This is a record of an interview with Wang Geng-hong, who sought at the Hsiang Kuang Buddhist Centre in Australia. He now resides in the Western Land of Ultimate Bliss. This account reflects upon his life and his service in the hell realms. Recorded by the chief writer, Shi Hailiang, on June 25, 2021.
Wang Geng-hong speaks:
". I am Wang Geng-hong, and I lived in Zhejiang. I am here representing sixty other jailers. The Hsiang Kuang Pure Land Buddhist Centre is truly a sacred and extraordinary place. The skills of Practitioner Su are simply inconceivable. The moment he called my name, in the blink of an eye, we were all transported to the Western Land of Ultimate Bliss. Just as the sutras describe, the ground is paved with lapis lazuli. If I had not studied the Buddha’s teachings and read the sutras during my life, how would I have ever recognised this magnificent, solemn Western Land of Ultimate Bliss?
A Miraculous Arrival in the Western Pure Land
The moment my feet touched this ground, I moved with the utmost caution. Before I could even fully process where I was, heavens! A towering, brilliant golden light shone down upon us. Namo Amituofo looked upon us with eyes of infinite . We immediately knelt and prostrated, crying out, 'Buddha, we have returned!' Together with the fifty-nine other jailers, I prostrated once more before the Buddha with the utmost sincerity. The Western Land of Ultimate Bliss is truly beyond all imagination; the light is endless. I am filled with gratitude! I am so thankful to Practitioner Su, the Venerables, and the volunteer Bodhisattvas at the Hsiang Kuang Pure Land Buddhist Centre in Australia for their help. They chanted Namo Amituofo with us, and I thank everyone from the bottom of my heart.
A Childhood Rooted in Compassion
My name, Wang Geng-hong, was chosen with such care. My parents used to say, 'Our son must be honest, loyal, and intelligent.' I grew up to be exactly what they hoped for—I had a round face, large eyes, and thick lips, which people said were signs of great . My grandmother would hold me and rock me gently. The midwife told her, 'You must be so happy to have a grandson! Don't forget to let the mother and child bond now. It is time to feed him; once he is full, you can hold him again.'
After the midwife spoke, my grandmother set me down, and my father picked me up. He lifted the corner of the blanket and said, 'I truly have a son. He does not disappoint my mother’s expectations; he is a healthy, chubby boy.' When the midwife took me and handed me to my mother, she looked exhausted. She had used every ounce of her strength to bring me into this world, and she was completely drained. How could she have milk for me right then? I simply nestled against her body and fell asleep. The midwife remarked, 'This child is truly wonderful. He is not greedy, and seeing that his mother is tired, he does not disturb her but sleeps quietly in her arms. He is so young, yet he already knows how to be considerate of his mother.' Hearing this, my mother closed her eyes and rested in peace, and the midwife happily took her red envelope and went home.
The Lesson of the Five Sweet Potatoes
A few hours later, my mother woke up and tried to see if she had milk for me. My grandmother quickly brought her a bowl of warm, nourishing soup, hoping it would help her recover so she could feed her grandson. By the next afternoon, I finally had milk to drink. Throughout my upbringing, my parents and grandmother were very attentive. Our family practised Buddhism; my grandmother loved reading the sutras, and my parents would join her. Sometimes we would visit the temple. After I was born, my grandmother did her daily practice at home. Before I turned ten, she visited me every day. After that, my parents kept me by their side to look after me. My mother would tell me, 'Geng-hong, you must be polite to everyone. We are a Buddhist family, and you must learn to be compassionate.'
Every day, my grandmother would prepare a large pot of tea and place it at the market for people to drink for free. My father would take me with him and say, 'This is the water your grandmother prepared so that those travelling who have nothing to drink can quench their thirst.' We had a stall at the market. Any vegetables grown in the vicinity could be brought to us, and we would sell them to others at a fair price. We also had our own plot of land where we grew seasonal vegetables to sell. When I was ten, my father told me, 'You are responsible for selling the sweet potatoes.' Whenever someone came to buy, I was the one who weighed them. My father said I was a great helper.
From early morning until noon, business was always good. Whether they were men, women, young, or old, they were all regular customers. My father told me never to forget that if I saw someone poor coming to buy, I should give the food to them for free. However, I never encountered such an opportunity until one day. I saw a child about my height walking over awkwardly. He took a few sweet potatoes from me. I saw his tattered clothes and messy hair, and I knew immediately that he was a child living in great hardship. I gave him five sweet potatoes without taking any money. Usually, parents might scold their child for this, but my father asked me, 'Do you understand the suffering of others?' He told me that it is not just about wearing tattered clothes; true suffering is whether one’s heart is happy or not. I was so happy to give him those sweet potatoes. When I placed them in his hands, he looked both satisfied and surprised. I told him, 'It is fine for you to take these home to eat. My parents told me to help others as much as I can. If you have nothing to eat, you can come find me again, and I will help you.'
The Happy Farm: A Legacy of Sharing
About a month after I met that child, he came to me and said, 'Brother, you don't need to give me sweet potatoes starting tomorrow. My mother has passed away. I am alone now and don't need to eat them. I found a job nearby collecting manure.' He cried as he spoke, 'I am a child without a father or mother. I envy you so much for having parents. I can go collect manure now, and if I earn money, I will help others too. I came to thank you for helping me.' That was the first time I had helped someone, and the impression it left on me was profound. I never saw that child again.
I was very fortunate to grow up happily, spending my time helping my family farm, selling vegetables, reading sutras, and prostrating to the Buddha. My upbringing was filled with these experiences of helping others. I am so glad I had such parents and a grandmother who taught me the value of kindness. When I was twenty, I was still a very kind-hearted young man. One day, I was put to the test. A young woman came to our stall, crying, 'My husband went away and has not returned. I have no money to buy vegetables, and my child needs nutrition. Could you give me some sweet potato leaves?' I helped her, but to my surprise, she and her husband later set a trap to frame me, claiming I had molested her. Fortunately, the official in the court was wise and discerning. He learned that we always treated people with kindness and, after investigating the truth, cleared my name. The couple then apologised to me.
Back home, my parents and grandmother took the matter seriously. My grandmother said, 'Geng-hong, as long as our hearts are kind, all misunderstandings will eventually be cleared up. You will always encounter good people.' She also told me, 'Always look at the good in things and think of the good. Geng-hong, have you noticed that the three of us never raise our voices at home and never complain? When we sell vegetables at the market, we treat people with harmony and contentment, never haggling with others. Your parents do the same. Grandson, you must learn to have their capacity of mind. That way, every day will be filled with happiness, and you will always be smiling while helping others.' After she finished speaking, she held my hand without saying another word. I could feel her warmth, and that feeling of security in my heart remained until she passed away when I was thirty. My parents and I remained, and I watched them treat each other with the utmost respect.
From the Fields to the Hells
After my grandmother passed, we decided to share our farmland with people who loved to farm but had no land of their own. We attracted several people who wanted to grow vegetables. Three days later, many people came to our garden to sow seeds. Everyone was laughing and talking. A month later, our garden became the happiest farm. Because there were people of all ages, we grew many different varieties of vegetables. Because my parents had such a vast mind-capacity, anyone who worked the land could take home the vegetables they grew, or share them with others. They also gave away the sweet potatoes we grew ourselves. Everyone was happy watering and weeding, and the vegetables grew large and beautiful.
Once this news spread, even the neighbouring villages followed our example. My parents became the masters of the 'Happy Farm.' Because they loved farming, they watered the plants every day and watched the seeds sprout and grow. I suddenly gained an insight: every day, my parents were teaching me by example. Sharing this land was teaching me to have a big heart—that we are all one family, with no distinction between 'you' and 'me.' Life was so happy because everyone who came to the garden would greet and care for one another, and even the harvest was shared. I want to thank my parents and grandmother. Besides teaching me to study the Buddha’s teachings, they taught me to be grateful—grateful for the land left by our ancestors, which allowed us to live without worry and share happiness with those connected by karmic affinity. Every time I helped someone, I felt especially joyful. I would remember my grandmother holding my hand, that warmth seemingly telling me, 'Geng-hong, when you have the ability, give care and warmth to everyone.' Whenever I helped someone, I felt my grandmother smiling. I remember when she passed away, she sat on her chair with a smile on her face. My parents and I felt no sorrow, only the knowledge that we had to pass on what she had taught us.
A Final Deliverance
When I was thirty-nine, I had been working in the garden for a long time one day, sharing many sweet potatoes and vegetables with others. I felt especially happy and went to bed early. I fell into a deep sleep, and the hell officials called out to me, 'Wang Geng-hong! Wang Geng-hong! Wake up quickly! The King of the Fifth Hall, King Wuguan, wants you to return. You originally said you wanted to come to the human world to repay a kindness; now that you have finished, you must return to serve as a jailer. Helping people is what you are best at. Let us go back and persuade the prisoners not to return to hell, not to continue suffering in the cycle of rebirth. The hells are currently overcrowded.' After I returned to the hells, I served for twenty-five years, earnestly persuading the prisoners. One day, the King of Hell said to me, 'Wang Geng-hong, you have indeed done many good deeds, and good fortune is with you. Practitioner Su of the Hsiang Kuang Pure Land Buddhist Centre in Australia specialises in leading people to rebirth; he leads us jailers to the Western Land of Ultimate Bliss to become Buddhas. You have this blessing, so go quickly.' I bowed in gratitude to the King of Hell.
Every day, I listen to Practitioner Su give talks. Practitioner Su is truly compassionate, using his Dharma Body to save beings. With his countless manifestations, he has delivered all the hell-beings who have truly repented and chanted the Buddha’s name. The Buddha-light shines upon them, and they are reborn in the Pure Land through chanting. Practitioner Su’s compassion is just like the Buddha’s—his entire body is filled with energy, radiating light, allowing everyone who comes to seek deliverance to be bathed in his compassionate light, kneeling in gratitude. Practitioner Su has established a salvation team to save the world from this pandemic. We wish to join this salvation team; I ask for Practitioner Su’s compassion.
