Jatakas 55 (Pañcāvudhajātaka) and 56 (Kañcanakkhandhajātaka) present us with deceptively simple verses. The two verses (of six lines) are each identical, except for the key term. But the doubling is not just in the repeated verses, for the key terms themselves must be understood in another doubling: through the otherwise unrelated story, and through the ambiguity of the words. The fact that both verses not only contain plays on words, but the same kind of play on different words, shows the sophistication of the poet’s deliberate literary construction.
Ja 55 is as follows:
He whose heart is not stuck,
a man not stuck in mind,
develops skilful qualities
for the sake of sanctuary from the yoke.
Gradually he would attain
the ending of all fetters.
Most of this is very standard and familiar from EBT poetry. And it has no explicit connection with the story, which is that a prince is named “Five-Weapons” after a prophecy when he was born. The prophecy was fulfilled when, on returning from his studies in Takkasilā in Gandhāra, he encountered a ferocious native spirit (yakkha) in a forest and fought it with five weapons. Each attack only stuck him tighter to the monster’s shaggy coat. The monster, recognizing his courage, let him go.
- The five weapons are the arrow (sara), sword (khagga), javelin (kaṇaya), hammer (muggara), and lance (kunta). But his real weapon is the vajira (“diamond” or “thunderbolt”), which is the weapon of knowledge.
When the warrior gets stuck to the yakkha, the Pali is allīna. This can be read as a metaphor for violence: one who lives by the sword is “stuck” to the kamma of killing, becoming the same as those who they fight.
The verse speaks rather of one who is “unstuck” (alīna), the true hero. The commentary says his true weapon “diamond weapon” (vajirāvudha) of knowledge.
- For Pali students, these have the same root with different prefixes: alīna has the negative a-, while allīna has the intensive ā-.
So on the first layer we must connect the “unstuck” of the verse with the “stuck” of the story.
But then there is the second layer, for līna also means “sluggish, weary”, and hence its negative alīna means “intrepid, unwearying”. And it is this lack of fear in the face of death that the yakkha notices and prompts him to let the hero go.
So to understand alīna in the verse, we must take into consideration both the story and the two meanings of “unstuck” and “intrepid”.
Now, moving to the second verse, everything is identical except the word pahaṭṭha replaces alīna.
Pahaṭṭha normally has the sense “cheerful” from the root √haṁs. But the commentary explains it rather with gold that has been forged (√ghaṁs) until it is luminous and radiant.
This connects with the story, which tells of a lump of gold so large it is useless until it is broken up into pieces. The moral is that an apparently overwhelming task becomes manageable when broken down.
This also makes better sense in context with the verse, as the idea of connecting the development of the mind with the work of purifying gold is well-established in the suttas. But “cheerful” remains as a secondary meaning, as the mind in samadhi is also a cheerful one. As of course, the man who discovers the gold is happy when he works out how to make use of it.
So, as with the previous verse, the story adds a layer of meaning, and the dual senses of the word add another.
Of course, the multiplying dual meanings themselves cause another duality in the translator: a joy in appreciating the craftsmanship, and a headache in figuring out how to translate it!
Perhaps I could take advantage of yet another doubling: the first and second lines in each verse say the same thing in slightly different words. We could introduce the primary meaning in the first line, then the secondary meaning.
He whose heart is not stuck,
a man of intrepid mind,
And then:
He whose heart is well forged,
a man of cheerful mind,