Day 15, Month of Chaithra, BCE 443, University
of Takshasila
Several times, over the years, Jivaka had
wondered about his purpose in life. ‘What was the point of his
birth?’
The first time he’d asked himself that
question had been when he found out why he’d been named “Jivaka”.
The second had been when Prince Abhaya had practically adopted him,
and given him a home in the royal palace. The third had been when
he’d been barred from certain sections of the self-same palace. The
fourth had been when his mentor had informed him that it would be
best if he trained himself in some profession. The fifth was when
he’d finally arrived at the greatest university of those times,
Takshasila, and found that no one was willing to train him as a
physician.
Now was the sixth time — when Acharya
Athideva, a member of the Council of Examiners, refused to evaluate
him after seven years of study.
“I do not see the point of allowing him to be
a physician,” he said now, surveying him coldly. “A brat without
parents, or birth…”
“I must beg to differ on both counts,” argued
another member, his former teacher, Acharya Atreya. “This young man
is a highly competent physician, and of immense comfort to his
patients...”
“… born to a dancer, and thrown on a rubbish
heap,” Athideva went on, as if there had been no interruption. “He
would have been feasted on by crows and dogs if not for Prince
Abhaya’s rescue — and you ask me to certify him as a
physician!”
“To refuse a man his due, just because of his
birth, is the most ridiculous piece of nonsense I’ve ever heard,”
Atreya’s words dripped acid.
One more test
Jivaka stood in front of them both, head
bowed, hands gripped tightly, mind in turmoil. What was going to be
his fate? ‘What is the purpose of my life?’
Athideva regarded him thoughtfully. “You have
passed the exams set by the Council, but you will not be considered
a physician, unless you pass mine.”
“Tour the area outside Takshasila for a
distance of a hundred miles, and bring me a plant that is not
medicinal. That will decide your fate.”
Jivaka made his way outside the university,
picking his way along roads, copses, forests and dry, barren
fields. Over the next week, he picked this plant and that, breaking
off tree branches, and smelling nuts and fruits. By the end of the
seventh day, he had to admit defeat.
“I could find no plant without medicinal
qualities, Acharya,” Jivaka said softly, the next morning, bowing
in front of the Council of Examiners. “Even grass has some use. I
have failed.”
Athideva stared at him, speechless for a
moment. Abruptly, he left the hall with a swish of his
clothes.
As Jivaka stared at the departing teacher, his
own teacher, Atreya, smiled at him. “On the contrary, Jivaka, you
have passed. A true physician knows that every single creation on
earth has some purpose. It will be my pleasure to certify you as a
physician.”
‘Even grass has a reason to
live,’ Jivaka
pondered, as he received accreditation. ‘But what’s
mine?’
Day 23, Month of Vaishakha, BCE 421, Outskirts
of Rajagriha (present-day Bihar)
Years had passed, and Jivaka was still
pondering that question. These days, he had no cause to complain,
career-wise. He’d cured people on their deathbeds; found medicines
for seemingly incurable diseases; performed complicated operations
and was now physician to the king. Royals from kingdoms as far off
as Ujjain sought him; his fame had now spread far and
wide.
‘I suppose this is my
purpose,’ Jivaka
mused, as he travelled in a palanquin to his quarters in the royal
palace. And yet … there was a strange restlessness inside him.
There was a commotion on the road; the palanquin came to a stop.
Loud voices reached him; Jivaka looked out. “What is it?
Who…”
A lanky, gaunt ascetic dressed in saffron
robes, pushed past the guards and came up. “Please, honoured
Jivaka… I need your help. My master is ill, in the forest. I tried
to heal him, but…”
“Who is it?”
“If you will come with me, I will take you to
him.”
It didn’t even occur to Jivaka to refuse. His
guide bade him to get down, and walk on a small path that led to a
forest.
“Why, I believe I know you,” Jivaka said,
suddenly.
His guide hesitated. “We have met — in
Takshasila. I am…”
“Acharya Athideva. And if you failed
to cure him, then I…”
“He asked for you. And that makes me believe
that you might succeed.”
By this time, they had reached a clearing. In
the distance, under a large tree lay someone, surrounded by several
monks. They parted at Jivaka’s arrival, revealing the patient.
Jivaka took a look at him, and stopped.
The man’s body showed signs of old age — but
his eyes! Never, in his long career had Jivaka seen eyes of such
gentleness, warmth, or knowledge. Jivaka’s feet took him to the man
automatically, and the physician found himself bending over the
patient.
“I have waited a long time for you, Jivaka,”
said the patient, softly. “Welcome.”
The words stuck in Jivaka’s throat. He knew
this person — no, this great person, of whom wonderful legends
circulated, in many kingdoms. Suddenly, the question that had
haunted him all his life cropped up. ‘What is my purpose in
life?’
Jivaka knew he’d found his answer. He pressed
his forehead to the patient’s feet.
“I am here to serve you to the best of my
ability, Lord Buddha.”
Historical Fact
Buddha Poornima, a festival that commemorates
the birth, enlightenment, and death of Lord Buddha, was observed on
May 4, this year. So acclaimed was Jivaka that he became known as
the Founder of Buddhist medicine, and remained physician to the
Buddha, until the end of his days. Even today, he is revered as the
Father of Thai medicine.