Date: 06/07/2025 06/08/2025
Location: Star River Meditation Center
Teacher: Yunquan Huang
Dharma Talk
The Noble Conduct of Mahānāma: A Bodhisattva’s Self-Sacrifice for the Masses
Shortly after the Blessed One, Śākyamuni Buddha, attained supreme enlightenment, King Prasenajit ascended the throne and became sovereign of the Kośala kingdom, which lay along the middle reaches of the Gaṅgā River.
Not long after his enthronement, King Prasenajit sought to assert his dominion. He demanded from the Śākya clan of Kapilavastu a royal maiden for consort, threatening war should they refuse.
The noblemen of the Śākya clan were greatly disturbed and filled with righteous indignation, proclaiming:
“How can our exalted lineage be defiled through marriage with one of lower birth?”
Yet, the reality could not be denied: Kapilavastu was a small and weak kingdom, no match in power or arms against mighty Kośala. Thus, some among them advocated appeasement out of prudence.
As contention grew and no consensus was reached, Mahānāma, a member of the royal house, proposed a stratagem: a beautiful daughter of a servant in his household would be passed off as his own daughter and sent to Kośala in marriage.
King Prasenajit was pleased with the woman who had come from Kapilavastu and installed her as queen. In due time, she bore him a comely son who won the king’s great affection. The child was named Virūḍhaka and was formally proclaimed crown prince.
When Prince Virūḍhaka was eight years old, the king sent him to Kapilavastu to be taught archery by his maternal “grandfather,” Mahānāma. There, he was joined by other youths of similar age in study and play.
One day, the prince and his companions entered a newly constructed but not yet inaugurated grand assembly hall. This hall, a source of great pride for the Śākya clan, was to be offered to the Buddha and his Saṅgha as a sacred site, with the intent to bring auspiciousness upon the people.
Unaware of its sanctity, Prince Virūḍhaka seated himself upon the central, most exalted seat. The Śākyas who witnessed this were shocked and angered. They dragged the prince down, cast him out of the hall, and rebuked him harshly:
“You, born of a servant girl, how dare you sit upon the seat which neither gods nor men dare claim! You, base-born, have overstepped your station!”
Humiliated, the young prince rose from the ground and declared both to himself and his peers:
“These Śākyas have disgraced me thus. When I become king, I shall exact vengeance upon them!”
Years later, when he inherited the throne, this grudge—etched deep in his memory—fueled his resolve. King Virūḍhaka raised an army and marched against Kapilavastu.
The Blessed One, knowing of this impending doom, went and sat visibly beneath a withered tree on the road the army must travel.
Upon seeing him, King Virūḍhaka inquired:
“World-Honored One, why do you sit beneath this lifeless tree, when lush Nīgrodha trees abound nearby?”
The Blessed One replied:
“The shade of kinship is dearer than the shade of trees.”
Awed by the Buddha’s words and out of reverence for his virtue, the king withdrew his forces.
Yet, the hatred in his heart rekindled, and he launched a second campaign. Again, the Buddha sat beneath the same withered tree, and again, the king turned back.
But on the third attempt, the king’s wrath would not be swayed. Venerable Mahāmaudgalyāyana approached the Buddha and requested:
“May I, by means of my supernormal powers, transfer the king’s army to another realm, or lift Kapilavastu into the sky, or erect an iron fortress around the city?”
The Blessed One asked:
“Maudgalyāyana, can your miraculous power overcome the ripened karma of the Śākya people?”
Mahāmaudgalyāyana answered:
“It cannot, World-Honored One.”
The Buddha, discerning that the karmic fruit of past deeds had matured and could no longer be forestalled, remained silent in sorrow.
Kapilavastu was thus overrun. The army of King Virūḍhaka committed great slaughter, hunting the Śākyas in every quarter.
At that time, Mahānāma, both the king’s “grandfather” and former ruler of the vanquished land, came forward with a desperate plea:
“Grant me this one wish: that I may dive into the river and hold my breath beneath the waters. Until I surface, allow my people to escape unharmed. Those who remain after I emerge, you may do with as you will.”
The king, moved by this daring proposal, consented.
Mahānāma thus plunged into the river. As the Śākyas began to flee the city, time passed, yet he did not emerge. The king grew suspicious and sent divers to investigate. They found Mahānāma’s lifeless body, hair tied fast to a submerged root, ensuring he would never surface again.
Even the battle-hardened King Virūḍhaka, upon seeing this self-sacrifice, was struck with remorse:
“Had I known my grandfather would give his life for his people, I would not have attacked the city.”
But it was too late—Kapilavastu lay in ruins.
Returning to Śrāvastī, King Virūḍhaka found his half-brother, Prince Jeta, reveling in dance and music with courtesans. Consumed by rage, he rebuked him:
“Why did you not assist me in this campaign?”
Jeta replied:
“I could not bear to kill. Hence, I did not join your war.”
Infuriated, the king drew his sword and slew him on the spot.
Seven days later, Śrāvastī was struck by a great storm and flood. The king was drowned and fell into the Avīci Hell.
