Nothing is indeed unbearable to those who have made for-bearance all their own, and who are great in the correct appreciation of the true nature of things. This is shown by the following story: At one time the Bodhisattva, was an ascetic, eminent for his moral conduct, his learning, his tranquillity, his self-discipline, and the control he had over his mind. He had understood that life in the home is indeed attended by a great many faults and calamities: that it is governed by a per-petual concern with material gain and sensual pleasure, and in consequence is not conducive to tranquillity; that it is con-stantly assailed by the dust and dirt of passions, such as greed, hate, delusion, impatience, anger, self-intoxication, conceit and niggardliness; that it is apt to reduce the ability to maintain religious standards, and that it offers a field for covetousness and unfriendliness to others; and so, beset by opportunities for bad actions, it offers little scope for Dharma. The home-less life, on the other hand, he had found to be a happy one, for it is free from those faults, having abandoned all concern with material property and sense-objects. He had taken it upon himself to observe patience always and under all circumstances, he often spoke in praise of patience, and this was the virtue which he continually stressed in his expositions of Dharma. People in consequence invented for him the name "Kshanti-vadin" ("Preacher of Patience"), and his original family name went quite out of use.

That great-souled man lived in the middle of a forest, in a place delightful for its solitude, and beautiful like a lovely garden - with flowers and fruits at all seasons and a pond of pure water adorned with pink and blue lotuses. And his presence conferred on this place the auspiciousness of a hermi-tage. The deities who inhabited that grove thought highly of him, and people often visited him in quest of spiritual bliss and spiritual virtue. And on this multitude of visitors he bestowed the supreme favour of expounding the subject of patience in suitable sermons which gladdened their ears as well as their hearts.
Now it so happened that the king of that part of the world, oppressed by the summer's heat, set his mind on playing in the water, a very pleasant thing to do at that time of the year. So with his harem he betook himself to that forest, which had all the qualities one looks for in a park, and amused himself to his heart's content. Then, tired from all this sporting about, and drowsy, he went to his splendid couch, which was luxuriously laid out, and fell asleep.

Thereupon the women, enchanted in their hearts by the beauties of the forest and unable to fill their eyes sufficiently with them, saw in the withdrawal of the king an opportunity to ramble about in casual groups, the noise of their rattling ornaments blending with the buzzing sound of their chatter. Roaming through the enchanting forest, the king's women came to Kshantivadin's hermitage, went into it, and their eyes fell on that most excellent sage, a sight making for peace and happiness. There he sat cross-legged under a tree, auspicious and meritorious to behold, the visible manifestation of Dharma. His deep profundity inspired awe, he shone with the lustre of his austerities, and he radiated a splendid stillness because, as a result of his diligent practice of trance, his senses remained unmoved even in the presence of sublime objects of medita-tion. The glow of his spirituality subdued the minds of the royal wives; when they saw him they at once shed their usual boisterousness, affectation, and frivolity, and adopted a dis-ciplined, modest, and respectful demeanour. He in his turn addressed them with pleasant words of welcome, etc., and showed them the civility due to guests. Thereafter, he ex-tended to them the hospitality of the Dharma, and, in response to their queries, talked to them in terms which womenfolk can easily grasp, careful to illustrate his meaning by examples and similes.

Meanwhile the king's sleep had dispelled his fatigue, and he woke up. With a frown on his face he asked the female atten-dants who guarded his couch, "Where are my wives?" The attendants replied: "They are now, your Majesty, embellishing some other part of this forest. They have gone off to see what else it contains." On hearing this, the king rose from his couch, and, accompanied by his female warriors and eunuchs, marched off into the wood. To get to the hermitage he had only to follow the path which his wives had traced out in their juvenile wantonness, and which was marked by bunches of flowers, piles of twigs, and the red dye of betel leaves on the ground. But no sooner had the king seen Kshantivadin, that great seer, surrounded by his royal wives, than he was seized by frenzied wrath. This was due to the bias he felt against him as a result of an enmity nursed during previous lives. In addition, drowsiness still deranged his composure and jealousy dulled his judgement. He had but little power to appreciate the true nature of the situation, and in disregard of all the rules of self-control and polite behaviour, he submitted to the evils of anger. Sweat broke out over his body, his colour changed, he trembled all over, he frowned, and his eyes, dark red, became dull, revolved, and stared. Gone were all his loveliness, grace, and charm. He shook his golden bracelets, rubbed his be-ringed hands, and scoldingly said to the best of Seers: "Hey, you!

Who is it that scorns our Majesty, by lifting his eyes to our harem wives?
Concealed in the garb of a Muni - a low-class nicatseller's be-haviour!

And scornfully the king continued: "Now you will have an opportunity to show your passion for patience!" And, as one cuts a lotus from its stalk, so he cut off with his sharp sword the Sage's right hand, which in a prohibitive gesture was slightly extended towards him, with its long and delicate fingers raised aloft.

Though his hand was cut off, he yet felt no pain, so firm his adherence to patience;
His pain lay in seeing the terrible fate this butcher, accustomed to pleasure, would meet in the future.

But the Bodhisatma kept silent, because he regarded the king as someone who was beyond help and who could not possibly be won over by kindness. He sorrowed for him as for a patient whom the doctors have given up. The king, however, spoke to him in a threatening manner:

And so your body will be carved to pieces till you die!
Stop this pose of piety! Your roguish cunning shall be stopped!

But the Bodhisattva said nothing, because he knew him for a person who could not be won over by affection, and recognized that he would persist anyhow. So the king in the same manner cut off the other hand of that great-souled man, and thereafter both his arms, his cars and nose, and his feet.

No sorrow and no anger felt the Muni, when that sharp sword his frame demolished.
This engine of the body must run down, he knew, and years of practice had accustomed him to patience.
And when he saw his limbs drop off, this holy man, unbroken, firm and patient, felt but exaltation,
No pain at all. What gave him anguish was to see the king so far estranged from Dharma.
Those who are great in true insight, whose minds are governed by pity,
Heed not the ill that befalls them, but that which troubles their fellows.
But the king, having done this terrible deed, forthwith succumbed to a violent fever;
He rushed from the garden, and the great earth, opening wide, devoured him.

The best of Sages, however, who, thanks to his reliance on forbearance, had throughout remained firm and unshaken in his fortitude, ascended to heaven, as a temporary reward for his patience.