Sumaṅgala Jātaka

Jataka No. 420 of the Pali Canon was told by the Buddha at Jetavana, when the king of Kosala asked him for a teaching on how a king should counsel himself. In answer, the Buddha recalled an old story of a park keeper named Sumangala from a former life.

In that former life, King Brahmadatta ruled Benares, and the Bodhisatta (the Buddha-to-be, in an earlier life) was born as the son of his chief queen. On his father's death the Bodhisatta became king and gave generously. One day a solitary Pacceka Buddha (a being who has attained enlightenment alone, without founding a teaching order) came from the Nandamula cave to Benares and stayed in the royal park. The king saw him begging in the town, received him in the palace, seated him on the throne, and served him fine food. Glad that the monk would stay in his park, the king asked him to promise to return there, and he appointed his park keeper Sumangala to attend him.

One day the Pacceka Buddha told Sumangala that he would visit a village for a few days and asked him to inform the king. A few days later he returned to the park in the evening, after sunset. Sumangala did not know of his return and had gone home. That same day strangers had arrived at Sumangala's house, and to prepare a meal for them he took his bow and went into the park to kill a tame deer.

In the fading light Sumangala saw a figure sitting still, took it for a large deer, and loosed his arrow.

The Pacceka Buddha uncovered his head and spoke the keeper's name. Shaken, Sumangala asked forgiveness and explained that he had not known of the return. The Pacceka Buddha asked only that he pull out the arrow. Sumangala paid homage and drew it out, and the Pacceka Buddha, in great pain, passed into Nibbana on the spot.

Fearing that the king would not pardon him, Sumangala fled with his wife and children. By the Pacceka Buddha's power the whole city learned of his passing. The next day men entering the park found the body and told the king that Sumangala had done the deed and run away. The king came with a great retinue, honored the body for seven days, took the relics and built a shrine over them, and went on ruling righteously.

After a year, Sumangala wished to learn the king's heart and asked a minister to find out. The minister praised Sumangala to the king, but the king gave no reply, and the minister told Sumangala that the king was still displeased. The same thing happened after another year. In the third year Sumangala came with his wife and children; the minister, sensing that the king had grown calm, placed him at the palace door and announced him.

The king summoned him, greeted him, and asked why he had killed the Pacceka Buddha, through whom the king had been gaining merit. Sumangala said he had never meant to kill him and told what had happened. The king told him not to be afraid, forgave him, and restored him to his post as park keeper. Afterwards the minister asked why the king had stayed silent when Sumangala was praised twice but sent for him the third time. The king answered that a ruler must not act hastily in anger; he had kept silent until he knew his anger had subsided.

In the king's own words, set down in six verses, a ruler must not strike with the rod of punishment while angry, must judge only once the case is understood, and must let his punishment spring from compassion. Sumangala answered with three verses of blessing on the king. At the story's end the Buddha identified the Pacceka Buddha who passed into Nibbana, Sumangala as Ananda, and the king as himself.

What the king's restraint showed was never that the tragedy had not mattered. Hasty vengeance poisons a ruler's own judgment long before it reaches the person it is aimed at. Patient discernment, however long it takes to arrive at the truth, remains the only crown a just king can wear without it cutting him.

The king did not wait because he doubted what had happened. He waited because he knew that a command given in anger is a command he might regret. Twice he met praise of Sumangala with silence; only when he knew his own anger had passed did he call the keeper in, and then he forgave him fully and gave him back his place. In his silence and in his pardon alike, the Bodhisatta let calm, not fury, make the decision.