Beyond the Appearance: A Prison Guard's Redemption

This is a record of an interview with Zhuo Renhong, who sought deliverance at the Hsiang Kuang Pure Land Buddhist Centre in Australia. He now resides in the Western Land of Ultimate Bliss. This account reflects upon his life and his time as a prison guard in the underworld. Recorded by the chief writer, Shi Faxin, on October 15, 2021.

Zhuo Renhong speaks:

"Namo Amituofo. The very moment I arrived in the Western Land of Ultimate Bliss, it felt as if my entire being had undergone a profound purification. All the memories of the past, the burdens I had carried for so long, simply faded away. I had no desire to dwell on them any longer; I only wished to savour the cool, refreshing ease of this magnificent world. I scooped up the Eight Meritorious Waters and washed my face. To my astonishment, I discovered that my face was no longer ugly. The birds singing and the fragrance of the flowers here filled my whole body with such comfort. I took a deep breath, feeling that this world truly welcomed me. My spirit had been reborn.

My fifty-nine fellow prison guards and I each had our own unique experiences, but we all share a deep sense of gratitude toward the Buddha, Practitioner Su, and King Yama. We are profoundly thankful for the magnificent Causal Conditions of today, which allowed the sixty of us to achieve rebirth in the Western Land of Ultimate Bliss."

A Childhood of Poverty and Love

"I am Zhuo Renhong, born in Chiayi, Taiwan. People always said my name sounded very pleasant. My father and mother had specifically asked a literate uncle to choose it for me. I was the youngest child, with eleven older sisters. My mother had to struggle through life, giving birth repeatedly until she finally had me, a boy. When I was born, the midwife exclaimed, 'Congratulations, Mrs. Zhuo! This child has a little bird; it is a boy!' My mother was overjoyed, saying, 'Is that really true?' She was so exhausted after that, she nearly collapsed.

After I was born, my mother prepared a great deal of oil rice to share with everyone, celebrating my arrival. All eleven of my sisters doted on me; there was a twelve-year gap between me and my eldest sister. I was a very obedient child. From a young age, I did not like to cry, which brought my parents great relief, as I was born during the busiest time of their lives. Raising twelve children was no easy task; every meal was a significant expense.

We grew rice, but our table was mostly filled with sweet potatoes and corn. My mother explained that rice could be sold for a good price, and to support the family, we had to sell what we grew. Only during the Lunar New Year did we have rice to eat. I cherished every single mouthful. The fragrance of the rice would rush into my nose, and I knew that another year had passed and a new one was beginning."

The Secret Joy of Books

"As I grew older, I became more sensible. In our family, only the sisters from the seventh onwards had the chance to go to school and learn to read. However, my mother specifically asked me if I wanted to continue to middle school. I loved to study, but I was afraid of becoming a burden to the family, so I lied to my mother, saying, 'I do not like to study.' To prevent her from discovering my love for reading, I would often take the few books we had in the house and run to the riverbank. I would lose myself in the world of literature, sometimes spending the entire afternoon there.

Although I was the treasure of the family, I was not good-looking. In the eyes of our neighbours, I was even considered somewhat ugly. Once, when I was out on the street with my mother, the vendors would whisper behind our backs, 'The Zhuo family has eleven fairies; how did they give birth to this boy who looks like a caveman?' When I first heard such comments, my heart was deeply wounded. I ran to the riverbank to look at my reflection in the water: a square face, small eyes, a flat nose—every feature combined on my face truly did not look very attractive. It took me a long time to adjust my mood. My mother could see the disappointment on my face and patted my back. In that touch, I could feel her deep care for me. To ensure she would not worry, I tried my best to lift my spirits and encouraged myself."

The Responsibility of a Son

"As time passed, my sisters married one by one, and the family gradually scattered, only gathering together during the Lunar New Year. My sisters would return with their children, looking much more burdened than before, their eyes always fixed on their little ones, as if they were terrified of any mishap. As our family's economic situation improved, I, as the uncle, would buy large chicken legs for them every year. They were all very close to me.

Under the scorching sun, I took over the farming work from my father and mother, becoming familiar with the changing seasons and the movements of the heavens. I did not have many people to talk to, so sometimes I would speak to the soil, and sometimes to the insects. In the fields, I had a good friend: the scarecrow. Every year during the New Year, I would dress him in new clothes.

When I reached twenty-five, I still had no partner. My mother began to worry about me and arranged several matchmaking meetings, but the young women never responded. Year after year passed, and in the blink of an eye, I was thirty. I told my parents I did not want to marry. When my mother first heard this, she was furious, because she had struggled so hard to have a son to carry on the Zhuo family line. How could I give up? She insisted that I must have a child to continue the family name."

A Kindred Spirit

"My mother became even more proactive in finding me a partner, bringing home two or three matchmakers a week. Seeing my mother like this, I decided to follow her arrangements. A year later, my mother brought home a sweet-looking girl named Chunzhi, saying she would be my wife. Chunzhi was very capable and diligent. When she spoke to me, there was not a hint of disdain for my appearance. I could feel the purity and goodness in her heart. Every day, as we went out to work together, we would chat. Chunzhi told me that she had lost her mother when she was young and had spent twenty years caring for her father, who suffered from epilepsy, until he passed away. She became completely alone. My mother had heard of her situation from others, buried her father for her, and brought her home.

Although my mother's intention was to find a daughter-in-law, Chunzhi was deeply grateful to her for taking her in. Chunzhi opened her heart to me, saying that when she first saw me, she was also startled, but gradually, as she witnessed my filial piety and simple nature, she decided to agree to my mother's request to become a daughter-in-law of the Zhuo family. I was deeply moved and thanked her for being willing to accept me.

In the second year after Chunzhi arrived, we held a simple wedding. My sisters, relatives, and neighbours were all surprised that I had married such a beautiful bride. They privately felt sorry for her, but Chunzhi and I had truly accepted one another. Three years after our marriage, Chunzhi gave birth to a son and a daughter. My mother was so happy she could not stop smiling."

The Well of Compassion

"A year of drought arrived, lasting for an entire year. The villagers were miserable, and even our rice fields were severely affected. After Chunzhi and I married, we had worked hard to save money, so we were barely able to survive. The land seemed to be filled with a deathly silence everywhere one looked.

Seeing everyone suffering, Chunzhi and I agreed to use a portion of our savings to dig a well for the village, so that everyone would have water to drink and use. This was a significant sum for us, but Chunzhi agreed. The project took a month, and when we finally saw the water gushing out of the well, the villagers cheered with joy. This well helped us survive the drought and provided a steady water source for the villagers. Some even used the water to irrigate their crops, making the land less arid.

Many people came to thank Chunzhi and me, but we did not take it to heart. We simply continued living our lives as we always had, in the most ordinary way. When I was forty, Chunzhi fell ill with a serious sickness and left us. I took the children and helped wherever I could in the village. The villagers no longer looked at my ugly face, but instead saw how kind my heart was. I became a great philanthropist in the village, teaching the children to cultivate a kind heart."

From the Underworld to the Western Pure Land

"When I was sixty-one, I was walking in the fields and accidentally slipped into a large ditch. In the moment of darkness, I entered the Hall of King Yama. Kneeling before the hall, I did not complain about dying like this, because I had always respected the arrangements of fate. King Yama said that my ugliness in this life was due to my past habit of mocking others. Originally, I was destined for a short life, but because I had resolved to perform good deeds, I was able to live until sixty-one. Falling into the ditch was because I had pushed someone into the water to drown in a past life; my karmic creditors had been following me, waiting for the Causal Conditions to ripen to seek revenge. My life had ended, and I was waiting for the final arrangement. King Yama, in his compassion, gave me a position as a prison guard. After taking on the work of a prison guard, I was extremely diligent. Seeing the spirits suffering retribution in the hells, my heart was filled with sorrow. I hoped they could learn to repent, to stop creating more negative karma after suffering their retribution, and to find a better destination.

After serving as a prison guard for eighty years, I recently heard the scriptures of Practitioner Su while performing my duties. I felt a sensation in my heart unlike anything I had experienced before. I did not dare to ask for anything more. Unexpectedly, I later received a notice from King Yama to seek rebirth in the Western Land of Ultimate Bliss. I am incredibly grateful. I am also thankful for being chosen as a representative of the prison guards. Together with the fifty-nine other prison guards, we prostrated ourselves in gratitude. Before my eyes, there is endless golden light, and I am filled with joyful smiles."

Namo Amituofo.