Mandhātu Jātaka

The Master told this story during a stay at Jetavana, about a monk who had begun to turn back from the monastic life. While going through Sāvatthi for his alms, the monk saw a finely dressed woman and fell in love with her. The other monks led him to the Hall of Truth and told the Master that he was a backslider. The Master asked whether it was true, and the monk answered that it was. The Jātaka Aṭṭhakathā of the Pali Canon records the story as No. 258, the Mandhātu Jātaka.

The Master said that this lust cannot be satisfied even in a householder's life. He compared it to the ocean, which nothing can fill. He recalled that supreme monarchs of old, who ruled the four great continents with two thousand isles, had still not satisfied their craving. Some ruled even the heaven of the Four Great Kings, and some were kings of the gods in the heaven of the Thirty-three. Yet they died without being satisfied. He then told an old tale.

Long ago, in the early ages of the world, there was a king named Mahāsammata. His son was Roja, whose son was Vararoja, whose son was Kalyāṇa, whose son was Varakalyāṇa, whose son was Uposatha. Uposatha's son was Mandhātā. Mandhātā was endowed with the Seven Precious Things and the Four Supernatural Powers, the traditional treasures and powers said to mark a universal monarch, and he was a great monarch.

When Mandhātā clenched his left hand and touched it with his right, a rain of seven kinds of jewels fell knee-deep, as though a celestial rain-cloud had risen in the sky. So wondrous was he. For eighty-four thousand years he was a prince, and for the same number he shared in ruling. For as many more he ruled as supreme king, and his life lasted for ages beyond counting.

One day he could not satisfy a desire, and he showed signs of discontent. His courtiers asked why he was cast down. He answered that when the power of his merit is considered, this kingdom seems small, and he asked what place was worth desiring. They answered, heaven. Rolling the Wheel of Empire before him, he went with his court to the heaven of the Four Great Kings.

The four kings came to meet him with a great throng of gods, bearing celestial flowers and perfumes. They escorted him into their heaven and gave him rule over it. He reigned there for a long time, but even there he could not satisfy his craving, and he began to look sick with discontent. The four kings asked why he was dissatisfied, and he asked what place was lovelier. They answered that they were like servants, and that the heaven of the Thirty-three was lovelier still.

Mandhātā set the Wheel of Empire rolling again and turned toward the heaven of the Thirty-three with his court. Sakka, king of the gods, met him with flowers and perfumes and showed him the way. While the king marched among the gods, his eldest son took the Wheel of Empire and returned to the paths of men. Sakka led Mandhātā into his heaven and gave him half of his own kingdom. After that the two of them ruled together.

Time went on until that Sakka (Sakka being a title held in succession by whoever ruled as king of the gods, not one fixed individual) had his life end and he was born on earth again. Another Sakka grew up and reigned, lived his life, and was born on earth. In this way thirty-six Sakkas followed one another, and still Mandhātā reigned with his courtiers around him. As time passed, the force of his desire grew ever stronger.

Mandhātā thought in his heart that half a realm was no use to him, and that he would put an end to Sakka and rule alone. But this he could not do. The text calls his greed and desire the root of his misfortune. His powers began to wane and old age came upon him. A human body does not break up in heaven, so he fell from heaven and came down in a park.

The gardener told the royal family, and they came and prepared a resting place for him in the park. He lay there weary and weak. The courtiers asked what word they should carry from him. He told them to carry a message to the people. It said that Mandhātā, king of kings, had ruled the four quarters of the earth and its two thousand isles. He had long reigned over the people of the four great kings, and had been king of heaven for the lifetime of thirty-six Sakkas. Now he lay dead. With these words he died and went to fare according to his deeds.

The Master then became perfectly enlightened and spoke stanzas. They say that wherever sun and moon travel, all are Mandhātā's servants. Even a rain of coins from the sky would not satisfy desire. Desire is pain, and unrest is sorrow, and he who knows this is wise. Where longing is, pleasure takes wing, even if the longing is for heavenly things. The disciples of the perfect Buddha therefore try to crush all desire.

When the Master ended this discourse, he declared the Four Truths and identified the birth. At the conclusion of the Truths, the backsliding monk and many others attained the fruit of the first path. The Master said that in that life he himself had been the great king Mandhātā.

The tale gives its listener a measuring rod. If a person who held every treasure, ruled earth and heaven, and shared the throne of Sakka could not find rest, then more possession is not the answer to restlessness. The story neither mocks the monk nor condemns the king. It simply lets the facts speak: craving grows by being fed, and only understanding it brings freedom. The monk who came to this lesson wanting to leave his vows heard it as an invitation to see his own craving clearly, and many who listened with him gained the first fruit of the path.