Tirthankar Mahavir

SR No.: 020834
Original Sutra Author: N/A
Author: Kumarpal Desai
Publisher: Jaybhikkhu Sahitya Trust
Publication Year: 2003
Total Pages: 235
Language: English
Classification: Book_English
File Size: 57 MB

Page 94

Acharya Shri Kailassagarsun Gyanmandir
A third man said, "Neither a thief nor a dacoit has occupied your house. Only a saintly ascetic has made a temporary halt at your house. To kill such a great saint is considered to be a deadly sin. Just think a little."
All tried to pacify the blacksmith. But all their efforts were in vain. The anger of the weak blacksmith increased greatly.
The moment was critical. The blacksmith could not contain his anger. The fire of anger burned him. His face became contorted with anger. He twisted his eyebrows. He gnashed his teeth. His eyes were as red as burning charcoal. He lifted the heavy hammer and was about to hit it vigorously on the head of the saint in deep meditation. But Tirthankara Mahavira stood firmly without moving his body. There was no fear, no agitation. His face exuded pure bliss and peace. In his meditative trance he was as unagitated as Mount Meru.
The blacksmith was very distressed and disturbed by Mahavira's peace and composure. He felt that the saint was defying and ridiculing him. He decided to teach him a lesson. He brandished the hammer at him. Everybody thought that within a fraction of a moment the hammer would hit the saint on his head and he would fall down dead.
But a miracle happened. The blacksmith was brandishing the hammer vigorously and his hands were trembling with rage. His hands lost his grip on the hammer and the hammer fell back or his own head. The hammer hit him on his head instead of hitting the yogi. Thus, the blacksmith who had been saved from a terrible disease became the victim of his own anger. The angry blacksmith, who had desired to kill Mahavira, inadvertently killed himself.
Harussment by Kataputana
The Highest Peak of Equanimity
From Gramaka Sannivesha, Tirthankara Mahavira went to Shalishirsha village. On reaching the village, he halted at a charming park on its outskirts. There, he assumed the meditative standing posture and went into a trance.
It was the month of Magha in the winter season. It was freezing cold and piercing wind was blowing. Plants were being destroyed by frost. But Mahavira was standing in a vast open park with the wind piercing his naked body as sharp spikes would. The cold was so severe that even the strongest of the strong shivered. The villagers were sleeping under thick woollen