Tales from the Mogao Grottoes

Amitabha's Paradise

by Ernie Diaz

Technically, Dunhuang is an oasis. But for those who don’t regularly lead camel caravans through the Taklimakan desert to China, Dunhuang is anything but. Modern travelers looking for a paradise in the middle of the desert are better advised to visit Dubai, circa 2007.

As for family vacations, the singing sands will have to make up for a whole lot of no McDonald’s or clean bathrooms. And adventure seekers should only stop in Dunhuang to equip themselves for the trek out to Loulan. So China Expat can give only one compelling reason for visiting the western gate of the Middle Kingdom, and give it only to a certain kind of tourist, ever-dwindling in this age in which instant-gratification is the greatest good. That reason is the Mogao Grottoes.

Not many would consider the trouble and expense of a trip out to Dunhuang rewarded solely by these 492 caves, adorned with 45,000 square meters of mural paintings, and perhaps only devoted Buddhists can fully appreciate them. But in the fourth century CE, monks meditating on Mingsha hill near sunset were bathed in celestial light, emanating from the crest of Sanwei hill opposite them. The medium was sparkling mica, but the source was the Buddha’s lingguang, holy power.

Thus began a project the likes of which the Chinese delight in, one of massive scale and painstaking detail, one which would not end until over a thousand years later. The Mogao Grottoes endow the world with a pictorial narrative of the Buddhist universe – sutra stories and deeds of deities, patrons’ lives and warriors’ grisly ends. The following stories, and thousands more like them, were painstakingly rendered with loving hands, and still lie in shadow, a diversion for tourists but a treasure for lovers of living history.

The Story of Prince Sudana

Prince Sudana bequeaths his elephant

Sudana, crown prince of Yebo, was possessed of such transcendent compassion that he could refuse no boon asked of him, great or small, from beggar or nobleman. Thus did he command the allegiance of Sudhayan, a divine white elephant as unmatched in battle as it was in stature. After Sudhayan vanquished an opposing army of sixty lesser elephants single-trunkedly, no neighboring kingdom dared oppose Yebo openly.

Naturally, Yebo’s rivals resorted to cunning. They bribed a troupe of wandering ascetics to visit Sudana’s court and beseech the prince for his elephant. Even those who knew him best were shocked at his consent, no less at the audacity of the request. The recriminations began before the ascetics had led Sudhayan away: the prince’s generosity had compromised state security. The king himself, who had always struggled with his son’s extreme altruism, could only call this latest gift treacherous folly, and exiled the prince before he could wreak further damage with his open hand.

Saddened but by no means put out, Sudana promptly gave away all his estate save a horse and cart on which to depart with his wife and sons. They had not left the tearful farewell crowd far behind when a lame monk stopped them on the stony road, begging for use of the horse to complete his journey to Yebo. Sudana gave it to him and took up the traces, pulling his family along without complaint.

Further on, Sudana encountered a poor family carrying the few worldly goods they had saved from a fire. He gave them the cart, and his own family struggled onward by foot. The next day, a naked beggar found himself possessed of Sudana’s raiment, while the prince bore his nakedness with dignity.

Alone in the wilds with hungry children and a sainted madman, the princess despaired. Sudana neither placated nor chastised, and showed no surprise at the glistening city that rose up before them as their last strength failed. Revelers greeted them with food and drink, music and clothing. It was an illusion granted by Lord Buddha, nonetheless sustaining, but Sudana would not tarry. A mountain ahead beckoned, one where the celestials themselves were said to gather dharma.

Sudana built a crude hut on the mountain. His sons befriended monkeys and parrots, while his wife gathered fruit and berries. She was thus engaged one day when a band of slave traders passed by the hut, and assumed such an impoverished mountain-dweller would part with his sons for a meager price. To their astonishment, Sudana tied a rope about the boys’ necks and handed the end to a slaver, speaking no word of payment, but thrashing his sons when they refused to march. Karma quickly brought them to Yebo, where they were bought for service in the palace. The king soon recognized his grandsons and sent for the prince, to no avail. Having nothing left to give, Sudana cared nothing more for gain.

The Story of Suksima

The Ordination of Suksima

Suksima was a Brahmin who married into a good family. She bore her husband a son, and while close to delivering her second child it was decided that she must give birth back in her parents’ home. But her time came early, and while her husband sought a forest bower to lay his wife in, a serpent bit him and took his life. Disconsolate yet determined, Suksima delivered her second son, swaddled him, and continued the journey.

Coming across a swift river, Suksima decided to carry the newborn across first, placing him in soft grass on the far shore. She returned for her other son, who spied her midway and excitedly waded into the river to meet her. The roaring water drowned her cries as it swept the youngster off and drowned him. Suksima at last gathered herself and returned to the spot where her newborn lay, but not in time to stop the wolf which plucked her child with slavering fangs and made off quickly into the forest.

Suksima wandered for days, seeing nothing but the horrors that had befallen and rent her world. By chance she had strayed near her home village, and a familiar wood-cutter chanced upon her. He carried along with his axe and bundle grim news: Suksima’s parents had died in a fire not two days earlier.

Suksima stayed with the kindly woodcutter and his family. For years she dwelt in dazed sorrow, but at last married another Brahmin in the village. This worthy was no credit to his caste, however, a dissolute man given to drunken rages. Tragedy struck Suksima again as she gave birth, this time to her third child. Bereft of a midwife in the tiny village, Suksima heard but could not heed her drunken husband’s pounding on the door. He burst through in a red fury, snatched his new child and threw it in a boiling pot. After thrashing Suksima he forced her to eat of his abomination. She fled as soon as sleep took him.

This time a band of robbers found Suksima upon her woeful way and abducted her. The chief bandit noted the depthless sorrow in her dark eyes and loved her. Soon enough, the local magistrate and his men caught up with the robber band, beheaded their chief, and buried Suksima alive with his corpse. The madness of slow suffocation made Suksima heedless of paws clawing frantically through the loose earth above her. Starving wolves began to devour her husband’s remains yet ignored Suksima, who stumbled away naked, beyond life and death.

It was in this condition, any semblance of ego smashed and scattered by unfathomable tragedy, that she walked into the golden presence of the Buddha. She chanted the tally of what had befallen her, working through the last of her unfinished karma. Lord Buddha ended her tale at the beginning, and informed Suksima that in her last life she had slain both her husband’s first wife and son with a needle. Suksima emerged from her waking dream of maya into the pure light of samadhi, and Lord Buddha personally ordained her as a bhiksuni. Her tale is kept close to heart by Buddhist nuns who know that there are ten Suksimas for every Job.

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