Not long after I returned to Mahasarakham to continue my teaching career, I discovered that children of Isan or northeast Thailand did not like to speak in their own local dialects. I was alarmed because if they do not speak now, it will be too late. The language may disappear or die out altogether. Besides the language, other rituals and customs associated with language may disappear as well. Thus, I began my storytelling project aiming to engender pride in local language and culture among people of all walks of life, particularly the young children. It became a three-year project beginning in 1995 and ending in 1998. At the onset of the project we had no grant to support us, but a Fulbright visiting scholar. We were lucky to get Dr. Margaret Read MacDonald, a folklorist, a specialist in children’s literature, a librarian, and an internationally known storyteller. We trained 20 students to collect and adapt folktales for performance and to tell stories in the local dialects that they are familiar with.  Later, we received some financial support from the James W. H. Thompson Foundation to help with students’ per diem during the visits to all provincial schools in Isan (northeast Thailand). We took the university students to each school and gave storytelling-theater performances in local dialects. Then we gave workshops to teachers so that they could teach and train their elementary school students to tell stories or to collect stories. We gave them a year interval. On our second visit, we asked the teachers to select one student from each class to tell stories to us. Students who could not speak local dialects became interested. We gave partial financial support to the best storyteller and the best story collector in each school to attend our storytelling camp in the summer of 1997. We received partial support from the James W. H. Thompson Foundation for this camp. As part of my job of teaching English, I also offered a course on storytelling in English for English majors and in other dialects for students of other majors. Each year we have had at least ten trained storytellers to help us in giving storytelling performances, workshops, and camps. As a result of the course and with the help of Dr. Margaret Read MacDonald, we brought some students to the United States to tell stories in English during university breaks. We received funding from the John F. Kennedy Foundation of Thailand for the first group of students. For the second group, the students’ parents paid for their trips.  

After the project was over, I continued storytelling activities that had been part of the original project such as storytelling tours to schools, an annual storytelling festival and contest, annual workshops for teachers and other interested people, and storytelling camps for children and parents. In doing all these activities, we continued calling attention to the preservation of local dialects and literature. Some participants have been quite helpful to us. They would locate traditional storytellers in their communities for us. Then, we would go out to collect stories.   After awhile we would sort out some of these stories and adapt some for further storytelling performances.  Among these stories, we found many types such as fairy tales, legends, tricksters tales, fables, elaborate tales, tales of magic, cumulative tales, Jataka tales, and so on.  One of the storytellers that we interviewed was Phra Inta Kaweewong from Wat Sa-ahdsombun in Roi-Et.  At first, we thought most of his stories were folktales in general, but later we realized that many of them were Buddhist Jataka tales.  Thus, I became interested in more of these tales as they are appropriate to adapt for general audiences. 

The word Jataka is a Pali word (in Thai and Lao, it is called chadok) referring to the “life stories of the Buddha.”   These stories were believed to be told by the Buddha to illustrate certain moral points in his sermons.  Later, when his disciples recorded them in the collection called the Dhamma or Buddhist teachings, the lives of some of Buddha’s followers were included.   In Thailand and Laos, the Jataka tales are divided into five categories—nibat chadok,atthakatha chadok, dika chadok, panyaat chadok, and chadok mala.³ 

Nibat Chadok refers to stories in the Tripitaka (the Three Baskets of Dhamma- the Buddhist Scriptures, Book 27 and 28).  Nibat means Pali verse in theTripitaka.  Each nibat consists of sections and each section consists of Jataka tales.  There are a total of 547 tales in the Nibat Chado.⁴ 

Atthakatha Chadok refers to stories recorded one thousand years after the Buddha’s attainment of nirvana.  The stories were written in prose to explain certain Pali verses from the 547 tales in the Nibat Chadok.  Some of these stories were completely new and some were explanations or elaboration of short and unclear stories from the Nibat Chadok.  There are 547 stories in this collection as well.   

Dika Chadok refers to a collection of explanatory notes in simple Pali, comparing and contrasting the stories from the first two types and explaining Pali grammatical notes.   

Panyaat Chadok refers to prose stories in 50 sets of palm leaf manuscripts composed in Khmer by monks from Chiang Mai in northern Thailand .  These stories are not the Jataka tales in the Buddhist Scriptures.   Stories in this collection are mostly local folktales as well as folktales from Egypt and Persia.  The monks that related the stories made them sound like the Jataka tales for teaching purposes.    

Chadok Mala are the Mahayana Buddhist Jataka tales translated from Sanskrit texts.  Most of the stories have little details on the association of characters to the persons in the Buddha’s lifetime.  These stories were composed to be parts of sermons for teaching.  Stories in this collection are about various classes of people (high, middle, and low class), describing their ways of life, their clothing, beliefs, and customs.  Some of these stories are used to help solve daily problems in people’s lives as well.  There are altogether 34 stories; 27 of which are the same as those in the 547 stories in the Buddhist Scripture and 7 are new stories with no sources. 

The Jataka tales, no matter which types they are, were told, retold, and composed for one common purpose, to teach.   The Buddha, one of the world’s greatest teachers, once described his Dhamma teaching methodology as the four stages of lotus flower.  Each stage is compared to the level of human intelligence.  The approach to teaching whatever subject matter depends on the level of intelligence of each person. The first group is lotus flowers above the water; they are compared to the most intelligent group of people. In the teaching of the Dhamma, there is no need for any further explanation or illustration.  The Buddha could only give a few lines in Pali and they would be understood thoroughly.  The second group is the lotus flowers about to emerge from the water; they are compared to relatively intelligent people. There is need for further explanation.   In his teaching to this group of people, the Buddha might give the Pali text with some explanation.  The third group is the lotus flowers submerged in the water; they are compared to average people.  There is need for further explanation plus illustrations. And finally those flowers under the mud are compared to the people with little intelligence; there is no need to teach them. They will become the prey of fish and turtles.  

From the Buddha’s analysis of human intelligence, I assume that “the illustrations” refer to stories he told to make his teaching points clear. Thus, we are grateful that there were quite a few average people in his time; otherwise, we might not have these great stories to tell.   Indeed, the Jataka book is one of the world’s oldest and largest collection of folk tales.   However, when the Buddha gave illustrations, he would state that these were stories from his past lives. Thus, they are his life stories which have been called Jataka or chadok. The Buddha’s disciples later retold these stories in their sermons and teachings. More stories may have been added to the original collections to convince people to follow the teachings.  Thus, we have the many types of Jataka tales as mentioned earlier.   In the five hundred some stories, the Buddha was born a man, a good spirit, or one of the higher animals, and he is usually the hero of the story.  In each of his past life stories, the Buddha was called “the future Buddha or the Bodisat.”    In the last ten lives before he was born as the historical Buddha, the Buddha was born a noble prince or king, accumulating the highest virtues befitting the Buddhahood.  In these ten lives (Phra Te-mii, Phra Chanok, Suwannasarm, Nemiiraj, Phra Mahosot, Phuritat, Chandra Kumarn, Narort, Witoon, and Phra Wetsandorn), there are many more sub-stories within the ten tales.⁵ 

An example is the story called Jitjun, the Clever Turtle of Yamuna which is an episode in the story of Phurithat Jataka.  King Brahmadatta of Banares appointed his only son the second king.  After awhile he became suspicious that his son would overthrow him.  Thus, he sent his son in exile in the forest where he became an ascetic.  A naga maid named Manwika fell in love with the prince and they became husband and wife bearing two children, Prince Sakhon Brahmadatta and Princess Samutcha.   After King Brahmadatta died, the noblemen and ministers of Banares came to invite the Prince to king of Banares.   Manwika Naga decided to return to her Naga city and the Prince and his two children returned to Banares. One day when Prince Sakhon Brahmadatta and Princess Samutcha were playing near the lotus pond, a turtle emerged from the water and frightened the two royal children.  The king was so infuriated that he ordered his ministers to punish the turtle.  Each minister would suggest a way to punish the turtle, but the turtle would speak bravely that none of the punishment would hurt him.  When one of the minister who could not swim suggested that they throw the turtle and drown him, the turtle jumped up and pretended to be so scared.  So, they threw the turtle in the Yamuna River.  So the turtle was safe, but he swam down deep in the Naga city and created another mischief that caused Princess Samutcha to be married to a naga king, Thatarot who bore four sons and one of them was the Bodisat called Prince Phurithat.  And the main plot of the the story of Phurithat Jataka continues.

As the Buddha retold the Jataka tales, he was actually telling stories.  Thus, storytelling and the Jataka tales have been closely related since the stories were first retold. 

  Once King Brahmadatta of Banares was very talkative.  He was so talkative that none of his ministers could give any advice or suggestions.  Thus the story of “The Talkative Turtle” or “Kacchapa Jataka” was told to him

An example is the story called Jitjun, the Clever Turtle of Yamuna which is an episode in the story of Phurithat Jataka.  King Brahmadatta of Benares appointed his only son the second king.  After awhile, the king suspected that his son would overthrow him.  Thus, he exiled his son to the forest where he became an ascetic.  A naga maid named Manwika fell in love with the prince and they became husband and wife bearing two children, Prince Sakhon Brahmadatta and Princess Samutcha.   After King Brahmadatta died, the noblemen and ministers of Benares came to invite the Prince to become king of Benares. Manwika Naga decided to return to her Naga city and the Prince and his two children returned to Benares.  

One day when Prince Sakhon Brahmadatta and Princess Samutcha were playing near the lotus pond, a turtle emerged from the water and frightened the two royal children.  The king was so infuriated that he ordered his ministers to punish the turtle.  Each minister suggested a way to punish the turtle, but the turtle would speak bravely that none of the punishments would hurt him.  When one of the ministers who could not swim suggested that they throw the turtle and drown him, the turtle jumped up and pretended to be very scared.  So, they threw the turtle into the Yamuna River.  So the turtle was safe, but he swam down to the Naga city and created another mischief that caused Princess Samutcha to be married to a naga king, Thatarot with whom she bore four sons. One of the sons became the Bodisat called Prince Phurithat.  And the main plot of the story of the Phurithat Jataka continues. 

As the Buddha retold the Jataka tales, he was actually telling stories.  Thus, storytelling and the Jataka tales have been closely related since the stories were first retold. 

Besides retelling the Jataka tales to teach certain moral points to average people to clarify his teachings, the Buddha also retold stories to teach high rank people without embarrassing them.    

Once King Brahmadatta of Benares was very talkative.  He was so talkative that none of his ministers could give any advice or suggestions.  Thus the story of “The Talkative Turtle” or “Kacchapa Jataka” was told to him.⁶ In this story, a turtle and the two swans were friends.  One day, the two swans invited the turtle to visit their home in a far away land.  The turtle wondered how he could go there without wings.  The two swans told him, “We can take you, if you will only hold your tongue and say nothing to anybody.”  The two swans had the turtle bite the middle of a stick. Then, they took the two ends of the stick and flew up into the air.  Then, some villagers called out, “Look, two swans are carrying a turtle!”  The turtle did not like this so he called out to them, “If my friends choose to carry me, what is it to you, you wretched slaves!”  Then, the turtle fell and split in two!  Once, the king heard the story, he refrained from talking too much, and “became a man of few words.”⁷

The Buddha also told stories from his past life to relate relevant events in his lifetime.   For example, once the Buddha’s cousin, Devatta, wanting to harm the Buddha by feeding alcohol to a bull elephant, and then releasing it to charge at the Buddha.  Ananda, the Buddha’s most faithful disciple, threw himself between the Buddha and the elephant.   But the Buddha was able to subdue the elephant and save Ananda’s life.  After the incident, the Buddha related a similar story that had happened in his past life about the Great Golden Geese.⁸

Once King Samyama and Queen Khema reigned in Benares.  Queen Khema had a dream that she saw two gold-colored geese.  She wanted to see them in real life so she told the king about this.  The king at once ordered his hunter to catch the geese.  After he patiently observed the golden geese, the hunter was able to trap the Goose King with a snare.  The other geese including the Goose King’s captain flew away.  When the captain realized that the Goose King was trapped, he returned to stand near his king.  The hunter was surprised to see that only one goose was trapped, but there were two geese awaiting their fate.   Then, the captain told him that the trapped goose was his king and he would not leave.   He said to the hunter, “You must not take him.  I too am gold-colored.  If you desire his feathers, take mine; if you want to tame him, tame me instead; if you wish to make money, make it by selling me.  He is my king and I serve him.  I cannot leave him to face an evil fate alone while I fly to safety.”  The hunter was in awe and raising “his joined hands to his forehead in respect, he stood joyously proclaiming the virtues of the two birds.”  He decided to free the Goose King.   Then, the captain asked why the hunter caught the Goose King.   The hunter told them that he received an order from the king.  So, the captain suggested that the hunter take them to the king so that the hunter could receive honor and fortune in return.  Once there, the hunter told the king about what had happened.   Then king welcomed the two geese and gave treasures to the hunter.  Then the king asked the goose captain to give a sermon to the assembly, but the goose captain said he was only a servant and could not give a sermon “when to my left sits my king, wise and virtuous of character and beautiful to behold, while on my right sits the mighty King of Benares.”  The king understood that the captain was “an example of loyalty and service” to his lord.  Then, the king of Benares “begged the bird to preach his wisdom to the gathering.”  After the sermon, the king let the birds go. 

After telling the story, the Buddha related that the hunter was Channa, his companion, that the king of Benares was his disciple, Sariputta, and that Queen Khema was the nun with the same name.  His chief companion, the goose captain, was Ananda.  “Both . . . had shown his loyalty and his willingness to sacrifice himself for the Buddha.” 

After the time of the Buddha, his disciples have told Jataka tales of all types to explain moral points as well.    Later these stories are told to convince listeners to follow proper conduct or behavior appropriate to each community. Of course, these stories are entertaining as well as didactic and that is why they work.   In the family, parents tell these stories to teach their children to behave properly.   In schools, teachers tell these stories for disciplinary reasons.   

Some of these stories have been embedded in rituals.  One example is the story of the previous life of the Buddha as the Vessantara prince. 9  As the Prince was a selfless giver, the recitation of the story is implicitly persuading the participants to be selfless givers as well. In Thailand, Laos, Burma and Cambodia, the recitation of Prince Vessantara is the main Buddhist festival of the year. Festivities center on its recitation by monks. In Thai, the story is known as Mahachad, ‘the Great Jataka’, and the main religious festival is calledBun Phra Wet (Phra Wet = Vessantara).  The recitation of the story starts early in the morning and ends at about eight in the evening and must be completed within one day.   First, there is a sermon on the battle with Mara, the god of death and desire, followed by a recitation of a thousand verses of Pali text. Pali verse is chanted by a monk (or monks). Then the audience throws puffed rice at the Buddha image installed in the public prayer hall. Then the monks ‘translate’ the sacred Pali text into comprehensible Thai. As the monks are reading the story, people donate some money to the temple. The money is used to repair the temple or to get necessary supplies for the temple.  The festival usually takes place in March during the dry season which is also the hottest time of the year. The symbolism of the water-giving powers of Vessantara’s magic albino elephant has a special potency at this time of year when farmers wait in anticipation for the life-giving rains and their return to planting rice in rain-soaked fields. The back- ground information for this explanation is taken fromBun Phra Wet in Laos.¹⁰

As mentioned earlier, the Jataka tales have been a great resource for storytellers all over the world.  In storytelling, it is our duty to be responsible for what stories we tell as these stories are so effective and long-lasting in listeners’ minds and ways of life. Thus, stories that we tell must be appropriate to tell to a general audience, both young and old. Most of the time, Jataka tales are our most convenient choices.  However, if we choose any story from the Scripture to tell, we must tell it with respect.  Other stories, that have been adapted or localized, we can tell in fun and more lively manners. 

Some Jataka stories have been changed depending on the places and people who tell them.  For example the Jataka tale of the Talkative Turtle told by people in northeast Thailand and Laos is quite different from the one from the original story. 

    The Swans and the Turtle¹¹

Once a couple of swans, a husband and a wife, sighted a pond full of fish.  So, they flew down to have some fish, not knowing that a turtle was guarding the pond.

“Why are you eating fish in my pond without asking for my permission?”  asked the turtle.

“Oh, does this pond belong to you?”  asked the swans.

“Yes, I have been guarding this pond for along time,” said the turtle.

“We are so sorry. We thought nobody owned this pond,” apologized the swans.

“Since, this pond belongs to you, may we have some fish in your pond?”   politely asked the swans.

“Now that you asked, you may have some fish in this pond.” said Turtle.

After that, the swans visited the turtle everyday.  Soon they became fast friends.  One day the swans thought they would do something nice for the turtle in return for sharing fish with them. 

“Friend Turtle, we appreciate your sharing the fish with us.   We would like to do something nice for you in return.   Is there anything we can do for you?”

The turtle always had a dream that he could travel in the air and enjoy looking at the scenery from a different angle.  So he said, “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” said the swans.

“I dream that I could fly high in the air and enjoy the scenery below,” the turtle told his friends.

“Oh, that is not a problem for us.  We can help you fly,” said the swans.

“How?  I don’t have wings like you. I have this heavy shell on my back with these four short legs,” said the turtle. 

So, the swans explained, “Well, we can get a good size stick and hold on to the two ends with our beaks.  You could bite hard on the middle.  Then, you can fly with us.”

The turtle could hardly wait to fly with the swans. 

“Yes, let’s go, let do that now,” he said.

The swans held on tight to the two ends of the stick and the turtle bit hard in the middle.

Before the swans took off, they said to their friend.

“Friend Turtle, be sure to keep biting on the stick. Don’t ever open your mouth no matter what happens.  Or, you may fall onto the ground.  And we won’t be able to help you.”

“Yes, I promise not to open my mouth,” said the turtle. 

So, the swans flapped their wings and slowly lifted the turtle in the air. 

The turtle looked down and saw the pond getting smaller and smaller.

He was so happy, but he kept his mouth shut.

He saw the top of the trees for the first time in his life.

He was so happy, but he kept his mouth shut.

“Oh, this is so much fun.  I can’t wait to tell my other turtle friends that I CAN FLY.”

He was so happy, but he kept his mouth shut. 

As they flew past a ricefield, they saw a boy and a girl walking their buffaloes to graze on grass in the ricefield.  The boy looked up and saw . . . 

he pointed up and alerted his friend to look up.

“Look two swans are carrying a turtle,” he said.

The girl looked up and said, “No, a turtle is carrying two swans.”

“No, two swans are carrying a turtle,” the boy insisted.

“Can’t you see a turtle is carrying two swans!” she said. 

When the turtle heard what the argument was about, he thought,

“Yes, the girl is right. TURTLE IS CARRYING TWO SWANS.”

He was so proud of himself, but he kept his mouth shut. 

But then the boy’s voice came loud and clear.

“No, two swans are carrying a turtle,” said the boy, pointing up.

The turtle’s pride was hurt so he opened his mouth to argue with the boy. 

“Turtle is carrying two swans . . .”  

Turtle’s body smashed onto the ground.  Turtle’s blood and guts went all over and it splashed on the boy’s armpit as he was pointing.

“Oh, this smells bad.”  The boy tried to wash and scrub his armpit, but no matter how hard he scrubbed and washed, the smell was still there. 

The girl did not get it as badly as the boy. 

Since then boy’s or men’s armpits smell and the smell is called 0uhg8jk (khi tao)which means . . . “turtle’s excrement.”  

Girl’s or women’s armpits do not smell as bad, at least this is true in northeast Thailand and Laos. 

The last set of the Jataka tales are those that are not in any Buddhist Scriptures or in the five types mentioned above, yet the tellers claim that they are the Buddha’s birth stories.   One example of this type of Jataka tale is found inPhya Khankhaak, or the Toad King ¹³ 

which is a Thai/Lao fertility myth, celebrating “the battle victory of a human king, Phya Khankhaak” over the highest god, Phya Thaen, to bring peace and prosperity to all creatures in the universe.    

At the beginning the teller makes a claim that Phya Khankhaak, the Toad Kingis a Buddhist Jataka tale by saying:  

Babbit, Ellen C., Jataka Tales; Animal Stories, illustrations by Ellsworth Young. New York,
Appleton-Century [c1912]

________. More Jataka Tales, illustrations by Ellsworth Young. New York: The Century co., 1922.

Jones, John Garrett. Tales and teachings of the Buddha : the Jataka Stories in Relation to the Pali Canon,  London ; Boston : G. Allen & Unwin, 1979.

Khan, Noor Inayat. Twenty Jataka Tales, illustrated by H. Willebeek Le Mair. Rochester, Vt. : Inner Traditions International : Distributed to the book trade in the U.S. by
American International Distribution Corporation, [1991].

Wray, Elizabeth, and others, Ten Lives of the Buddha; Siamese Temple Paintings and Jataka Tales, New York: Weatherhill [1972].

       7.  Ibid., p.  (to be checked)

        8.  Carl W. Ernst, The Golden Goose King, Chapel Hill, NC: Parvardigar Press, 1995

        9. The Perfect Generosity of Prince Vessantara:  A Buddhist Epic.  Cone, Margaret and Richard F. Gombrich, trans.  Oxford: Clarendon Press. 1977.  Here is the summary of the story ofPrince Vessantara.

The story takes place in India, the source of the original story. In brief, it is about a prince, Wetsandorn in Thai, Vessantara in Pali. Prince Vessantara is the son and heir of Sanjaya, King of the Sivis, and of Queen Phusati. The prince lives in the capital with his wife Maddi (Matsi in Thai) and their small son and daughter. His generosity is unique. He owns a magic white elephant that guarantees plentiful rain, important in an agrarian economy. But he gives it away to a brahmin emissary from another kingdom, which enrages the citizens. They compel King Sanjay to force Prince Vessantara and his wife, Maddi, who insists on accompanying him and their children, to go into exile. Before leaving, the prince gives away all of his possessions, making the “gift of the seven hundreds’. After a long journey on foot, they reach a spot in the mountains, where they settle down. Husband and wife make a vow to live in chastity. Shortly, a vile old brahmin (a member of India’s highest caste) by the name of Jujaka, who is nagged at home by his young wife demanding that he find her servants, arrives to ask Vessantara for his two children. He gives them up in another act of detached generosity while his wife is off gathering food in the forest. In one of the most touching scenes in the narrative, Maddi swoons in grief upon learning of the loss of her children. (This is one of the reasons the story is so popular among women.) The next morning the king of the gods, Sakka (Indra) is afraid that Vessantara will next give away his wife and be left completely alone. So he comes in the disguise of a brahmin and asks for her, only to give her back immediately. Having received her back as a gift, Vessantara is no longer allowed by social convention to dispose of her. Subsequently, Jujaka and the children come to the court of King Sanjaya, where he ransoms his grandchildren and Jujaka, much to the delight of the listener, dies of gluttony. The king takes his retinue to the mountains and invites Vessantara and Maddi to return, and they do so in a grand procession. As in all traditional Indian stories, the story has a happy ending. The family is reunited, all of Prince Vessantara’s possessions are returned to him, and they all live happily ever after.

For more information on the story of Prince Vessantara and the use of the classic epic in modern Thai literature, please go to the following site:

http://www.seasite.niu.edu/Thai/literature/sridaoruang/matsii/matsii2.htm

      10.  Photo by Bounhome Vongdavanh and story by P. Phouangsaba, “Boun Phravet Festival” in  Visiting Muang Lao Magazine,   July-August 1999, p. 19.

      11.  A Jataka tale adapted from the version by Phra Inta Kaweewong from Roi-et, retold in English by Wajuppa Tossa and Prasong Saihong.

When this Jataka story is told by a famous American storyteller, Dianne Ferret, at the annual storytelling festival in Joneborough in Tennessee in October 1998, it was the story of Turtle and Eagles.

       12. Turtle of Koka was retold by Margaret Read MacDonald in Folktales and Storytelling by Wajuppa Tossa and Margaret Read MacDonald, Mahasarakham, Thailand: Aphichatkanphim, 1996.

      13.  Phya Khankhaak, the Toad King, p. 31.

       14.  Phya Khankhaak, the Toad King, p. 35.

       15.  Phya Khankhaak, the Toad King, p. 115.

       16.  Phya Khankhaak, the Toad King, p. 134.

       17.  Folktales and Storytelling,  p.   56.

       18. This version of the verse was composed by Wajuppa Tossa in Folktales and Storyteling,  pp. 54-56.   The original version of the story is from Phra Ariyanuwat Khemajari, Phya Khankhaak, 1970.

SANCHI   STUPA

An Appeal - Many of the Indian artists mentioned on this site live in poverty. Even with the recognition they have received, most have not been able to find a place for themselves in the art market. The artists with the greatest needs are Ganesh, Teju and their children. They have no home to speak of and at times do not have money even for food. It may be impossible for most Westerners to truly comprehend the poverty that is their reality. You can help, simply by purchasing their work. I can arrange this and all the money will go directly to the artists.If you would like to collect their work, contact me at the e-mail listed on my profile.

In northeastern Thailand, there is a tradition of scroll painting on fabric illustrating the Jataka Tales. These morality stories are of the previous lives of Buddha before he was born for the last time to become the Buddha.

Due to tradition and climate issues, it is difficult to see scrolls that are over 50 years old. Scrolls were replaced when damaged or would be discarded (at times, burnt) when new ones were commissioned as gifts to a temple. 

These scrolls are remarkable in their diversity of execution and hand. In a country with so many people trained to conserve and restore temple wall paintings, it is interesting to see that often these scrolls were the work of artists not instructed in a more formal manner.

Jataka Tales scrolls are often extremely long, at times over thirty feet in length and on average, three and a half feet wide. Many older works have not survived intact and it is common to see only fragments.

The examples on this page are of several different scroll fragments, presented to show the range of artistic style.

http://www.buddha-images.com/10jatakas.asp

The Temiya Jataka -
Temiya confirms his strenght by lifting a chariot.

When the long procession of horse-drawn carriages came to a halt, the royal pair found their son living in a hut of leaves prepared for him by Sakka. They saw that he had already put on an ascetic’s garments of red bark and leopard skin, a black antelope skin over one shoulder and a carrying pole over the other. His hair was tied up and matted, and he held a walking staff in one hand. Temiya welcomed them and explained to them the reasons for his sixteen years of self-denial. In awe of their son, they no longer begged him to wear the crown but were themselves inspired to embrace the holy life. Returning to the palace, the king ordered the royal treasure jars to be opened and the gold to be scattered about like sand. Sakka built for the entire kingdom a hermitage three leagues long, so that all who aspired to Nirvana could partake of the meditative life.

There was a king, Mahajanaka, of Mithila in the kingdom of Videha. He had two sons, Aritthajanaka and Polajanaka. When the old king died, the elder brother, Aritthajanaka, became king, and the younger brother his viceroy. In time the new king became suspicious of his brother’s popularity with the people and, fearful for his throne, had Polajanaka put in chains. But when Polajanaka proclaimed his innocence, miraculously his chains fell off and he was able to escape to a small village near the frontier of the kingdom. Since he was a strong leader, he attracted many followers.
In time he decided to take his revenge by declaring war on King Aritthajanaka. Before Aritthajanaka went to battle with his brother, he made his pregnant wife promise that should he be killed, she would flee from Mithila in order to protect the unborn child.

Scene from the Mahajanaka Jataka.

When she heard of the king’s death at the hand of his brother, Polajanaka, she gathered her gold and jewels into a basket and covered them with rice. She put on some worn and dirty garments and blackened her face with soot so that she would not be recognized. Then, lifting the basket onto her head, she went unnoticed out of the city by the northern gate. Now, the child in the fleeing queen’s womb was to be a Great Being, or Bodhisatta, and the attention of Sakka, king of the gods, was drawn to the queen’s plight. He therefore attired himself as an old man driving a carriage. On arriving at the queen’s side, he asked her where she was bound. She had in mind to go to the city of Kalacampa, sixty leagues away, but did not know the way. The disguised god offered to take her there, and after entering the carriage, the queen fell into a heavy sleep. By nightfall the carriage had reached the edge of Kalacampa. When the amazed queen asked how they could have reached the city so soon, Sakka told her that he had come by a straight road known only to the gods, then departed.

In Kalacampa, the unrecognized queen was observed by a northern Brahmin teacher of great fame. When he asked who she might be, she told him, “The chief queen of King Aritthajanaka of Mithila, lately killed in battle. I have come here in order to save the life of my unborn child.”
The Brahmin invited her to live in his house, saying that he would watch over her as if she were his younger sister. The queen agreed, and a short time later she gave birth to a son, whom she called after his grandfather Mahajanaka. He grew into a strong and sturdy child. However, he was often teased by his playmates and called “the widow’s son,” which name brought questions to his mind regarding his paternity. One day he went to his mother, threatening to bite off her breasts if she did not tell him who his father was. She was forced to reveal to him the secret of his birth-that he was the son of the former king of Mithila.

When the boy reached the age of sixteen, he determined to regain his father’s kingdom. He told his mother of his plan and she offered to give him her gold and jewels, which were sufficient to win back the kingdom. But he took only half of her gift, wishing to make his fortune in trade. She was alarmed for his safety, warning him of the dangers of the sea, but he was deaf to her words. After purchasing some goods for trading, he boarded a vessel bound for Suvannabhumi, the golden land of the east. On that day his uncle Polajanaka, king of Mithila, fell ill.

The Mahajanaka Jataka -
Mahajanaka suffers a shipwreck.

Crowded on board were the men and animals from seven large caravans. After seven days of plunging through the heavy seas at top speed, the overloaded ship began to founder. Planks broke off, and the water rose higher and higher. Mahajanaka, knowing that the ship was sinking, did not panic. He prepared himself for the ordeal by eating a full meal, covered himself with sugar and ghee to protect himself from the water, then tied himself to the mast. When the ship went down, men and animals were devoured by the sharks and fierce turtles that infested the ocean, but the mast remained upright. Mahajanaka with his superior strength was able to throw himself a far distance from the ship, thus escaping the fate of the other passengers. On that day Polajanaka died, leaving the throne of Mithila vacant.

The Mahajanaka Jataka -
Notice that the crew includes some foreigners, a common feature in Thai mural paintings.

Mahajanaka floated in the ocean for seven days, taking no food. During this time the goddess Manimekhala was enjoying the pleasures of heaven, neglecting her duties as guardian of the seas. At last she spied him and recognized that he was not an ordinary mortal. She took him in her arms, and Mahajanaka, thrilled by the touch of the goddess, fell into a trance. She flew with him to a mango grove in the kingdom of Mithila, where she laid him on his right side on a ceremonial stone in the middle of the grove.

The Mahajanaka Jataka -
Mahajanaka is saved by the Goddess Manimekhala.

From his deathbed, the king of Mithila had told his ministers that to find a man worthy of being king, they must look for one who could answer certain riddles, who could string the king’s powerful bow, and who could please his daughter, the beautiful and intelligent Princess Sivali. There were many candidates for the throne. Each one, in an effort to win Sivali, obeyed her every whim. The more they tried to please her, the more she scorned them and sent them away. Moreover, not one had the wit to answer the riddles or the strength to string the royal bow.

At last the ministers decided to send out the festive chariot to see if they could find a successor to Polajanaka. They decorated the city, yoked four noble steeds to the handsome carriage, and bade the musicians follow behind as is proper when a royal chariot is empty. Then they ordered the carriage to lead them to the one who had sufficient merit to be king of Mithila. Followed by a great crowd, it took them through the city to the eastern gate and onward to the park where Mahajanaka lay sleeping. After circling the stone, the chariot came to a stop. The ministers observed the sleeping prince and examined his feet, whereby they recognized the signs of royalty. Indeed, they saw that he was not only a future king but also destined to be emperor of four continents. They commanded the musicians to sound their instruments. At the noise, Mahajanaka awoke. Seeing all the people around him, he recognized that the white umbrella of kingship had come to him. He asked where the king might be. When told that he had died, he agreed to accept the kingdom.

Meanwhile, Princess Sivali was waiting. However, when the new king arrived he did not visit her or pay her any attention. One day when he was strolling in the garden, she could bear his indifference no longer. Running up to offer him her arm to lean on, she showed that he pleased her. Shortly thereafter she became his queen.

King Mahajanaka answered the riddles with ease. He was also able through his great strength to string the bow of King Polajanaka, so that he fulfilled all the conditions for becoming king. Wisely and well he ruled for seven thousand years. His wife Sivali bore him a son and heir to the throne.
One day the king was riding through his kingdom with his ministers when he observed two mango trees. The one that had been full of mangoes was broken and torn by the people who had come to pick the fruit, while the other, though barren, stood green and whole. Thus he came to understand that possessions bring only sorrow, and he determined to put aside his kingdom and take up the life of an ascetic. After shaving his head and putting on the robes of a hermit, he departed from the palace. But Queen Sivali, who loved him, followed him with great retinue. Wherever he went, she was behind him. At last he could bear it no longer. He cut a stalk of grass and said to her, “As this reed cannot be joined again, so you and I can never be joined again.”
At his words, Sivali fell down to earth. While the courtiers were attending to her, Mahajanaka disappeared into the forest. When the queen awoke, she could find him nowhere. He was never again seen in the world of men, for he found his way to the Himavat forest and eventually entered the Brahma heaven.
The despairing queen returned to Mithila and arranged for the coronation of her son. Having settled the affairs of the kingdom, she herself donned the robes of a hermit, and after many years she too was deemed worthy of entrance into the kingdom of the gods.

The Mahajanaka Jataka -
Mahajanaka looks up to his saviour, the Goddess Manimekhala.

Unless otherwise specified, all images from Wat Yai Intharam, Chonburi

Two villages were situated on opposite banks of a river dividing the Kingdom of Benares. Their hunter chiefs, friends throughout the years, betrothed their infant children to each other shortly after their birth. Now, these two were not like other children. Both were born with skins of golden hue. And although they were surrounded by hunters, they refused to harm any living creature. They had a special destiny, for they had to replace with purity and goodness an evil carried with them from a former life. At that time, many lives ago, they had been born into the family of a doctor who, angered by a rich patient’s refusal to pay his fee for curing the eye disease, gave him some medicine which took away the sight of one eye. Though the evil was done by the head of the household, the children of the family also had to do penance. Thus it was that, once they were born into families of hunters and betrothed, they felt obliged to live as ascetics and deny themselves all pleasures of the senses. In vain each begged his parents to forgo the marriage. They were married against their will, but secretly determined to live as brother and sister.

Dukulaka, as the boy was called, and Parika, the girl, unwilling to hunt or partake of the comforts of their parents’ dwelling, were allowed to go into the forest and live in an hermitage where they led lives of meditation and purity. Although Sakka helped them with their small needs, he was uneasy, for he knew that their past had not yet been washed clean. Sakka foresaw that a grave misfortune was to strike them. He tried to convince them that they would have to bear a son in order to be assured of someone to care for them when affliction struck. “Never,” they said. “Impossible.” For this was not the way of asceticism. At last Sakka persuaded them that a pure conception could take place if, at the proper time, Dukulaka placed one finger on his wife’s navel.

So it was that the Bodhisatta was reborn into the world of men. But it was not quite a human world. As the ascetics came and went, looking for berries and nuts in the forest, it was a graceful kinnaris who looked after Suvannasama, or Sama, as the Bodhisatta was named at birth. This holy life could only have taken place in the Himavat forest, below the peaks that reach into the very palaces of the gods in Sakka’s heaven. And yet, its inhabitants were not immune to danger. When Sama was sixteen, as predicted, a misfortune befell his parents. As they were making their way home after a day of gathering fruits, it suddenly began to rain. Taking shelter at the roots of a tree, they unwittingly stood on an anthill under which a poisonous snake resided. As they huddled there, drops of their sweat fell onto the snake and he was angered. So he puffed out his deadly breath at them and blinded them instantly.

From this time onward their son, whom they grew to cherish even more than before, was their sole support. Sama tied ropes and bamboo poles in all directions for them to follow. He swept their dwelling clean of leaves and insects, collected their food, fed them succulent fruits, went every day to a pond to fill a waterpot for them. He bathed them and comforted them. He moved about so gently that even the deer, timid of other men, were never afraid of him and accompanied him wherever he went.

The Sama Jataka -
King Piliyakka takes leave from his companions to go hunting in the forest.

One evening, while Sama was fetching the evening’s water in his small round pot, which one of the deer that accompanied him used to carry for him, the king of Benares himself wandered into the forest. While hunting for venison, he had chanced upon a glade near the pond where Sama stood. The king, named Piliyakka, was fascinated by the sight of what appeared to be some divine creature for his ability to tame the animals of the forest. He was consumed with curiosity and the desire to take a trophy home to show his ministers. Envisioning the reception he would enjoy once he returned home with such a prize, Piliyakka in his pride drew back his bow and shot a poisoned arrow into Sama’s side. The deer fled in terror. The waterpot tumbled over. And Sama slowly and gravely sank to the sand. Blood poured from his lips as he spoke aloud, asking who it could be who desired his death and what could be gained by such an act.

The Sama Jataka -
Sama is shot by an arrow in his side by King Piliyakka

King Piliyakka was struck by the absence of blame or anger in Sama’s words and ventured out of concealment. As they talked, the king pretended that he had been aiming at one of the deer rather than at Sama. But Sama knew this to be a lie, and Piliyakka had to admit the truth. Still the boy did not reprimand him. Instead, he grieved aloud for his parents. Who would feed them now? Who would bring them water each day? Who would bathe them? The king was struck with shame. Whereupon he took up the waterpot and promised Sama to care for his parents as if they were his own. Sama then lost consciousness. Piliyakka, thinking he was dead, wailed loudly and paid homage to Sama’s body.

In the meantime, a daughter of the gods who had been Sama’s mother in his seventh incarnation before this one sensed that something had befallen her former son. Convinced that Sama as well as his parents would die if she did not intercede, she proceeded to the scene and, hidden in a tree, spoke to the king, who had already begun to change his mind about caring for Sama’s parents. “O king,” she admonished him. “You have done a grievous thing. Go and nurse the blind parents and your bad deed shall be forgotten. Be charitable of heart and you will attain heaven.”

Inspired by the goddess’s words, Piliyakka set out for the hermitage. There he confessed his crime to Sama’s parents. They were stricken with sorrow and grief. So great was their suffering that their penance, carried with them throughout so many lifetimes, was at that moment ended. Unaware of their renewed purity, they asked merely that the king lead them to their son’s body. The king reluctantly complied.

King Piliyakka informs the parents of Sama of their son’s death. Notice the snake on top (see story)

On reaching their son, the two ascetics knelt down and wept. All past evils having been washed away by their tears, they were able to bring their son back to life. As his mother prayed, Sama’s body slowly turned to one side. As his father took up his mother’s solemn words, he turned to the other side. The goddess, who had witnessed these acts from her hiding place, then revealed herself and profoundly asserted the virtue of Sama. The air was tense. Even the kinnaris who had cared for Sama as a child gathered quietly to wait for a miracle to happen.

Through the night they remained beside him, all minds bent on restoring life to the boy who seemed more a heavenly being than a human. At last Sama stirred, then rose, fully recovered from his injury. At that very moment, dawn broke over the forest and Sama’s mother and father could see with their own eyes Sama’s restoration, for their blindness had ended along with their penance. King Piliyakka, who had come as an intruder into this quiet and pure world, left the site, full of wonder and amazement at the miraculous event he had witnessed. He was unaware to the last that even he had served as an agent of good, for without his cruel act, the devoted son Sama could not have ended his parents’ affliction.

Once there lived a king named Makhadeva, who upon spying his first gray hair told his barber to pluck it out and put it in his hand. When the barber asked him why, he replied solemnly, “This gray hair is a messenger from the heavens. Four and eighty thousand years I have passed as a youth. Four and eighty thousand years I have been king. The time has come for me to renounce my throne and the worldly life, and to live the life of an ascetic eighty-four thousand more years.” True to his word, King Makhadeva handed his kingdom over to his son, charging him to be alert to his first gray hair so that he too could take up the hermit’s life and give the kingdom to his own son. And so it happened. Son after son after son of the line of King Makhadeva reigned until the sign of the first gray hair, then exchanged kingship for asceticism and, like their forefathers, upon death entered the heaven of pure intellect, Brahma’s heaven.

Eighty-four thousand generations minus two passed, and King Makhadeva, from his place in Brahma’s heaven, was pleased that all his descendants had followed his example. Then he pondered, “Will any of us attain Nirvana now?” He perceived that the state of nonbeing was not within the reach of any of his line. This being the case, Makhadeva resolved to round off his family line by coming to earth again as the son of his descendant the present king of Mithila. In this way he would be reborn as a king, bear one more son to whom he would give his throne, and become an ascetic once again. Then, after his death, he would watch his childless son turn to the holy life and finally end the cycle of Makhadeva’s family.

When Makhadeva descended from Brahma’s heaven, he was born as a Bodhisatta, and the soothsayers correctly foresaw that he was meant to round off his family. Hearing this, the king named his newborn son after the hoop of a chariot wheel. The Bodhisatta was called Nilni-Kumara, or Prince Hoop. According to tradition, when his father caught sight of his first gray hair young Prince Nimi became king.

As king, Nimi was faultless, ruling by example, giving alms, caring for the poor as if they were his own kinsmen, and observing in earnest the holy days. Indeed, he inspired many of his people to lead such good lives that upon death they reached the realm of Sakka’s heaven.

The Nimi Jataka -
Matali, the Charioteer, guiding Nimi on his visits to Hell and Heaven.

Now King Nimi, like all truly good men, was not satisfied with himself and yearned to know the answer to one great question: which is more fruitful, the holy life or faithful almsgiving? So strong was his desire to learn the truth that Sakka’s throne became warm and the king of the gods sped in person to Nimi’s chamber. The palace became like a fiery light as Sakka entered and explained : “Good King Nimi, I have come to help answer your question. The holy life, in which a man lives as an ascetic, is by far the more fruitful, for by meditating he can go beyond my heaven, where we gods still have senses and feelings, to Brahma’s heaven, where only the intellect remains, and sometimes beyond that, to Nirvana. Nevertheless, almsgiving to all, regardless of caste, is right and befits a great man and a king such as you, King Nimi.” Without further delay Sakka departed, leaving Nimi pondering his words.

When Sakka reached his home, Tavatimsa heaven, he described at length the good and pious King Nimi to the deities. They were overjoyed to hear of him, for some of them were former subjects of his, and they cried, “Let us see him ! We wish to look upon him again, for at one time from his very own lips we received his teachings, and through his example we attained Godhood.” They persuaded the great Sakka to agree.
And so he ordered the divine chariot to appear and be readied for a journey to earth. Matali the charioteer was called upon to guide the chariot, pulled by one thousand thoroughbred steeds, to earth to bring King Nimi back to heaven to stand before the gods.

On the festival of the full moon, after traveling earthward for many days, the chariot appeared over the city of Mithila in the kingdom of Videha, whose people were still celebrating though it was late at night. Catching sight of the celestial chariot as it shone above their heads in the sky, they marveled at it and wondered what it might be. A second moon? A sign from heaven on this festival day? When they saw that it was a chariot, they realized that it must be Sakka’s own vehicle come to their king, whose righteousness had caught the eye of the gods.

Matali guided the chariot to the eastern window of the palace, where King Nimi was seated contemplating; and as the moon rose in the east, Matali called out, “King Nimi! The deities of Sakka’s heaven are well pleased with you and are longing to see you. I am sent by the King of the Gods himself to escort you to his realm.”

King Nimi accepted graciously, but before entering the chariot, he told his people that he would not be gone long. As they rose into the sky, Matali asked him which road he would like to take first, the one to heaven or the one to hell. Nimi, knowing that whatever befell him, he would always be able to see heaven, chose the road to hell, saying, “Take me first to the bowels of the universe, to hell, where the condemned dwell.”

Matali plunged the chariot into the blackness of the various worlds of hell. Fires blazed, and soon they saw below them the burning River Vetarani, covered with brine that erodes the flesh, emitting the most fetid odors, and filled with struggling sinners. Nimi wept to see such suffering and cried out to Matali, “0 Matali, what did those men do to be cast into such a river?” Matali told him in what ways they had been cruel and how their wrongdoing had begotten other evils.

The Nimi Jataka -
Nimi visits Hell and points to the creatures suffering in it.

Then Matali made this river disappear and summoned the next hell to appear, where misers and men who had been selfish with ascetics and Brahmins were being torn by black dogs, crows, and vultures. Nimi shook and shuddered to see still another hell where those who had tormented other people were being pounded with hot lumps of coal, and another where perjurers and debtors struggled to climb out of a fiery pit. At the sight of the hell where animal haters struggled head-down in iron caldrons filled with boiling water or fire, Nimi was filled with fear and horror.

The Nimi Jataka -
Scene of torture in Hell. Spears and arrows are reserved for thiefs and cheaters.

But Matali was unrelenting. He was determined to show Nimi all the hells : the one where dishonest grain sellers lay prostrate with heat, having been given water which instantly turned to chaff as they drank ; the one where spears and arrows were plunged into the sides of men who had stolen and cheated others; the one where animal slayers were torn to shreds. Farther on, Nimi had to witness malicious men being forced to eat filth and garbage and those who had committed patricide and matricide drinking from a river of blood. Still farther on, greedy hagglers struggled like fish on hooks which pierced their tongues. Adulterous women wailed and waved their arms hopelessly, their upper halves in flames, their lower halves buried in mud. Still others strained endlessly to climb out of hell’s windows, only to fall again and again. And Nimi grieved for them all that their evil deeds had brought them to this.

Meanwhile, the deities in Sakka’s heaven wondered why Nimi was so long in coming. “Matali is wasting Nimi’s lifetime visiting all the hells,” they cried. “Tell him to hurry.” Sakka sent a speedy messenger down to hell. When he finally reached them, he called out to Matali, “Show the king all the hells at once, that this visit be ended straightaway. The gods are impatient and are afraid you are using up Nimi’s lifetime.” Thus Matali opened all the worlds of hell to Nimi’s sight, then turned the chariot heavenward and rushed the shocked Nimi away, his mind dazed by the horrors he had witnessed.

Swiftly the vehicle rose, passing heavenly mansions of great beauty, allowing Nimi to catch brief fragrances of gardens which perfumed the air, to glimpse crystal palaces which sparkled like gems, and to hear strains of cool celestial music sung by sweet nymphs and birds. To Nimi, each heavenly abode seemed more beautiful than the last, and at each he engaged Matali in conversation, asking, “What good did this mortal do in his earthly existence? Who was he that he attained such a celestial state?” Matali explained that the man who lived in seven mansions with his wives had in his lifetime given seven hermitages to seven hermits, that the women who dwelt in palaces of crystal with hundreds of columns, bells and banners, flowers and lakes, had been women who had always kept the holy days. He described how still others, who lived in mansions of gems filled with heavenly musicians playing lutes and singing, had fed holy men and provided their cities with parks and wells.

The Nimi Jataka -
Nimi preaches to the Devas in Tavatimsa Heaven.

See larger version of this picture.

Once again, Matali’s thoroughness in answering Nimi’s questions annoyed the deities in heaven until they pressed Sakka into sending yet another swift messenger to hurry them along. “No more delay,” cried the messenger. “Show Nimi all the heavenly mansions at once.” After Matali opened up the heavens to Nimi’s vision, he urged the horses on faster and faster.Upward the carriage rose, past the seven hills surrounding Mount Sineru, past the heaven of the Four Great Kings, until at last, within sight of the huge statues of Sakka himself that framed the Cittakuta gateway to his heaven, Matali slowed the chariot with its one thousand steeds to a halt. As he led the chariot to a side platform on which he could land, Matali pointed out the eight-sided columns made of rare gems that supported the palace and announced to Nimi, “This is Tavatimsa, the heaven of the thirty-three ; here the gods assemble, all thirty three of them, with their master Sakka, the king, who looks after men and gods alike, permitting some to enter his heaven, others to remain, sending still others to hell. It is a beautyful and most sensual place, 0 King, as you shall see.”

As they alighted, the deities ran to the gateway to greet Nimi with flowers and perfumes. The mighty Sakka begged him to be seated on his own throne and to stay to enjoy the delights of his heaven. Nimi, however, replied that he came not for unearned pleasures but for discussion of the moral precepts. For seven days Nimi charmed the company of heaven with his discourse, and at the end of that time, he again refused Sakka’s invitation to remain. He felt that his people needed him. “Now I must depart,” he said. “My subjects await me.”

The Simi Jataka -
Simi preaches to the Devas - Detail.

Once again the chariot was prepared and Matali summoned. Nimi bade the gods a friendly farewell and began his journey back to Mithila. When the chariot came in view of the city, the people again looked up wonderingly. Then, recognizing their king within it, they cried out with joy. Matali drove the chariot around the city once, put Nimi down at the eastern window of the palace, and departed for Sakka’s realm. As King Nimi the Bodhisatta alighted, his subjects surrounded him and questioned him. Nimi told them of the wonders he had seen and of the peaceful existence of all who dwell in heaven. He also told them of the horrors he had witnessed in the underworld.

“Do good,” he advised them. “Be charitable and of a pure heart, and you shall be reborn someday to such a heaven. Some of this kingdom’s own people did I see there who, having done good in this city, have become deities in Sakka’s heaven. All of you can attain that. But beware of evildoing, for I have seen in the worlds of hell more suffering and torture than my tongue can describe.”

Years later, when the king’s barber showed Nimi his first gray hair, Nimi knew it was time to give his kingdom to his son. From then on, he lived as an ascetic in a mango grove at Mithila and upon his death surpassed Sakka’s heaven to enter the Brahma heaven, where all is mind and wisdom. Thus it was that Nimi, as the Bodhisatta, rounded off King Makhadeva’s line and with the death of his son ended the cycle in the four and eighty thousandth generation.

Recalling his dream, King Vedeha decided to fetch Mahosadha to his court. The four sages were sent to find him, but they too remembered the prophecy and were reluctant to hasten their own fall from authority. They were so overcome with jealousy that they plotted ceaselessly to keep the Bodhisatta away. Each sage devised trials and riddles intended to prevent Mahosadha from reaching the king’s presence. However, the boy solved whatever was set before him with great cleverness and at last had to be admitted to the court.
For many years Mahosadha instructed the king in matters both spiritual and temporal. At the same time, he had to be on guard constantly against the devious tricks of the old sages. However, he was able to thwart their jealous maneuvering and firmly directed King Vedeha into proper behavior, despite the king’s childish tendency to believe whatever he was told and to obey his impulses regardless of’ the consequences.
During these years one hundred and one kings of India united under the leadership of a wicked sage called Kevatta and set out to conquer the whole of India. However, Mahosadha had not been idle. He had rebuilt Mithila’s defenses and had sent spies to live among Kevatta’s men, so that he was prepared to meet each challenge as it arose. When the kings laid siege to Mithila, Mahosadha was ready.

Mahosadha confronts the attacking Indian armies, led by King Culani. Notice that one hand of Mahosadha holds a monk’s fan.

See enlarged version of this image.

As the mighty forces approached the city, they were greeted by sounds of a festival in progress. Dismayed by the inhabitants’ apparent lack of fear, the kings conferred and determined to cut off the water supply. Mahosadha responded by causing huge fountains to be built, and water flowed out of the city in prodigious quantities. Realizing that Mithila must have deep wells and vast stores of water, the kings next attempted to starve the city into submission. Whereupon Mahosadha had huge amounts of food dropped over the walls, saying that Mithila had more than it could use. Perhaps the enemy army might be hungry. The hundred and one kings were astonished. They determined to stop all fuel from entering the city, but once again they had no success. Mahosadha caused great pyres of wood to be burned in the moats surrounding the walls, demonstrating that he had an enormous surplus of fuel.

The Mahosadha Jataka -
Mahosadha confronts the attacking Indian army. Detail.

The kings redoubled their efforts to take the city, but to no avail. Mahosadha, watching from the ramparts of Mithila, anticipated their every effort to gain access to the city. Finally, near despair, Kevatta thought of a last ruse: “We shall meet outside the gates,” he proposed, “and Mahosadha will have to salute me, for I am by far the elder. We know that whoever does obeisance is conquered. This is one contest he cannot win.” Mahosadha instantly realized the implications of this challenge and devised a trick which would thwart the wicked Kevatta once again. Having learned from his spies of Kevatta’s surpassing greed, Mahosadha advanced outside the city gates carrying an octagonal gem which glittered enticingly in the sunlight. Pretending to offer it to his enemy, Mahosadha dropped the jewel into the dirt. Kevatta immediately lunged to retrieve it. As he knelt on the ground, Mahosadha held Kevatta’s shoulder blades with one hand and his back with the other so that the grasping sage could not stand up. Holding him thus, Mahosadha shouted loudly, “Rise, teacher, rise! I am younger than you, young enough to be your grandson. Do you no obeisance to me!” Hearing these words, the hundred and one kings and their armies became frightened. If Kevatta had made obeisance to Mahosadha, then they were indeed lost. Without stopping even to retrieve their weapons, they fled.

The Mahosadha Jataka -
Notice the Western participants in the fighting

In the hidden depths of the earth, far below the fields and woodlands of the world of men, dwell the nagas. They are magical serpents who can assume human form when they wish. Their kingdom glitters with rare jewels and precious minerals as they live in great splendor and richness.
From time to time, they leave their realm and mingle with the human beings who inhabit the surface of the earth. The archenemy of the naga is the garuda, the great bird who lives in the sunlit and airy skies.

Once when a garuda was hungry he captured a naga and flew off with him. As he swept over the Himavat forest, clutching the head of the great snake in his claws, the naga was able to coil himself around a tall banyan tree. But the strength of the garuda was such that the tree was torn from its roots as he flew on. After he had devoured the naga, the garuda remembered that the banyan tree had sheltered the hut of a hermit, and he feared that his unwitting deed might bring misfortune upon himself. He returned to the hermit’s hut to ask him and was assured that he would suffer no ill on this account, for his action was not intended to harm. Pleased by this answer, the garuda rewarded the hermit by telling him the words of a magic snake charm of great power and gave him a fan behind which to chant it.

The Hermit, who has received a magic snake charm, and a fan behind which to chant it, has no reason to use the charm, and is about to give the powers to his servant Alambayana

But as the hermit had no reason to use the charm, he gave it away to a Brahmin snake charmer named Alambayana who had been his faithful servant. Alambayana decided to use the charm to capture a mighty naga, which would earn him fame and wealth. He left the service of the hermit and wandered through the forest until he reached the banks of the Yamuna River. There he encountered a band of naga youths who had with them the precious jewel of the nagas, the “jewel that grants all desires.” As soon as they heard the Brahmin muttering the magic spell of the garuda, they trembled with fear and sank into the water, leaving the glittering gem behind. Alambayana, delighted with his good fortune, picked up the jewel, though unaware of its magic powers, and continued into the forest.

A little later, he met a hunter and his son who earned their livelihood by capturing wild animals in the forest. When the hunter spied the jewel in the hand of Alambayana, he recognized it and was filled with greed and regret, for once before he had had the opportunity to possess the gem but had not taken it. He thought back to that time many years before and recalled how he had heard the music and laughter of naga maidens at dawn one morning after he had spent a night in the forest. When he had crept close to discover the cause of the merriment, the maidens had spied him and fled, leaving behind a princely snake dressed in rich attire and coiled about a huge abandoned anthill. When the woodsman had approached him and asked who he might be, the prince had told him that he ,was Bhuridatta, prince of the nagas. He had earned the name Bhuridatta, or godly Datta, because of his wisdom and goodness. He had determined to increase his store of merit by leaving his wives and palace to live as an ascetic. He had found this abandoned anthill in the world of men, and every night he coiled his great length around it and remained there motionless until morning, vowing, “Let him who will take my skin or muscles or bones or blood.” At dawn, he had explained, ten naga maiden attendants would come to escort him back to the realm of the nagas.

Bhuridatta did not want anyone to know about his place of meditation. To keep the woodsman from revealing it, he had invited him and his son to return with him to the naga kingdom and dwell in splendor there. They had accepted and in the realm of the nagas had lived in great ease and luxury. However, after a year of such a life, the hunter had become restless and longed to return to the world of men. Bhuridatta, anxious for him to stay, had offered him great riches, even to the very same “jewel that grants all desires,” but the woodsman had refused them, saying that he wished to become an ascetic like Bhuridatta. Thus he and his son had returned to their former dwelling. When his wife learned, however, that he had decided to become a hermit and leave her again, she angrily told him that he must stay and help her support their family. So he had resumed his former life, a humble hunter as before.

The Bhuridatta Jataka -
Onlookers at the Scene of the Naga Prince performing (read further). In the middle below, a probable foreigner is depicted

Now when he saw the magic jewel in the hand of the Brahmin Alambayana, he regretted not having accepted it when Bhuridatta had offered it to him and determined to have it. First he tried to persuade Alambayana that the gem was dangerous, but the wily Brahmin could not be convinced to part with it. Then Alambayana spoke of the purpose of his wanderings : to find and capture a mighty naga, which would win him fame and fortune. To anyone who could inform him of the whereabouts of such a snake he would give the glittering gem, whose powers he still did not realize.
The hunter saw in a flash how he could regain the wealth he had once given up. When he was about to tell Alambayana where the naga prince was hidden, his son tried to dissuade him from betraying his friend, who had trusted him to keep his secret and who had welcomed the hunter to his palace for a year. He urged his father to ask the naga prince himself for whatever riches he wanted, for he was certain that the naga would grant them.
But the greedy woodsman would not listen to his son’s wise counsel and led Alambayana through the forest to the great anthill around which Bhuridatta was coiled. Anxious to capture the great serpent, Alambayana hastily handed the hunter his reward, the magic jewel. But as the hunter grabbed it eagerly, it slipped through his fingers and disappeared through a crack in the earth, to be reclaimed by the naga world whence it came. The foolish woodsman departed, lamenting his misfortune.
Alambayana, intent upon his evil deed, approached Bhuridatta, chanting the magic spell and waving the fan, and captured him with ease. The Bodhisatta, for such was Bhuridatta, submitted, obeying the precept he had set for himself: “Let him who will take my skin or muscles or bones or blood.” Alambayana then crushed his bones and forced him into a basket. Although the naga prince suffered great pain, he permitted himself to feel no anger toward the Brahmin.

Alambayana took his prisoner to a nearby village and ordered him to perform. Unaffected by his cruel treatment, the great snake danced, assuming various colors and forms, spitting forth water and smoke, and causing great wonder among the villagers. The Brahmin profited greatly from Bhuridatta’s astonishing talents, for the people gave him much money to see the snake perform. He went from village to village, amassing great wealth and renown, until at last he reached Benares.

Meanwhile, the wives and mother of Bhuridatta had missed him and sent his brothers to seek him. One brother went to search in the kingdom of the gods, one looked in the Himavat forest, and the eldest, Sudassana, searched in the world of men. Dressed as an ascetic, he was accompanied by Bhuridatta’s favorite sister, who had disguised herself as a frog hidden in Sudassana’s matted hair.

The Bhuridatta Jataka -
Alambayana makes the Naga Prince perform before the King of Benares.

See enlarged version of this image.

He searched the world of men in vain until finally he came to the city of Benares, where his mother’s brother was now king. He arrived just as the people were gathering in the marketplace to watch the great snake perform. Bhuridatta lifted his head out of his basket and saw his brother in the crowd. He went to him, and placing his head on his brother’s foot, he wept, and Sudassana wept also. Alambayana, seeing this from a distance, wondered if the snake had bitten the ascetic and assured Sudassana that his snake was not poisonous.
Sudassana answered proudly that no venom from a snake or any other creature could harm him. This retort made Alambayana angry and he challenged Sudassana to show his powers. The ascetic called forth his sister, who, in her form as a frog, contained a most poisonous venom. He asked her to spit three drops of her poison into his hand. Then he threatened Alambayana with these words: “Who sees these drops of poison waiting in my palm? Once they touch the ground, they have the power to blow up all of this city of Benares. Shall I show you?”
Alambayana shrank back, and the people cried out in fear. Only the king remained calm. He asked, “How can this poison be destroyed?”

The Bhuridatta Jataka -
The King of Benares points to the spectacle in front of him.

Sudassana told him that the only way was to dig three enormous pits and to fill one with drugs, one with cow dung, and one with medicine. When this was done, he threw the three drops of poison into the three holes. They immediately exploded, filling the air with heat and thunder. The terrified Alambayana became as white as a leper, and he said three times, “I will set the naga prince free.”
Whereupon Bhuridatta emerged from the jeweled basket and, assuming a radiant form, stood before the multitude in all his glory. The evil Brahmin crept away and was not seen again. The two brothers revealed themselves to the king as his nephews, and there was a great celebration before they returned to the naga kingdom.
At the end of his life, Bhuridatta, having succeeded in keeping the precepts, ascended to heaven with the hosts of virtuous nagas.

http://www.buddha-images.com/khandahala-jataka.asp

Foreigners (Westerners and Chinese) are depicted in scenes of the Canda-Kumara Jataka.

Suddenly, like a thunderbolt, mighty Sakka appeared overhead. Surrounded by a flaming aureole, he brandished a mallet and chisel with which he struck at the royal umbrellas. As they fell under the blows the sacrifice was terminated, for without the umbrellas the ceremony was no longer sacred. At this amazing sight the crowd broke into joyous tumult, while the victims danced in a wild frenzy. The animals whinnied and roared in fright and broke their chains. People were crushed beneath the stampeding herd. The king swiftly mounted his elephant but had no place to turn. The crowd set upon the evil Brahmin and beat him to death. They would have killed the king as well, if Sakka had not restrained them for the sake of Prince Canda. He was, however, sent into exile and made to live as an outcast, though his son never forgot him and saw to his needs. Gods and goddesses joined the people in the great festive occasion that was Prince Canda’s coronation. As king, he continued to be just and self-restrained, and his reign was long and peaceful, ever worthy of a future Buddha.

Sakka destroyes the Royal Umbrellas - the Canda-Kumara Jataka

http://www.buddha-images.com/narada-jataka.asp

In the Kingdom of Videha, there lived King Angati and his beautiful daughter, Ruja. Ruja was his greatest joy, for though he had sixteen thousand wives, she was his only child. Upon her he lavished his wealth, sending her baskets of flowers, delicate trinkets, and garments of spun gold and silver. He even entrusted to her the honor of distributing every two weeks a thousand pieces of gold to the poor and sickly. This almsgiving won him the love of his people and the admiration of his daughter.
On the eve of the great festival of the full moon, King Angati, freshly bathed and dressed, stood with his three chief advisers surveying from his terrace the white city beneath him. As the streets gleamed with the rays of the advancing moon, the king turned to his counselors and asked, “How best shall we amuse ourselves on this festival eve?”

The first one, General Alata, suggested conquering new lands. The second, who was in charge of the king’s diversions, thought only of feasting and dancing. The third, the chief court Brahmin, knew of a naked ascetic living in the forest just outside the city and felt that it would be most entertaining to go seek out his advice. Since King Angati had always enjoyed listening to ascetics, he agreed to the Brahmin’s suggestion.
Thus the royal chariot, made of solid ivory, was polished and covered with silver ornaments for the king’s nocturnal journey. White were the four swift horses that drew it, white was the seven-tiered umbrella, white the royal fan. From a distance, the king in his shining chariot could have been a shaft of moonlight.

Scene from the Narada Jataka. (most likely) King Andata asking the advice of the heretic ascetic Guna.

As he and his entourage approached the center of the forest, they saw a crowd surrounding a naked man seated on the ground and knew this must be Guna the ascetic. Not wanting to disturb the gathering, the king alighted from the chariot and greeted Guna on foot. After exchanging respectful words with him, King Angati seated himself at one side on a small mat covered with squirrel skins and told Guna the purpose of his visit. “The festival of the full moon is upon us,” he said, “and we have come to ask you to remove some doubts from our minds.”

He then proceeded to ask him the rules of right behavior toward parents and teachers, wives and children, Brahmins and the aged, the army and his people, adding, “And most important, we should like to know how it is that some men go to hell while others find their way to heaven.”
Now, it happened that at that time and in that land there was no true sage to whom men could turn for advice, and by default Guna, though merely an ignorant ascetic, childish and given to half-truths, had gained a reputation for wisdom. Thus when Guna seized this occasion to recite his heretical theories, many people believed him. He spoke in this way: “There is no right or wrong way to behave. Whatever you do, whether it be virtuous or evil, has no effect on your future, for your life is arranged in advance of your birth. Whether a man thrusts his sword into his enemy’s heart or whether he gives alms is irrelevant to a life over which we have no control. Hell? Heaven? Nonsense ! There is no other world than this. So follow your own will and seek your own pleasure.”

After Guna had finished his shocking speech, General Alata was the first to speak. “That confirms what I have always felt, for in a former birth I was a hunter, killing sacred cows and committing many wrongs. And yet do you see me suffer in this life? I am a prosperous general and have never been sent to hell.”
Then a slave dressed in rags tearfully related how he had always been and still was a virtuous man, never failing to give alms in previous lives. “But look upon me now,” he said, “a prostitute’s son, with hardly enough to eat, and still I give half of my food away to those as hungry as I, and still I keep the fast days. But my past and present virtues go unheeded, alas!”

King Angati, swayed by the stories he heard, spoke of his own unfailing devotion to almsgiving, but still he was not satisfied, saying, “Though I have not suffered as a result of my good deeds, I have not had a bit of enjoyment from them either.” And convinced of the truth of Guna’s words, he abruptly turned from the ascetic and, without saluting him, departed.

From then on, he resolved to make no further effort to do good. He relinquished all cares and unpleasant kingly duties to his advisers. He no longer made decisions. He busied himself only with watching others at work and at play. Since nothing he did was to have any consequences, he reasoned, he would have no more to do with the business of life. Worst of all, he stopped giving alms.

A month passed, and his subjects lamented the loss of their king’s interest in them. Ruja wept for her father, for she heard the mourning of his unhappy people and saw him harden his heart and close his ears to reason.
On the next festival of the full moon, Ruja dressed herself in her finest garments, gifts from her father, and entered his court. When he inquired how she was enjoying life, she answered that she lacked only one thing. She explained: “Tomorrow, my father, is the sacred fifteenth day. Please order, if you will, your courtiers to bring me a thousand pieces of gold that I may bestow them at once upon the people, as has been your custom.”

Ruja, the daughter of King Angati, tells the people that she has no alms to give to them.

Her father replied indifferently, “Alms? Give away our gold? I have no wish to carry on such a foolish custom. Destiny makes us what we are. For what reason should I waste my wealth? Please do not annoy me further with such inconsequential matters, my daughter.”

Ruja realized with horror that her father had truly strayed from the holy precepts. She pleaded with him thus: “O my father, I have heard that he who listens to fools himself becomes a fool and that he who lets himself be led by children himself becomes a child. I fear that Guna’s words have turned you into such a person. As for your prosperous General Alata, he is merely reaping the good from past acts of merit, but it will soon be used up and he will go straight to hell. The beggar who ranted to you of his sufferings must be making up for some grave misdemeanor in his past and will soon come to the end of his misery. The good he is doing now, along with his accumulated merit, will bring him to know the joys of heaven.”

The people listening to Ruja, all poorly dressed and eager to receive alms, show their emotions.

Then Ruja related how she herself, seven births ago, was born as a blacksmith’s son who, with his wicked friends, used to corrupt other men’s wives. As a result, in succeeding lives Ruja had been born as a castrated goat, a monkey whose father had cruelly removed his son’s testicles, a eunuch, and other mutilated beings. Though the king still loved his daughter, he was unmoved by her arguments and refused to budge from his fixed opinions.
Ruja then stepped to one side of the court, knelt down, and with her hands together above her head, made reverences in ten directions to the highest deities, those in the Brahma heavens, begging them to give some sign which would shock her father out of his heresy.

Ruja pleads the Gods for help, and shows reverence to the Bodhisatta Narada (outside of image), who descends from Brahma Heaven.

At that moment the Bodhisatta, whose name was Narada and who was the Great Brahma of that time, was looking earthward from his seat in his heaven. He happened to hear Ruja’s supplications and decided to help her. Before taking the journey to earth, he thought to himself, “There is none other than I who can drive away false doctrines. I shall go to the king in some unusual garb so that first my appearance and then my words will arrest his attention. King Angati values ascetics. I will dress like the most striking of them, and when he sees me, he will listen well.”

The four-faced Great Brahma dressed according to his word, in a red-mottled garment with a black antelope skin over one shoulder. He carried a golden pole on his shoulders from which two golden begging bowls were suspended by strings of pearls. His hair was matted as is the custom of ascetics, but with a golden needle tucked inside. Thus arrayed, he sped through the sky like the moon when the clouds race past it on a windy night, and stood suspended in the air before the king and his court.
Ruja, who had returned to the king’s side, immediately recognized the Brahma and bowed down to pay reverence to him. But the king, alarmed by the heavenly presence, rushed down from his throne to cry, “Who are you? From where do you come?”
Narada answered in this solemn way: “I am the Great Brahma from the Brahma heavens. I have come to tell you, King Angati, that you are condemning yourself to hell.”
“I say there is no heaven or hell,” Angati boasted. “To prove it, lend me five hundred pieces of gold, and if I am wrong, I will return one thousand pieces to you from hell when I am there.”
Narada warned him in this way: “If you were a virtuous man, I would gladly lend you gold, for it is not hard to collect a debt from a man in heaven. But men like you, denying the precepts, following false doctrines, are bound for hell, and when you hear what I will tell you about hell, you will see that no one would dare collect a debt from a man in such a place. There is not just one hell, but a thousand hells. Animals of all sizes will chew on your skin and bite at your bones. Flocks of ravens, crows, and vultures will prey upon you. Dogs with iron teeth will tear at your entrails. Hot winds, razor-edged mountains, burning coals, and sword-leafed trees will torture you.”

At last Angati was moved and trembled with fear. He looked to the Bodhisatta for help and asked him humbly how he could uncloud his mind and regain his senses. Narada then told him that while he was king and in good health, he should assume the responsibilities of his realm, providing for the poor, the hungry, the aged, and the Brahmins. “Let your mind guide your body, making you a sure but self-restrained man,” he said. “Only then will you find the path to heaven. Let your daughter teach you, for she has learned the right way.”
King Angati begged forgiveness and, with his daughter, bowed in reverence and gratitude to the Bodhisatta, who then turned and sped back to the Brahma world.

Mahanarada Kassapa Jataka
Mahanarada Kassapa Jataka is the story of a King who indulges himself in worldly pleasures. With the help of his morally conscious daughter (right on the painting) and the Boddhisatta Narada, the King is saved by his repentance. It depicts the virtue of Love and Kindliness, in having the power to convince people towards the Right Way of living. 
Wat Kongkaram, Ratchaburi

http://www.buddha-images.com/vidhura-pandita-jataka.asp

But first, Vidhura asked Punnaka’s permission to preach to his wives and sons. In keeping with his purpose on earth, he felt that he had to explain the principles of the doctrine before he could take leave of them. On the third day, he had completed what he had to say and calmly resigned himself to his unknown destiny. His wives, sons, servants, and friends all wept and prostrated themselves at his departure. Punnaka looked upon his victim and declared, “You are about to cross from life to death. A long journey awaits you. Take hold of the tail of my magic steed. You shall not see again the world of men.” The Bodhisatta answered resolutely, “I fear no being, for I have harmed no one, in mind or in speech or in deed. Therefore nothing can harm me.” Whereupon he pulled his garments about him and gripped the horse’s tail. In this way, they galloped across the sky to the Black Mountain. But contrary to Punnaka’s hopes, neither the rocks nor the trees there so much as brushed Vidhura, and when they reached the peak, his victim was still alive. Punnaka then tried to frighten Vidhura to death. He took on many shapes which would have made the most courageous of men swoon. Yet demons, lions, elephants, gigantic serpents, whirlwinds-all these terrifying forms failed to ruffle the calm of the Bodhisatta.

Vidhura holds on to the tail of the horse of the Yak Punnaka. However, despite a wild ride, he never gets hurt.

Punnaka, so expert at manipulating nature through trickery and disguise, realized that he could no longer resort to those means to kill his prisoner. He would have to use his own hand. In a flash, he seized the sage violently and, from where he stood at the summit of the mountain, whirled him around with his head downward facing the open expanse of the world. Dangling there, upside down to the earth, he, the embodiment of truth and wisdom, quietly addressed his executioner. “What is your reason for killing me?” When Punnaka told him why, the Bodhisatta immediately perceived that all concerned had misinterpreted the naga queen’s request for his heart. She had not meant his physical heart. It was the heart of his wisdom that she desired.

Pannaka, the Yak, whirles Vidhura (with his head down) around. Vidhura however, remains unperturbed

Scene from the Vessantara Jataka. This seems to be a very popular Jataka in Thailand. It depicts the life of prince Vessantara who gives away all his possessions, including his children to become servants of an evil spirited character. In the end everything turns out right though. This Jataka displays the virtue of Charity.
In the picture the prince and his wife take their children out of the palace to life in the forest. 
Wat Kongkaram, Ratchabur

Sakka, the king of the gods, anticipating their arrival, had ordered his architect Vissakamma to construct two hermitages beside a lotus pond. Vessantara went ahead. On entering one of the buildings alone, he found four sets of ascetic’s robes neatly folded and knew that Sakka was observing him. He dressed, took the vows of an ascetic, then went out to greet his wife Maddi. She and the children followed his example. They lived in separate huts by the pond for seven months, eating the roots and jungle fruits which Maddi collected each day. Although Maddi looked after her husband, they never so much as touched each other, for both had sworn chastity. Meanwhile, in Kalinga the drought had broken with the arrival of the white elephant. In a village there, lived a poor Brahmin, Jujaka by name, who had a beautiful young wife. When she went to the well for water, she was frequently reviled and teased by the village women for caring so well for her old and ugly husband. At last she refused to go to the well any longer. She insisted that Jujaka find her some servants in order to spare her ridicule.

Jujaka (right), on the way to ask Vessantara for his children, asks for direction from forest hermit

Having heard of Vessantara’s fabled generosity, she suggested that Jujaka seek him out and ask him for his two children to serve her. As Jujaka was penniless and unable to buy slaves, he set out to find Vessantara. While passing through the forest near Ceta, he was attacked by watchdogs kept there by the king to prevent people from seeking out Vessantara. By saying that he had been sent by King Sanjaya to bring Vessantara back, Jujaka was able to trick the dogs’ keeper, a huntsman, into letting him pass. He repeated the same story to a forest hermit, who reluctantly directed him to Vessantara’s hermitage. Jujaka waited until Maddi had departed into the forest the next morning before he approached the hermitage. As soon as Vessantara caught sight of the old man he was overjoyed, for he knew that at last he had an opportunity to make a supreme gift.

Jujaka, the old man, asks Vessantara to give his children to be his servants.

You can read and see another (and longer, with different illustrations) rendition of the Vessantara Jataka, as it is depicted on the Bun Phra Wet Painted Scrolls in Northeastern Thailand.

GOOD GOVERNANCE

Uttar Pradesh announces new land acquisition policy

She has cautioned BSP workers against any design or conspiracy by political opponents through several tactics like sting operations ahead of the polls.

Mayawati has also asked them to apprise the general public against any such move, sources said.

Farmers’ stir ends in Uttar Pradesh