This is a record of an interview with Rao Guojin, who sought at the Hsiang Kuang Buddhist Centre in Australia. He now resides in the Western Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss. This account reflects upon his life and his service in the hells. Recorded by the chief writer, Shi Faxin, on February 19, 2021.
Rao Guojin speaks:
". I am Rao Guojin. The most heartbreaking thing about serving as a prison guard in the underworld was witnessing my own father and mother suffering the consequences of their actions in the hells. Even though I held the position of a guard, I was completely powerless to save them. Every day, I watched countless souls wailing in agony as they endured their . It made my heart ache, yet I understood that this was all the result of the laws of and cause and effect; what must be endured, must be endured.
The Light of in the Hells
I often wondered: if the beings in the hells had understood the laws of karma before they created such negative karma, would they have dared to commit those acts? These questions swirled in my mind constantly. It was not until the of Practitioner Su arrived in the hells that a ray of hope appeared. After Practitioner Su visited, the hells began to resonate with the sound of his Dharma talks. I listened with the utmost sincerity. I realised that the teachings Practitioner Su was delivering were exactly the truths about cause and effect that I had always wanted the beings in the hells to know. With my own limited strength, I could never have helped them, but now, the entire realm could hear the Dharma. Those with good roots were finally able to repent, chant Namo Amituofo, and seek a way out.
I served in the hells for eighty years, always hoping for a chance to leave. Today, I have finally attained the opportunity to be reborn in the Western Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss. I am so incredibly grateful.
A Childhood Surrounded by the Scent of Death
My name is Rao Guojin, and I am from Pingtung, Taiwan. My family raised pigs. From the time I was a child, whenever relatives visited, they would remark on the thick, pungent smell of pigs that permeated our home. My parents and I would simply look at each other and ask, 'Does it really smell?' We had lived with it for so long that we were completely desensitised. Even when the three of us walked down the street, we were unaware that we carried that same scent with us.
My parents were diligent and frugal. My father was responsible for tending to the pigs in the pens, while my mother sold the pork at the market. Every day, they would slaughter two of the freshest pigs to sell. The earlier customers arrived, the fresher the meat they received. My parents rose before dawn to work. My father would select two pigs, drag them to the backyard, and slaughter them himself. He would remove the hair, perform the initial butchery, and categorise the cuts before loading them onto a cart. My mother would then push the cart to the market.
While my father returned home to continue caring for the remaining pigs, my mother would man the stall. She wore a headscarf and an apron, her pockets filled with coins and banknotes—the fruits of her labour. Sometimes, the money was stained with bits of meat or grease. My mother was a woman who loved to earn money. Every day, after closing the stall, she would empty her apron and count the money, laughing as she told my father, 'Ah Shun, our business is becoming more stable. I tell the customers that this is freshly slaughtered, warm pork. As soon as they hear 'freshly slaughtered,' they flock to us. Once the meat is sold, I sell the trotters, then the skin and ears. Whatever is left, I practically give away just to ensure we sell out every day. That is the reputation I have built. You choose the pigs well, too—not too old, not too young.'
My mother would often add, 'Ah Shun, this capital for our business came from your parents and mine. Since we are making money, we must show our gratitude to them.' My father, being an honest man, would simply nod. With their earnings, they renovated their parents' old, low-ceilinged house so that my grandparents could live more comfortably. In that rural area, theirs was the first house to be renovated. Neighbours came to admire it and praised my parents for their filial piety, which made my grandparents very happy.
Leaving Home and the
Education in the countryside was not as advanced as in the city. To provide me with a better future, my parents sent me to live with my aunt in Kaohsiung for my studies. The first time I left home, my heart felt heavy. I saw my mother’s eyes brimming with tears as she watched me go. My father did not come to see me off, but the family dog wagged its tail, its watery eyes looking as if it were bidding me farewell.
Life in Kaohsiung was vastly different from the countryside. There were new sounds, sights, and objects I had never encountered before. Even the way people interacted was different. Though it took time to adjust, I eventually adapted. After I left for school, I rarely returned home. My parents continued their old routine, though my mother hired someone to help with the pig stall when she was busy with household chores.
Twenty years passed. By then, every time I returned home, I could finally smell the scent of pigs on my parents. The neighbours were right; our home and my parents were truly permeated with that smell. At first, I didn't think much of it, but one day, a long-time family friend asked me, 'Why do you have a scent on you that wasn't there before? It’s the smell of a pig.' I was shocked. Could I have brought that scent back from home? The uncle told me, 'It is not just the smell of pigs; these pigs are filled with resentment and a desire for revenge.' I was terrified and asked him what I could do, explaining our family business. As I spoke, I began to cough uncontrollably. The uncle said, 'These pigs are deeply aggrieved and unwilling to be slaughtered. You must perform Chao Du for them, or your family—including you—will face their retribution. This is the law of cause and effect.' Through his introduction, I went to a serene temple to perform Chao Du for the pigs. Throughout the ceremony, I repeatedly smelled the scent of pigs and felt as if my own body were being dismembered. I endured the discomfort and persisted until the end. Afterwards, my body felt much lighter, my spirit improved, and the lingering, uneasy resentment in my heart vanished. I had not expected the ceremony to be so inconceivable.
The Weight of Karmic Retribution
A few months later, I received a letter from home saying that my father had fallen and could no longer get out of bed. I was frantic and dropped everything in Kaohsiung to rush home. I hadn't looked at my father closely in a long time; he had become so thin, his face had changed, and there was a murderous glint in his eyes. He never recovered from that fall. I moved back to Pingtung to care for him. His bones ached all over, and when I moved him, his screams of pain were identical to the cries of the pigs he had slaughtered. I told my mother what the uncle in Kaohsiung had said and shared my father's condition, hoping to persuade her to stop the business. My mother loved me dearly and listened. I asked her to become a vegetarian and dedicate the merit to my father to ease his suffering. For seven years, my father remained bedridden, requiring my constant care for his bodily functions. He eventually passed away amidst agonising screams. Since he fell ill, I had been using his savings to perform Chao Du for the pig spirits, hoping to help my parents repay some of their debts.
Ten years after my father passed, my mother became weak, her body wracked with pain as if she were being sliced by knives. I knew she was beginning to suffer the consequences of her own karma. Over the years, I took her to the temple to learn the Buddha’s teachings. She realised her mistakes and often knelt before the Buddha, repenting for the many pigs she had killed. Yet, some pigs were unwilling to forgive and sought retribution. In her dreams, she was often visited by pigs that had been dismembered and left in tatters. Some looked pained, others resentful or angry. My mother would apologise profusely to them. From then on, her health declined until she was completely bedridden. Seeing her like this, I secretly vowed to suffer in her place. However, that vow was merely an expression of filial piety; it could not transform her karma. I had my karma, and she had hers; they could not be offset. My mother eventually passed away with her mouth agape and her tongue protruding.
A Final Lesson and Deliverance
Watching my parents, I knew that the laws of cause and effect were inescapable. I shared their story with everyone I knew, urging them not to kill and to respect life. I succeeded in convincing several families who raised livestock to change their professions, allowing the animals to escape their fate. I was forty when my parents passed. Over the next sixteen years, I continued to advocate for vegetarianism and non-killing. At fifty-six, my body broke out in red, swollen lumps that would not heal, and I died in agony. After death, before the King of Hell, I asked why I had suffered such a fate despite my efforts to help others. The King told me that karmic retribution is not limited to one lifetime; in a past life, I had destroyed a river, causing the death of many fish and the local ecosystem. I was reaping that fruit now. If I had not spent this life counseling others against killing, my retribution would have been even heavier. Upon understanding this, I felt gratitude and hoped for a chance to atone for my past sins.
Seeing my sincerity, the King of Hell granted me the position of a prison guard. I was deeply grateful. While escorting criminals to the execution platform, I occasionally saw familiar faces—my father, suffering for his merciless slaughter of pigs, and soon after, my mother in the dismemberment hell. I felt a profound sense of sorrow, but I could not help them, for each must bear their own karmic retribution. I told myself to serve to the best of my ability. When I was finally told that I would be led by Practitioner Su to the Western Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss, I looked at my parents one last time; they had already been reborn into the bodies of pigs. They begged me to write this account as a warning to the world and to help dissolve their karma.
Today is a joyous day for me, Rao Guojin, and fifty-nine other prison guards as we are reborn in the Western Pure Land. I am deeply grateful to Practitioner Su for personally guiding us. Going to the Western Pure Land is a brand-new beginning. Now, I hope to help sentient beings just as Practitioner Su does, so that they may no longer be lost and may understand the laws of cause and effect to avoid creating further karma. Today, I am grateful to the Buddha and Practitioner Su. The prison guards and countless other spirits have all become Buddhas in the West."
This interview was recorded by the disciple Shi Faxin.
