Some years ago, on a beautiful Vesak Poya night, we were listening to bana by Ven. Narada on TV when suddenly without warning the power failed and we were enveloped in a mantle of velvety darkness.  We groped for candles, box of matches and lit our standby generator, the old brass Aladdin kerosene oil lamp, [...]

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Listening to a Jathaka tale on a moonlit Vesak night

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Some years ago, on a beautiful Vesak Poya night, we were listening to bana by Ven. Narada on TV when suddenly without warning the power failed and we were enveloped in a mantle of velvety darkness.  We groped for candles, box of matches and lit our standby generator, the old brass Aladdin kerosene oil lamp, to dispel the darkness. We gathered on the verandah talking in whispers wondering how to spend the long vigil till power returned.

My little daughter Chootee, suggested that we sit in the garden where there was beautiful bright moonlight which reflected silvery streaks on the swaying coconut branches and the walkway decorated with rows of colourful Vesak lanterns, flags and streamers.  We placed some chairs in the garden and made ourselves comfortable with soft drinks and short eats.  The only sound in the silence was the distant beating of tom-toms at a  temple.

Chootee felt sorry for Achchi alone in her candle-lit room and so she fetched her frail Achchi and made her relax comfortably in an armchair.

The beautiful moon seemed huge over the trees in the eastern sky and Chootee was thrilled to see it. She asked, “Achchi, the full moon is rising, isn’t it bright and beautiful?” Achchi whose eyesight was rather poor said, “Yes Podee, it should be beautiful especially on this Vesak Full Moon night.”  “Achchi, it is so big and bright, shines like a silver plate in the sky, I wonder whether there are any Devas living there?” Achchi smiled and said, “I don’t know about Devas but do you see a Hava (a rabbit) painted on the moon?”

Chootee gazed at the moon for some time trying to fathom what those shades of grey resembled, and suddenly she did see a figure like a Hava.  She shouted, “Achcho, yes there is a beautiful Hava painted on the moon.

Chootee’s mother teased Achchi, “Amma, I hope you are not going to relate that Jathaka story you told me when I was a child! Nowadays children are not foolish to believe in such fairy stories!” Achchi kept silent for a while.  With a trembling voice she said, “Duwa, it was related to my mother by her mother, and her mother by her mother and so on for two thousand years, and I wish these children would relate it to their children and their children to their children till the end of time.  Such a beautiful Jathaka story should not be allowed to be forgotten.”  Chootee pleaded, “Please, Achcho do tell me the story, I would like to listen.”

“Once, Buddha when he was a Bodhisathva, was born as a Hava (a rabbit). This was due to some sin he committed in a previous birth.  He lived in a rabbit-hole under a large rock in the jungle. He was an Upasaka Hava (hermit) and led a religious life. He prayed that he would in his next birth be born in a better life; would give even his life to fulfil his wish. The Great Sakaraya, God in charge of Earth and Heavens heard the prayers of this Bodhisathva Hava, and wanted to know whether the prayers were genuine.

He appeared near the rabbit-hole on a full moon night as an emaciated starving beggar in rags groaning and moaning. The Hava saw the man and asked, “Why are you groaning Sir?” The beggar replied, “I am lost in this jungle for days and days without anything to eat, and about to die of hunger, can you give me something to eat, little Hava?” The Hava felt sorry for the man. “I am only a Hava and have nothing to ease your hunger, but wait. Light a fire at the foot of the rock. When ready I will jump into the fire and when roasted you could eat my flesh and live.”  Still doubting, Sakaraya lit the fire with twigs and logs and when the fire was blazing, the Hava jumped from the rock to the fire saying “Eat me and ease your hunger gentle Sir.” Sakaraya stretched out his hand and caught it in midair. He believed in the Bodhisathva, and with a magic brush painted the Hava on the face of the moon.”

There was silence as each of us thought of some way we could help by sacrificing our life for another some day. Chootee asked, “Achcho, didn’t Jesus Christ give His life on the Cross for us as told in the Sunday School Bible classes?”  “Yes Chootee, He was a Buddha too who gave his life to save us from sin.

Chootee gazing at the moon asked, “Achcho, did you at any time think of sacrificing your life for someone?”  Achcho smiling thought for some time and said, “Yes my Podee, when I was giving birth to your mother in hospital on an operating table, I was hopelessly ill. I heard doctors with anxiety whispering to your Seeya that the operation was critical and either the mother or the baby could be saved. Seeya in anguish burst into tears pleading to the doctors to save both mother and child. There was no hope for me and I pleaded, “Please save my baby, I want my baby to live and not me.” Puzzled, Chootee asked, “Then how come both of you are alive?” Achcho sheepishly replied, “Sakaraya must have heard my prayers and let me and your mother live.”

Chootee was most thrilled with the Jathaka story. We all hugged and kissed her Achcho saying “Nivan Dakithwa Achcho.  Nivan Dakithwa Amma, you are a real Bodhisathva.”

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