Kalibhakta
Jai Maha Kali Ma!
There was a man in India. The closest town was blocked off by a mountain. His wife tried crossing that mountain and was injured doing so. So he vowed to cut a road into it.
So he did.
They told him it was impossible. It took him a hammer, a chisel, and 22 years to prove them wrong.
Now, my heart melted when I read this, because this very same thing was mentioned as a Japanese Buddhist tail, recounted here. I am Spoiling it because of it's length:
The Moral here, for both peasant and bandit, that when driven by selfless compassion, one can literally move mountains, no matter how poor or how bad we used to be.. We Hindus call this "Karma Yoga", the Yoga of Work. When we dedicate whatever we do without "enjoying the fruit of our action", ie expecting reward, we preform Karma Yoga. In Buddhism, this is called "Metta", loving kindness.
As a friend of mine hear is found of saying here: "Be a rainbow in somebodies cloud."
Source for my story can be found here: A Guide to Japanese Buddhism
So he did.
They told him it was impossible. It took him a hammer, a chisel, and 22 years to prove them wrong.
Now, my heart melted when I read this, because this very same thing was mentioned as a Japanese Buddhist tail, recounted here. I am Spoiling it because of it's length:
“Beyond Love and Hate”
Once upon a time, Ichikuro, a servant samurai for the Lord Saburobei, fell in love with his master’s mistress and his secret love affair was detected, and he was about to be executed by his master. However, before the approaching death, Ichikuro lost his relationship with his master, he only recognized his lord as his assailant, whom he had served up to that moment, a blood-thirsty brute threatening his life by sword. He instantly made up his mind to assume the offensive and killed his master by mistake.
Ichikuro fled his master’s house in Edo, present day Tokyo, and soon pinched for money, he became a bandit, killing people in desperation. However, one day when he visited the temple in Ogaki, he was in the grip of deep pangs of conscience. He confessed all his past sins to the resident priest Myohen. Persuaded by the priest, he resolved to become a priest and was given a Buddhist name Ryokai. His subsequent life was one of strenuous efforts in pursuit of the compassionate teaching of Buddhism for himself and for others.
After a while, Ryokai, formerly Ichinosuke, left the temple and as a wandering priest he reached Yabakei Gorge in Kyushu, the southern tip of Japan. When he heard that the villagers there had difficulties in crossing the mountain, he determined to dig a tunnel for their convenience. The villagers felt sorry for his vain effort and yet as year followed year he continued digging, and by the end of the ninth year the cave he had bored measured 130 feet in length from the entrance. For the first time, the villagers realized that his undertaking might be possible.
By this time, Jitsunosuke, the son of Saburobei who was killed by Ichikuro, was searching for his father’s enemy for vengeance. In those days in Japan, family vendettas were a fairly common practice (although it was declared illegal in 1837). When Jitsunosuke went to Kyushu, he happened to overhear the conversation of a fellow pilgrim about the samurai who had killed his master in Edo and fled to the pilgrim’s village. Jitsunosuke all but jumped for joy on hearing this and he rushed to the village.
The climax to “Beyond Love and Hate”
Following is the climactic scene John Bester translated from Kikuchi’s book into English The Realm Beyond, published by Hara Publishing Co. in Tokyo in 1964:
Jitsunosuke finally discovered his life-long enemy Ichikuro, now the Buddhist priest Ryokai, who just emerged from the cave. Ichikuro’s flesh had fallen away to reveal the bones beneath the skin, and his legs below the knees were so ulcerated that it was impossible to look at them without flinching. Ichikuro frankly admitted that he had killed Jitsunosuke’s father and then fled. Jitsunosuke determined to kill him, saying, “Close on ten years of hunting you nationwide have I spent in the hope of killing you. Come and fight. There is no way out now!” Ichikuro said, “Jitsunosuke, kill me, pray. Wretched that I am, I planned, as you may have heard, to bore this tunnel, I shall have died happy.”
Faced with this half-dead old priest, Jitsunosuke felt the hatred that he had cherished toward his father’s foe gradually waning. Just then, five or six stonemasons came running out of the cave, and threw themselves before him to shield Jitsunosuke. They begged Jitsunosuke not to kill Ichikuro until the tunnel was completed. Looking from Ichikuro to the group and back, Jitsunosuke declared, “In consideration of Ryokai’s priestly habit, I grant your request. Yet mark me, I shall not forget your promise!”
A few days later, Jitsunosuke heard Ichikuro’s powerful strokes of the hammer shaking the cave as he entered it, and felt, he must wait with good grace the completion of the work and fulfillment of the promise. Soon after this, the form of Jitsunosuke was to be seen among the stonemasons working on the tunnel. Realizing that Ichikuro would neither run away nor hide, Jitsunosuke determined to delay the day when his life work should be accomplished. Yet even so, rather than stand by idly, it was better to lend all his strength to the great undertaking and thereby shorten, by however little, the period before the day of revenge should come. So himself joined the ranks of the stonemasons, and began to wield his hammer with them.
Finally, the tunnel was completed. Hand in hand, the two enemies sat sobbing in joy. But, soon Ichikuro drew away, “Come, Jitsunosuke” he cried. “The day of our promise has arrived. Kill me! If I die in such religious ecstasy, it is certain that I shall be reborn in the Pure land. Tomorrow, the stonemasons will stop you. Come, kill me!” His hoarse voice reverberated throughout the tunnel. Yet Jitsunosuke continued to sit before Ichikuro, arms folded, sobbing. The sight of this withered old priest, crying with joy welling up from deep in his heart, made all idea of killing him as an enemy unthinkable. His own breast was full, not with the desire for revenge, but with wonder and emotion at the mighty achievement that had been worked by the two arms of a feeble human being. Crawling toward Ichikuro, he took the old priest’s hands in his own once more. Everything forgotten, they sobbed together with an emotion too deep for words.
Once upon a time, Ichikuro, a servant samurai for the Lord Saburobei, fell in love with his master’s mistress and his secret love affair was detected, and he was about to be executed by his master. However, before the approaching death, Ichikuro lost his relationship with his master, he only recognized his lord as his assailant, whom he had served up to that moment, a blood-thirsty brute threatening his life by sword. He instantly made up his mind to assume the offensive and killed his master by mistake.
Ichikuro fled his master’s house in Edo, present day Tokyo, and soon pinched for money, he became a bandit, killing people in desperation. However, one day when he visited the temple in Ogaki, he was in the grip of deep pangs of conscience. He confessed all his past sins to the resident priest Myohen. Persuaded by the priest, he resolved to become a priest and was given a Buddhist name Ryokai. His subsequent life was one of strenuous efforts in pursuit of the compassionate teaching of Buddhism for himself and for others.
After a while, Ryokai, formerly Ichinosuke, left the temple and as a wandering priest he reached Yabakei Gorge in Kyushu, the southern tip of Japan. When he heard that the villagers there had difficulties in crossing the mountain, he determined to dig a tunnel for their convenience. The villagers felt sorry for his vain effort and yet as year followed year he continued digging, and by the end of the ninth year the cave he had bored measured 130 feet in length from the entrance. For the first time, the villagers realized that his undertaking might be possible.
By this time, Jitsunosuke, the son of Saburobei who was killed by Ichikuro, was searching for his father’s enemy for vengeance. In those days in Japan, family vendettas were a fairly common practice (although it was declared illegal in 1837). When Jitsunosuke went to Kyushu, he happened to overhear the conversation of a fellow pilgrim about the samurai who had killed his master in Edo and fled to the pilgrim’s village. Jitsunosuke all but jumped for joy on hearing this and he rushed to the village.
The climax to “Beyond Love and Hate”
Following is the climactic scene John Bester translated from Kikuchi’s book into English The Realm Beyond, published by Hara Publishing Co. in Tokyo in 1964:
Jitsunosuke finally discovered his life-long enemy Ichikuro, now the Buddhist priest Ryokai, who just emerged from the cave. Ichikuro’s flesh had fallen away to reveal the bones beneath the skin, and his legs below the knees were so ulcerated that it was impossible to look at them without flinching. Ichikuro frankly admitted that he had killed Jitsunosuke’s father and then fled. Jitsunosuke determined to kill him, saying, “Close on ten years of hunting you nationwide have I spent in the hope of killing you. Come and fight. There is no way out now!” Ichikuro said, “Jitsunosuke, kill me, pray. Wretched that I am, I planned, as you may have heard, to bore this tunnel, I shall have died happy.”
Faced with this half-dead old priest, Jitsunosuke felt the hatred that he had cherished toward his father’s foe gradually waning. Just then, five or six stonemasons came running out of the cave, and threw themselves before him to shield Jitsunosuke. They begged Jitsunosuke not to kill Ichikuro until the tunnel was completed. Looking from Ichikuro to the group and back, Jitsunosuke declared, “In consideration of Ryokai’s priestly habit, I grant your request. Yet mark me, I shall not forget your promise!”
A few days later, Jitsunosuke heard Ichikuro’s powerful strokes of the hammer shaking the cave as he entered it, and felt, he must wait with good grace the completion of the work and fulfillment of the promise. Soon after this, the form of Jitsunosuke was to be seen among the stonemasons working on the tunnel. Realizing that Ichikuro would neither run away nor hide, Jitsunosuke determined to delay the day when his life work should be accomplished. Yet even so, rather than stand by idly, it was better to lend all his strength to the great undertaking and thereby shorten, by however little, the period before the day of revenge should come. So himself joined the ranks of the stonemasons, and began to wield his hammer with them.
Finally, the tunnel was completed. Hand in hand, the two enemies sat sobbing in joy. But, soon Ichikuro drew away, “Come, Jitsunosuke” he cried. “The day of our promise has arrived. Kill me! If I die in such religious ecstasy, it is certain that I shall be reborn in the Pure land. Tomorrow, the stonemasons will stop you. Come, kill me!” His hoarse voice reverberated throughout the tunnel. Yet Jitsunosuke continued to sit before Ichikuro, arms folded, sobbing. The sight of this withered old priest, crying with joy welling up from deep in his heart, made all idea of killing him as an enemy unthinkable. His own breast was full, not with the desire for revenge, but with wonder and emotion at the mighty achievement that had been worked by the two arms of a feeble human being. Crawling toward Ichikuro, he took the old priest’s hands in his own once more. Everything forgotten, they sobbed together with an emotion too deep for words.
The Moral here, for both peasant and bandit, that when driven by selfless compassion, one can literally move mountains, no matter how poor or how bad we used to be.. We Hindus call this "Karma Yoga", the Yoga of Work. When we dedicate whatever we do without "enjoying the fruit of our action", ie expecting reward, we preform Karma Yoga. In Buddhism, this is called "Metta", loving kindness.
As a friend of mine hear is found of saying here: "Be a rainbow in somebodies cloud."
Source for my story can be found here: A Guide to Japanese Buddhism
