Ghosts and Spirits

The great asura king (the Dīrgha Āgama calls them asuras) named Rāhu dwells at the bottom of the great sea north of Mount Sumeru, the water hanging above his palace and held up by four winds (the Lokasthāna Sūtra says held by the wind as it goes). The city walls are eighty thousand yojanas across, with seven walls within and without, three thousand yojanas high, gold walls and silver gates, gardens and pools cool and clear, and birds of every kind singing in harmony. It is ten thousand yojanas from Mount Sumeru.

His body is twenty-eight thousand li long (the other asuras’ actual form is one yojana long, their clothing two yojanas long and one broad, weighing six zhū). He eats coarse food, and bathing and clothing are his subtle food.

On the fifteenth of the month he goes into the middle of the sea and transforms his body, and the water below reaches his navel, and he glares at Sumeru and covers the sun and moon with his fingers; and the gods of sun and moon, seeing his ugly form, are all greatly frightened and there is no more light.

When he goes about to look at things, there is a natural wind which blows the gates open and shut, blows the ground clean, and blows the flowers apart and scatters them. He has five great ministers: the first named Grasper, the second Fierce-Strength, the third Wǔyí, the fourth Head-Foremost, the fifth Crusher; and they attend him left and right.

He suddenly thought: I have majesty and virtue and divine power such as this, and yet I let the lord of the Trāyastriṃśa and the gods of sun and moon walk about over my head. I swear I shall take the sun and moon for ear-pendants. And his anger grew and he wished to strike them; and he thought at once of the two asura kings Śāmalī and Vemacitrin, and their great ministers each made ready arms and went to make war on the gods.

Then the two great nāga kings Nanda and Upananda wound their bodies seven times around Sumeru, and the mountain shook and clouds spread, and they beat the water with their tails, and the great sea threw up waves that rose over Sumeru. The gods of the Trāyastriṃśa said: the asuras mean to fight. The nāgas of the sea, the garuḍas, the flower-holding ghosts, and the Ever-Joyful — these two kinds of ghosts and spirits each led their troops and joined battle in turn; and whoever was worsted fled.

The palaces of the Four Heavenly Kings made ready to attack, and first told Śakra; and Śakra told the gods above. Then from Yāma up to Paranirmitavaśavartin, countless hosts of gods and all the nāgas and ghosts surrounded him before and behind.

Śakra gave the command: if my army wins, bind Vemacitrin with the fivefold binding and bring him back to the Hall of Good Dharma; I wish to look at him. And the asuras said likewise: if our host wins, bind Śakra with the fivefold binding and bring him back to the Hall of Seven Leaves; we wish to look at him.

They fought a great battle all at once, and the blades met and neither side wounded the other; only, where the bodies were touched, pain and distress arose. Śakra manifested his body with a thousand eyes and held the vajra-club with smoke and flame coming from its head; and the asuras, seeing it, then withdrew defeated, and Vemacitrin was seized and bound and brought back.

Seeing Śakra from afar he let loose foul abuse, and Śakra answered: I only wish to discuss the meaning of the way with you. Their heavenly lifespan is a thousand years, seldom more and often less. Their minds are evil and they love to fight, and yet they do not break the precepts, and because they greatly cultivated giving they receive this body (Source: Dīrgha Āgama, fascicle 20; the Lokasthāna, the Avataṃsaka, and the Treatise on the Great Perfection of Wisdom are roughly the same).

As for Vemacitrin: long ago at the beginning of the kalpa the gods went into the water, and their bodies produced the pleasure of touch, and their seed flowed into it and became eggs of themselves; and from an egg was born a girl whose form was blue-black.

She went into the great sea and slapped the water for her own pleasure, and the essence of the water entered her body and she knew she was with child; and she then bore a son with nine heads, each head having a thousand eyes and fire coming out of its mouth, with nine hundred and ninety-nine hands and eight feet, who squatted in the sea eating blue-green weed and lotus root.

He took a gandharva spirit-woman of the Fragrant Mountain to wife, whose face and figure were exquisite and her color surpassing white jade; and afterward she bore a daughter, upright and outstanding and beyond compare in heaven or earth.

Kauśika sent a messenger to ask for her, and the asura said: if you can let me ride in a palace of the seven treasures, I shall give her to you. Śakra then took off his jewelled crown, matching it to the reward of the ten wholesome deeds, and let the asura sit in a superior hall; and he rode a jewelled terrace of six kinds to go and fetch her, and set her in the Hall of Good Dharma and gave her a new name, Delight-Mind; and the gods and their ministers were all glad.

Afterward Śakra was wandering in the Nandana grove and went into a pool with his attendant women to disport himself, and Delight-Mind was jealous and sent five yakṣas back to tell her father; and her father was greatly enraged and raised the four kinds of troops and went to attack Śakra.

He stood in the great sea and squatted on the summit of Sumeru, and all nine hundred and ninety-nine hands worked at once and struck the city of Sudarśana and shook Sumeru, and the waters of the four great seas surged into waves at one time; and Śakra, lord of the gods, was startled and terrified and did not know where to turn.

Then a spirit of the palace said to the heavenly king: a buddha of the past said that the perfection of wisdom is the king of spells, and it should be recited and upheld, and the ghost-army will break of itself.

Then Śakra assembled the host in the Hall of Good Dharma and burned fine incense and made a great vow: the perfection of wisdom is the great bright spell, the unsurpassed spell, the spell equal to the unequalled, truly real and not false. Upholding this Dharma I shall attain the buddha-path; let the asuras withdraw and scatter of themselves.

As he said this, four great blade-wheels came down of themselves out of the open sky upon the asura, and his ears, nose, hands, and feet fell away all at once, and the water of the great sea was made red as crimson pearls; and the asura was then greatly frightened and fled and had nowhere to go and went into the holes of the lotus stalks (Source: Sūtra on the Samādhi of Contemplating the Buddha, fascicle 1).

Long ago the asuras raised troops and fought with Śakra, lord of the gods, and Śakra was worsted, and, riding his jewelled chariot of a thousand spokes, withdrew in fear. Halfway along the road he saw a śāla tree in which a bird’s nest held two chicks, and he ordered his charioteer: there are two birds in this tree; turn the chariot aside and avoid it. Sooner let them come and harm me than that these be hurt.

And he turned the chariot; and the asuras, seeing it from afar, said to one another: Śakra has turned his chariot and must mean to come back and fight, and he cannot be withstood. And they scattered and withdrew, and the gods then won (the Saṃyukta Āgama says that there was a garuḍa’s nest in the thicket and that they supposed it was coming to fight and fled in great fear).

The asuras surpass Jambudvīpa in three things: first, their palaces are high and broad; second, their palaces are adorned; third, their palaces are pure (Source: Dīrgha Āgama, fascicle 21).

In a past age there was an asura king named Rāhu who bore a daughter, exceptional and upright, complete in all sixty-four virtues of a woman, whose breath from her mouth was like the utpala flower and whose body gave out the fragrance of gośīrṣa sandalwood, her face red and white, and whoever saw her loved her.

Then Śakra, lord of the gods, thought: among the women of this palace there are many who are beautiful, and compared with the asura’s daughter they all fall short. Now I shall gather troops and go and take her by force to serve me. And he summoned the gods and told them the matter in full.

The gods said to him: it may do to send the musician spirits, holding lapis lutes of ninety-one strings (the Garbha Sūtra says ninety-nine strings), to sing of how we gods receive blessing and pleasure. So he ordered the musician gods, Pañcaśikha and the rest, to make ready their instruments and go before Vāsihā and play, and to make his intention known and say: I wish to have Vāsihā to serve me, and if she is not given, I shall take her by arms.

The asura was greatly enraged: I too have strength enough to meet you. Pañcaśikha and the rest reported to Śakra.

Then the asura gathered troops and came to the flank of Mount Sumeru, and destroyed the palace of the Bent-Legged god, and then the palace of the Wind god, the horse palace, the Adornment palace, and the other heavenly palaces, and came as far as the four gates.

Śakra remembered what he had recited before and recited the spell, and the asura’s troops gradually withdrew, and led their four kinds of army into the holes of the lotus stalks in the Kauṣṭhila pool. A man saw it and thought to himself: I have gone mad and lost my wits and am seeing strange things wrongly. The Buddha told the monks: this is truly so.

Then Śakra assembled the host of gods and went out by the four gates, and saw only blades, armor, bows, and arrows on the ground, and did not see the asura host; and, advancing further, he went straight into the asuras’ palaces and saw Vāsihā and several tens of millions of women, and did not see the asuras. And he took the host of women back to the Trāyastriṃśa palace.

Then the asuras begged for pity and turned to Śakra for refuge and said: we were foolish and deluded and did not know how lofty the divine power of the Buddha’s disciples is. Our forefathers had faith in and served the Tathāgata, and we have heard that the Buddha has a precept against taking what belongs to another; and now the heavenly king Śakra has taken our kin and filled the heavenly palace with them, which is not what a disciple of the Buddha should do.

Śakra heard it and was downcast and unhappy: I had better uphold the prohibition and not offend by stealing. And he gave the women back; and then the asura king presented his most beloved daughter to Śakra, and Śakra gave sweet nectar in return. And the asuras and the gods were at peace together, and together upheld the three refuges and the eight precepts of the Tathāgata (Source: the Garbha Sūtra; also Parables Sūtra, lower fascicle).

In a former life the asura was a poor man who lived near a river and constantly crossed it carrying firewood. The river water was deep and its current swift, and this man was repeatedly swept away by the water; and having lost what he was carrying, his body too sank, and he drifted with the current and barely escaped death.

At that time a pratyekabuddha in the form of a śramaṇa came to his house to beg for food, and the poor man was glad and gave him food at once; and when he had eaten he threw his bowl into the air and flew off. The poor man, seeing this, thereupon made a vow: may I in a later life have a body tall and great, so that no deep water anywhere comes above my knee.

By these causes and conditions he obtained an exceedingly great body, so that the waters of the four great seas cannot come above his knee; and standing in the great sea his body rises above Sumeru, and, resting his hand on the mountain top, he looks down on the Trāyastriṃśa heaven (Source: Miscellaneous Parables Sūtra, fascicle 4).

The gandharva king dwells in the city to the right of the Snow Mountains, named Vaiśālī. When the world first came into being a wind-wheel arose named Adornment, and it built this palace city. North of the city there are seven black mountains, and north of those again the Fragrant Mountain, among the ten jewel mountains, where there is always the sound of music (the Treatise on the Great Perfection of Wisdom says these are the heavenly musician-spirits).

In the mountain there are two grottoes, the first named Day and the second Good Day, made of the seven treasures, soft and fragrant and pure like heavenly clothing; and the gandharva king, with five hundred gandharvas, dwells in them.

The Buddha was on Mount Pítuó (which is north of the kingdom of Magadha), and Śakra told the musician-spirit Pañcaśikha to take his lapis lute and sing before the Buddha. The Buddha said: you can praise the Tathāgata with the lute and sing, and it is mournful and harmonious and touching and moves people’s hearts; and in that sound you speak of desire and bondage, of a śramaṇa of pure conduct, and of nirvāṇa — the many meanings are all there.

Śakra turned to him and said: I shall put you in your father’s place, and you shall be the highest among your kind — and he gave him a daughter to wife (Source: Dīrgha Āgama; Treatise on the Great Perfection of Wisdom).

The kinnaras (also written kiṃnara) dwell north of Mount Sumeru; past the lesser iron-ring mountains there is a great black mountain, also among the ten jewel mountains, where there is no Buddha-Dharma and no sun, moon, or stars. By the power of former giving they now live in palaces of the seven treasures and their lifespans are very long.

This king was formerly among humans. A great elder was raising a stūpa for the Buddha, and this kinnara gave a single mast-pillar and so completed the temple, and gave pure food to the workmen besides; and when his life ended he became a chest-and-breast spirit dwelling between two mountains.

Formerly among humans he was a great elder of measureless wealth. A śramaṇa came begging for food and his wife carried out food and gave it to him, and he was greatly enraged: what beggar is this who looks at my wife? Let this man’s hands and feet be broken off. And when his life ended he received this ugly form, and for eighty-four kalpas has been constantly without hands or feet.

At the gods’ feasts they all take turns with the gandharvas, above and below. When the gods wish to have music played, and a foul flow comes from the kinnaras’ armpits, they go up to heaven themselves.

There was a kinnara named Druma who played the lute and sang the true character of all dharmas in praise of the World-Honored One; and at that time Mount Sumeru and all the trees of the forest shook, and Kāśyapa on his seat could not keep still, and five hundred sages’ minds grew wild and drunk and they lost their supernormal power and fell to the ground at once (Source: Sūtra of the Bodhisattva in the Womb; Treatise on the Great Perfection of Wisdom).

There are four great heavenly spirits: the first earth, the second water, the third wind, the fourth fire. The earth spirit thought to itself: in earth there is no water, fire, or wind. The Buddha said: in earth there are water, fire, and wind; it is only because the earth element is the greater that it gets the name. And so likewise with the spirits of water, fire, and wind. The Buddha taught them the Dharma and they all received the five precepts and became lay followers.

In all the houses and dwellings where people live there are ghosts and spirits and none is empty; in streets and lanes and roads, in slaughter-yards and markets and shops, and in all the mountains and burial mounds, there are ghosts and spirits and no place is empty. All ghosts and spirits take their names from whatever they depend on (the Lokasthāna Sūtra says that a tree seven feet high and one foot round has a ghost-spirit in it).

When a person is first born there are always ghosts and spirits who follow and protect them; and when a person is about to die the ghosts gather in their vital breath. For a person of the ten evil deeds, a hundred or a thousand spirits together protect one — as a king has a hundred or a thousand men attending on one minister (Source: Dīrgha Āgama, fascicle 20).

If a being is born among the hungry ghosts, then, always hungry and thirsty, their eyes are sunken and their hair long, and they run wildly east and west; or they eat vomit, fat and flesh, pus and blood, excrement and urine, snot and spittle, and the dregs of washing-water. Their lifespan is measureless hundreds of thousands of myriads of years, and from the first they have never heard the name of a sauce or of water; and if they should see it with their eyes and rush toward it, it turns into fierce fire or pus and blood, or else many people take up staves and will not let them come near; or in summer, when rain falls, it turns to fire on their bodies. This is called the evil fruit of deeds.

By the bank of the Ganges there were hungry ghosts, five hundred of them, who for measureless years had never seen water; and though they came to the riverbank they saw only flowing fire. Pressed by hunger and thirst they cried out aloud. The hungry ghosts said to the Buddha: we are hungry and thirsty and our lives will not be long. The Buddha said: it is the flowing water of the Ganges. The ghosts said: the Tathāgata sees water; I always see fire.

The Buddha said: I shall remove your topsy-turvy view and let you see water — and he set out at length the faults of miserliness and greed. The ghosts said: I have thirsted a long time now, and though I hear the words of the Dharma they do not enter my mind at all; let me first go into the river and drink as I please. And by the Buddha’s power they were able to drink the water; and the Buddha taught them the Dharma and they all gave rise to the mind of enlightenment and cast off their ghost forms.

Or there are hungry ghosts constantly burned by fire, as the mountains put out fire at the kalpa’s end. Or some are emaciated and run about wildly, their hair tangled and covering their bodies. Or some stand beside privies watching for filth. Or some constantly seek the leftover blood of women in childbirth and drink it, their forms like burnt trees and the opening of their throats like a needle; and if given water to drink they are not filled in a thousand years. Or some split their own heads and take the brain and lick it. Or some have forms like black mountains with iron chains about their necks, and knock their heads and beg for pity and turn for refuge to the hell-warders.

Or there are those who in a former life were foul-mouthed and liked to give others coarse words, whom everyone hated and looked at as an enemy; and by this offense they fall among the hungry ghosts. Such is the recompense of offenses, and the suffering received is measureless (Source: the Nirvāṇa Sūtra and the Treatise on the Great Perfection of Wisdom).

There was a man whose trade was selling liquor, and a ghost appeared and came and drank liquor and had not yet paid the money; and it told the master: tomorrow a man will come carrying flowers, dressed in white with a blue sash, and in the sash there is a thousand catties of gold and silver. He will bathe in the lake and die suddenly and not come out. Go and take the gold and silver, and I guarantee there will be no trouble afterward.

The next day the master watched, and saw a man come and go into the water and bathe, and come up on the bank and put on his clothes and wash his feet, and then fall to the ground and die; and the liquor-seller went and took the gold and silver, and it was the sum stated.

On a later day the ghost came, and the master made food and brought out liquor and said to the spirit: I saw the man put on his clothes and about to go, and then he died. Why did you not kill him in the water so that he need not have come up on the bank? The ghost said: I cannot kill a man or make a man ill. I only know when a person’s allotted life is worn out.

The master said: the ghosts and spirits above and below heaven know when a person’s lifespan and their offense and merit are to come and are not yet come; they cannot bring a person to life and cannot kill a person, and cannot make a person rich or noble or poor or base. They only wish to make people do evil and offend by killing; and taking advantage of a person’s decline they go and trouble him, and tell him of calamity and blessing so as to make him set up sacrifices to them (Source: Ten-Fascicle Parables Sūtra, fascicle 6).

The king of the kingdom of Jiāyí was named Brahmadatta, and he once went out hunting in a wilderness and saw a hut (the Sūtra of the Reward of Merit says beneath a tree at the mountain’s edge) and went toward it. Inside there was a woman, and whatever he asked her for by way of food and drink he did not fail to get. The king asked to see her, and the woman was entirely naked. The king took off his own clothes and gave them to her, and as soon as they touched her body they burned; and this happened three times over.

The king asked the woman about it, and the woman answered: long ago I was a king’s wife, and when the king fed a śramaṇa and also gave him clothing, I remonstrated: it is enough to give food; there is no need for clothing besides (the Sūtra of the Reward of Merit says: she cut short what was given to the śramaṇa). And so I receive this punishment.

If the king wishes me to be able to wear clothing, then make clothing for me and first give it to a śramaṇa or to one who understands the sūtras. The king sought a śramaṇa and could not find one, and it was said: you may give to a worthy man who keeps the five precepts. And the worthy man made the prayer: may the woman of the golden couch obtain measureless merit and be able to wear the king’s clothing.

The king asked the woman: what sort of spirit are you? She answered: I surpass humans and fall a little short of the gods, and so I am in the path of ghosts and spirits. When I give up this life I shall be born in the first heaven (Source: Parables Sūtra; the Sūtra of the Reward of Merit).

Long ago a man travelling far lodged alone in an empty house, and in the night a ghost came carrying a dead man and set him down in front of him; and another ghost came after in pursuit, scolding in anger: the dead man is mine, and you have suddenly carried him off. The first ghost said: he is mine and I brought him myself. The second ghost said: this dead man is truly one I carried here.

The two ghosts each took hold of a foot and a hand and contended over him. The first ghost said: there is a man here who may be asked. And the second ghost asked: who carried this dead man here?

The man thought: these two ghosts are strong, and whether I speak truly or falsely I shall not escape death — and said: the first ghost carried him. The second ghost was greatly enraged and took hold of the man’s hand and pulled it out and threw it on the ground; and the first ghost took one of the dead man’s arms and fitted it on, and it stuck. And so with both arms, both legs, the head, and the sides — his whole body was exchanged. And at that the two ghosts ate together the body they had exchanged, and wiped their mouths and went away.

The man thought: the body my father and mother bore — I have seen with my own eyes two ghosts eat it entirely; and this body of mine now is all another’s flesh. Do I now definitely have a body, or have I no body? He went to a Buddha stūpa and asked the monks and set out the whole matter at length.

The monks said: from the beginning there has never been a self at all; it is only because the four great elements come together that this body is reckoned to be a self. Your original body and this one are no different. And the monks delivered him and he entered the path and attained arhatship (Source: Treatise on the Great Perfection of Wisdom, fascicle 12).

There was a ghost-spirit whose body was extremely large and who had golden hands, from whose five fingers sweet nectar constantly flowed; and if a traveller needed anything, food and drink and the necessities of life all came out of his fingers and he gave them freely.

Maudgalyāyana asked him: what god are you? Your fruit of merit and your virtue are extraordinary, that they should be like this. He answered: I am no heavenly king or Brahmā king; I am a ghost-spirit, and I live in a great city in a certain country, and I have come here because I am travelling about to look at things.

Maudgalyāyana asked him: what good did you do, to obtain a recompense like this? He answered: that country’s great city is named Luólóu, and I was formerly a poor woman there, who wove bags of wool thread and sold them to keep myself alive. My circumstances grew poorer and my house fell down entirely, and I came at last to the roadside, and near the house of a great and generous elder I wove thread to keep myself alive.

When the day was near noon, if a śramaṇa or brahmin came holding a bowl to beg for food and asked me where such-and-such an elder’s house was, my mind was true and without any falsehood, and I gladly raised my hand and pointed out his house and said: go over there; the hour is nearly past — do not go seeking anywhere else (Source: the Miscellaneous Piṭaka Sūtra).

Within the borders of the kingdom of Vṛji there was a ghost named Vaiśa (the Sūtra of Serving and Surpassing calls him Āḷavaka), extremely violent, who killed people beyond number, several tens every day. And they all gathered together and said: we may leave this country and go far off to another land.

The ghost knew people’s minds and said to them: do not leave this place for another country; you will never escape my hand. If you bring me one man a day as a sacrifice I shall not trouble you. So the people of Vṛji took one man a day and sacrificed him to that evil ghost, and the bones of the men that ghost ate filled the valleys.

At that time there was an elder’s son named Good-Awakening living there, rich in goods and treasure, whose son was named Nāyūluó and who had only this one son; and, this rule being in force, his son Nāyūluó was to be sacrificed to the ghost.

His father and mother bathed this small boy and dressed him in fine clothes and brought him to that ghost, weeping and crying out beyond all reckoning, and saying together: let all ghosts and earth-spirits bear witness. This one son of ours — we pray that he be protected and delivered. Śakra and the Brahmā king, the Tathāgata’s disciples free of outflows, the arhats and pratyekabuddhas, and above all the Tathāgata, most honoured and highest, the fine field of merit, than whom there is none higher — let them look upon this. We pray that the Tathāgata may shine upon this our utmost sincerity. And they handed the boy over to the ghost and withdrew.

Then the World-Honored One, with the divine eye and the penetrating ear, heard and saw it, and by his power of supernormal travel went north of the Snow Mountains and entered the ghost’s dwelling and sat cross-legged.

Then the small boy came to the ghost’s dwelling and saw from afar the Tathāgata, his light and color blazing, the thirty-two marks and the eighty fine features adorning his body, and gave rise to a glad heart toward the Tathāgata; and, taking him for the evil ghost, he said: eat me as you please.

Then the World-Honored One said: Nāyūluó, it is as you say. I am now the Tathāgata, the truly worthy and perfectly awakened one, and I have come to save you and to subdue this ghost. Nāyūluó rejoiced and bowed his head at his feet, and the World-Honored One taught him the fine meaning; and on his seat all his dusts and stains were exhausted and he obtained the pure Dharma-eye; and having seen the Dharma he took refuge in the Buddha, the Dharma, and the holy assembly and received the five precepts.

The evil ghost came back to his own place and saw from afar the World-Honored One sitting upright and unmoving, and gave rise to rage, and rained thunder, lightning, and thunderbolts, or rained knives and swords; and before they reached the ground the Tathāgata turned them into utpala flowers. And he rained down every kind of thing, and the Tathāgata subdued each in turn.

Not a hair on the śramaṇa’s robe stirred. [The ghost said:] I shall go now and question him on the deep meaning; and if he cannot answer me I shall take his two feet and throw him into the sea to the south. The Buddha said: there is no human or non-human who can take my two feet and throw me into the sea to the south. If you wish to ask, ask.

Then the ghost asked: what are the old actions, the new actions, and the ending of action? The World-Honored One told him: know that the eye is old action — it was made in a former time and, conditioned by the affliction, became action; and the ear, nose, mouth, body, and mind likewise are old action. What the present body makes — the three of the body, the four of speech, and the three of the mind — this is new action. Know that when the old action is exhausted and does not arise again and one does not make action again, and can take hold of this so that action is never born again and is exhausted without remainder — this is called the ending of action.

The ghost said to the Buddha: I am extremely hungry; give me back my small boy. The World-Honored One said: when I was a bodhisattva of old, a dove threw itself upon me, and I did not begrudge my body or life to save that dove from peril; how much less now that I have become the Tathāgata, should I give up this boy for you to eat? In the time of the Buddha Kāśyapa you were once a śramaṇa who practiced the holy life, and afterward you broke the precepts and were born as this evil ghost.

Then the evil ghost, by the Buddha’s majestic power, remembered the actions he had done long ago, and came at once to the World-Honored One and bowed his head at his feet: I am now foolish and deluded and cannot tell the true from the false, and have given rise to this mind toward the Tathāgata. I ask only that the World-Honored One accept my repentance. And so three and four times over; and the World-Honored One said: I accept your repentance — and taught him the fine Dharma.

Then that evil ghost lifted up several thousand taels of gold and offered them to the World-Honored One: I now give this mountain valley to the saṅgha of the four quarters; I ask the World-Honored One to receive it from me. The World-Honored One received it and spoke this verse:

“Giving gardens and orchards, purely, / and making bridges of timber; / if one can build a great ship, / and all the means by which life is sustained — / day and night without slackening, / the merit obtained cannot be measured. / Complete in the Dharma, its meaning, and the precepts, / at the end one is born in heaven.”

The ghost said: what further instruction is there? The World-Honored One said: give up your original form and put on the three Dharma robes and become a śramaṇa; and go into the city of Vṛji and proclaim everywhere: the Tathāgata has appeared in the world and delivers those not yet delivered and brings them to release; he is most honoured and highest, the fine field of merit, and he has now delivered the small boy Nāyūluó and subdued the evil ghost Vaiśa. You may go to him and receive his teaching.

Then the ghost Vaiśa proclaimed these words in the kingdom of Vṛji, and the elder Good-Awakening, hearing them, could not contain his joy, and led a host of eighty-four thousand people to the World-Honored One (Source: Ekottarika Āgama, fascicle 8).

Long ago there was a mother with a great many children, whose nature was evil and without kindness, and who liked to steal other people’s children and kill and eat them. The households whose children were lost did not know who had taken them, and went weeping through the lanes, and this happened more than once.

Ānanda, going out, kept seeing them weeping, and came back and discussed it with the others, grieving for the households that had lost children. The Buddha, knowing, asked: what is the assembly discussing? Ānanda said to the Buddha: just now, going out on alms round, I saw people weeping, and asked them, and they all said that their living children had been lost and they did not know where the bodies were.

The Buddha then said to Ānanda: the one who steals people’s children in this country is not an ordinary person. She is the Mother of Ghosts, and being now born as a human she likes to steal people’s children. This mother has a thousand sons, five hundred in heaven and five hundred among humans, and all the thousand sons are ghost-kings, and one king has tens of thousands of ghosts under him. The five hundred ghost-kings in heaven trouble the gods, and the five hundred ghost-kings in the world trouble kings and people; and the gods themselves can do nothing about those five hundred ghost-kings.

Ānanda said: the Mother of Ghosts is in this country. Might she not be ordered not to steal people’s children? The Buddha said: very good. Ānanda said: by what means? The Buddha told Ānanda: go to where this mother is and watch until she has gone out, and gather up her children and put them in the monastery.

So he went and watched and gathered up a dozen of them and hid them in the monastery. The mother came back and did not see them, and thereupon let other people’s children alone and dared not kill them any more, and went looking for her own children everywhere and did not know where they were; and she went about the roads weeping for ten days, and then beat and threw herself about and cried out to heaven and no longer ate or drank.

The Buddha sent a śramaṇa to go and ask her, and she answered the śramaṇa: I have lost many children and that is why I weep. The śramaṇa said further: do you wish to get your children? She answered: I do. The śramaṇa said: if you truly wish to get them, you may go and ask the Buddha, and you may get your children.

The mother, hearing this, was glad and her mind was opened, and she came to the Buddha and made obeisance. The Buddha asked her: why do you weep? The mother answered: because I have lost my children. The Buddha asked: where did you leave your children and go, that you lost them? The mother was then silent; and so three times. The mother knew that stealing people’s children was evil, and rose and made obeisance: it was because I was foolish.

The Buddha asked again: you have children — do you love them? The mother said: I have children, and sitting or rising they always want to be at my side. The Buddha asked again: you have children and know how to love them; why do you go daily and steal others’ children? Others have children and love them as you do, and the households that lose children also go about the roads weeping as you do; and you steal other people’s children instead and kill and eat them, and after death you will enter the hell of Mount Tai. Do you wish to get your children?

The mother put her head and face on the ground: I ask the Buddha to have pity on me. The Buddha said: if your children are here, can you repent of yourself? If you can repent, your children shall be given back to you. The mother said: I can repent of myself. The Buddha said: if you can repent, what will you do to repent? The mother said: I shall listen to the Buddha’s instruction and follow the Buddha’s words. Let the Buddha give me back my children.

The Buddha said: it shall be as you say — and conferred the five precepts on her. You have a thousand sons and I shall name them all: five hundred in heaven and five hundred in the world, troubling gods and humans. Your sons are ghost-kings and lead tens of thousands of ghosts, beyond all reckoning; or they claim to be tree spirits, earth spirits, water spirits, spirits of ships and carts, of houses, of darkness, of dreams and waking, of terrors and of prodigies, spirits of every kind — falsely claiming names in this way and making people offer sacrifices, and boiling and killing for food and drink. They cannot protect or keep alive a person’s life; they only add to their offenses. These foolish people do not know that they sit and think themselves into poverty.

The Mother of Ghosts, hearing what the Buddha said, repented with a single mind and obtained the fruit of stream-entry; and she knelt at length and said to the Buddha: I ask the Buddha to have pity on me. I wish to stay beside the Buddha’s monastery. I wish to call my thousand sons; I wish to have them make a compact with the Buddha; I wish to repay the kindness of gods above and men below.

The Buddha said: excellent — that you have such an intention is very good. The Buddha said: then stay beside the Buddha’s monastery. Of the people of this country who have no children, let them come and ask for children and children shall be given them, freely as they wish; and I shall order my sons to go and protect people accordingly, and they shall not trouble them wantonly any more.

Those who would ask a boon of the Mother of Ghosts — her name is Fútuómóníbō, and her elder sister’s name is Zhìnì. The ghosts of heaven and earth belong to Móníbō’s charge, and the ships and carts and trades and property within the four seas all belong to Móníbō. Móníbō made a compact with the Buddha and received the precepts, and has charge of protecting people’s property; and Zhìnì has charge of going to save people when there is a birth (Source: Sūtra of the Mother of Ghosts).

Then the yakṣa ghost Qūmó came to where the Buddha was and bowed his head at the Buddha’s feet and withdrew and stood to one side. Then the ghost Qūmó said to the Buddha: World-Honored One, I now invite the World-Honored One and the great assembly to lodge here tonight. The World-Honored One was silent.

Then Qūmó conjured up five hundred storeyed chambers with bedding, sitting-couches, and footstools, and five hundred sets of mats and pillows besides; and he conjured up five hundred lamps whose flames had no smoke at all (Source: Saṃyukta Āgama, fascicle 49).

Then Maudgalyāyana was walking in the dark of night, and the evil Māra transformed himself and passed as a shadow into Maudgalyāyana’s belly. Maudgalyāyana entered samādhi and examined the source of it, and said to the evil Māra: come out, come out; do not trouble a disciple of the Buddha, or you will get suffering through the long night.

Māra thought: this śramaṇa has never seen me and speaks falsely at random. Even his teacher does not know me, much less his disciple. Maudgalyāyana answered: I know too what you are thinking. Māra was afraid: he has already perceived me — and, transforming himself, came out bodily and stood before him.

Maudgalyāyana told Māra: in a past age, in the time of the Buddha Krakucchanda, I was once a Māra named Dark-Resentment, and I had an elder sister named Deep-Black, and you were her son; and by this I know you are my sister’s son.

At that time a buddha appeared in the world and had two disciples, the first named Vast-Sound and the second Perception-Knower. Why was he called Vast-Sound? Because, standing in the Brahmā heaven, when he cleared his throat the sound was heard through the three thousand worlds. As for Perception-Knower, he dwelt alone in seclusion and sat beneath a mountain tree in the rightly received samādhi; and the cowherds and shepherds and those carrying firewood and grass said to one another: this man has died — and they cremated him together; and Perception-Knower rose from samādhi and went into the city on alms round (Source: Sūtra of the Evil Māra Testing Maudgalyāyana; also Madhyama Āgama, fascicle 27).

There was once a woman who was possessed by a hungry ghost, and someone questioned the ghost by a spell: why do you trouble this other woman? The ghost answered: this woman is my enemy. For five hundred lives she has constantly killed me, and I likewise for five hundred lives have cut off her life-root. If she can give up her old enmity of mind, I too can give it up.

Then the woman said: I have now given up my mind of enmity. The ghost observed that although the woman said so with her mouth, in her mind she did not let it go — and at once cut off her life (Source: Abridged Vibhāṣā Sūtra, fascicle 8).

Māra set out a feast and conjured up forty thousand monks in filthy and worn-out robes holding broken bowls, their chests and backs quite bare, their faces and features ugly, lame and hunchbacked, their hearts full of alarm; and they received food of every kind.

Mañjuśrī made the bowls of these conjured people always full; and the mouthfuls of food, in their mouths, choked them and could not be got down, and their bodies were uneasy and they fell to the ground of themselves.

He asked Māra: why do the monks not eat? Māra said: it is because they are about to die. Mañjuśrī said: how should a person without poison practice filthy poison? It is people with lust, anger, and delusion who are poison; and therefore I teach that I have no such poison. And five hundred gods who had come with Māra gave rise to the mind of enlightenment (Source: Sūtra of Mañjuśrī Manifesting the Treasury, lower fascicle).

Maudgalyāyana came to the bank of the Ganges and saw five hundred hungry ghosts come in a crowd toward the water; and there was a water-guarding ghost who drove them off with an iron staff and would not let them come near. So the ghosts came straight to Maudgalyāyana and bowed at his feet and each asked about their offense.

One ghost said: receiving this body I constantly suffer heat and thirst. I heard before that the Ganges water was clear and cool and went toward it in delight, and it boiled and destroyed my body; and I tried drinking one mouthful and my five organs were scorched and rotted and the stench was unbearable. For what cause and condition do I receive an offense like this? Maudgalyāyana said: in a former life you were a physiognomist and read people’s fortunes, with little truth and much falsehood, sometimes disparaging and sometimes praising, and called yourself exact so as to move people’s hearts, deceiving and cheating in order to seek goods and gain, and confusing beings so that they lost what they wished for.

Another ghost said: a great dog with sharp teeth, red and white, constantly comes and eats my flesh and leaves the bones; and when the wind comes and blows on them the flesh grows again, and the dog comes and eats it again. What is the cause of this suffering? Maudgalyāyana answered: in a former life you were the master of a shrine to the gods and constantly taught beings to kill sheep and sacrifice the blood to the gods, and you yourself ate the flesh; and therefore today you repay it with flesh.

Another ghost said: my body is constantly covered and smeared with filth and I eat it besides. What is the cause of this offense? Maudgalyāyana answered: in a former life you were a brahmin, evil, wrong-minded, and without faith. A religious man came begging for food and you took his bowl and filled it with filth and put rice on top and gave it to him; and the religious took it home and ate the rice with his hand, and the filth soiled his hand. Therefore today you receive an offense like this.

Another ghost said: my belly is enormous as a jar and my throat and hands and feet are as thin as needles, and I cannot get food or drink. What is the cause of this suffering? Maudgalyāyana answered: in a former life you were the head of a village and, relying on your rank, ate and drank without restraint and slighted and cheated others and took away their food and left beings hungry and hard-pressed.

Another ghost said: I constantly go to the privy wishing to eat filth, and a great crowd of ghosts takes staves and drives me off and I cannot come near the privy; and the rot and stench within, and hunger and hardship, leave me nothing to depend on. What is the cause of this? Maudgalyāyana answered: in a former life you were a monastery director, and lay people made offerings to the community and prepared the food; and you set out the coarse food for the visiting monks and ate the fine yourself.

Another ghost said: tongues grow all over my body, and an axe comes and hacks the tongues, and they are cut and grow again and it never stops. What is the cause of this? Maudgalyāyana answered: in a former life you were a religious man, and the community appointed you to make honey-water; and the lumps of rock sugar were large and hard to dissolve and you hacked them with an axe, and with a thieving mind you ate one mouthful. For that cause and condition your tongue is hacked in return.

Another ghost said: seven hot iron balls constantly go straight into my mouth, and entering my belly my five organs are scorched and rotted, and they come out and go in again. For what cause do I receive this offense? Maudgalyāyana answered: in a former life you were a novice, and going round with fruit and melon seeds you came to your teacher, and out of respect for your teacher you partially gave him more, seven over the true measure.

Another ghost said: two hot iron wheels are constantly under my two armpits and turn, and my body is scorched and rotted. What is the cause of this? Maudgalyāyana answered: in a former life you made cakes for the community and with a thieving mind took two of them and hid them under your two armpits.

Another hungry ghost said: my testicles are enormous as a jar, and when I walk I carry them on my shoulder and when I stop I sit on them, and going and stopping alike are a torment. What is the cause of this? Maudgalyāyana answered: in a former life you were a market officer, and you constantly gave with the light balance and the small measure and took with the heavy balance and the large measure, always wishing to get a great profit for yourself and encroaching on others.

Another ghost said: I constantly have eyes on my two shoulders and a mouth and nose on my chest, and no head at all. What is the cause of this? Maudgalyāyana answered: in a former life you were constantly an executioner, and when your apprentice killed a condemned man you constantly had a glad mind and put a rope on him and knotted it and pulled.

Another ghost said: hot iron needles constantly go in and out of my body and I suffer with nothing to depend on. What is the cause of this? Maudgalyāyana answered: in a former life you were a trainer of horses, or of elephants; when a horse was hard to control you pricked its legs with an iron needle, and when an ox was slow you pricked it with a needle too.

Another ghost said: my body constantly gives out fire and burns, and I am in anguish. What is the cause of this? Maudgalyāyana answered: in a former life you were a king’s consort, and there was another consort whom the king greatly favoured, and you constantly gave rise to a jealous mind and watched for the chance to harm her. Once the king rose from sleeping and went out, and the favoured consort was still asleep and had not risen and dressed; and you gave rise to an evil mind, and it happened that cakes were being made and there was hot sesame oil, and you poured it into her belly, and her belly rotted and she died at once.

Another ghost said: a whirlwind constantly turns my body about and I cannot be free but go east and west as it wills, and my mind is constantly vexed. What is the cause of this? Maudgalyāyana answered: in a former life you were constantly a diviner, and sometimes spoke truly and sometimes falsely, and confused people’s minds so that they could not follow their own intentions.

Another ghost said: my body is constantly like a lump of flesh with no feet or eyes or ears or nose, and is constantly eaten by insects and birds, and the suffering of this offense is hard to bear. For what cause and condition? He answered: in a former life you constantly gave others drugs and aborted their children.

Another ghost said: a hot iron cage constantly cages and binds my body, and I am scorched and in anguish. For what do I receive this? Maudgalyāyana answered: in a former life you constantly spread nets and caught fish and birds.

Another ghost said: I cover my own head with something, and I am constantly afraid people will come and kill me, and my mind is constantly in a terror I cannot bear. What is the cause of this? He answered: in a former life you committed adultery outside your own household and were constantly afraid of being seen, or afraid her husband would seize and bind and beat you to death, or afraid the law would execute you in the market place — and the terror went on and on.

Another ghost asked: receiving this body, there is constantly a bronze jar on my shoulder full of molten copper, and with my hand I take a ladle and pour it over my own head, and my whole body is scorched and rotted; and I receive suffering like this beyond number and beyond measure. What offense is there in it? He answered: in a former life you went forth and entered the path, and had charge of the community’s food and drink; and you put one jar of ghee aside in another place, and when visiting religious men came you did not give it to them, and when they had gone you brought out the ghee and passed it round to the old monks. This ghee was the property of the saṅgha of the four quarters and all had a share in it; and this man hid it and, though he gave it out, gave it unequally. For that cause and condition he receives this offense (Source: the Miscellaneous Piṭaka Sūtra).

Śakra, lord of the gods, was in the Hall of Universal Assembly enjoying himself with the jade maidens, and then a god said to Śakra: Kauśika, know that there is now an evil ghost on your honored seat. And the gods of the Thirty-three were filled with rage — and the ghost turned more comely, its face and features finer than before.

Śakra, lord of the gods, then thought: this ghost must be a spirit of subtle power. And he went to where the ghost was, and, stopping not far off, named himself: I am Śakra, lord of the gods, master of the gods. And the evil ghost turned uglier and more loathsome, and little by little vanished away (Source: Ekottarika Āgama, fascicle 27).

Long ago in a foreign country a man died, and his soul came back and whipped his own corpse. A bystander asked: this man is already dead; why whip him again?

He answered: this is my former body. It did evil for me: seeing the sūtras and precepts it did not read them; it stole and cheated and violated other men’s wives; it was not filial to father and mother or to elder and younger brothers; it begrudged its goods and would not give. And now that it is dead it has made me fall into an evil destiny, and the hardship and the poison of the pain are beyond speaking of. That is why I have come to whip it (Source: Parables Sūtra).