The Biographical Scripture of King Aśoka (阿育王經)

Ashoka Sutra, Volume 1

Translated by the Tripitaka Master Sanghapala of Funan, Liang Dynasty

Chapter 1: The Cause of Birth

The Buddha was dwelling in the Bamboo Grove of Kalandaka, near Rajagriha. In the early morning, he put on his robe, took his bowl, and surrounded by the assembly of monks, entered Rajagriha to seek alms. At that time, a voice from the sky spoke these verses:

At that moment, as the World-Honored One was about to enter the city, his foot touched the threshold. Miraculous events of all kinds unfolded: the blind regained their sight, the deaf could hear, the mute could speak, and the lame could walk. Those imprisoned and bound were set free. Those who harbored hatred and resentment all gave rise to compassion. Calves tied up were naturally freed and returned to their mothers. All animals—elephants, horses, cattle, and the like—felt great joy and roared in unison. All birds—parrots, mynas, cuckoos, peacocks, and others—sang in harmony. Ornaments such as bracelets, armlets, hairpins, and earrings, along with various precious treasures stored in boxes, naturally emitted delightful sounds. All musical instruments began to play on their own. At that time, the ground was naturally purified, free from filth, gravel, tiles, stones, thorns, and poisonous plants. The earth trembled in six ways: rising in the east and sinking in the west, rising in the west and sinking in the east, rising in the south and sinking in the north, rising in the north and sinking in the south, rising in the center and sinking at the edges, rising at the edges and sinking in the center. It swirled and rotated, displaying all these wondrous and extraordinary phenomena. Then, from the sky, verses were spoken:

At that time, the Buddha entered the city. Through his spiritual power, he caused all people to be filled with joy and delight. Like the ocean waters stirred by the wind, all the people spoke these verses:

At that time, the World-Honored One came to the main road. On the road, there were two young boys. One was from the family of Jiu Lü Si(translated as the most eminent clan), the other from the family of Jiu Lü Gan(translated as the eminent clan). These two boys were playing in the sand. The first boy was named Jayā(translated as Victorious), and the second was named Vijayā(translated as Unconquered). When these two boys saw the thirty-two marks of excellence on the World-Honored One's body, the first boy took sand as an offering and placed it in the Buddha's alms bowl. The second boy joined his palms in reverence and rejoiced. Then he spoke this verse:

At that time, Jayaprabha made his offering and vowed, "By this merit, may I become a great king who protects the Dharma, making vast offerings within the Buddha's teachings." The Buddha, knowing his mind and seeing his sincere aspiration, foresaw that in the future he would attain a wondrous fruit. Because the Tathāgata is a field of merit, out of compassion he accepted this handful of sand. The Buddha then smiled, and light of various colors—blue, yellow, red, and white—emanated from his body. Some rays issued from the crown of his head, others from below his knees.

The light shining from below his knees illuminated the eight great hells. Those suffering from cold found warmth; those tormented by heat felt cool relief. As the light touched them, their pains ceased. The beings there felt perplexed: "Have we been freed from suffering? Will we remain here, or be reborn elsewhere?" Then the World-Honored One, to stir wholesome thoughts in them, created an emanation. He sent this manifested form to that place.

When the beings saw it, they thought, "We are not being reborn elsewhere—it is only due to this person's power that we are freed from suffering." Then, focusing again on the emanation, they gave rise to further wholesome thoughts. Their karmic retribution from hell was entirely extinguished. After death there, they were reborn among humans and devas, in realms where the truth can be realized.

The light issuing from the crown of the Buddha's head shone upon the Four Heavenly Kings, up to the Akaniṣṭha heaven. Within that radiance, he taught the Dharma of suffering, impermanence, emptiness, and non-self, and spoke this verse:

The Buddha's light can illuminate the entire three-thousandfold world system. After illuminating it, the light returns into the Buddha's body. If the Buddha wishes to reveal the karmic retribution of past deeds, the light enters from his back. If he wishes to reveal the karmic retribution of future deeds, the light enters from his front. If he wishes to reveal those destined for the hells, the light enters from his feet. For those destined for the animal realm, the light enters from his ankles. For those destined for the hungry ghost realm, the light enters from his toes. For those destined for the human realm, the light enters from his knees. For those destined to be Iron Wheel-Turning Kings, the light enters from his left palm. For those destined to be Golden Wheel-Turning Kings, the light enters from his right palm. For those destined for the heavenly realms, the light enters from his navel. For those destined for the enlightenment of a Śrāvaka, the light enters from his mouth. For those destined for the enlightenment of a Pratyekabuddha, the light enters from the spot between his eyebrows, the ūrṇā. For those destined for the enlightenment of a Bodhisattva, the light enters from the top of his head, the uṣṇīṣa. When the light returns from the three-thousandfold world, it first circles the Buddha three times before each ray enters its respective place. Now, the Buddha, with a gentle smile, emitted light from his body. It circled him three times and entered his left palm—this was not without reason. At that time, Ānanda, having seen this, joined his palms and spoke in verse:

The Buddha said, "Ananda, I am not smiling without reason. There is a cause for the Thus Come One, the Worthy One, the Fully Enlightened One, to appear with this smile. Ananda, do you see this child placing sand into my bowl with his hands?"

Ananda replied to the Buddha, "Yes, I have seen it."

The World-Honored One then said, "This child, one hundred years after my entry into Nirvana, will be born in the city of Pataliputra as King Ashoka, a wheel-turning king of the four quarters, who will have faith in the true Dharma. He will generously make offerings to the relics and erect eighty-four thousand stupas, bringing benefit to many people."

Then the Thus Come One spoke a verse, saying:

The Buddha then took some sand and gave it to Ananda, saying, "Take some cow dung, mix it with this sand, and spread it on the ground where I walk." Ananda followed the instruction and applied the mixture to the ground. This continued until they reached the city of Pataliputra, where there was a king named Chandragupta (meaning "protected by the moon"). The king had a son named Bindusara (meaning "true essence"), and Bindusara's eldest son was named Susima (meaning "good bonds").

At that time, there was a Brahmin in the city of Champā who had a daughter. Her beauty was said to be the finest in the entire land. A fortune-teller had predicted, "This woman's husband shall become king, and she will bear two sons. The eldest shall become a universal monarch ruling over the four quarters, and the second shall renounce the world and attain enlightenment."

Upon hearing this prophecy, the Brahmin was overjoyed. Eager for wealth and status, he took his daughter—adorned with all manner of ornaments—to the city of Pāṭaliputra and said to King Bindusāra, "My daughter is the most beautiful in the land. I offer her to be your wife." The king accepted her and placed her within the palace.

All the other women in the palace thought, "This woman is stunning—truly the finest in the realm. If the king sees her, he will surely become infatuated and neglect us." So they plotted and arranged for her to become a barber, tasked with shaving the king.

One day, while she was shaving the king, he fell asleep. When he awoke, he was delighted and said to her, "Ask for whatever you desire." She replied, "I wish to share your company intimately."

The king said, "You are a barber, and I am a king. How can that be possible?" She answered, "I am the daughter of a Brahmin, not a barber. My father originally intended for me to be your queen." The king asked, "Who made you a barber?" She replied, "The women of the palace." The king said, "You shall not do this work anymore." He then took her as his queen.

Before long she became pregnant and, after ten months, gave birth to a son. The king thought, "Now I have no worries," and named the boy Asoka—meaning "without sorrow." Later, a second son was born, and because he removed the king's lingering anxiety, he was named Vitaśoka—meaning "remover of sorrow."

The eldest son, Asoka, had rough and unpleasant skin, and his father did not love him. When King Bindusāra wished to determine which of his sons was worthy of succession, he summoned the Brahmin fortune-teller, Piṅgala-vatsa, and said, "Master, I wish to have my sons examined. After I die, which of them is fit to be king?"

Piṅgala-vatsa replied, "Great King, assemble the princes in the golden hall." Bindusāra agreed. Asoka's mother told him, "The king is examining your brothers today—you should go." Asoka said, "The king does not care for me. Why should I go?" His mother urged, "Go anyway." Asoka said, "I will go as you ask, but please send someone to bring me food there."

As Asoka left Pāṭaliputra, he met a minister named Yaśas. The minister asked, "Where are you going?" Asoka said, "Today the king is examining his sons in the golden hall. I am going there too." Yaśas gave Asoka his finest old elephant to ride.

Asoka arrived at the golden hall on the elephant and sat down on the ground among the princes. The other princes were served exquisite food in vessels of gold and silver, but Asoka's mother sent someone to give him plain rice with yogurt in an earthen bowl.

King Bindusāra said to the fortune-teller, "Now examine the princes one by one and tell me who shall be king after I am gone."

The fortune-teller thought to himself, "If I say Asoka is worthy of the throne, the king—who has no love for him—will surely have me killed." So he replied, "I will speak through omens, not names." The king agreed. The fortune-teller declared, "Direct the prince who possesses the finest mount to become king."

The king said, "Look closer." The fortune-teller said, "Direct the prince who sits in the finest seat to become king." The king said, "Examine still more." The fortune-teller said, "The one who has the finest food and vessels shall be king."

Upon hearing these pronouncements, each prince thought, "If I have the best mount, seat, food, or vessel, then I shall be king!" Asoka thought deeply, "This fortune-teller will not name me, but he speaks through signs. If having a good mount, seat, food and vessels makes one king, then my elephant is the finest; I sit upon the great earth; and my meal of rice and yogurt—served in an earthen bowl made of clay, with water as my drink—is unmatched. By my own estimation, I shall be king."

The fortune-teller then went to visit Asoka's mother. She asked, "After the king dies, who shall rule?" He replied, "Asoka." She said to him, "If the king asks you again who is fit to rule, you should leave this land and not remain here. But when Asoka becomes king, when all is well, please return." The fortune-teller then departed to another country.

Now, the kingdom of Takṣaśilā under King Bindusāra began to rebel and refuse his rule. King Bindusāra said to Asoka, "Gather your four divisions of troops and march against them. But I will provide you with no equipment or supplies."

And so Asoka led his fourfold army out of Pāṭaliputra, but his men complained, "We have no weapons or provisions. How can we possibly subjugate that kingdom?" Asoka said, "If I have merit enough to be king, then weapons and supplies will come forth on their own." As soon as he spoke these words, the earth split open and weapons and supplies emerged instantly.

Asoka then marched with his four divisions to Takṣaśilā. When the people of Takṣaśilā heard that Asoka was coming, they went out half a yojana to meet him. They decorated the road, sprinkled it with scented water and proclaimed, "We have come out to welcome you, not to fight! We bear no hostility toward your father, the king. But the ministers he sent to rule us have governed unjustly, and we wish to depose them." The people greeted Asoka with offerings and escorted him into their city. So the rebellion was peacefully resolved, just as the story recounts in full.

Around the same time, Asoka sent messengers to the kingdom of Kāśi. In that land lived two mighty warriors who told their king, "The two of us possess the strength to flatten mountains. There's no need to humble ourselves before that Asoka." But then the gods themselves proclaimed, "Asoka is destined to become a universal emperor over Jambudvīpa. Do not oppose him."

Meanwhile, King Bindusāra's eldest son, Susīma, was returning from the royal park and entering Pāṭaliputra, when he crossed paths with the king's chief minister—hairless, with a bald crown. Susīma playfully slapped the minister's head. The minister brooded, "He abuses me in jest now—if he becomes king, he will strike me with a sword. I must arrange matters so he never takes the throne."

The minister then turned five hundred fellow ministers against Susīma, telling them, "By prophecy, Asoka shall be the universal monarch, and it falls to us to serve him."

The people of Takṣaśilā remained rebellious and refused to submit. So King Bindusāra sent Susīma to quell them. Though Susīma marched there, he failed to prevail.

Asoka, meanwhile, returned home to his own country. Then King Bindusāra fell gravely ill and was near death. He sent word, commanding, "Send Asoka back to Takṣaśilā, and summon Susīma at once. I intend to entrust the realm to him."

The ministers, however, smeared Asoka's body with turmeric dye to create the appearance of jaundice, and prepared an herbal draught in a bowl to stage his sickness, crying out, "Asoka is ill!" Then, before Bindusāra could pass, the ministers brought Asoka—properly robed and adorned—before the ailing king and proclaimed, "Great King, this prince is worthy. Let him be crowned." They added, "Should Susīma return, we might yet install him in his place."

When the king heard this, he flew into an immense rage. Asoka declared, "If I am truly destined to be king through righteousness, may the heavens at this very moment crown me." As he spoke, the gods set a heavenly diadem upon his head.

Seeing this, the king's fury pressed all the more, and hot blood gushed from his mouth. He perished soon after. Then Asoka ascended the throne. Immediately upon taking power, he appointed Yaśas as his chief minister.

How did the events unfold from here, pray? Susīma, upon hearing of his father's death and Asoka's coronation, was filled with great fury and rallied his army for battle. Asoka, meanwhile, massed his own vast forces inside the city and stationed them at the four gates. He appointed two mighty commanders for the southern and western gates, the minister Yaśas for the northern gate, and stationed himself personally at the eastern gate.

But the wily minister Yaśas, plotting treachery, constructed wooden mechanisms before the eastern gate—a false effigy of Asoka complete with an army of wooden soldiers. Beneath them, he dug a deep pit filled with smoldering, nearly invisible embers, covered with turf and topped with dry earth.

When Susīma's forces camped before the northern gate, Yaśas urged them, "Don't march on me. Attack the east gate. If you can kill Asoka, I'll surrender myself."

Susīma followed his advice and led his troops toward the eastern gate. Gazing upon the still wooden soldiers, he assumed they were immobilized with fear and drove straight at them. His entire army plunged into the concealed pit of fire and was burned alive. Thus Susīma met his doom.

One of Susīma's generals, the mighty Bhadrayuṣya, who commanded over a thousand men, fled the carnage, renounced the world, and seeking refuge in the Dharma, soon attained the state of arhat (enlightenment).

In due course, Asoka applied himself to the governance of his kingdom, but five hundred leading ministers harbored deep contempt for him. Testing their loyalty, Asoka told them and his court, "Go and break off flowering fruit trees to shield the thorny ones." The ministers retorted, "Such is not the way of kings. Rather, one breaks off thorny brambles to guard the flowering boughs."

Asoka insisted, "No, you must indeed cull the flowering tree, and let it protect the thorns." He repeated the command thrice, but his counsel refused to follow it. Enraged, Asoka drew his own sword and struck off the heads of those five hundred ministers where they stood.

Now as it happened, upon another season, when flowers were blooming in his spring garden, Asoka repaired to it with five hundred handmaidens. In the garden grew an aśoka tree, resplendent with flowers on every branch, at the beauty of which the king rejoiced and cried, "I am delighted, for this guardian of the forest bears me my very own name!"

But Asoka's skin, rough and unpleasant to the touch, repelled his queen and all the women of his court. While the king slumbered beneath the tree, the women, beside themselves for sheer spite of him, picked the blossoms clean from every bough.

When Asoka awoke and saw the barren tree, all its glory gone, he demanded, "Who has let all the jewels of these branches come to this humiliation?" "Oh, that was us," they said, with careless gusto.

The fierce king instantly seized them, wrapped them around with bamboo sheaths, and burned them alive in a blazing pyre. From that night onward, for the magnitude and wickedness of that act, his citizens named him "Caṇḍāśoka"—Asoka the Fierce.

His minister Yaśas approached him humbly, and told him, "If Punishment is needed, that punishment, prince of kings, should issue forth from your right hand itself while yet beneath the advice and laws of others—if punishment or execution be met, let not the sovereign brand in rage, let others become deliverers of that stern thing, while the crown sits away from blame."

In consequence, Asoka had it publicized far and wide, "Who among all the earth may be, for red and infamous service of executioner to the highest, one worthy fit to lift the rod which disciplines and punishes at my mandate, overstriking for the terror of my will?"

And now, out in the countryside, in mountain wilderness, in a remote village, in the dwelling his mother and father had gone from embers, there was abode of a fellow whose father the weaving clothes. Having had a son, the worker gave the youth a name who called him "Girikā."

That ruffian was himself a mountain utterly of malice—strong as a full-tide, abusing father, abusing mother, abusing all within his walls and those abroad with his fists and without concern for anyone more god or beast beyond his fury. He was a hunter for his trade, laid traps broadly, and it is because of such ruthless netting of chaos, that by his coarse cruelties if, and more, men also called him Caṇḍa-Girikā—Girikā the Fierce.

When the king sought means for violence, upon that profane at-large he spied out, and chosen one—a missioner was dispatched. Hearing were he said, all he wished, the king, the voice was taken and they returned to report.

They said to the Fierce One: "The Lord Sovereign summons you to his own city, from royal fiat your province is mortal judgment upon all persons under pain of punishment."

"Our entire Jambudvīpa should fall unto the iron judgment, and if it is by your breath and testament let it be so—I can and will carry it through," answered the man.

The messengers went and gave answer. The king then gives leave, "Let him be brought before me that we may have words." He then notified him shortly: with this one word most fearful—no ambiguity: the summons of the Realm.

The question arose, and he spoke, "One breath with my mothers, Fathers and this his moment."

It was then that those who upheld their sire and had none for him said "Not on as their child continued may leave! This whole such frightful demand of demise isn't fit! Refuse and hidden go." The murderer by no counsel turned, and in the night's final rage ended their pious & lives lest be checked his mission.

Sooner was upon the emissary his "We set out with short delay—it has been done." Having committed the inevitable matchless ills, he was presented where Throne above all.

The Man of killing having eyes on the sovereign, urged him, "If order upon execution is in our trust, assign me a place at the limits of the city hold—a penitentiary and punishment within! Let its boundary appearance itself glare fearful that those who at a glance behold shall admire her entry—she stands in elegant architecture: over the mighty portal:

He asks to crown with a decree: "Whoso has once has entered in may go not any more to his freedom eternal."

Declared Asoka: "Thou much satisfied."

Caṇḍa-Girikā went even as thus passed to all hell and gave mandate: There lives a monastery here with chickens. And perchance there dwelt him at Chick-town; but upon one certain of its bonzes about the well repository was naming it, and singing Sūtra so truthfully as Mahārajya said about fires.

About hell, all that word—about scorching braziers of charcoal, of mounting swords, of cauldrons: unspeakable scorch and heat in what far places for whatever measure wrong casts him: thus burning casts in woe; with that too accords but same law is spoken in those scriptures within the Five Heaven messenges Dharmā.

Caṇḍa-Girikā that very evening and the hearing for all those pains, hard by frame his whole work and gear of agonies to build prison.

On that time, in the city of Śrāvastī had been wealthy merchant husband, who upon the course that wander ocean sought his purpose aboard. His spouse at that time expected a birth; on board over sea-seas* they brought him forth; that princeling for being seaborne well-called Samudra.

When twelve years in shifting eastern maritime world he trade plied and warred. There by piracy what often done all: a gang of 5-hundred loot upon them merchants fall, killing father *and from death did none freed save him, the son*

He from that youth fled into the only sane harbor: he went and asked for refuge-beyond-wayfaring and got admission. The elder, learned, virtuous, accepting monk took for novice. In time came wandering in passage pregrinations through that Paṭaliputra lands.

Starting earliest, now newly dressed: having his robe and bowl he proceeded solicit alms within within a freshness that comes at sun’s rising at broad street. It happening he fail to know the scheme of this secular urban order and sights what appears lustrous temple of beauty.

Come nigh, seeing abundant palace-shine which by delight brings inside no grief for he suspicion only greatness, and also with his begging-practice wish to obtain.

But then, their harsh building only seen its core behind the frontage; turned one had fear limbs and sprang back exit. The Ārya already that gate shut fast and hence caught with hand says imperative: "since thou have entered, at once arriving here is coming over from out body to sacrifice and life."

Tears flowed from monk that moment of stark terror in full mighty fear.

"This is extreme weird. Why is this? Cry as any crying, as a suffering little some one losing way, hopeless?"

The response: None grief upon this body a little—this scum of worms! But not got that one: a single opportunity no price where can to find the Path to break aging from this dying, say. Unique freedom experience was this as unique as Dharma: thus have known jewel he; He who knows Three Times dawn appears, but the supreme teaching although in this world has dawned could I had yet walked till peace; of that not found with sure — for grieving is."

But even to live in hopeless, the cage won’t let the exit unless sovereign decides to hear. Penitentiary’s Great Fierce of Him* seeing so broken, he became softened a heist until grant special boon of seven days term permit before his period striking.

One considers in all its terror—unconsciousless release in nearness—utter dark before.

At final, more remains six/seven endless, but upon the human scale if cannot arrive at footing for either Buddha or those in emptiness and must go into the other maybe still save.

Above each inch for all those small count weeks he fully throw self entire to contemplation so unflagging to final breath with one and last second.

While as he sought there, and midst at urgent final, happens as came happen to prince, another youth the “king-in-man” within palace-circle had illicit to one those from inner—the king had known; with passion foul cast full incensed arrest and conduct her & him under our lock for both dawning over us; having had him, there executed the twain by steel-wood, beating them with pestle-mace into this lump.

After the monk saw, before eyeful, the agony came his whole own possibility, with clarity body-breaking terror intensely as these both have no more within one breath. Upon that at moment has perceived direct so all fabrication: ultimate transience from within all sentient’s every passion moment struck him gone through [as Truth]: thus know the eight-fold.

In voice of a realised peace he spoke these verses: