Tayodhamma Jātaka

Jataka No. 58 of the Pali Canon was told by the Buddha at the Bamboo Grove (Veḷuvana), concerning Devadatta's repeated attempts to kill him. It recalled a former life in which the same three qualities that could save a hunted creature, skilful resourcefulness, unshakeable courage, and moral wisdom, had once let a young monkey outwit a father who wanted him dead.

In bygone eras, when King Brahmadatta held sway over Benares, the Bodhisatta was conceived in the animal realm as a monkey of royal blood. In that same dense forest bordering the mountains, there ruled a fierce, suspicious monkey chieftain who guarded his lordship over a troop of several hundred apes with paranoid jealousy. Terrified that a younger male might grow strong enough to challenge his supremacy, the old brute inspected every newborn infant in the troop, mutilating them to ensure they could never claim leadership.

When the Bodhisatta's mother became pregnant, she realized the deadly peril awaiting her child. Without a word to the troop, she slipped away into a distant valley nestled amid sheer crags, where she gave birth to the Bodhisatta in safety, far from the chieftain's reach.

As the young monkey grew, he developed extraordinary physical agility, broad shoulders, and a radiant mind. When he finally asked his mother why they lived alone in this hidden hollow, she told him the truth: his father ruled a great troop, but his heart was poisoned by envy, and he mutilated his own sons to cling to his throne. The Bodhisatta answered gently that he would go to his father, not to seek conflict, but to free the troop from fear, and despite his mother's tears, he journeyed to the ancestral forest and presented himself respectfully before the old chieftain.

Beholding his magnificent son, the father feigned joyful tears, exclaiming how long he had searched for him, while inwardly plotting his instant destruction. The father embraced the youth, intending to crush his ribcage in a ferocious grip, but the Bodhisatta braced his frame like solid granite, so that the father's own ribs groaned under the counter-pressure instead.

Foiled, the father pretended to weep with pride and asked his son to dive into the nearby lake, which bloomed with blue water-lilies, and bring back flowers so they could adorn themselves for a festival celebration. The Bodhisatta inspected the water's edge and noticed footprints entering the lake but none ever emerging again, and understood at once that a water ogre lurked somewhere in its depths.

Rather than wade in and become the ogre's next victim, the Bodhisatta leaped again and again from one bank of the lake to the other, snatching the blue lilies in his grasp with each pass through the air. He never once set foot in the water long enough for the hidden ogre to seize him.

Watching this daring feat, the water ogre marveled that one who combined dexterity, valor, and resourcefulness in equal measure could never be caught or defeated by force alone. He let the monkey complete his crossing unharmed, and accompanied him back as a witness to what he had just seen.

Seeing his son return triumphant, lilies in hand and the very ogre he had hoped would kill him now walking beside him, the old tyrant understood at last what he faced. His son possessed unmatched wisdom and could never be killed by any scheme he devised. The shock and malice of this realization broke his heart, and he died on the spot.

At the story's end, the Buddha identified the tyrannical monkey king with Devadatta, and the clever son who outwitted him with himself. The same jealous cruelty Devadatta had once shown toward his own offspring was the very same pattern he was still repeating against the Buddha life after life. The Buddha then spoke the canonical verse declaring that whoever possesses these three virtues, skilful resourcefulness, unshakeable courage, and moral wisdom, shall overcome every adversary, just as the young monkey had once vanquished his foe.

What finally defeated the old chieftain was never a show of force his son could have matched blow for blow, since brute strength was exactly the terrain on which the father still held every advantage. It was instead a combination no amount of raw power could counter. The physical skill to leap where a slower creature would drown, the courage to walk willingly into danger rather than refuse the errand, and the discernment to read footprints at a lake's edge and understand instantly what they meant, together left the father with nothing left to threaten. A tyrant who rules through fear can usually crush a rival who meets him on his own terms, but he has no answer at all for a rival who simply refuses to meet him there.