The Bodisat said, “There is no doubt that we must ultimately be parted, for such is the way of the world. You are accustomed to excellent food and drink, clothes and couches, and therefore you are of a very delicate constitution. In the penance forest it is necessary to sleep on grass and leaves, to feed on roots, flowers, and fruits, and to walk on a ground which is covered with millet and thorns and splinters, to keep constantly to one kind of food, to practise magnanimity towards all beings, and to offer hospitality to those who appear unexpectedly. As even there I shall undoubtedly bestow gifts according to my means, you must feel absolutely no regret on that account. Therefore you ought to think this over well for a time.”
Madrī replied, “O lord, so long as I am able, I will follow after you.” The Bodisat said, “If this be so, be mindful of your vow.”
Then the Bodisat went to his father, paid him reverence with his head, and said, “O father, be pleased to forgive me my fault, the giving away of the elephant. As I am now going forth from the city into the forest, your treasury, O king, will not become empty.” The king, losing his breath from grief at the parting, said with tremulous voice, “O son, give up making presents and remain here.” [[261]]The Bodisat replied, “The earth and its mountains may perhaps be destined to overthrow; but I, O lord of the earth, cannot turn aside my mind from giving.”
After saying these words he went away, mounted a chariot along with his son, daughter, and wife, and went forth from the good city; hundreds of thousands of the towns-people and country folks attending him with lamentation. A certain man who heard this wailing and lament, and saw such great crowds streaming towards the city-gate, asked another man, “Hey, friend, wherefore has so great a multitude set up such a lamentation?” “Honoured sir,” was the reply, “do not you know in what way the king’s own son has been sent away from here, because he persistently took pleasure in giving?”
When the prince, together with his wife and children, had reached the margin of the forest, all the people who formed his retinue raised a loud cry of lament. But so soon as it was heard, the Bodisat addressed the retinue which had come forth from the good city, and ordered it to turn back, saying—
“However long anything may be loved and held dear, yet separation from it is undoubtedly imminent. Friends and relatives must undoubtedly be severed from what is dearest to them, as from the trees of the hermitage wherein they have rested from the fatigues of the journey. Therefore, when ye reflect that all over the world men are powerless against separation from their friends, ye must for the sake of peace strengthen your unsteady minds by unfailing exertion.”
When the Bodisat had journeyed three hundred yojanas, a Brahman came to him and said, “O Kshatriya prince, I have come three hundred yojanas because I have heard of your virtue. It is meet that you should give me the splendid chariot as a recompense for my fatigue.”
Madrī could not bear this, and she addressed the Brahman in angry speech. “Alas! this Brahman, who even in the forest entreats the king’s son for a gift, has a merciless [[262]]heart. Does no pity arise within him when he sees the prince fallen from his royal splendour?” The Bodisat said, “Find no fault with the Brahman.”
“Why not?”
“Madrī, if there were no people of that kind who long after riches there would also be no giving, and in that case how could we, inhabitants of the earth, become possessed of insight? As giving and the other Pāramitās (or virtues essential to a Buddhaship) rightly comprise the highest virtue, the Bodisats constantly attain to the highest insight.”