we lost our treasure and grieve for our companions. And now we see what has come up out of the well: it is all ours, and we do not know how it comes to be so.

Their host said: when you gentlemen go out to trade, if you are sincere at heart you do not lose it; it is only for want of sincerity that you lose. I have never, through countless kalpas, been other than sincere and have never cheated or encroached; and all who lose treasure find that it goes to my well. Each of you may look for your own name and take it (Source: Parables Sūtra).

Long ago there was a man named Worthy-Straight who had three times taken part in the eight-precept fast and had heard read from the sūtras the words: a heavenly eye does not blink; what is recited is not forgotten. But this Worthy-Straight was good at stealing other people’s things without their noticing before their eyes.

The king lost a pearl and summoned his ministers to consider it, and the ministers said to the king: we hear there is a Worthy-Straight who is extremely good at thieving. The king ordered him taken and questioned, hoping to get an admission from him; but he did not admit to the theft, and since the king had principles, how could he wrong a man?

So he called the ministers together again to confer, and one minister said: we should use an expedient to make him confess of himself. Let him be put in a heavy cangue and chains and carried through the market with the sentence of death proclaimed, and given liquor until he is drunk, and then let the chains be taken off and let him be set up in a hall with singing girls making music. Let the king instruct the girls that when Worthy-Straight, being drunk, asks them, they should answer: this is heaven and we are heavenly maidens who are to attend on you; in your former body you stole the king’s pearl, and so you have been born here.

The king did as he said. Worthy-Straight heard this and thought silently: I have heard the sūtras say that a heavenly eye does not blink, and these women are all blinking. Besides, if I stole the pearl I should have entered hell. Is not the king setting a trap to make me confess? And he said aloud: I have obtained birth in heaven because I did not steal the pearl.

The singing girls reported to the king what Worthy-Straight had said, and the king laughed heartily: this fellow certainly did not steal my pearl. And he released him and let him go, and gave him gold and treasure besides. He had truly stolen the pearl; and by reciting one verse he escaped the offense and got a reward (Source: Miscellaneous Parables Sūtra).

Long ago there was a man named Cíluó who saw someone selling a turtle and pitied it in his heart, and wept before the turtle. The turtle-seller said: why do you weep before a turtle? Cíluó answered: I cannot bear to see it. The poor turtle-seller laughed heartily: you are mad. He answered: I am thinking of this turtle, and I would buy it from you.

The owner said: the turtle is worth a million. Cíluó took it home, and by exhausting his capital and interest raised eight hundred thousand. Cíluó said: my money is at an end and there is nowhere to borrow more. The turtle-seller said: since your money is at an end, you may work my fields to pay off the price. Cíluó said: agreed.

He carried the turtle in a cart and put it into a pool, and the turtle then could speak: there is about to be a great flood; you should climb a tree and call me.

Later a great flood arose and the people all died; and Cíluó climbed a tree and called the turtle, and the turtle came, and Cíluó sat on the turtle’s back.

Going on a few li, he saw a woman on a drifting raft, exhausted and about to die, who begged Cíluó to take her aboard. Cíluó said to the turtle: this person is pitiable; let her be taken up. The turtle said: go on then — and took her too.

Going on ten li, he saw the turtle-seller drifting on a raft, who asked Cíluó to take him up. The turtle said: I am already heavy, and I fear I shall be worn out and unable to cross. Be careful not to take him. Cíluó said: it is pitiable; how at this moment can we not take him? And Cíluó took him too.

Going on some tens of li, he saw several pints of moths drifting on a raft, and Cíluó again told the turtle to take them up.

Going on, they came to the kingdom of Nàjié, and the woman thanked Cíluó with gold. The turtle-seller said: this turtle was mine and I sold it; the gold you have now got should be given back to me. Cíluó would not give it.

The turtle-seller then went to the king of Nàjié and said: Cíluó stole another man’s wife and is selling her, and he has brought gold and silver into this country. The king of Nàjié summoned Cíluó at once and ordered the officers to behead him. The officer reported the matter and was about to set down the writing, and the moths kept crawling onto his brush so that he could not form the characters. The king heard of it and asked Cíluó: what merit have you? Cíluó told him everything, and the king executed the turtle-seller (Source: Sūtra of Ānanda’s Manifest Transformations).

In the city of Fújiāluó in the Great Yuèzhī there was a painter named Qiānnà, who went east to the country of Takṣaśilā and painted as a hired man for twelve years and got thirty taels of gold, and carried it back to his own country.

He happened to see the community of monks, and his mind was pure with faith, and he asked the manager: how much would it take to provide this community with a single day’s food? He answered: it would take thirty taels of gold. The painter handed over all of it to the manager and asked him to arrange a meal: I shall come tomorrow.

He went home empty-handed, and his wife asked: after twelve years’ work, what have you got? He answered: I got thirty taels of gold; I have already planted it in the field of merit and handed it to the saṅgha for a feast.

His wife bound her husband and sent him to the authorities and set out the whole matter, and the official asked: you did not provide for your wife and children and gave it to others? The painter answered: in my former life I had no merit and was poor and always in hardship; and now I have met with the community of monks, who are a good field of merit. If I do not plant good now, I shall be poor again in a later life, and poverty and hardship will follow one another without any time of release. That is why I gave it all to the community.

The man who judged the case was a lay follower, and he took off his own necklace and gave the painter the horse he rode and a village besides, and said to him: you gave to the community, and the community has not yet eaten; this is a seed not yet sown from which the shoot has already come up — and the great fruit is still to come (Source: Treatise on the Great Perfection of Wisdom, fascicle 11).

Long ago there was a man who died, and afterward his spirit came back and stroked his own old bones. Someone asked him: you are already dead; why do you still stroke these dry bones?

The spirit said: this is my former body. It did not kill living things, did not steal, did not commit adultery, did not use double speech or evil abuse or false or ornamented words, was not jealous, not angry, not deluded. And after death I obtained birth in heaven, and what I wish for comes of itself and my joy has no limit. That is why I hold it dear (Source: Old Miscellaneous Parables Sūtra, lower fascicle).

Long ago in North India there was a skilled craftsman who made a wooden woman, upright and beyond compare, with clothing, sashes, and ornaments no different from a real woman’s; and she came and went and could serve wine and attend on guests — only she could not speak.

At that time in South India there was a painter who was also very good at painting. The craftsman heard of him and prepared fine food and drink and invited the painter, and had the wooden woman serve the wine and carry the dishes from dawn until night. The painter did not know and took her for a real woman, and his lustful mind grew extreme and he could not forget her.

When it was dusk, the craftsman went in to sleep and left the painter to stay, and set this wooden woman standing at his side, and said to the guest: I leave this woman here on purpose; you may sleep with her.

The host having gone in, the wooden woman stood beside the lamp, and the guest called her and she did not come; and the guest went forward and pulled at her, and only then knew she was wood. He was ashamed of himself: the host has deceived me, and I shall pay him back.

So the painter contrived an expedient of his own: on the wall he painted an image of himself, wearing clothing no different from his own, with a rope tied round the neck as though he had hanged himself, and painted the likeness of the rope at its mouth. When it was done he shut the door and got in under the bed.

At dawn the host came out and saw that the door had not been opened, and looked in; and he saw only the image of the guest hanged on the wall. The host was greatly frightened and thought he had truly died, and broke down the door and went in and cut the rope with a knife — and at that the painter came out from under the bed. The craftsman was greatly ashamed, and the painter said: you were able to deceive me and I am able to deceive you. Guest and host, the account is settled and neither owes the other.

The two of them, knowing in faith that they had been mad and deluded, each gave up their kin and loved ones and went forth and cultivated the path (Source: Miscellaneous Parables Sūtra, fascicle 4).

There was a king whose body took a grave illness and did not recover for twelve years, and no great physician could cure it. There was a small border kingdom subject to the great king, in which there was a physician who was good at curing sickness; and the king summoned him to treat his illness, and before long it was removed.

The king then thought of repaying this master’s kindness, and sent a messenger with a proclamation to that country: since this master has cured me, he ought to be rewarded — elephants, horses, carriages, oxen, sheep, fields, houses, servants, attendants, and ornaments of every kind, let them all be given him. And the king of that small country carried out the command.

The master, at the king’s side, had no one say anything to him, and he thought: I have done a great work in curing the king’s illness, and I do not know whether the king will repay me or not.

Some days later the king was fully recovered, and the master asked leave to go back to his own country, and the king permitted it, and gave him one lean horse with worn-out harness. The master laughed bitterly in resentment: I did a great work in curing the king’s illness, and the king does not know a favor and takes no thought for me and sends me away empty. And along the road he lamented and took it for a lasting grievance.

Coming to his own country he saw a herd of elephants and asked the elephant-boy: whose elephants are these? The elephant-boy answered: they are so-and-so the master’s elephants. He asked again: where did so-and-so the master get these elephants? He answered: so-and-so the master cured the great king’s illness, and they are the reward for that work.

Going on a little he saw herds of horses, cattle, and sheep, and asked: whose are these? The shepherd boy answered: so-and-so the master’s.

Going on a little he saw his own house, with high halls and storeyed pavilions quite unlike his old dwelling, and asked the gatekeeper: whose house is this? The gatekeeper answered: this is so-and-so the master’s house.

He went in to the inner chamber and saw his wife, her color full and glad, her body clothed in jewelled robes, and asked in surprise: whose lady is this? The attendant answered: this is so-and-so the master’s lady.

From seeing the elephants and horses to entering the house, he understood that all of it was the reward for the work of curing the king’s illness; and he then regretted, of himself, that his original work in curing the king’s illness had been so slight (Source: Miscellaneous Parables Sūtra, fascicle 4).

Long ago there was a householder who set up a great platform and invited the Buddha and the saṅgha; and there was a man selling curds whom the host kept to eat, and urged to keep the fast and hear the sūtras, and he went home only at dusk.

His wife said to him: I have not eaten since morning and have waited for you until now — and so ruined her husband’s fast. Even half a fast’s merit brings birth in heaven for seven generations, and birth among humans where things always come of themselves. One day of keeping the fast is sixty myriad years of spontaneous provision, and there are five blessings besides: first, little sickness; second, body and mind at ease; third, little lust; fourth, little sleeping; fifth, that after the end of life the spirit is born in heaven and always remembers its past lives (Source: Essential Matters from the Sūtras).

Long ago there was a man ploughing and sowing in a field, and the day was already near noon and the food from his house had not come. A religious man had lost his way and came to that field and begged a midday meal from him. The ploughman said: yes — but I ask you to wait a little; the food from my house is late. The religious said: since the food has not come, I should like to rinse my mouth. The ploughman untied his sash and gave him a harītakī fruit, and the religious took it and ate it; and he had one coin besides and gave it to him as an offering.

The religious said: if it moves your mind, I have nothing with which to repay you; I should like to confer the five precepts on you — can you receive them? He answered: your disciple is a layman and the five precepts are hard to keep whole; I shall receive only the precept against killing.

When the ploughman’s life ended he was born into a king’s family. The queen went with her retinue to a stream and sang and danced and made music, and, holding the child, came to the water’s edge, and lost her hold and he fell in, and a fish swallowed him at once. He was in its belly seven days, neither hungry nor thirsty, and drifted downstream more than a thousand li and entered the borders of a lower kingdom, where men caught the fish and took it to market to sell.

The ruler of that lower kingdom sent a man to buy the fish and bring it into the city, and they took a knife to prepare the fish; and the boy in its belly cried out: gently, gently — do not hurt me. So they opened the fish’s gut and saw a small boy, upright beyond compare, and the whole kingdom rejoiced.

The ruler of the upper kingdom heard of it and said: this must be my son — and sent messengers to ask for him. The ruler of the lower kingdom answered: I got him in a fish’s belly; it was heaven that gave him to me, and I shall not give him up. The two kingdoms contended over it and it came at last to the great kingdom.

The great king gave judgment: if the upper kingdom had not borne this boy, how should the lower kingdom, when he fell into the water, have obtained him? And if the lower kingdom had not obtained him, where should the upper kingdom look for him? These two have a connection with him. Between your two kingdoms you may build a palace and put the boy there together. He was named the Crown Prince of Two Kingdoms, and from that ruling he lived there and was treated according to the ceremony due a crown prince.

The Buddha told his disciples: the ploughman of that day, by giving one fruit and one coin to a religious, obtained the crown princedom of two kingdoms (Source: Miscellaneous Parables Sūtra).

Long ago there was a lame religious man who kept the precepts and begged for his food, and happened to come to a house that had long had faith in the great Dharma; and seeing that his foot was afflicted they were moved to pity and provided for him a whole year.

The religious took his leave, and the master of the house said: I hope you will look in on us often — and at the moment of parting host and guest wept together. After the religious had gone, the master lifted the couch and saw nothing but gold and treasure, and by this he became very rich.

A neighbouring household, seeing his great wealth, asked what the cause was, and the man answered truthfully. The neighbour, with an evil thought, hoped to find treasure, and looked for a lame man to provide for; and he searched everywhere and there was none. He met one religious man whose body was quite whole, and bound him and brought him back and broke his leg and provided for him a little while, and then forced him to go.

After he had gone they lifted the couch — and moved by that evil mind, venomous snakes, wasps, and scorpions came and stung the whole household. In this present life the evil recompense; and afterward they entered hell. He who got the treasure — his mind was upright and auspicious; those who were stung — their minds were not humane (Source: Miscellaneous Parables Sūtra).

In a past age there were a sister and a brother, and the sister had a son; and the son and his uncle both served in the government office, weaving cloth of gold thread and figured silks and gauzes and fine rare garments, and the storehouse held brocades and treasures.

They conferred together: we weave and labour diligently and never slacken, and we know which of the storehouse’s goods are good and which poor and how many there are. Might we take some together and relieve our poverty? At night they bored a hole in the ground and went in and stole goods.

In the morning the storehouse keeper noticed that the goods had diminished and reported the matter to the king. The king ordered that it not be widely proclaimed, so that the thief should suppose the king had many affairs and could not detect it, and would certainly come again another day: keep strict watch, and whoever is caught, seize him and do not let him go. The storehouse keeper received the order and set a guard.

After a long while the man did indeed come again to steal. The nephew instructed his uncle: you are advanced in years and your body is weak and your strength small; if you are caught by the guards you cannot get yourself free. Go in through the tunnel backward. If you are caught, my strength is great and I shall save my uncle. His uncle went into the tunnel and was seized by the guards, and the guards called out; and the nephew, fearing his uncle would be recognized, cut off his head and went away.

At dawn the storehouse keeper reported it, and the king ordered again: carry out the body and set it at a crossroads in the open. Whoever weeps over it and takes the corpse away is the thief.

Days passed; and there came merchants from far away, and men and horses filled the road, jostling and pressing. The nephew loaded two carts of firewood and set them on the corpse. It was reported to the king, and the king ordered: if anyone burns it, seize and bind him and bring him here. The nephew had a boy hold a torch and dance about with it, and while the crowd was gathered he threw fire into the firewood, and it blazed up fiercely, and the guards did not notice. They reported it to the king.

The king ordered again: increase the guards and watch strictly over the bones. The nephew then brewed pure liquor, making it especially strong, and went to the guards and sold it cheaply. The guards, hungry and thirsty from the night before, saw the liquor and drank it together, and, drinking too much, were all drunk and asleep; and he took the bones away in a liquor jar and the guards did not notice.

In the morning they reported to the king again, and the king ordered: guards have been set before and after and he has still not been caught. This thief is crafty and we must lay another plan. So the king brought out his daughter, adorned with necklaces, pearls, and jewels, and set her in a room beside a great water with a crowd of attendants keeping watch and examining, in case someone should come to the woman out of desire; and the girl was instructed beforehand that when she had hold of him she should call out and have him seized.

One night the nephew came secretly, and floated a tree-stump on the water and let it drift down, and cried out and hid. The guards started up and rushed over supposing there was an intruder, and saw only a stump. This happened night after night without change, and the guards slept; and the nephew then rode the stump to the girl’s room, and the girl seized his clothing.

The nephew said to the girl: you may take hold of my arm — and the nephew had brought a dead man’s arm beforehand and gave her that. The girl let go of the clothing and grasped the arm and cried out loudly; and the guards woke, and the nephew got away and escaped.

In the morning they reported it to the king, and the king ordered again: this man’s resourcefulness is unmatched anywhere; we have long failed to catch him. What is to be done?

The girl then conceived, and after ten months bore a boy, exceedingly handsome; and a nurse was made to carry him about all through the kingdom, and whoever kissed him was to be bound and brought in.

She carried the child all day. The nephew was a cake-seller and had his stall under a cake oven. The little boy cried with hunger, and the nurse carried him to the cake oven and bought a cake to feed him, and the nephew, seeing it, kissed the child. He reported to the king at once: the child was carried all day and nobody came near him; when he passed the cake oven hungry, the cake-seller gave him a cake and then kissed him.

The king ordered again: why did you not bind him? The nurse answered: the little boy was crying with hunger and the cake-seller gave him a cake and kissed him; he ought not to be the thief. The king had the nurse carry the child out again with the watchers, and whoever came near the child was to be bound and brought in. The nephew sold fine liquor and invited the nurse and the watchers into the wine shop and urged liquor on them; and being very drunk they lay down asleep, and he stole the child away. When they came to themselves the child was gone, and they reported to the king.

The king ordered again: you are dull and stupid and greedy for drink, and you have neither caught the thief nor kept the child.

The nephew, having got the child, carried him to another country, and came before its king and answered his questions with apt sayings and expounded the sense of the scriptures. The king was greatly pleased and at once gave him rank and salary and made him a great minister, and said to him: in my whole kingdom no one has wisdom and resourcefulness equal to yours. I shall give you a minister’s daughter, or my own daughter, as you please. He answered: I dare not; but if the king would take pity on me, I would ask for the daughter of a certain king.

The king said: excellent — you shall have your wish. And the king took him for a son and sent messengers to ask that king for his daughter, and the king consented. But that king thought again: perhaps this is that thief and his tricks, before and now. And he sent his messenger and also his crown prince with five hundred horsemen, all in strict order.

The nephew was afraid, fearing that when he came to that country the king would seize him, and said to his own king: if the king sends me, let five hundred men and horses be made ready with clothing and saddles all exactly alike, and only then may I go to fetch the bride. The king agreed.

So he went to fetch the bride, and the king had his daughter set out food and drink for the guests. Two hundred and fifty horsemen were in front and two hundred and fifty behind, and the nephew was in the middle astride his horse and did not dismount; and the bride’s father came out himself among the horsemen and took hold of the nephew and said: are you he or not, whom before and after by every device I could not catch? Is it you or not?

He bowed his head and answered: it is. The king said: your cleverness is unmatched under heaven — you shall have your wish, and I give you my daughter, and you may be husband and wife.

The nephew was myself; the girl’s father the king is Śāriputra; the uncle is Devadatta; the king my father is Śuddhodana; the mother is Māyā; the wife is Gopī; the son is Rāhula (Source: Jātaka Sūtra, fascicle 1).

Long ago in the country of Gṛdhrakūṭa there was a young woman of exquisite form and unmatched talent and intelligence, of a broad and harmonious temper who never grew angry; and in her household, among the nine degrees of kin and all their connections near and far, there was none who did not love and respect her. From every country a hundred thousand sought her, and she was still not married.

At that time in the country of Rājagṛha there was a young man of heavenly grace and lofty mind, whom all the people of the kingdom held in awe; and though he had entertainers and consorts he never went near them. He thought constantly: in the country of Gṛdhrakūṭa there is a woman who was originally my match, and I have simply not reached her yet.

On that very day he thought: everything in this hall was got by power and gain and none of it is my match — and at one stroke he sent them all away and the place was left bare. And he mounted a white elephant with two attendants and set out for that country, crossing mountains and wading through grass for ten million li, and after five years arrived at last.

The woman was in the depths of her palace and her heart stirred for no reason, and she came out to walk about and tried peering out of the outer chamber, and suddenly saw this man; and she was both grieved and glad and could not restrain it: this is my husband, sought for before and since, and my match of a former life. And she went to him herself, and his feelings toward her clung close.

The woman’s parents were distressed and had no plan: we raised our daughter to be grown and did not understand it would be like this. And they set a strict guard so that no word could pass. The woman was vexed and did not know what to do, and the man in his grief and confusion shared the same anxiety.

So the woman practiced strict fasting and kept the precepts and walked the path day and night, and gave away her resources to the Buddha and the saṅgha; and her heart was worn and her form withered, and five years passed and no word reached him and each held their feeling and there was no response at all.

So on the eighth day of the fourth month she bound herself and went in person to the Buddha’s stūpa and burned incense and bowed and made this vow: cutting and carving my own flesh I make offering to the World-Honored One and do not begrudge myself; I ask only that this resolve be granted its fruit.

And the Buddha had a nun make the connection for her, and they were joined. The Buddha told Ānanda: why is this so? It is because from asaṃkhya kalpas ago they long ago bound a vow together, and so it comes about (Source: Sūtra on the Offense of Parting from Feeling).

Long ago there were a husband and wife who ate three cakes together, one each, and there was one left over that they meant to break and divide. The wife said: do not divide it; I shall wager with you. Let neither of us speak; whoever speaks first loses and whoever speaks last gets it.

So they shut their mouths; and in the middle of the night a burglar came in and saw the two of them sitting and not speaking, and, supposing this was some great terror, dared not make a sound; and he gathered up their goods and carried them out of the door.

The wife cried out: you are a man — how can you let the goods go? Her husband said: I win, I win — now I get the big cake. And people blamed and laughed at them and called them great fools (Source: Sūtra of the Hundred Parables, fascicle 2).

Long ago there was a man who saw that another man’s wife had a fine nose, and thought to himself: my wife’s face is the finest of all; only her nose is bad. I shall take this nose now to replace my wife’s.

And he drew the woman aside to a hidden place and cut off her nose and brought it back, and then cut off his own wife’s nose and set this woman’s nose in its place; and both had lost their noses and neither nose would attach. The crowd wondered and reviled him as a truly great madman (Source: Sūtra of the Hundred Parables, fascicle 1).

Long ago there was an extremely poor man who understood the speech of birds well and hired himself to a merchant as a porter. Passing by the water’s edge they drank, and a crow cried out, and the merchant was frightened and the hired man laughed instead.

Coming home he asked him: when we drank there and I heard the crow cry, I was greatly frightened, and you laughed instead — why? He answered: the crow was saying to me — this merchant has a fine white pearl on him; you may kill him and take the pearl, and I shall eat his flesh. That is why I laughed.

He said: and why did you not kill me? He answered: it is because in a former life I coveted others’ goods that I am poor and hired as a porter. If I killed a man again and took his goods, then in a later life I should suffer, and when would it ever end? To my dying day I shall not do this thing (Source: Parables Sūtra).

A great flood suddenly rose, and living creatures took refuge on a hill; and when they were about to be submerged, a phoenix suddenly came to where the wise one was, and he attached himself to its wings and so got up onto high ground and escaped the peril of the water.

Those who had not yet gone suddenly saw a cormorant and entrusted themselves to its feathers — and this cormorant went straight down into deep water, and they all drowned together (Source: Miscellaneous Parables Sūtra).

Long ago there was a man, poor and of no use, who took up trading and went to sea and gathered treasure and came back to his country. He met a good friend and said: I was always poor before and have now got these goods, enough to manage on. If my mother will not have it my way, I mean to leave her and live apart; and if my wife will not have it my way, I mean to look for another.

His friend answered: near here there is a man of great wisdom, and the city is full of it; you may go and buy wisdom from him. For no more than a thousand taels of gold he will tell you the method of wisdom.

The man did as he said and went into a settlement that served the Buddha and asked about it, and was answered: whenever a thing is in doubt, walk seven steps forward and seven steps back, and do so three times, and wisdom will arise of itself.

That night the man went home and saw his mother sleeping beside his wife, and, supposing it was another man, drew his blade meaning to kill him; but in his mind it did not seem right, and he lit a great lamp and looked from a distance and reflected: this morning I bought wisdom. And he went forward and back three times in that way, and his mother woke.

The man exclaimed: this is truly wisdom — and how should it be worth only a thousand taels of gold? And he gave him three thousand taels more (Source: Ten-Fascicle Parables Sūtra, fascicle 4).

Long ago there was a man travelling in the mountains who met a man-eating ghost, who seized him meaning to eat him. The man begged for pity: allow me a moment to ask one thing, and then let me be eaten and I shall bear no grudge. The ghost believed the man and, supposing it a sincere matter, let him do as he wished.

He asked the ghost: why is your face white, and your legs and knees and belly white, and all the rest of you black? The ghost answered: I am by nature a thing that hates the sun’s essence; I can travel with my back to the sun and cannot face it. That is why it is so. And the man ran toward the sun, and the ghost could only resent it in vain and could not get him (Source: Ten-Fascicle Parables Sūtra, fascicle 4).

Long ago there was a man of two occupations who had two wives. Going to the younger wife, the younger wife said to him: I am young and my husband is old; I do not like living with you — go and live with the elder wife. So he pulled out his white hairs.

Coming to the elder wife, the elder wife said to him: I am old and my head is already white, and my husband’s head is black; you had better go. So he pulled out the black to make it white. Going on like this without stopping, his head became entirely bald, and both wives loathed him and each left him; and he sat in grief and it brought him to his death.

In a past age he was a dog in a monastery. There was one monastery east of the water and one west of the water; when he heard the gong sound the dog would go and get food. Later, one day, both monasteries struck the chimes at the same time, and the dog swam meaning to cross; and just as he was about to reach the west he feared the food at the east monastery was better, and turning toward the east he feared the west monastery’s was better — and hesitating in this way he drowned in the water (Source: Ten-Fascicle Parables Sūtra).

Long ago there was a man who heard that in a foreign country there was water of immortality, and that entering it one becomes an immortal; and he set off for that country and lodged with someone. The host asked his guest: where do you mean to go? He answered: to study immortality.

The host, harbouring evil, said to his guest: I have a tree of immortality. If you will work hard for me for a year I shall give you immortality — why trouble to go so far? The guest said: very good. For a year he worked hard and never showed a resentful look.

When the year was up, the host, whose intention from the first had been to cheat him, and who had no tree of immortality, took him into the mountains and pointed to a tree overhanging a cliff: this is the tree of immortality. Go up to the top of it, and when I call out, fly.

At the sound of his voice he flung himself out; and the guest’s mind being wholly sincere, he flew up from that tree into the open air and attained the way of an immortal.

The host thought: I made him go to his death — how has he come to be an immortal? And he greatly valued that tree and said in his heart that it was holy. After a little while father and son went together to the foot of the tree, and he let his father go up first, and the son cried out: father, you may fly. His father meant to fly, and fell on the rocks of the cliff and his body was broken to pieces (Source: Miscellaneous Parables Sūtra).

Long ago there was a man selling a Píyé ghost in the market. Someone who wished to buy the ghost asked how much he wanted, and the ghost’s owner said: two hundred taels of gold. He said: what is so extraordinary about this ghost, that you ask so much gold for it? He said: there is nothing this ghost cannot do; reckoning a day’s work, it does as much as a hundred men. It has only one fault, which you should guard against beforehand.

He asked what fault. He said: when you set this ghost to work you must work it day and night and never let it rest; if there is nothing for it to do it will turn and harm its master.

The man paid the gold and took it home and set it to plough and sow; and when the ploughing and sowing were done he set it to carpentry; and when the carpentry was done he had it level ground, build houses, pound and grind, cook and boil, and it never rested at all. And within a few years he became very rich.

The master had business and had to go away as a guest, and forgot to give instructions; and the ghost, wanting work and finding none in order, took the master’s son and put him in a cauldron and lit a fire and boiled him. By the time the master came back the son was already cooked through — and what words are there for that grief and anguish? (Source: Parables Sūtra)

Long ago there was a rich man whom the king ordered to itemize his goods; and he set down: in such a year I used so many thousands and myriads to make buddha-images; so much for fasting assemblies and for scriptures; and so much to provide for the poor and the old. And I now have eighty-nine thousand myriads remaining. And he presented the list to the king.

The king was greatly angered and asked: your present goods — how is it you have itemized what is already spent? The rich man answered: what is already spent is the best treasury of all, and it nourishes a person’s spirit and understanding, and that is why I present it. Wealth not yet spent is shared by the five claimants and is not mine alone, and so I dared to itemize it. And the king came to understand that merit is what may be relied on (Source: Parables Sūtra).

Long ago there was a man who offended against the king, and the king was greatly enraged and had five catties of flesh cut from his back and set in a lower room. The man cried out in pain until it reached the king, and the king asked why he made such a distinction. He answered: it was truly not my offense. The king thought and was ashamed, and ordered that a hundred catties of flesh be given him as compensation; and he still groaned and cried out.

The king said: you have been made up a full hundred catties — why do you cry out so? The ministers answered: we do not see how this method helps. What good would a thousand catties do his pain? If a man’s only son has died and another gives him a hundred sons, can that man help thinking of his own son? (Source: Sūtra of the Hundred Parables, fascicle 3)

There were two men who were friends, and their wives were both with child, and they made a compact together: if a boy and a girl are born, let them be married. After they parted, one household bore a boy and the other a girl.

The boy’s father died early, and the boy grew up unmarried, and went about selling sundry goods and happened to come to the girl’s house. The girl’s father asked the young man where he came from, where he lived, and his parents’ names, and the young man answered in full. The old man heard and was greatly startled, and said to the young man: when your father was alive he made a marriage compact with me while you were in the womb, and I have always sought for you and did not know where you were; and my daughter has not dared to marry.

The young man said: I know nothing at all of it. The old man said: ask your close kin. The young man went back and asked his nurse, and it was so.

As the young man went to the girl’s house, he saw on the road a channel of water flowing into a skull and never filling it. The boy was afraid; and going on further he saw a tree with ripe fruit and wished to take some and eat, and the fruit said: take me, take me. The boy was terrified and ran and fell to the ground. Coming to the girl’s house, a dog came to meet him and knelt at length and licked his two feet, and the pups in the dog’s belly howled and came forward meaning to bite him; and again he fell to the ground and only after a long while revived.

The girl’s father came out, and the boy set it all out; and the old man wondered much and went in and told his daughter. His daughter answered her father: as for the channel of water flowing into a skull and never filling it — in a later age there will be those who gather up the wealth and treasures of the whole world to supply one man and never be satisfied. As for the tree of ripe fruit which, when he wished to take and eat it, said take me, take me — in a later age people will seek the elder daughter for themselves and the younger daughter will say, why do you not ask for me, why do you not ask for me. As for the dog that came to meet him and knelt at length and licked his two feet while the pups in its belly howled and came forward to bite him — in a later age people will speak with one another with mouths like grease and oil and hearts like awls and knives, filling one another with words and plotting against one another within. All of these are for a later age and not for now.

And he married his daughter to the young man and so fulfilled their original intention (Source: Ten-Fascicle Parables Sūtra, fascicle 8).

Long ago a great clan had two sons and gave each of them two million to go and trade. The elder son spent it all on dice, and his clothing was worn out, and he came back and told his father. His father said: it is enough that I have you; what are goods for? And he had clothing and food made for him and consoled him kindly.

The younger son came home and told his father: I have got two million in profit. His father said: bring the accounts. And going over them with him they were several thousand short, and he had him bound and beaten. This happened three times over: he brought in six million in profit and each time was beaten. The elder son three times lost six million, and he stayed abroad and did not come home.

He fell in with worthless men and said to one of them: my father has a chest of gold and silver and a chest of white pearls at the head of his great bed. Go back and tell my father that I am not stupid, that I have lost the goods and do not dare to come home yet. When you have your chance, kill my father and take the goods and bring them, and we can use them together.

This man came to the house and met the father and repeated what his son had said. The father heard and wept: what are goods for? Why does my son not come? And he could not eat for sobbing. The guest said: your son is unfilial and used the money for evil and it was all gone at once, and he sent me to kill you and take your gold and silver. Seeing how you long for your son and how generously you have treated me, my heart is moved.

The father said: my younger son is still a fool. And he sent for the elder son and said to him: you have gone through the money; come home early. Why did you speak so foolishly? And he had fresh clothing made for him.

The master said: the younger son was paying a debt; the elder son was collecting one (Source: Ten-Fascicle Parables Sūtra, fascicle 6).

Long ago three men went trading together and each got five million and there was one coin over. To give it to one of them would be unfair; to break and divide it was not to be done.

Just then a śramaṇa came begging, and the three said together: let us give it to the śramaṇa. Each said: excellent — and together they held it out and gave it, and the śramaṇa blessed them: may you obtain the merit of this in this life and the next.

They were born together in the kingdom of Rājagṛha and each became wealthy: one had charge of taking gold in the mountains, one of taking gold from a ploughed field, one of drawing gold from water — all as the recompense of their giving in a former life.

The king heard of it and thought: the people and goods of my kingdom are all mine. And he took soldiers and went into the mountains to mine it, and the gold turned into stone; he went to one man’s ground and ploughed for gold, and the gold turned into earth; he went to one man’s well and drew for gold, and the gold turned into tile. He could get none of it.

The king asked the Buddha: this gold of the three men — I reckon it is mine, and I went to take it and it all changed and I could not get it. What merit had these men in a former life, that they should have this blessing now? The Buddha told him all of it: it is not the king’s property, and the king ought not to take it (Source: Miscellaneous Parables Sūtra, fascicle 3).

Long ago a poor household provided for a religious man, and after a year he went away. He gave his host a bronze jar and said: this jar is struck by spirits; whatever you ask at this jar’s mouth you shall have — but do not invite the king.

After he had gone he struck the jar, and the household became enormously rich; and, forgetting the religious man’s charge, he invited the king. The king asked the cause of his wealth, and he answered the king truthfully, and the king took the jar at once; and the household grew poor and worn, and only then did he remember the religious man, and he went out in the four directions to look for him and found him, and told him truthfully.

The religious said: if you must have that jar back, I shall give you an urn; fill it with wood and stones and take it to the king’s gate and demand the jar. He went straight to the king’s gate and demanded the jar in a loud voice, and the king in great anger sent several tens of men to seize him; and he opened it and let out the wood and stones, and the wind blew them across the sky, and the king’s men were struck by this wood and stone and their heads and foreheads broken; and a thousand men came out and were broken by the force of the wind, and the corpses blocked the gate.

The king was greatly frightened and begged to give back the jar. The man got the jar, and his household became very rich again, and he made merit widely, and when he died was born in heaven (Source: Miscellaneous Parables Sūtra).

The Buddha and Ānanda went into the city of Rājagṛha, and there was a great rain, and the water washed out a buried hoard and treasures of every kind appeared. The Buddha said: a venomous snake. Ānanda said: an evil venomous snake.

Below the hill there was a man reaping barley who heard this and thought: I have never seen a śramaṇa’s venomous snake. And he went and saw the goods, and with a cart and cloth bags took them into his house; and he showed the signs of wealth and rank and built a great new house.

A jealous person told the king: there was a poor and lowly man before, and suddenly he shows the signs of wealth; this man must certainly have got a great hoard. The king summoned and questioned him, and he answered that he had not got it; and the king at once ordered him examined under torture.

This man remembered that the Buddha and Ānanda had called it an evil venomous snake. Whoever gets a hoard does not speak of it; with a single mind he thought of the Buddha, and said this: the Buddha said, a venomous snake; Ānanda said, an evil venomous snake.

The king summoned and questioned him, and the man answered: great king, if you grant me fearlessness I shall tell you the truth. The king allowed it, and he set out the whole matter above: what can it now do to me? It will surely devour my life. And the king rewarded him with five hundred gold coins, for having been able, in extremity, to speak the Buddha’s words and Ānanda’s words (Source: Sarvāstivāda Vinaya, third recitation, fascicle 3).

Long ago there was a poor, solitary old man with no livelihood of his own, who happened upon an axe in the market which was the finest of all treasures, and did not know it, and used it to chop stumps and sell them to keep himself barely alive; and the axe was nearly used up.

He happened to meet a great trading merchant from a foreign country, a caravan leader, who saw the axe and knew it, and asked the old man: will you sell this axe? The old man said: I live by this axe and shall not sell it.

The caravan leader said again: I shall give you a hundred bolts of silk — why not sell it? The old man made no reply. The caravan leader said again: I shall give you two hundred bolts. And the old man became downcast and unhappy. The caravan leader said again: if you think it too little I shall add to it — why are you unhappy? I shall give you five hundred bolts. And the old man wept aloud.

The caravan leader said again: if the silk is too little I shall add to it — why do you weep? The old man said: I do not resent that the silk is too little; I resent my own folly. This axe was originally a foot and a half long, and I have used it up chopping the ground and only five inches are left, and even so I get five hundred bolts of silk. That is what I regret.

The caravan leader said again: have no regrets; I shall give you a thousand bolts of silk now. And he broke the tally and took it away, and burned it in a fire, and it all became precious treasure (Source: Essential Matters from the Sūtras).

The World-Honored One went into the city of Śrāvastī in the early morning, and the venerable Ānanda followed him. There were two old people, husband and wife, aged and with their faculties ripe, their backs bent like hooks, who came to the head of the lane where the sweepings were burned, and squatted together facing the fire like old cranes, looking at one another with desire.

The Buddha told Ānanda: do you see that husband and wife? Ānanda said: I do.

The Buddha said: this old couple — if in their years of youth and strength they had diligently sought goods, they would have become the first richest in the city of Śrāvastī; and if they had gone forth to study the path and practiced diligently, they would have attained arhatship. In the second portion of their strength, if they had diligently sought goods they would have become the second richest in the city of Śrāvastī, and if they had gone forth and studied the path they would have obtained the fruit of a non-returner. In their middle years, if they had diligently sought goods they would have become the third richest in the city of Śrāvastī, and if they had gone forth and studied the path they would have obtained the fruit of a once-returner. And now today, aged and with their faculties ripe, without money and without means, they can no longer do it: they seek money bitterly and cannot get it either, nor any state beyond human.

And he spoke this verse besides:

“Because he did not practice the holy life, / he did not obtain wealth in his youth; / thinking on the affairs of long ago, / he sleeps on the ground like a bent bow. / Not practicing the holy life, / not obtaining wealth in his youth, / he is like an old crane / keeping watch over an empty pool until he dies.” (Source: Saṃyukta Āgama, fascicle 5 and fascicle 42; also the Sūtra of the Three Times Gone By)

In the kingdom of Vaiśālī there was a householder who served the Buddha and made offerings; and when the blessing was finished he asked to hear the meaning of the Dharma. The Buddha smiled and the light of his mouth circled his body three times and returned in at the crown of his head; and Ānanda asked the reason.

The Buddha said: in that country there were five hundred men who went to sea to gather treasure and set their ship down and walked back. Passing through deep mountains, the day grew dark and they stopped for the night, and made ready to set out early; and four hundred and ninety-nine of them went, and one was fast asleep and lost his company. Then he met with rain and snow from the sky and lost the road, and, in extremity in the mountains, he wept and cried out to heaven.

There was a sandalwood tree-spirit who said to the poor man: you may stay here, and I shall supply you with clothing and food; when spring comes you may go. So the poor man stayed three months, and then said to the tree-spirit: by your kindness I have kept my life whole and have not yet made the least return. I have two parents now in my native land, and I truly long to see them; I ask you to send me off.

The tree-spirit said: very well — and gave him a cake of gold: not far from here you will come to a city, and from there you can go back to your own village.

As the poor man was about to leave he asked the tree-spirit: this tree is fragrant and pure and rare in the world; I am now going far away and should like to know its name. The spirit said: you need not ask.

The poor man said again: I have sheltered under this tree three months and am now going far away, and my feeling is full of regret. If I reach my own country I shall proclaim the tree’s kindness. Then the spirit said: the tree is named sandalwood; its root, stem, branches, and leaves cure a hundred human ailments, and its fragrance is smelled from afar and men covet it — there is no need to speak of it.

The poor man reached his country, and his kin within and without rejoiced and congratulated him.

Afterward the king of that country fell ill with a headache, and prayed and sacrificed to heaven and earth and to the spirits of mountains and waters and it could not be removed; and famous physicians examined him and said that only sandalwood incense could cure the illness. The king sought it and there was none among the people, and he proclaimed throughout the kingdom: whoever can get sandalwood incense shall be ennobled as a marquis and given the king’s youngest daughter to wife.

Then the poor man heard that the reward was heavy and said: I know where sandalwood incense is. The king then had a close minister take the poor man and go and cut it, and they came straight to the tree.

The messenger saw the tree tall and straight, its branches lush, its flowers and fruit shining, such as men rarely see, and could not bear in his heart to cut it; and not to cut it was to go against the king’s command and the illness would not be removed, and to cut it made his heart uneasy; and he hesitated and went to and fro and did not know what to do.

The tree-spirit said from the air: cut it, only leave the root. When you have cut it, smear it with human blood and cover it over with liver and entrails, and the tree will grow again of itself and be restored as before.

The messenger, hearing the spirit speak so, then had men cut it. The poor man was standing beside the tree, and as the tree sprang up a branch struck and killed him. The messengers conferred, and butchered the poor man and took his liver and blood; and as the spirit had instructed, the tree grew again at once.

They carted the cut tree back into the kingdom, and the physicians gave the medicine and the king’s illness was cured, and the whole kingdom rejoiced. The king ordered the people of the kingdom: whoever is ill may come to the palace gate; and the king brought out the fragrant medicine and gave it to them, and all the illnesses were cured. The king’s own person was in good health and the people were without sickness, and the whole kingdom was glad and it came to great peace (Source: Sūtra of the Sandalwood Tree).

Long ago there was a man travelling in an empty marsh who saw a black elephant. The man thought: this elephant will certainly come and harm me; I ought to kill it. And the elephant thought: this man will certainly kill me; I ought to make away with him.

The man left and went away, and the elephant pursued him from behind; and running forward some li he fell into a deep valley. The valley was sheer and bottomless, and at the edge he caught hold of a tree root the size of a finger, and following the root down he hung at the edge of the cliff. The elephant above the valley reached for him with its trunk, almost reaching him and not reaching him.

Looking down he saw at the bottom nothing but spears and halberds; and there were two rats gnawing the tree root together; and three black snakes put out their heads meaning to bite him; and mosquitoes and gadflies came and stung his eyes.

The man thought: today I die. And he looked up to heaven and begged to be saved, his voice mournful and his feeling wholly sincere; and heaven let fall sweet dew that dripped into his mouth. At the first drop the two rats went away; at the second the venomous snakes let him be; at the third the black elephant went off of itself; at the fourth the mosquitoes and gadflies were gone; and at the fifth the deep valley levelled itself and he came out onto level ground, and heaven transformed and guided him and took him up to heaven (Source: Parables Sūtra, fascicle 7).

Five hundred small children joined together as companions and played day after day and all came to a river, and they heaped up sand and raised a stūpa and each said that his own stūpa was fine. But though they had good minds, their merit from past lives was slight; and heaven suddenly rained and the river rose in flood and they were swept away and drowned.

The Buddha told the assembly: the five hundred boys are born in the Tuṣita heaven, and all alike have given rise to the mind of bodhisattva practice. And the Buddha sent out a light and let their parents see where their sons were, and the Buddha called from afar to the five hundred boys to come; and at once they all came and stood in the air and scattered flowers over the Buddha and came down and bowed their heads and said: by the World-Honored One’s grace, though our bodies perished we have seen Maitreya.

The Buddha said: excellent. You gentlemen decided of yourselves, knowing the path, to found a stūpa and monastery; and by this you are born in heaven and see Maitreya and receive his instruction in the Dharma. And the Buddha taught them the sūtras and they were all glad and stood in non-retrogression, and each told his parents not to grieve any more but to apply themselves diligently and cultivate themselves by the Dharma. Their parents all gave rise to the resolve for the path and bowed their heads at his feet and circled the Buddha three times; and the boys suddenly were not seen and had returned to the Tuṣita heaven (Source: Jātaka Sūtra, fascicle 4).

Long ago there were several boys playing together in the road who met the Buddha, and one of them made obeisance; and having five beans in his hand he offered them to the Buddha, and four went into the bowl and one fell to the ground.

The Buddha said: may you obtain merit life after life. The boy’s life ended and he was at once born in heaven, and afterward for eighty lives was a wheel-turning king (Source: Ten-Fascicle Parables Sūtra, fascicle 1).

A hundred years after the Buddha’s parinirvāṇa, the grass and trees in a mountain field were lush and thick, and not far outside the mountain there was an inhabited village, and cattle and horses went into a pool where lotus flowers of five colors grew.

A cowherd boy went into the pool and gathered them, and, with a vessel full of lotus flowers, came out at the mountain’s edge meaning to offer them to the Buddha; and before he reached the monastery he met a herd of cattle on the road, and they gored and killed the boy. His spirit was born at once in the Trāyastriṃśa heaven, with a spontaneous palace and lotus flowers of five colors.

Just born among the gods, he thought to himself: my palace alone has lotus flowers of an unusual color. But it is the law of the gods first to examine the causes of one’s past lives and only afterward to enjoy the blessing. He then saw the gods who had come before, who were saying to one another: this god has newly come and we are enjoying ourselves together — why is he so alarmed and uneasy? And they went and asked him.

He answered: I was originally a cowherd boy, and gathered lotus flowers meaning to scatter them over the Buddha’s stūpa; and impermanence came halfway; and it is by the merit of this that I have come to be born here. And so I now pluck flowers and mean to go to the former stūpa and scatter them over the Buddha and bow, and complete my original vow.

Then five hundred gods held lotus flowers and followed him and scattered them over the Buddha’s stūpa; and by the merit of this, when Maitreya comes down they will attain the path together (Source: Parables Sūtra, fascicle 5).

Long ago there was a man who gave three coins in alms and begged three wishes: first, to become a king in a life to come; second, to understand the speech of living beings; third, to have much wisdom.

When his life ended he was born into a commoner’s household, and his form and color were handsome, and the king took men into his service and this boy answered the call and attended at the king’s side.

He saw a swallow in its nest and looked up at it and laughed, and the king asked what he was laughing at. He answered: the swallow said, I have got a nāga maiden’s hair ten fathoms long, and called its mate to come and see it. The king said: if it is truly so, well and good; if there is no such thing, you die. He sent men to look and it was found.

The king wished to take the woman for a wife, and said to the boy: you understand the speech of birds and must have many devices. I shall give you provisions; find this woman for me. If you get her the reward is heavy, and if you do not you and your household die.

The boy braved death and went toward the eastern sea, and saw two men quarrelling over a cap of invisibility, boots for walking on water, and a staff that kills and revives. The boy said: what need is there of all this talk? I shall loose one arrow and you two run after it, and whoever reaches it first shall have the three things. They said: very good.

He drew the bow and loosed the arrow, and the two ran to contend for it; and the boy took the cap and put on the boots and took the staff, and went straight into the sea and came to the nāgas. He took off the cap of invisibility and let the nāga maiden see him; and the woman was full of desire, and went with the boy, taking a cake of gold, and came back to a foreign country.

That king sent to receive her and ordered that the woman come in alone. The woman went forward, and the boy, wearing the cap of invisibility, went in behind her; and the woman, seeing that the king was ugly, threw the gold at the king’s forehead and broke it, and he died. The boy took off the cap and went up into the hall with the woman and proclaimed in a loud voice: I am to be king and the woman is to be queen. And he ruled the world (Source: Miscellaneous Parables Sūtra).

Long ago a company of merchants, passing through a dangerous road, met with robbers and lost a great deal of clothing. Among the clothes there was one made of the fine, soft, smooth wool of a deer’s foetus, woven and made up into a garment worth a hundred times the rest; but its color was dark purple and not pleasing to the eye.

The robbers did not appreciate it and used it as a wrapper to hold the coarse clothing, and elsewhere they divided the rest, each taking assorted goods which they supposed were the fine ones; and this one wrapper alone was left over and not spread out and divided.

Among the band of robbers there was one weak and hard-pressed man who alone was given no share, and after much arguing they let him have the wrapper. He sold it at once, and a great and eminent man of the time knew it was a fine thing and paid the price he asked; and it came to as much as all the shares the other robbers had got. The robbers heard of it and were greatly ashamed and vexed (Source: Sūtra of the Hundred Parables, fascicle 1).