Ep. 147: Mahosadha against the Four Advisors
How the Bodhisattva bested his opponents with wisdom and compassion
In Episode 146 we learned of a boy named Mahosadha or "Great Remedy," and how he was favored with wisdom beyond his years. He was, in fact, the Bodhisattva, who would become the Buddha in a subsequent life. His king, Vedaha of Mithila, had had a vision foretelling his coming, and sought him out as an advisor. And so, after a series of tests, the boy was brought to court at age seven and was adopted by the king, who continued to test him. Likewise, the king's adult advisors, led by the crafty Senaka, worked hard to protect their reputations against this upstart.
The Jewel in the Lake
Reports reached King Vedaha that a precious jewel had been seen gleaming from a lake in his domain. Calling Senaka, he asked, "My Chief Sage, how can we retrieve this jewel?"
After some thought, Senaka advised that they drain the water from the lake. But when this was done, no jewel was found, even though they used shovels to overturn the soil at the bottom of the lake.
Yet, when the lake was refilled, there was the jewel again! The process was repeated, with the same result.
At last, the king sent for young Mahosadha. "A jewel has been seen in the lake," he said, "yet cannot be found, even though Senaka has drained the lake twice. When it is refilled, the jewel appears again. Can you obtain this jewel for me?"
"No sooner said than done, Your Majesty," the boy replied.
So the king and his court and a great number of the people followed Mahosadha down to the water's edge. After looking around, the boy perceived that the jewel was in fact on the edge of a crow's nest in a palm tree overhanging the lake.
"Sire, there is no jewel in the lake," announced the lad.
"What?" exclaimed the king. "Of course there is! Can you not see it? It's right there!"
So Mahosadha sent for a wooden bucket, and--filling it with water--set it before the king. "Behold, Your Majesty: a second jewel! Lo, one in the lake and another in this bucket!"
"How can this be?" asked the king.
The boy pointed up to the nest in the tree, and requested the king to send a man up to fetch the jewel from it.
When it was brought, Mahosadha placed it in the king's hand, to great applause from the crowd. They mocked and taunted Senaka--which did nothing to ease his ill-will toward the boy.
--------
The Chameleon
One day the king was entering his gardens when a chameleon came down from the top of the gate and lay down flat before him.
"Gatekeeper!" called the king. "What is this creature doing?"
"It is paying you its respects, Sire" the gatekeeper replied.
"How can I reward this extraordinary act?" the king asked.
"Well," said the gatekeeper, "when I take my meals, it often comes around and begs a small piece of meat."
"Meat it is!" cried the king. "Senaka," he said, calling his chief advisor, "see to it that this respectful fellow receives a ration of meat every day."
And so it was done. The amount was set at one-half an anna, an Indian coin worth 1/16th of a rupee.
But one day the servant responsible for maintaining this gift could find no meat, for it was a mandatory day of fasting and none had been prepared.
Anxious to fulfill the king's orders, but finding no meat, the man took a coin of the same value as the usual gift--a half-anna--and bored a hole in it. Then, stringing it on a thread, he tied it around the reptile's neck.
To everyone's surprise, this made the creature quite proud! It strutted about with the coin dangling from its neck, striking poses this way and that, to the delight of the gathering crowd.
The animal returned to its wonted place above the gate, and, as it happened, that day the king arrived to enter the garden once again.
But in its pride, the chameleon would not come down. "Who is this," it seemed to be thinking, "that I should prostrate myself to him--me, the one with such a coin around its neck!" Instead, it lay on the arch of the gate, stroking its head with its claws.
The king, turning to Mahosadha, asked, "Wise sir, why does this creature, who was formerly so well-behaved, ignore me now?" And he spoke this verse:
"Yon fellow never stayed so high before,
"But made obeisance to his king and lord."
Seeing the coin, and realizing it was a fast day, the lad put two and two together.
"Your Majesty," he said,
"This fellow has what ne'er he had before,
"So thinks in this case that he is the lord."
The king then questioned the servant in charge of the offering and discovered that all the young sage said was true. Pleased as he was by the youth's sagacity, he nevertheless was inclined to punish the haughty chameleon by taking away its ration. But Mahosadha convinced him that such petty behavior was unbecoming a king.
--------
The Scholar's Wife Becomes Vedaha's Queen
Pinguttara, a youth from Mithila, went off to Taxila to study.
One day, having acquitted himself well, he went to bid his teacher adieu, when the teacher said, "In my family, there is a tradition. If the teacher has a daughter of marriageable age, she is to be wed to his top pupil. I have just such a daughter. And the happy student, my lad, is you! Congratulations!"
Now this lad was in fact unlucky (a euphemism for "ugly") and the girl, by contrast, was absolutely bursting with "luck"! Being a bright lad, he knew that such a match was fraught with potential for trouble, but being a conscientious lad, he acceded to his teacher's wishes and married the brahmin's daughter.
On the wedding night, as soon as the bride joined him in bed, the groom got down and lay on the floor. When she likewise got down and lay beside him, he again took to the bed. She again joined him, and he again took to the floor. They ended the night in this position.
And there they stayed, the same for seven nights. At the end of the week-long "honeymoon," the still-chaste couple took their leave and set out for Mithila.
As they approached the town, Pinguttara climbed a fig tree, where he commenced to eat his fill.
"Oh!" said the girl. "I, too, am hungry. Will you not throw me down some figs?"
"Is there something wrong with your hands and feet?" the former student replied roughly. "If you want some figs, climb up and get them yourself."
So she climbed up and began to eat, but the unhappy youth jumped down and piled thorns around the tree, exclaiming, "At last! I have rid myself of that miserable wretch!"
It wasn't long before the king, returning from disporting himself in his park, passed by on his elephant and, from that vantage, looked directly into the eyes of this most "lucky" woman. He immediately fell in love.
Addressing her through an intermediary, he inquired if she were married, and she replied with her sad story.
"Found treasure belongs to the Crown!" Vedaha declared, and had her brought down from the tree and placed on his elephant.
When they returned to the palace, the couple were sprinkled with the water of consecration and the woman became the Queen Consort, and was evermore referred to as Udumbara-Rani or "Queen Fig."
--------
The Queen Sees Her Ex
It happened that King Vedaha and Queen Udumbara were out for a promenade by chariot when they passed Pinguttara who, until then unemployed, was part of a work crew clearing the road. The queen, seeing her cruel ex-husband in such lowered estate, could not suppress a smile.
"What is this?" cried the king. "You smile so at a mere workman?"
"No, My Lord," the queen hastened to reply. "This is no mere workman, but the heartless man who marooned me in the fig tree and abandoned me there, when my gracious king came by and rescued me! I could not help but smile upon seeing him brought so low."
"You lie!" the king shouted. "You are flirting with that man! For this I shall take your head!"
And as he drew his sword, the queen cried out, "Majesty! Before doing something so final, would you deign to consult with your advisors?"
Assenting, the king turned to Senaka and asked, "Counselor, do you believe that my wife smiled only at seeing her abuser brought to grief?"
And sly Senaka replied, "No, My Lord, I do not. In my opinion, this 'abuser' is a fiction, for what man would be so foolish as to leave a woman with such virtues as she possesses?"
But the king thought, "Senaka is too lavish with his praise. I will ask the young sage."
So, turning to Mahosadha, he recited this verse:
"When once a man marries a woman with beauty, wit, and charm,
"By any means could he bring himself to do her any harm?"
And Mahosadha replied
"Such things can happen, Lord, when two are unequally matched.
"The man of low estate will soon let go of a worthier catch!"
Thus, the king's anger was allayed, his heart was calmed, and his sword was put away. With new-found pleasure he said to Mahosadha, "It is well you were here. Good that I did not listen to that fool Senaka, who would have had me kill this precious woman."
For his part, King Vedaha gave Mahosadha pearls beyond price. But Queen Udumbara requested a boon for him, too: "Sire," she said charmingly, "this man has saved my life! I request permission to treat him as a younger brother, to dine with him daily, and to allow him access to me at all hours."
The king, chagrined at his jealousy (and taking into account Mahosadha's young age) readily assented, and a new and important friendship was born.
--------
The Goat and the Dog
Once, in King Vedaha's palace, there was a goat that was in the habit of stealing hay from the elephants' stable before they had a chance to eat it. The elephant-keepers became wise to his ways, and one day beat him so ferociously that he felt he would be unable to escape death the next time.
Meanwhile, there was a dog who behaved similarly by habitually stealing meat from the king's kitchen. Like the goat, he was beaten severely.
The two happened to take refuge under the same tree in the king's park, and got to talking about their mutual plight.
"Friend Goat," said the dog, "why is your back humped so?"
"I have been beaten for stealing hay from the king's elephants," said the goat. "And what of you, Friend Dog?"
"I, too, could not resist temptation, and was beaten for stealing meat from the king's kitchen," said the dog. "For this, I can never go near the kitchen again."
"Nor can I approach the stable," said the goat, "on my life."
These two, never friends before, had great sympathy for one another. And this gave rise to a plan.
"Oof, I just realized," said the dog, "I can go to the stable with no one objecting. I have no use for straw!"
"Bah!" said the goat. "So why would you bother?"
"Why, to get straw for you," the dog replied.
"O-o-o-o, I get it!" the goat said enthusiastically. "And I can frequent the kitchen without rousing suspicion, and grab you some meat!"
"Exactly!" the dog nearly howled.
And so they shook hands--well, a paw and a hoof--and set off straightaway each to fulfill his half of the bargain.
Soon, the goat returned with a nice fat chicken, and the dog came with a huge bundle of grass.
At this moment, the king entered the park through the utility gate and happened to pass the two beasts dining side-by-side. Struck by the oddity of this, he thought, "This is so unnatural, I'll wager my wise men cannot divine an explanation."
So he called together his council, and put to them this verse:
"Two enemies in nature, who never come near each other without a fight,
"Have struck up a friendship that none could view as anything but tight.
"How can this be?"
Then added, promising banishment,
"This day by noon your answers you must give,
"Else out of my royal presence and far away you'll live."
Now, Mahosadha thought, "The king, though great at heart, is slow of wit. And, as he has posed this question to us all, he had no help from any of my fellows in composing it. He must have seen something around the palace that raised this riddle in his mind."
Senaka certainly had no chance of solving the riddle himself. But when he saw the look on Mahosadha's face, he realized the lad was onto something, and might be the salvation of them all. So he rose and addressed the king: "Your Majesty is too clever for we, your humble servants. We would ask an extension of one day--until noon tomorrow--to solve such a knotty problem."
Flattered by the thought that he might have stumped even the young sage, King Vedaha graciously replied, "Very well, my man, but know that I mean to carry out my threat if you cannot answer me by the morrow."
As soon as they were out of the king's presence, Senaka addressed the four others: "Friends, this is a delicate question, with brutal results if we cannot answer it. Let us go apart and reflect carefully."
And the young sage was glad to get away from the others. Immediately he went to Queen Udumbara and asked, "My Lady, did the king do anything unusual during the day past?"
"Why yes, little brother," she replied. "He went to the park, but instead of going in procession by elephants, he slipped out the back way, through the utility area."
"That's it!" thought the lad. "He must have seen something there." And to the puzzled queen, "Thank you, My Lady. You have saved we five!"
No sooner had he walked through the gate than he saw the goat and the dog lying about together. Taking up a watch, he saw that, at meal time, the goat fetched some meat from the kitchen, and the dog some straw from the stables, and both settled down to eat side-by-side.
"The king's riddle is solved!" he concluded, and home he went, leaving the other advisors to fret over the problem. At last, swallowing their pride, they came to him.
"It occurs to us, O Sage," said Senaka, "that of us all, you alone might know the answer to the king's question. If you would, could you share it with us?"
Now Mahosadha knew that he could stand alone and answer the king, and see his rivals banished from the kingdom. And he also knew that, should he simply tell them the answer, they could find a way to shut him out.
But it was not in his heart to treat other men selfishly, and so he--without telling them the whole answer--taught each of them a stanza to recite before the king when the time came, to trick the king into believing they knew. Then he sent them away.
The next morning, the king summoned the five. "Well?" he asked. "Will you stay or will you go?"
And Senaka arose and replied,
"All cultured men find pleasure in goat's meat,
"But even beggars will not dog's flesh eat."
Of course, Senaka did not know the meaning behind these lines, but the king thought he did.
Then came Pukkusa's turn, and he said,
"Goat's leather can be used for many things,
"But dogs' skin isn't fit for anything."
Again, he spoke unknowingly, but the king was led to believe that he had solved the riddle.
Next came Kavinda:
"The goat has twisted horns upon his head.
"A dog has none by which he might be led."
The king, believing yet another advisor had it, then turned to Devinda, who said,
"The goat will dine on grass, leaves, weeds, or straw.
"The dog likes meat, whether its cooked or raw."
At last, deceived by all four--who were just reciting what they had been taught--the king turned to the young sage. "My son," he asked, "do you, too, know the answer to the riddle?"
"From the highest heaven to the lowest hell, Your Majesty, is there anyone who cannot solve such a trifle?" the boy asked, taunting the king good-naturedly.
"Tell it then, boy," said the king, slightly exasperated.
And the young sage said:
"The goat on cloven hooves has meat brought for the hound,
"Who in his turn stole straw and brought it around.
"The Lord of Men, Vedaha, saw this feat,
"And watched the two beasts lie down there to eat."
"Lord of Men," the king beamed, "and Lord of five great sages as well!" And then he recited this verse:
"To each of you a village fair I give,
"In which you may in leisure time go live.
"A chariot, too, and she-mule to it hitched,
"To travel there as ones both wise and rich."
--------
The Question of Poor and Rich
Now, the queen knew that the other four advisors had their knowledge only through the young sage, and thought it unfair that they all were regarded equally. She told as much to the king, who was delighted to learn that Mahosadha was not only wise but kind-hearted as well. Then he said to the queen, "Never mind: I will give my son another question, as a means of increasing his reward."
So when the five were next in his presence, the king asked Senaka, "Senior advisor, I will ask a question.
"One is endowed with wisdom, one with gold,
"Which of these two would men the luckier hold?"
Without hesitation, Senaka replied,
"Wise men and sages to rich men bend the knee,
"So this proves 'rich' the better way to be."
Hearing this, the king skipped the other three advisors and went straight to Mahosadha:
"You also I ask, wise youth. A wealthy fool, or an impoverished sage: which do men hold better?"
And the lad replied, "Rich or poor, a fool focuses only on this world, and not the next, doing himself a disservice in both. To be wise, then, is better than to be wealthy." And he recited this double stanza:
"A fool, though rich or poor, looks not to the beyond,
"But only to this world--no care for when he's gone.
"In such a way, he takes away his happiness in both,
"For with bad deeds he throws away his aptitude for growth."
"Senaka?" the king said. "What say you to this?"
"Your majesty," Senaka replied. "Mahosadha is a child, one whose mouth still smells of milk. What can he know?" and he recited this stanza:
"Not through wisdom do riches come, nor family, nor looks.
"Who stores up money conquers he who only stores up books."
The king said, "What now, Mahosadha my son?"
And the boy answered, "My lord, Senaka is like a crow scrambling to pick up scattered rice, or a dog trying to lap up spilled milk. He sees only himself and his greed, but not the doom that hangs over his head." And he recited this double stanza:
"Who's small of wit, with money becomes drunk.
"A fish on land he is when his fortune's shrunk.
"The wise man knows the ways of fortune's whims,
"And carries on the same when his candle dims."
Again the king gave Senaka his turn.
"Master!" he said. "It is the tree in full fruit to which the birds flock." And he recited this stanza:
"The tree with fruit is the forest's favorite one,
"So men crowd 'round the rich from sun to sun."
"And now, Mahosadha?" the king asked.
The sage answered, "Listen, My Lord," and he recited this double stanza:
"No matter how many hang on a rich fool's words,
"They profit not from silly things they've heard.
"Few seek the sage, but when they hear his thoughts,
"They profit more than with what's sold and bought."
"Senaka?"
This time the elder went for a final blow.
"We are five wise men, Lord, here in your court.
"Yet on you alone we depend for support."
"Well said, Senaka!" cried the king. "And what can the young sage do with that?"
And Mahosadha easily refuted this thrust by reciting this double stanza,
"The wealthy man needs wise men by his side,
"Always his kingdom and affairs to guide.
"What king is there without his set of sages?
"This never happened, not throughout the ages."
When the king called again on Senaka, he sat without answer, disturbed, grieving. Had he another argument, he would bring it. But his well had run dry.
Mahosadha's, in the meantime, ran like the river Ganges, and he spoke this double stanza:
"Wisdom is sought by those who'd walk in light.
"The Buddha teaches men to live aright,
"Wealth is just for those who play at sport.
"When wealth is tried, it always comes up short."
So impressed was the king that he addressed Mahosadha with this stanza:
"Whatever I might ask, the young sage answers me.
"So livestock, villages, and gold I give to thee."
And the queen was now satisfied with this reward.
[There follows in the original account nearly 2,000 words of how Mahosadha, at the age of 16, goes out into the world and finds, woos, and weds Amara, a woman nearly his equal in every way. We pick the story up again with another assault by Senaka.]
--------
The Thefts
One day Senaka said to the other three, "Friends, this commoner's son Mahosadha has bested us time and again. Now with a wife cleverer than himself, there will be no stopping him. We must end his dominance of the king once and for all!"
The others agreed in principle, but were a little short on details. Fortunately, the wily Senaka had a plan.
"Here is the way," he said. "We each must steal something of great value from the palace, and plant it in the unsuspecting youth's home. When the king sees what 'he' has done, he will banish him forthwith!"
They all agreed it was an excellent plan, so Senaka continued: "I will steal the jewel from the royal crest; Pukkusa, you take the king's golden necklace; Kavinda, you steal his woolen robe; and you, Devinda, take his golden slipper."
When each had obtained the assigned object, they met again, for Phase II.
Senaka said, "We must now get them into the unsuspecting fellow's house without his knowledge."
The jewel stolen by Senaka was placed in a pot of dates. He then sent a slave girl to the street on which Mahosadha's house was located, and instructed her to "cry her wares," but to only give the pot to Amara.
"Do ye lack dates?" the girl cried repeatedly, but Amara noted that she only walked a few steps in each direction, never straying far from her door. Suspecting something, she instructed her servants to stay in the back of the house, and called the girl with the dates into the foyer. "Girls!" she called, as though beckoning her servants. "Come fetch these dates!" But the girls did not come.
So she sent the slave girl on into the house to bring the "girls" out, and while she was inside, reached into the pot and found the jewel.
When the slave girl returned, she asked, "Who is your master?"
Somewhat proudly the girl replied, "I am Sir Senaka's maid."
"Very well," Amara replied. "Give me some dates." The girl gave her the whole pot, but would take no money for them, and went away. And Amara immediately wrote down, "On such a day of such a month the advisor Senaka sent a jewel from the king's crest for a present, by the hand of such and such a girl inside a pot of dates."
Pukkusa sent the royal necklace hidden in a marble casket of jasmine flowers; Kavinda sent the king's robe in a basket of vegetables; and Devinda sent the golden slipper in a bundle of straw. Amara received each and duly noted the date, the name of the sender, the name of the delivery person, and the means of delivery. She also told her husband what was happening.
Shortly thereafter, Senaka went to the king and said, "Your Majesty, I note you have not worn your royal crest of late. It makes you look so--regal."
The flattered king replied, "You're right! I'll fetch it at once!" But he could not find it, nor, when the other advisors suggested he don the other missing items, could he find them.
"A thief!" he cried. "My palace is beset by a thief!"
"Not to worry, Your Majesty," said the four. "We will set our spies to find your missing items."
And it won't surprise you to know that, "miraculously," all of the missing goods were found in the home of Mahosadha! Furthermore, the "reports" said, the uppity sage was wearing them himself!
But there were those at court who were impressed by Mahosadha's wisdom and kindness, and so they told him what was being said. "I will go to the king," said the youth, "and we will straighten this matter out."
But when he tried to approach, the angry king would not grant him an audience.
Concerned for his safety, Amara urged him to flee, so he went to South Market-town and disguised himself as a potter.
Hearing that he was gone, and thinking that it might be for good, each of the advisors secretly sent Amara a love letter making his case. "Am I not also a wise man?" each asked. "Can I not also secure for you favor with the king?" And so on.
Amara answered each letter with the suggestion that its author should come to her at such and such a time. When each came, she had her men set upon him, shave his head clean, throw him into the privies, and finally roll him in matting. Then she sent to the king, requesting an audience.
Arriving at the palace with the four "bundles" and the four stolen items, she greeted the king and said, "My Lord, the wise Mahosadha is no thief; rather, here are the thieves. Senaka stole the jewel, Pukkusa stole the necklace, Kavinda stole the woolen robe, and Devinda stole the slipper." Then she recited the date on which each item arrived at her house, and the delivery person, and the way each was hidden. "You can read the record here," she continued. "Take your things, and banish the thieves."
She returned home, leaving the perplexed king to puzzle out what to do without Mahosadha's advice. So he sent the disgraced advisors home--and told them to bathe.
[Every king has a parasol, a sign of royalty, and King Vedaha's was inhabited by a deity. This deity had come to miss the sound of Mahosadha's wise words, and so set for the king four questions--with a penalty for failure to answer. The other four advisors, of course, could not answer them. The questions were, as in the original:
"He strikes with hands and feet, and beats on the face; yet, O king, he is dear, and grows dearer than a husband."
"She abuses him roundly, yet wishes him to be near: and he, O king, is dearer than a husband."
"She reviles him without cause, and without reason reproaches; yet he, O king, is dearer than a husband."
"One takes food and drink, clothes and lodging--verily the good men carry them off: yet they, O king, are dearer than a husband."
The young sage, upon his return, answered these four:
An infant in a mother's arms;
a mother with a seven-year-old child;
a quarreling lover; and
begging priests.
At the end of all this Mahosadha was restored to his former favor with the king.]
--------
Keeping a Secret
Again, the four advisors met to discuss the problem of Mahosadha.
"What are we to do?" they moaned. "This fellow waxes greater every day!"
Again it was Senaka who proposed a solution. "Let us ask him, 'To whom may one tell a secret?' If he says, 'No one," we will go to the king and accuse him of being a traitor."
So they went to Mahosadha's house and, after greeting him, asked, "Wise Sir, on what should a man base his principles?"
"On the truth," said the sage.
"And what must he do next?" they asked.
"Provide for his family," came the reply.
"And after that?"
"He must keep his own counsel, not divulging his secrets to another."
"Thank you, Sir," they said, and went away happy, believing they would soon be rid of him. They went straightaway to the king and denounced Mahosadha as a traitor.
"Mahosadha, a traitor?" cried the king. "Never! I will not believe it!"
"You must believe it, Sire," said Senaka, the ringleader, "for it is true. To prove it, ask him to whom one may tell a secret. If he says, 'No one,' then you will know that he has kept things from you."
The next time the five were assembled in the audience chamber, the king seemed to have a sudden thought. "I wonder," he mused, "to whom can a man safely divulge his most precious secret?"
Senaka answered, "Tell us first, O Wise King, to whom you think a secret may be told? Then we will answer."
The king thought a moment and said, "Surely, a virtuous wife, subservient to her husband, can be trusted with her husband's secrets."
Believing now the king had taken his side, Senaka said, "to a sick friend"; Pukkusa added, "to a brother"; Kavinda said, "to an obedient son"; and Devinda replied, "to a doting mother."
The question then came to Mahosadha, who replied, "The revealing of a secret is not to be praised. The wisest should keep it to himself until its secrecy is no longer important; then it can be told far and wide."
The king was greatly displeased at the thought of his trusted sage keeping secrets from him, and exchanged a knowing glance with Senaka. This was not lost on the Bodhisattva, and he knew that this situation had once again been devised as a trap by the four.
Now, the sun had gone down and the lamps were lit. So bidding farewell, Mahosadha took his leave and--knowing that the others were wont to sit on the edge of a trough and go over the results of their meetings with the king--he crawled into a hollow underneath it and waited in hiding.
Meanwhile, the king, terrified at the thought of his dear boy being a traitor, gave Senaka and the others orders to execute the lad upon his appearance at the palace gates the next day, and with the king's own sword.
Then, as the lad expected, out they came and took up their places on the trough.
"Well," said Senaka, "that went well! Now, which of us shall strike the boy down?"
All agreed that, as leader, it fell to him.
"Well, then, if I am to do this, I think we should form a pact. Let us tell each other the secret that we have shared with, in my case, my friend; in yours, Pukkusa, your brother; Kavinda, your son; and Devinda, your mother."
So each told his secret, never suspecting that the youth was within earshot.
Senaka had had sex with a harlot in a grove of trees, killed her for her ornaments, and hung the booty on an elephant tusk in a certain room of his house. He had told this secret to a friend, who had never breathed a word.
Pukkusa had a spot of leprosy on his thigh, and each morning his younger brother put a salve and a bandage on it, never telling a soul. The king, when he was troubled, sometimes lay his head on that very spot!
Kavinda was, once a month, possessed by a demon, and barked like a mad dog. His son would lock him in a room of the house when that happened, and would hold a loud party to cover the noise. He had never shared this secret.
Devinda had once stolen a lucky gem from the king's treasury, a gift from the god Sakka (Indra) to Vedaha's grandfather. He gave it to his mother, who would hand it back to him before he went to court each morning, so he would have good fortune in the palace. She, too, never said a word to anyone.
As he was making note of all this, Mahosadha heard the four rise to leave, and heard Senaka's parting instructions: "Remember, we must all be present when I kill the lout."
Extracting himself from his listening position, the young sage went home, dressed, ate a meal, and retired.
The king, meanwhile, was troubled. "I have known Mahosadha since the age of seven," he sighed. "And he has never done me wrong. To think, I have set the others to kill him! After tomorrow I shall see him no more!"
The queen, seeing him in such a state, asked if she had caused him some offense. "No, no," said the king. "It's just that I have been tricked, I think, into allowing Senaka and the others to kill Mahosadha in the morning."
Thinking quickly, the queen comforted him by saying, "Since you raised him to power, he has become too much. You made the right decision; he must be removed." Once he was soothed, the king slept, and the queen hastily scribbled a note to Mahosadha.
"My cherished brother," she wrote, "you have been slandered, and the angry king has arranged for your execution. Do not enter the palace gate tomorrow, or if you do, come with a full force behind you." She then sent it by a handmaid to Mahosadha's house.
When he read the letter, the lad of course knew exactly what to do.
Waiting at the gate the next morning, the four treacherous advisors were disappointed when the youth did not appear at the expected hour.
But what was he doing? He was organizing the entire city--the people who had come to love and trust him--under his power. Guards were placed, a chariot was hitched up, and a great host of men followed him to the palace gates, where he saluted the king who was watching the hubbub from an upper window.
The king thought, "If he were my enemy, he would not salute me," so he beckoned him to enter the audience chamber.
Descending to meet the lad, the king pretended that nothing was wrong. "You left in haste yesterday evening, and now you are back, my son. Is there something on your mind?"
"Sire," the Bodhisattva said directly, "You have listened to foolish counsel and arranged for my death. That is why I left abruptly. But 'Mahosadha must be slain' you said to your virtuous wife last night, she whom you trust with your secrets. And here I am with full knowledge of your words."
As the king shot an angry glance at the queen, Mahosadha continued: "Why are you angry with your queen, My Lord? I know all, past, present, and future. How I came to know is of no concern. Even if the queen told me this, she could not have told me the secrets of the four. And yet I know them.
"Senaka lay with harlot and killed her. Her ornaments can be found in such a room of his house."
"Is this true, Senaka?" the king demanded.
"It is true, My Lord," the defeated man said. And the king ordered him cast into prison.
Mahosadha then told of Pukkusa's leprosy, Kavinda's possession, and Devinda's theft of the jewel. In each case, the man confessed and was hauled away.
The young sage then recited the following verse:
"A secret kept is all times good; a secret told is none.
"The wise will keep a purchase close until the deal is done.
"A secret must be guarded close, just like the richest treasure.
"For idle tongues may pass it on and tell it out at leisure.
"The one to whom a secret's told is then the teller's master,
"To cross him who the secret holds can lead to great disaster!
"As many as a secret know, so many are the worries,
"Lest out of one or other's lips the sacred secret scurries!"
The king's anger grew greater as Mahosadha spoke; to think that those traitors had accused such a wise, gentle youth of being a traitor himself! He gave orders for the four to be whipped publicly and driven out of the city, but once again the young man in his compassion convinced the king to be lenient, and the king commuted their sentence: the four older men were to become slaves to the Bodhisattva.
Of course he set them free at once.
Then the king ordered their banishment, but Mahosadha prevailed again.
At last, the story says, they were restored to their old positions, "like snakes with their teeth pulled and their poison gone."
And here, though there is much more to tell, we will leave off the story of Mahosadha, "Great Remedy," the young sage, and the Bodhisattva who in a subsequent life was to become the Buddha.
--------
And that, you may have guessed, is that. Until next time, may you and your loved ones and all sentient beings be well and happy.
Adios, Amigos!
GET MORE:
Find this and all past issues of the Newsletter online at Substack.
If you have any problems reading the Newsletter, please write to me at TheTempleGuy@GMail.com, and I'll help you in any way I can!
In the next episode: Around a temple's courtyard