Then, after many thousand years had passed, Prince Vipassī addressed his charioteer, ‘My dear charioteer, harness the finest chariots. We will go to a park and see the scenery.’

‘Yes, sir,’ replied the charioteer. He harnessed the chariots and informed the prince, ‘Sire, the finest chariots are harnessed. Please go at your convenience.’ Then Prince Vipassī mounted a fine carriage and, along with other fine carriages, set out for the park.

Along the way he saw an elderly man, bent double, crooked, leaning on a staff, trembling as he walked, ailing, past his prime. He addressed his charioteer, ‘My dear charioteer, what has that man done? For his hair and his body are unlike those of other men.’

‘That, Your Majesty, is called an old man.’

‘But why is he called an old man?’

‘He’s called an old man because now he has not long to live.’

‘But my dear charioteer, am I liable to grow old? Am I not exempt from old age?’

‘Everyone is liable to grow old, Your Majesty, including you. No-one is exempt from old age.’

‘Well then, my dear charioteer, that’s enough of the park for today. Let’s return to the royal compound.’

‘Yes, Your Majesty,’ replied the charioteer and did so.

Back at the royal compound, the prince brooded, miserable and sad: ‘Damn this thing called rebirth, since old age will come to anyone who’s born.’

Then King Bandhuma summoned the charioteer and said, ‘My dear charioteer, I hope the prince enjoyed himself at the park? I hope he was happy there?’

‘No, Your Majesty, the prince didn’t enjoy himself at the park.’

‘But what did he see on the way to the park?’ And the charioteer told the king about seeing the old man and the prince’s reaction.