The Unknown Ashoka
Ashoka Maurya, described by H.G. Wells as the greatest ruler the world has seen, is best known through his rock edicts and the Pali chronicles of Sri Lanka, Mahaavamsa and Deepavamsa, of the 5th century A. D. These chronicles belong to the Theravada school of Buddhism and stress Ashoka’s role in propagating it by dispatching missionaries to Kashmir, Gandhara, the Himalayas, Maharashtra, Suvarnabhumi in South-East Asia, and his own son Mahinda to Sri Lanka. A very different Ashoka comes before us in the Sanskrit Ashokaavadaana, a 1st century A.D. work which was translated into Chinese twice: the A-yu wang chuan around 300 A.D. and the A-yu wang ching circa 500 A.D. It is essentially a Hinayana text and its world is that of Mathura and North-west India. The emphasis of this little known text is on exploring the relationship between the king and the community of monks, the Sangha, and setting up an ideal of religious life for the laity, the common man, by telling appealing stories about religious exploits. The most startling feature is that Ashoka’s conversion has nothing to do with the Kalinga war, which is not even mentioned, nor is there a word about his belonging to the Maurya dynasty. Equally surprising is the record of his use of state power to spread Buddhism in an uncompromising fashion. The legend of Veetashoka provides insights into Ashoka’s character that are not available in the widely known Pali records. We find here the intensely personal reason for Ashoka adopting non-violence: his use of state power to propagate Buddhism by slaying non-believers led to the death of his own sibling. The Sanskrit Ashokaavadaana shows that the main springs of Ashoka’s conversion and the subsequent acts of welfare lay in his intensely personal anguish. It is this work that brings Ashoka intensely alive before us as a king with very human ambitions and passions, with greatness and flaws--a very different Ashoka from the shadowy do-gooder of the later Pali chronicles.1
The Gift of Dust
It was in the days when Buddha, the Blessed One, was living at Kalandakanivaapa in the forest near Rajagriha (today’s Rajgir in Bihar) that one morning he put on his triple robe, took his begging bowl and, accompanied by monks, proceeded to Rajagriha for alms. As he set foot on the threshold stone of the city-gate, wondrous things began to happen. You see, whenever a Buddha, a fully enlightened soul, sets his foot on the indra-keela of a city with a firm purpose in mind, miracles occur, it is said:
A ship rolls to the wind’s force; so too the mountain-ranged earth begirt with the ocean and adorned with towns and villages, sways at the touch of the Sage’s foot. The ground becomes level; the earth becomes faultless, free of stones and thorns by the Buddha’s power. The blind, the dumb, and the dull all regain their senses and musical instruments play though untouched, delighting all.
The citizens cheered the marvels with a roar like that of a storm-tossed sea with its crashing waves as the city was filled with the radiance of his presence.
Coming to the main road, the Buddha saw two little boys playing at building mud houses. One of them came from a well-to-do family and was named Jaya. The other’s name was Vijaya. Jaya and Vijaya saw the Buddha, and were deeply impressed with the resplendent appearance, his body adorned with the thirty-two marks of the Mahatma. Jaya thought to himself, “ I will give him some ground meal” and threw a handful of dust into the Buddha’s begging bowl. Vijaya bowed low, making an anjali with hands folded. This gift of a handful of dust is renowned thus:
He saw the supremely compassionate self Existent Lord whose body radiated a halo a fathom wide; resolutely, with firm faith he offered a handful of dust to Him who abolishes birth and old age.
Having made this offering, Jaya formulated a pranidhaana, a firm resolve: “By virtue of this offering, may I become kind and rule as a chakravarti over the earth and thus worship the Buddha.”
The Buddha, understanding Jaya’s character and resolve and recognizing the sincerity of his aspiration, accepted the proffered fistful of dirt and smiled.
The smile of the Buddha was, as always, followed by rays of light--blue, yellow, red, white, scarlet, crystal and silver—that spread the message of liberation from rebirth and suffering throughout the cosmos and re-entered his body. The spot at which they vanish into his body indicates an important event in the future. On this occasion, the rays circled the Buddha thrice and vanished into his left palm. Then spoke Ananda, his faithful disciple, “It is never without reason that Tathaagatas smile. Dispel our doubts, O foremost of men whose speech is like thunder, and reveal what will be the fruit of the gift of dust.” The Buddha replied,
A hundred years after my death there will be an emperor named Ashoka in Pataliputra. He will rule one of the four continents and adorn Jambudvipa with my relics building eighty four thousand stupas for the welfare of people. He will have them honored by gods and men. His fame will be widespread. His meritorious gift was just this: Jaya threw a handful of dust into the Tathaagata’s bowl.
The Birth of Ashoka
At this time, the King of Rajagriha was Bimbisara. Nine kings after him came Bindusara, who reigned in Pataliputra as the successor of Nanda.2 He had a son named Suseema. During his reign, a Brahmin of Champa city had a very beautiful daughter of whom the astrologers foretold that she would marry a king and have two famous sons, one of whom would rule over a whole continent while the other would turn to the religious life and attain liberation. When his daughter was of age, the Brahmin adorned her with all the ornaments he had and offered her in marriage to King Bindusara who accepted her in his inner apartments.
The maiden’s beauty excited the jealousy of the queens, who feared that if the king took a fancy to her, he would never look at any of them. So, they taught her the barber’s art, and sent her to groom the hair and beard of Bindusara. So good was she in her work that he would relax and fall asleep during the grooming.
Very pleased with her, Bindusara one day asked her what she would like most of all. She asked for a son. The king was astonished and exclaimed, “But how can I, a Kshatriya monarch, marry a barber girl!” “Your Majesty,” she replied, “I am not a barber girl, but the daughter of a Brahmin. My father gifted me to your highness as a wife.” Finding out who had taught her the barber’s art, the king passed orders that she would not do so any longer. Instead, as his queens had feared, he installed her as his Chief Queen.
In due course, this chief queen—who goes nameless in the tale--gave birth to a son. When asked what she would like him named, she said, “When this child was born, I became ‘without sorrow’.” Thus, he was named A-shoka. Later, she gave birth to a second son, whom she named Veetashoka, since he was born when sorrow had ceased (vigate-shoka).
Bindusara desired, one day, to ascertain which of his sons was best suited to succeed him as king. Summoning the wandering sanyasi Pingalavatsajiva, he requested him to test the princes. “Very well, your majesty,” said Pingalavatsajiva, “ go with the princes to the Garden of the Golden Pavilion, and I will examine them there in your presence.” Bindusara issued orders accordingly. But Ashoka sat, depressed and angry, in his mother’s apartments. She spoke to him, “ My son, the king has determined to examine all the princes and has proceeded to the garden of the Golden Pavilion. You should go there at once.” Ashoka retorted, “ Why should I? My body is unpleasant to look at; my skin is rough and the very touch of my body is distasteful to the king.” “ Go nevertheless,” advised his mother. Finally, Ashoka set forth, asking her to send him some food later in the day.
As he was leaving Pataliputra, Radhagupta, the son of the prime minister, met Ashoka. Hearing of the test, Radhagupta offered Ashoka the old royal elephant on which he was mounted. Ashoka rode this majestic, venerable mount to the garden of the Golden Pavilion. Reaching it, he took his seat on the ground, while the others were seated on appropriate raised seats. Food arrived for them all. Ashoka’s mother had sent him boiled rice mixed with curds in an earthen vessel.
King Bindusara now asked Pingalavatsajiva to examine the princes and pronounce who would best be able to rule after his death. The sanyasi was no fool. He knew that Bindusara detested Ashoka because of his peculiar skin. Hence he said, “ Your majesty, I will make my predictions without disclosing any name. He who has the finest mount will become king.” Each of the princes, of course, thought that he had the best mount. Ashoka, however, reflected, “I arrived on the back of the ancient royal elephant. My mount is truly the most excellent. I shall be king.”
Bindusara wanted the sanyasi to provide some more indicators. Then Pingalavatsajiva declared that he who had the best seat, the best vessel, the best food and drink would become king. When his mother asked about the predictions, Ashoka replied, “The prediction mentioned no name. It said that he who had the most excellent mount, seat, drink, vessel, and food will become king. The royal elephant’s back was my mount; the earth itself was my seat; my vessel was made of earth; boiled rice with curds my food and water my drink. Therefore I know that I shall be king.” Hearing this, and noticing that Pingalavatsajiva had begun to honor her particularly, Ashoka’s mother told the ascetic, “The king may some day suddenly question you further and press you for a direct answer on the succession. You had better seek refuge in the borderlands and return when you hear that Ashoka has become king.” And so, the wandering ascetic set forth and is not heard of again in our story.
Ashoka's Accession
Some time later, the city of Takshashila rose in rebellion against King Bindusara who dispatched Ashoka to tackle it with a fourfold army of cavalry, elephants, chariots and infantry. But the king passed orders not to issue them any arms. The servants came running to the prince and informed him, “ Prince Ashoka, we don’t have any weapons of war. How shall we fight?” Ashoka declared, “If my merit is such that I am to become king, let weapons of war appear before me!” And as he spoke, the earth gaped open and divine beings rose out of it carrying weapons for his army.
When the citizens of Takshashila heard of Ashoka’s approach, they decorated the road for several miles and went to welcome him with vases full of offerings. “O Prince,” they said, “we had no intention to revolt against you or the king. But evil ministers oppressed us and the tales of our miseries never reached Pataliputra. Hence, we had to rise and banish the King’s evil representatives.” In the same manner Ashoka was welcomed into the kingdom of the Khashas where two great warriors entered his service and thenceforth marched ahead of him, cutting a path through the mountains and proclaiming, “Ashoka will become a chakravarti monarch over one of the four continents. None is to oppose him!” Finally, the whole of the northwest, right up to the sea, submitted to him.
Back in the capital, one day Prince Suseema, the eldest son of the king, was returning from a ride when he met the prime minister. In jest, the Prince slapped the venerable man on his bald pate and passed on. But the wise prime minister thought to himself, “Today he slaps me with his hand. When he becomes king, he’ll let fall his sword. I must ensure he does not inherit the kingdom.” He summoned the five hundred ministers of the king and told them, “It has been predicted by the holy ascetic that Ashoka will become a chakravarti ruling over one of the four continents. When the time comes, let us place him on the throne.” And they agreed.
Soon the people of Takshashila rebelled once more. This time Bindusara sent Suseema, but he could not quell the rebellion. In the meantime, Bindusara fell sick. Hence, intending to install Suseema on the throne, he recalled him and ordered Ashoka to proceed to Takshashila. The ministers, however, thwarted this plan. They smeared Ashoka with turmeric, boiled some red lac in copper vessels and displayed it, saying that the prince was so ill that he could not move out of bed. As Bindusara’s condition worsened, the minister brought Ashoka before him, clad in all finery, and urged the king, “Consecrate Prince Ashoka for the present and we will install Suseema on the throne later, when he returns.” Bindusara’s wasted frame shook with fury as he refused. Then Ashoka declared, “If the throne is rightfully mine by fate’s decree, let the gods crown me with the royal crown!” At once heavenly beings manifested and placed the crown on Ashoka’s head. When Bindusara saw this, he vomited blood and passed away. Ashoka’s first act as king was to appoint Radhagupta prime minister.
Meanwhile, news of the coronation had reached Suseema in Takshashila. Furious at the usurpation, he rushed back to Pataliputra. Ashoka posted his two great warriors at two of the city gates. In front of the eastern gate, Radhagupta set up an artificial elephant so cunningly fashioned as to deceive a casual observer. On top of it, he placed an effigy of Ashoka, digging a ditch all around filled with live coals covered with reeds. The whole pit was camouflaged carefully. As Suseema arrived before the city, Radhagupta shouted tauntingly,” If you can slay Ashoka, the throne is yours!” That provoked Suseema to rush to the eastern gate to fight his half-brother. As he charged forward, he fell into the ditch full of live charcoal and died a terrible death.
Chandaashoka (Ashoka The Terrible)
Having installed Ashoka, the ministers began to take him for granted, considering themselves the real power behind the throne and secretly contemptuous of the new king. This attitude was a hangover of Bindusara’s dislike of Ashoka because of his peculiarly rough and unpleasant looking skin. Ashoka was no fool. To test the ministers’ loyalty and to discipline them, he ordered that all flower and fruit trees be chopped down, but the thorny ones preserved. The obvious analogy with his “thorny” appearance escaped the over-confident ministers. “What is your majesty planning?” they queried, “Should not, rather, the thorny trees be destroyed and the beautiful ones preserved?” Thrice they avoided complying with the orders in this manner. Furious at his authority being flouted, on the fourth occasion Ashoka unsheathed his sword and beheaded the five hundred counselors.
Once, Ashoka went strolling in a garden with his women. It was spring and the trees were laden with blooms and fruits. The king saw an ashoka tree in full bloom, and told his women, “See this is my namesake and how beautiful it is!” He wanted to be caressed by them, but the women disliked his rough skin and secretly mocked his comparing himself with the lovely tree. So, when he fell asleep, they decided to teach him a lesson. They got together, and removed all the flowers and leaves from the ashoka tree, leaving it bare and unlovely. On waking, Ashoka’s eyes fell on the ashoka tree, transformed from the ecstatic look of spring into the naked forlornness of winter. When he found out from his servants that his concubines were responsible, he was so furious that he had his five hundred women burned alive.
Seeing these fearsome acts of the king, the people named him Chandaashoka, “Ashoka the Fierce.” was Anxious that the people should not turn away from the king in revulsion, Radhagupta the prime minister spoke to Ashoka: “Your majesty, it is unseemly for the monarch to work as an executioner. Why not appoint some royal executioners who will carry out your commands?” Ashoka saw the wisdom of this and asked that suitable persons be sought out.
Not too far away, in a small village in the foothills, lived a weaver who had an evil son named Girikaa. This youth not only used to abuse his parents but would also beat up others for no reason and torture insects and animals. Therefore, he was called Chandagirikaa (Girikaa the fierce) by the villagers. Seeing him engaged in these horrible acts, the king’s men enquired whether he was agreeable to become the royal executioner. Girikaa replied with gusto and aplomb. “Certainly! Why, I could execute the whole of Jambudveepa and each would be a delightfully different death!” Asked to proceed to the capital, he told the king’s emissaries to tarry until he had told his parents. However, his parents would not let him go to pursue such a heinous profession. So, Girikaa killed them both and rejoined the king’s party. When they asked him why he had been delayed, he calmly told them, “I had to spend some time killing my father and mother for they would not let me obey the royal command.”
The first thing Girikaa asked of Ashoka, when he was presented to the king, was a building exclusively devoted to the art of execution. And so such a building was built, beautiful to look at from the outside, but housing all instruments of torture. People called it, “ the Paradisal Hell.” When it was ready, Chandagirikaa submitted to Chandaashoka, “Your majesty, grant me this boon: that whoever enters this place shall not leave it alive.” The king granted the request.
Once Chandagirikaa had gone to the Kukkutaaraama vihara where he happened to hear a monk reciting the “Baalapandita Sutra” which describes the five great tortures that beings suffer in hell. Some are stretched out on their backs on red-hot iron floors and balls of molten metal poured down their throats; others are thrown face-down on a mass of flames and branded; some are hacked and chopped with fiery axes into an octagon, a hexagon, a square, an oval and finally a circle; yet others are thrown on their backs on floors of flaming metal, and stakes driven through their hands, feet and heart. Hearing this horrific account, Girikaa was overjoyed. “Such are the five great agonies,” he mused, “and I shall follow the Sutra in implementing these in this life itself. Why deprive anyone of these in this life and keep them in suspense till after death?”
The Conversion of Ashoka
Around this time, a Buddhist monk named Samudra arrived in Pataliputra. He was so named having been born when his father, a merchant, was sailing across the ocean. Having lost his father at the age of twelve Samudra had joined the Buddhist order. That morning in Pataliputra, he unknowingly stepped into the imposing mansion, “the paradisal hell” asking for alms. Once inside, seeing the dreadful sights, he sought to leave, but Chandagirikaa stopped him. “This is where your life ends,” said the royal executioner and was much surprised when the mendicant burst into tears. Replying to his query, Samudra said, “Kind sir, I grieve not for the destruction of this body, but for losing this hard-to-attain existence in which I have been instructed by the lion of the Shaakyas and was hoping to achieve liberation.” Samudra, begging for compassion, sought a month’s delay of the execution. Chandagirikaa granted him a seven-day reprieve; and so Samudra waited, wrestling with the fear of death.
It so happened that early on the seventh morning Chandaashoka happened to find one of the women of the royal household fondly conversing with a youth. Flying into a rage, he sent them to the executioner who ground them with pestles in an iron mortar before Samudra. This horrific death led Samudra to realize the essence of Buddha’s teachings:
The body is as a foam-bubble, evanescent, worthless. Where now is that lovely face, that beautiful body? Only the ignorant delight in this impermanence. In this prison, I’ll cross the ocean of existence.
Striving all through the night, Samudra broke through the bonds of earthly attachments and became an arhat, a liberated being.
In the morning, Chandagirikaa strode up to him and said, “Monk, the night is gone, the sun is risen, the time of your torture has come.” Calmly Samudra replied, “True my night of ignorance has cleared and the sun of my good fortune is at its height. You may do as you wish, my friend.” Unmoved, the executioner threw Samudra into a cauldron full of water and blood, and tried to light a fire underneath. Try as he might, the fire would not blaze. Puzzled, he looked into the vessel and was amazed to see the monk sitting calmly on a lotus within it. He rushed to Ashoka who came to witness the miracle along with hundreds of people. Seeing the king, Samudra divined that the time had come for Ashoka’s conversion.
Miraculously, Samudra floated up in the air and stunned the monarch.For from half his body water poured down; from the other half fire blazed forth;Raining and flaming, he shone in the sky.
With folded hands, Ashoka begged enlightenment and initiation into the mysteries of the Dharma of Samudra. Samudra then told Ashoka how the Buddha had predicted that a hundred years after his demise there would be in Pataliputra a king who would distribute his bodily relics in eighty four thousand stupas. “Instead, your majesty,” said Samudra, “you have built this palace which is hell and where thousands are tortured to death. O king, grant security to all beings, for compassion is the highest virtue. Fulfill the lord’s prediction.” Begging forgiveness, Ashoka proclaimed his faith in the Buddha, in the congregation of believers (Sangha) and in his teachings (Dharma). He also promised to adorn the earth with chaityas housing the Blessed One’s relics.
Samudra vanished; Ashoka, too, was about to leave when Chandagirikaa stopped him. “Your majesty, you granted me a boon,” he said, “that none would leave this place alive.” Ashoka was taken aback at the effrontery, and asked, “What! You want to execute me too!” “Undoubtedly,” replied the unruffled executioner. “But which one of us,” asked Ashoka, “entered this place first?” Chandagirikaa had to admit that it was he, so he was taken away to the death chamber, and the building was demolished.
Ashoka Maurya, described by H.G. Wells as the greatest ruler the world has seen, is best known through his rock edicts and the Pali chronicles of Sri Lanka, Mahaavamsa and Deepavamsa, of the 5th century A. D. These chronicles belong to the Theravada school of Buddhism and stress Ashoka’s role in propagating it by dispatching missionaries to Kashmir, Gandhara, the Himalayas, Maharashtra, Suvarnabhumi in South-East Asia, and his own son Mahinda to Sri Lanka. A very different Ashoka comes before us in the Sanskrit Ashokaavadaana, a 1st century A.D. work which was translated into Chinese twice: the A-yu wang chuan around 300 A.D. and the A-yu wang ching circa 500 A.D. It is essentially a Hinayana text and its world is that of Mathura and North-west India. The emphasis of this little known text is on exploring the relationship between the king and the community of monks, the Sangha, and setting up an ideal of religious life for the laity, the common man, by telling appealing stories about religious exploits. The most startling feature is that Ashoka’s conversion has nothing to do with the Kalinga war, which is not even mentioned, nor is there a word about his belonging to the Maurya dynasty. Equally surprising is the record of his use of state power to spread Buddhism in an uncompromising fashion. The legend of Veetashoka provides insights into Ashoka’s character that are not available in the widely known Pali records. We find here the intensely personal reason for Ashoka adopting non-violence: his use of state power to propagate Buddhism by slaying non-believers led to the death of his own sibling. The Sanskrit Ashokaavadaana shows that the main springs of Ashoka’s conversion and the subsequent acts of welfare lay in his intensely personal anguish. It is this work that brings Ashoka intensely alive before us as a king with very human ambitions and passions, with greatness and flaws--a very different Ashoka from the shadowy do-gooder of the later Pali chronicles.1
The Gift of Dust
It was in the days when Buddha, the Blessed One, was living at Kalandakanivaapa in the forest near Rajagriha (today’s Rajgir in Bihar) that one morning he put on his triple robe, took his begging bowl and, accompanied by monks, proceeded to Rajagriha for alms. As he set foot on the threshold stone of the city-gate, wondrous things began to happen. You see, whenever a Buddha, a fully enlightened soul, sets his foot on the indra-keela of a city with a firm purpose in mind, miracles occur, it is said:
A ship rolls to the wind’s force; so too the mountain-ranged earth begirt with the ocean and adorned with towns and villages, sways at the touch of the Sage’s foot. The ground becomes level; the earth becomes faultless, free of stones and thorns by the Buddha’s power. The blind, the dumb, and the dull all regain their senses and musical instruments play though untouched, delighting all.
The citizens cheered the marvels with a roar like that of a storm-tossed sea with its crashing waves as the city was filled with the radiance of his presence.
Coming to the main road, the Buddha saw two little boys playing at building mud houses. One of them came from a well-to-do family and was named Jaya. The other’s name was Vijaya. Jaya and Vijaya saw the Buddha, and were deeply impressed with the resplendent appearance, his body adorned with the thirty-two marks of the Mahatma. Jaya thought to himself, “ I will give him some ground meal” and threw a handful of dust into the Buddha’s begging bowl. Vijaya bowed low, making an anjali with hands folded. This gift of a handful of dust is renowned thus:
He saw the supremely compassionate self Existent Lord whose body radiated a halo a fathom wide; resolutely, with firm faith he offered a handful of dust to Him who abolishes birth and old age.
Having made this offering, Jaya formulated a pranidhaana, a firm resolve: “By virtue of this offering, may I become kind and rule as a chakravarti over the earth and thus worship the Buddha.”
The Buddha, understanding Jaya’s character and resolve and recognizing the sincerity of his aspiration, accepted the proffered fistful of dirt and smiled.
The smile of the Buddha was, as always, followed by rays of light--blue, yellow, red, white, scarlet, crystal and silver—that spread the message of liberation from rebirth and suffering throughout the cosmos and re-entered his body. The spot at which they vanish into his body indicates an important event in the future. On this occasion, the rays circled the Buddha thrice and vanished into his left palm. Then spoke Ananda, his faithful disciple, “It is never without reason that Tathaagatas smile. Dispel our doubts, O foremost of men whose speech is like thunder, and reveal what will be the fruit of the gift of dust.” The Buddha replied,
A hundred years after my death there will be an emperor named Ashoka in Pataliputra. He will rule one of the four continents and adorn Jambudvipa with my relics building eighty four thousand stupas for the welfare of people. He will have them honored by gods and men. His fame will be widespread. His meritorious gift was just this: Jaya threw a handful of dust into the Tathaagata’s bowl.
The Birth of Ashoka
At this time, the King of Rajagriha was Bimbisara. Nine kings after him came Bindusara, who reigned in Pataliputra as the successor of Nanda.2 He had a son named Suseema. During his reign, a Brahmin of Champa city had a very beautiful daughter of whom the astrologers foretold that she would marry a king and have two famous sons, one of whom would rule over a whole continent while the other would turn to the religious life and attain liberation. When his daughter was of age, the Brahmin adorned her with all the ornaments he had and offered her in marriage to King Bindusara who accepted her in his inner apartments.
The maiden’s beauty excited the jealousy of the queens, who feared that if the king took a fancy to her, he would never look at any of them. So, they taught her the barber’s art, and sent her to groom the hair and beard of Bindusara. So good was she in her work that he would relax and fall asleep during the grooming.
Very pleased with her, Bindusara one day asked her what she would like most of all. She asked for a son. The king was astonished and exclaimed, “But how can I, a Kshatriya monarch, marry a barber girl!” “Your Majesty,” she replied, “I am not a barber girl, but the daughter of a Brahmin. My father gifted me to your highness as a wife.” Finding out who had taught her the barber’s art, the king passed orders that she would not do so any longer. Instead, as his queens had feared, he installed her as his Chief Queen.
In due course, this chief queen—who goes nameless in the tale--gave birth to a son. When asked what she would like him named, she said, “When this child was born, I became ‘without sorrow’.” Thus, he was named A-shoka. Later, she gave birth to a second son, whom she named Veetashoka, since he was born when sorrow had ceased (vigate-shoka).
Bindusara desired, one day, to ascertain which of his sons was best suited to succeed him as king. Summoning the wandering sanyasi Pingalavatsajiva, he requested him to test the princes. “Very well, your majesty,” said Pingalavatsajiva, “ go with the princes to the Garden of the Golden Pavilion, and I will examine them there in your presence.” Bindusara issued orders accordingly. But Ashoka sat, depressed and angry, in his mother’s apartments. She spoke to him, “ My son, the king has determined to examine all the princes and has proceeded to the garden of the Golden Pavilion. You should go there at once.” Ashoka retorted, “ Why should I? My body is unpleasant to look at; my skin is rough and the very touch of my body is distasteful to the king.” “ Go nevertheless,” advised his mother. Finally, Ashoka set forth, asking her to send him some food later in the day.
As he was leaving Pataliputra, Radhagupta, the son of the prime minister, met Ashoka. Hearing of the test, Radhagupta offered Ashoka the old royal elephant on which he was mounted. Ashoka rode this majestic, venerable mount to the garden of the Golden Pavilion. Reaching it, he took his seat on the ground, while the others were seated on appropriate raised seats. Food arrived for them all. Ashoka’s mother had sent him boiled rice mixed with curds in an earthen vessel.
King Bindusara now asked Pingalavatsajiva to examine the princes and pronounce who would best be able to rule after his death. The sanyasi was no fool. He knew that Bindusara detested Ashoka because of his peculiar skin. Hence he said, “ Your majesty, I will make my predictions without disclosing any name. He who has the finest mount will become king.” Each of the princes, of course, thought that he had the best mount. Ashoka, however, reflected, “I arrived on the back of the ancient royal elephant. My mount is truly the most excellent. I shall be king.”
Bindusara wanted the sanyasi to provide some more indicators. Then Pingalavatsajiva declared that he who had the best seat, the best vessel, the best food and drink would become king. When his mother asked about the predictions, Ashoka replied, “The prediction mentioned no name. It said that he who had the most excellent mount, seat, drink, vessel, and food will become king. The royal elephant’s back was my mount; the earth itself was my seat; my vessel was made of earth; boiled rice with curds my food and water my drink. Therefore I know that I shall be king.” Hearing this, and noticing that Pingalavatsajiva had begun to honor her particularly, Ashoka’s mother told the ascetic, “The king may some day suddenly question you further and press you for a direct answer on the succession. You had better seek refuge in the borderlands and return when you hear that Ashoka has become king.” And so, the wandering ascetic set forth and is not heard of again in our story.
Ashoka's Accession
Some time later, the city of Takshashila rose in rebellion against King Bindusara who dispatched Ashoka to tackle it with a fourfold army of cavalry, elephants, chariots and infantry. But the king passed orders not to issue them any arms. The servants came running to the prince and informed him, “ Prince Ashoka, we don’t have any weapons of war. How shall we fight?” Ashoka declared, “If my merit is such that I am to become king, let weapons of war appear before me!” And as he spoke, the earth gaped open and divine beings rose out of it carrying weapons for his army.
When the citizens of Takshashila heard of Ashoka’s approach, they decorated the road for several miles and went to welcome him with vases full of offerings. “O Prince,” they said, “we had no intention to revolt against you or the king. But evil ministers oppressed us and the tales of our miseries never reached Pataliputra. Hence, we had to rise and banish the King’s evil representatives.” In the same manner Ashoka was welcomed into the kingdom of the Khashas where two great warriors entered his service and thenceforth marched ahead of him, cutting a path through the mountains and proclaiming, “Ashoka will become a chakravarti monarch over one of the four continents. None is to oppose him!” Finally, the whole of the northwest, right up to the sea, submitted to him.
Back in the capital, one day Prince Suseema, the eldest son of the king, was returning from a ride when he met the prime minister. In jest, the Prince slapped the venerable man on his bald pate and passed on. But the wise prime minister thought to himself, “Today he slaps me with his hand. When he becomes king, he’ll let fall his sword. I must ensure he does not inherit the kingdom.” He summoned the five hundred ministers of the king and told them, “It has been predicted by the holy ascetic that Ashoka will become a chakravarti ruling over one of the four continents. When the time comes, let us place him on the throne.” And they agreed.
Soon the people of Takshashila rebelled once more. This time Bindusara sent Suseema, but he could not quell the rebellion. In the meantime, Bindusara fell sick. Hence, intending to install Suseema on the throne, he recalled him and ordered Ashoka to proceed to Takshashila. The ministers, however, thwarted this plan. They smeared Ashoka with turmeric, boiled some red lac in copper vessels and displayed it, saying that the prince was so ill that he could not move out of bed. As Bindusara’s condition worsened, the minister brought Ashoka before him, clad in all finery, and urged the king, “Consecrate Prince Ashoka for the present and we will install Suseema on the throne later, when he returns.” Bindusara’s wasted frame shook with fury as he refused. Then Ashoka declared, “If the throne is rightfully mine by fate’s decree, let the gods crown me with the royal crown!” At once heavenly beings manifested and placed the crown on Ashoka’s head. When Bindusara saw this, he vomited blood and passed away. Ashoka’s first act as king was to appoint Radhagupta prime minister.
Meanwhile, news of the coronation had reached Suseema in Takshashila. Furious at the usurpation, he rushed back to Pataliputra. Ashoka posted his two great warriors at two of the city gates. In front of the eastern gate, Radhagupta set up an artificial elephant so cunningly fashioned as to deceive a casual observer. On top of it, he placed an effigy of Ashoka, digging a ditch all around filled with live coals covered with reeds. The whole pit was camouflaged carefully. As Suseema arrived before the city, Radhagupta shouted tauntingly,” If you can slay Ashoka, the throne is yours!” That provoked Suseema to rush to the eastern gate to fight his half-brother. As he charged forward, he fell into the ditch full of live charcoal and died a terrible death.
Chandaashoka (Ashoka The Terrible)
Having installed Ashoka, the ministers began to take him for granted, considering themselves the real power behind the throne and secretly contemptuous of the new king. This attitude was a hangover of Bindusara’s dislike of Ashoka because of his peculiarly rough and unpleasant looking skin. Ashoka was no fool. To test the ministers’ loyalty and to discipline them, he ordered that all flower and fruit trees be chopped down, but the thorny ones preserved. The obvious analogy with his “thorny” appearance escaped the over-confident ministers. “What is your majesty planning?” they queried, “Should not, rather, the thorny trees be destroyed and the beautiful ones preserved?” Thrice they avoided complying with the orders in this manner. Furious at his authority being flouted, on the fourth occasion Ashoka unsheathed his sword and beheaded the five hundred counselors.
Once, Ashoka went strolling in a garden with his women. It was spring and the trees were laden with blooms and fruits. The king saw an ashoka tree in full bloom, and told his women, “See this is my namesake and how beautiful it is!” He wanted to be caressed by them, but the women disliked his rough skin and secretly mocked his comparing himself with the lovely tree. So, when he fell asleep, they decided to teach him a lesson. They got together, and removed all the flowers and leaves from the ashoka tree, leaving it bare and unlovely. On waking, Ashoka’s eyes fell on the ashoka tree, transformed from the ecstatic look of spring into the naked forlornness of winter. When he found out from his servants that his concubines were responsible, he was so furious that he had his five hundred women burned alive.
Seeing these fearsome acts of the king, the people named him Chandaashoka, “Ashoka the Fierce.” was Anxious that the people should not turn away from the king in revulsion, Radhagupta the prime minister spoke to Ashoka: “Your majesty, it is unseemly for the monarch to work as an executioner. Why not appoint some royal executioners who will carry out your commands?” Ashoka saw the wisdom of this and asked that suitable persons be sought out.
Not too far away, in a small village in the foothills, lived a weaver who had an evil son named Girikaa. This youth not only used to abuse his parents but would also beat up others for no reason and torture insects and animals. Therefore, he was called Chandagirikaa (Girikaa the fierce) by the villagers. Seeing him engaged in these horrible acts, the king’s men enquired whether he was agreeable to become the royal executioner. Girikaa replied with gusto and aplomb. “Certainly! Why, I could execute the whole of Jambudveepa and each would be a delightfully different death!” Asked to proceed to the capital, he told the king’s emissaries to tarry until he had told his parents. However, his parents would not let him go to pursue such a heinous profession. So, Girikaa killed them both and rejoined the king’s party. When they asked him why he had been delayed, he calmly told them, “I had to spend some time killing my father and mother for they would not let me obey the royal command.”
The first thing Girikaa asked of Ashoka, when he was presented to the king, was a building exclusively devoted to the art of execution. And so such a building was built, beautiful to look at from the outside, but housing all instruments of torture. People called it, “ the Paradisal Hell.” When it was ready, Chandagirikaa submitted to Chandaashoka, “Your majesty, grant me this boon: that whoever enters this place shall not leave it alive.” The king granted the request.
Once Chandagirikaa had gone to the Kukkutaaraama vihara where he happened to hear a monk reciting the “Baalapandita Sutra” which describes the five great tortures that beings suffer in hell. Some are stretched out on their backs on red-hot iron floors and balls of molten metal poured down their throats; others are thrown face-down on a mass of flames and branded; some are hacked and chopped with fiery axes into an octagon, a hexagon, a square, an oval and finally a circle; yet others are thrown on their backs on floors of flaming metal, and stakes driven through their hands, feet and heart. Hearing this horrific account, Girikaa was overjoyed. “Such are the five great agonies,” he mused, “and I shall follow the Sutra in implementing these in this life itself. Why deprive anyone of these in this life and keep them in suspense till after death?”
The Conversion of Ashoka
Around this time, a Buddhist monk named Samudra arrived in Pataliputra. He was so named having been born when his father, a merchant, was sailing across the ocean. Having lost his father at the age of twelve Samudra had joined the Buddhist order. That morning in Pataliputra, he unknowingly stepped into the imposing mansion, “the paradisal hell” asking for alms. Once inside, seeing the dreadful sights, he sought to leave, but Chandagirikaa stopped him. “This is where your life ends,” said the royal executioner and was much surprised when the mendicant burst into tears. Replying to his query, Samudra said, “Kind sir, I grieve not for the destruction of this body, but for losing this hard-to-attain existence in which I have been instructed by the lion of the Shaakyas and was hoping to achieve liberation.” Samudra, begging for compassion, sought a month’s delay of the execution. Chandagirikaa granted him a seven-day reprieve; and so Samudra waited, wrestling with the fear of death.
It so happened that early on the seventh morning Chandaashoka happened to find one of the women of the royal household fondly conversing with a youth. Flying into a rage, he sent them to the executioner who ground them with pestles in an iron mortar before Samudra. This horrific death led Samudra to realize the essence of Buddha’s teachings:
The body is as a foam-bubble, evanescent, worthless. Where now is that lovely face, that beautiful body? Only the ignorant delight in this impermanence. In this prison, I’ll cross the ocean of existence.
Striving all through the night, Samudra broke through the bonds of earthly attachments and became an arhat, a liberated being.
In the morning, Chandagirikaa strode up to him and said, “Monk, the night is gone, the sun is risen, the time of your torture has come.” Calmly Samudra replied, “True my night of ignorance has cleared and the sun of my good fortune is at its height. You may do as you wish, my friend.” Unmoved, the executioner threw Samudra into a cauldron full of water and blood, and tried to light a fire underneath. Try as he might, the fire would not blaze. Puzzled, he looked into the vessel and was amazed to see the monk sitting calmly on a lotus within it. He rushed to Ashoka who came to witness the miracle along with hundreds of people. Seeing the king, Samudra divined that the time had come for Ashoka’s conversion.
Miraculously, Samudra floated up in the air and stunned the monarch.For from half his body water poured down; from the other half fire blazed forth;Raining and flaming, he shone in the sky.
With folded hands, Ashoka begged enlightenment and initiation into the mysteries of the Dharma of Samudra. Samudra then told Ashoka how the Buddha had predicted that a hundred years after his demise there would be in Pataliputra a king who would distribute his bodily relics in eighty four thousand stupas. “Instead, your majesty,” said Samudra, “you have built this palace which is hell and where thousands are tortured to death. O king, grant security to all beings, for compassion is the highest virtue. Fulfill the lord’s prediction.” Begging forgiveness, Ashoka proclaimed his faith in the Buddha, in the congregation of believers (Sangha) and in his teachings (Dharma). He also promised to adorn the earth with chaityas housing the Blessed One’s relics.
Samudra vanished; Ashoka, too, was about to leave when Chandagirikaa stopped him. “Your majesty, you granted me a boon,” he said, “that none would leave this place alive.” Ashoka was taken aback at the effrontery, and asked, “What! You want to execute me too!” “Undoubtedly,” replied the unruffled executioner. “But which one of us,” asked Ashoka, “entered this place first?” Chandagirikaa had to admit that it was he, so he was taken away to the death chamber, and the building was demolished.
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