Читать книгу Ancient Legends - - Страница 5

Do you know who Buddha is? Let me tell you about him.

Long ago, two and a half thousand years ago, a long-awaited son was born to an Indian raja and Queen Mahamaya – a noble heir to the Shakya clan. They named him Siddhartha Gautama. The royal couple’s joy knew no bounds. But on the seventh day after his birth, the queen passed away.

The king grieved deeply and feared for his son’s future. He summoned the most renowned astrologer to predict the child’s fate. The scholar studied the stars for a long time, drawing lines on paper, then finally spoke:

“The prince possesses extraordinary qualities. If he is allowed to grow freely and experience life in its fullness, he will become a great Enlightened One – a Teacher to millions.”

“But I need an heir – a protector of my kingdom, not a spiritual teacher!” the king retorted angrily.

“Then you must shield him for as long as possible from the realities and sufferings of human life,” the astrologer advised.

The king immediately issued a decree: “Until the prince turns twenty, he shall not leave the royal palace!” And so, Siddhartha grew up in luxury and peace, unaware of human sorrow or misfortune. When he turned twenty, the gates of the palace were finally opened so he could see the world in all its diversity.

Curious, the prince eagerly explored the unknown world, until he suddenly stopped in astonishment. A hunched old woman, wrapped in rags, hobbled toward him, leaning on a staff.

“Who is that?” he asked.

“That is old age,” they told him.

“Does it come to everyone?” the young man asked in horror.

“Yes, such is life,” his servant replied.

On the next street, they came across a man locked in a pen, sitting alone, his face disfigured.

“And who is this?” the prince asked. “Why is he imprisoned?”

“This man suffers from a terrible disease. He was isolated so he wouldn’t infect others. Leprosy is slowly eating away at his face,” they answered.

“What else do I not know?” the prince wondered.

As if in silent response, a funeral procession appeared at the end of the road.

“Where are these people going?” Siddhartha asked.

“They are taking the deceased to the cemetery for burial.”

“Does this fate await everyone?” the prince exclaimed in horror.

“Yes, such is life,” they answered again.

A great shadow seemed to fall over Siddhartha’s heart. He returned to the palace, locking himself away for many months, lost in thought. Fearing his son’s unpredictable actions, the king ordered his immediate marriage. Siddhartha obeyed his father’s will and married a beautiful woman. A few years later, they had a son.

But even as a husband and father, Siddhartha felt restless.

At twenty-nine, he left his home behind, setting out on a journey to find true, unending happiness. For the last time, he gazed upon his baby son, then dressed in simple robes, shaved his head, and left the palace forever. He wandered from city to city, from village to village, but Enlightenment did not come. He decided to fast – to abandon food completely. Soon, his body was nothing but skin and bones.