From Fisherman to Guardian of the Hells

This is a record of an interview with Xu Bingnan, 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 approximately 61 years ago. Recorded by the chief writer, Shi Fa, on September 10, 2021.

Xu Bingnan speaks:

"Namo Amituofo. I was born a fisherman in a small coastal village. I never imagined that someone with my background could one day arrive in this radiant Western Land of Ultimate Bliss. The atmosphere here brings me such peace, and my heart is filled with gratitude. If it were not for the compassion of the King of Hell and Practitioner Su, I would not be the Bingnan I am today.

Many people hear my name and assume I am a highly educated scholar, but that is not the case. In truth, I could barely recognise a single character."

A Life Defined by the Sea

"The village where I lived was perpetually filled with the scent of fish. We villagers were so accustomed to it that we barely noticed. When I was three years old, I began playing in the water with the neighbouring children. From that moment on, I was at home in the waves. In the water, I was as agile as a fish, moving with ease. As a child, I even heroically saved several small animals that were on the verge of drowning.

After those rescues, the local children gave me the nickname 'Dragon of the Waters.' Every time they called me that, I would shyly touch my head, feeling embarrassed. As I grew older, I participated in swimming competitions everywhere, and I usually took first place.

I had recurring dreams that I was once a giant whale, swimming freely in the vast ocean. Many small fish were my playmates, though, of course, many others became my food. I was gentle and never aggressive toward others, but in the end, I was accidentally blinded by a fisherman's net. That is why, even in this life, my eyes often feel a sharp, stinging pain.

I had this dream about three times, so I am absolutely certain that I was once a massive creature of the deep."

The Weight of Responsibility

"My parents were very diligent and frugal. From a young age, they taught me that every cent we earned was hard-won and must be cherished. They would leave for work before dawn; my father would head out to fish, and my mother would sell the catch at the market. The fish were heavy, and my mother often came home with an aching back, requiring me to massage her to relieve her fatigue.

I was an only child, and my grandparents lived with us. With my parents busy at the harbour every day, I took on the responsibility of cooking for the whole family. Standing on a chair in front of the stove to stir-fry, I never felt tired. It was the only way I could share the burden of my parents' exhaustion.

The neighbours often said I was very sensible. I would just smile, knowing this was simply what I ought to do. Life in the fishing village was hard for everyone. If I had spare time, I would do my best to help our neighbours—cleaning their messy homes or sharing happy stories with them. Even though every day was much the same, I felt content. Deep in my heart, I harboured a wish: I wanted to improve the lives of the people in our village. I did not know if I had the ability, but the thought often surfaced in my mind."

A Tragic Loss and a Change of Heart

"When I was seventeen, life continued as usual. My father went out to fish, wearing his signature white undershirt with a towel draped over his neck to wipe away sweat. He waved goodbye to me and my grandparents, but he never returned. The way my father finally came home was in an urn of ashes.

His passing was a deep wound in my heart. He had fallen from the boat during a fishing trip, and by the time he was pulled from the water, he was bloated and had already passed away. My father had always told me, 'A fisherman must pray for the protection of Mazu and the Sea God.' Every day, he would scatter rice into the ocean as an offering. He was so sincere; I believed he was protected, yet this accident happened anyway. I hid in my room and cried for days, careful not to let my mother or grandparents know, as I knew they were grieving too. With me being the only young man left in the house, I told myself I had to step up and shoulder my father's responsibilities to care for our family.

I took over my father's fishing boat. Having accompanied him a few times as a child, I knew the basics of how to fish and what equipment was needed. The first time I went out, I cast the net and pulled with all my might. Fish of all sizes were dragged onto the deck. As I put on my gloves to move them into the water-filled buckets, they were all jumping and struggling. Suddenly, I felt their agony at losing their lives.

It reminded me of the pain of losing my father. If I was in such pain, then the families of these fish must also be suffering the pain of losing them. In that instant, I pushed all the fish back into the sea. Once back in the water, they regained their vitality and returned to their natural state.

I returned home with a heavy heart and told my mother I could not fish. I shared my feelings with her. Thinking of my father, she could not help but cry. She agreed that I was right and admitted that she, too, had harmed many fish in the past, which was truly wrong. But she worried about how we would support my grandparents. I asked her to have faith. From that day on, I thought constantly about our future. I eventually discussed it with my mother. She was a skilled cook, and her snacks and radish cakes were delicious. I suggested we change our trade to selling food, perhaps even stir-fried noodles to keep people full.

My mother lacked confidence, but I was full of it. I believed this would be a fresh start. I studied other people's food carts, spent time gathering materials, and hammered together a simple stall. We began our new life with that cart."

A New Path for the Village

"When many villagers praised our food, my mother finally gained confidence. Once our lives were stable, I began to explain to the other villagers that harming fish was not good. Some listened, and some did not. I am not a very clever person, but to help the villagers transform their karma, I constantly thought of what other work they could do if they stopped fishing.

Some who knew how to sew started making clothes; others began selling buns or vegetables. Everyone gradually found a way to make a living that suited them. I was so happy for them; for every person who stopped fishing, countless fish were spared from harm. As time passed, fewer and fewer people fished, and our village transformed into a tourist destination where visitors could take boats out to enjoy the sea breeze.

There were a few major floods in the village over the years, but thankfully, we made it through safely. As the days turned into years, my grandparents and mother passed away one by one. I never met the right person, so I never married. I just kept selling my signature radish cakes, and business remained good every day.

After sixty-one years of a simple and stable life, my body began to develop spots and became intensely itchy. No matter what ointment I applied, nothing could stop the sensation. My intuition told me this was likely karmic retribution, and I knew I must not hold any resentment. I had no one to accompany me. When the itching was unbearable, I could only roll and rub against my bed, sometimes until the sheets were stained with blood. Many times, I was so desperate that I had to soak in ice water.

My skin condition worsened day by day until I could no longer stand it. I said to the Heavens, 'If my time has come, please take me!' At the end of my sixty-first year, I felt as if worms were burrowing through my entire body as I rolled on the floor and passed away."

The Mercy of the King of Hell

"After my soul left my body, I entered the Hall of the King of Hell, who explained the laws of karma to me. It turned out that my skin problems were caused by eating too many small fish when I was a whale; those fish were biting me within my own cells, which was why my skin suffered so much. If I had not helped the villagers change their trade and stop the killing, I would have died with my entire body ulcerated. This lifetime was already a case of 'heavy karma being repaid with a light sentence.'

After hearing this, I was grateful to the King of Hell. He said my heart was good and offered me the position of a prison guard, allowing me to serve the masses within the hells. I nodded willingly. I served as a guard for thirty-five years, and when I was told I could finally join the queue for the Western Land of Ultimate Bliss, my heart was filled with joy and gratitude.

Before me, golden light spread everywhere. When Practitioner Su called my name, all sixty of us prison guards were led by his great hand to the Western Land of Ultimate Bliss. Looking at the magnificent scenery of the Western Pure Land and listening to the sound of Namo Amituofo giving Dharma talks, I felt my entire being become so much lighter.

I am now sitting in my own lotus flower, enjoying the magnificence of the Western Land of Ultimate Bliss. Golden light is everywhere, and whether I stand, lie down, or sit, I am completely at ease. This is eternal bliss. I am so grateful to the Buddha and to Practitioner Su for their compassion."

"Namo Amituofo."