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Now this is how the version in the Jatakas go:
This story the Master told in Jetavana about a landowner whose father was dead. This man on his father’s death was overwhelmed with sorrow: leaving all his duties undone, he gave himself up to his sorrow wholly. The Master at dawn of day looking out upon mankind, perceived that he was ripe for attaining the fruit of the First Path. Next day, after going his rounds for alms in Sāvatthi, his meal done, he dismissed the Brethren, and taking with him a junior Brother, went to this man’s house, and gave him greeting, and addressed him as he sat there in words of honey sweetness. “You are in sorrow, lay Brother?” said he. “Yes, Sir, afflicted with sorrow for my father’s sake.” Said the Master, “Lay Brother, wise men of old who exactly knew the eight conditions of this world, felt at a father’s death no grief, not even a little.” Then at his request he told a story of the past.
This story the Master told in Jetavana about a landowner whose father was dead. This man on his father’s death was overwhelmed with sorrow: leaving all his duties undone, he gave himself up to his sorrow wholly. The Master at dawn of day looking out upon mankind, perceived that he was ripe for attaining the fruit of the First Path. Next day, after going his rounds for alms in Sāvatthi, his meal done, he dismissed the Brethren, and taking with him a junior Brother, went to this man’s house, and gave him greeting, and addressed him as he sat there in words of honey sweetness. “You are in sorrow, lay Brother?” said he. “Yes, Sir, afflicted with sorrow for my father’s sake.” Said the Master, “Lay Brother, wise men of old who exactly knew the eight conditions of this world, felt at a father’s death no grief, not even a little.” Then at his request he told a story of the past.
Once upon a time, at Benares, a great king named Dasaratha renounced the ways of evil, and reigned in righteousness. Of his sixteen thousand wives, the eldest and queen-consort bore him two sons and a daughter; the elder son was named Rama-paṇḍita, or Rama the Wise, the second was named Prince Lakkhaṇa, or Lucky, and the daughter’s name was the Lady Sītā.
In course of time, the queen-consort died. At her death the king was for a long time crushed by sorrow, but urged by his courtiers he performed her obsequies, and set another in her place as queen-consort. She was dear to the king and beloved. In time she also conceived, and all due attention having been given her, she brought forth a son, and they named him Prince Bharata.
The king loved his son much, and said to the queen, “Lady, I offer you a boon: choose.” She accepted the offer, but put it off for the time. When the lad was seven years old, she went to the king, and said to him, “My lord, you promised a boon for my son. Will you give it me now?” “Choose, lady,” said he. “My lord,” quoth she, “give my son the kingdom.” The king snapt his fingers at her; “Out, vile jade!” said he angrily, “my other two sons shine like blazing fires; would you kill them, and ask the kingdom for a son of yours?” She fled in terror to her magnificent chamber, and on other days again and again asked the king for this. The king would not give her this gift. He thought within himself: “Women are ungrateful and treacherous. This woman might use a forged letter or a treacherous bribe to get my sons murdered.” So he sent for his sons, and told them all about it, saying: “My sons, if you live here some mischief may befall you. Go to some neighbouring kingdom, or to the woodland, and when my body is burnt, then return and inherit the kingdom which belongs to your family.” Then he summoned soothsayers, and asked them the limits of his own life. They told him he would live yet twelve years longer. Then he said, “Now, my sons, after twelve years you must return, and uplift the umbrella of royalty.” They promised, and after taking leave of their father, went forth from the palace weeping. The Lady Sītā said, “I too will go with my brothers:” she bade her father farewell, and went forth weeping.
These three departed amidst a great company of people. They sent the people back, and proceeded until at last they came to Himalaya. There in a spot well-watered, and convenient for the getting of wild fruits, they built a hermitage, and there lived, feeding upon the wild fruits.
Lakkhaṇa-paṇḍita and Sītā said to Rāma-paṇḍita, “You are in place of a father to us; remain then in the hut, and we will bring wild fruit, and feed you.” He agreed: thenceforward Rāma-paṇḍita stayed where he was, the others brought the wild fruit and fed him with it.
In course of time, the queen-consort died. At her death the king was for a long time crushed by sorrow, but urged by his courtiers he performed her obsequies, and set another in her place as queen-consort. She was dear to the king and beloved. In time she also conceived, and all due attention having been given her, she brought forth a son, and they named him Prince Bharata.
The king loved his son much, and said to the queen, “Lady, I offer you a boon: choose.” She accepted the offer, but put it off for the time. When the lad was seven years old, she went to the king, and said to him, “My lord, you promised a boon for my son. Will you give it me now?” “Choose, lady,” said he. “My lord,” quoth she, “give my son the kingdom.” The king snapt his fingers at her; “Out, vile jade!” said he angrily, “my other two sons shine like blazing fires; would you kill them, and ask the kingdom for a son of yours?” She fled in terror to her magnificent chamber, and on other days again and again asked the king for this. The king would not give her this gift. He thought within himself: “Women are ungrateful and treacherous. This woman might use a forged letter or a treacherous bribe to get my sons murdered.” So he sent for his sons, and told them all about it, saying: “My sons, if you live here some mischief may befall you. Go to some neighbouring kingdom, or to the woodland, and when my body is burnt, then return and inherit the kingdom which belongs to your family.” Then he summoned soothsayers, and asked them the limits of his own life. They told him he would live yet twelve years longer. Then he said, “Now, my sons, after twelve years you must return, and uplift the umbrella of royalty.” They promised, and after taking leave of their father, went forth from the palace weeping. The Lady Sītā said, “I too will go with my brothers:” she bade her father farewell, and went forth weeping.
These three departed amidst a great company of people. They sent the people back, and proceeded until at last they came to Himalaya. There in a spot well-watered, and convenient for the getting of wild fruits, they built a hermitage, and there lived, feeding upon the wild fruits.
Lakkhaṇa-paṇḍita and Sītā said to Rāma-paṇḍita, “You are in place of a father to us; remain then in the hut, and we will bring wild fruit, and feed you.” He agreed: thenceforward Rāma-paṇḍita stayed where he was, the others brought the wild fruit and fed him with it.