Mangala: Chapter Two

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Author's Note

This story is intended to be both a partner to the novel ‘The Pilgrim Kamanita,’ written by Karl Gjellerup in 1906, and a tale that stands on its own. There is no need to have read the earlier book in order to make sense of this one, however, should you wish to go to the source from which many of the characters and scenes of this tale have sprung, an English version of it is to be found on this same web-site at http://www.abhayagiri.org/main/book/366/.

This book is being published here as a ‘serial novel,’ which is to say that it that it will appear one chapter at a time, on the first day of every month, over the next couple of years. The plan is that, after the entire twenty-six chapters of the story have been released, a pdf file of the complete book will be posted, and available for free download.

Finally, gentle reader, please note that the original author (Karl Gjellerup) switched freely between using Sanskrit (the language of the Northern Buddhist and Hindu scriptures) and Pali (the language of the Southern Buddhist scriptures) during the course of his tale. In our efforts to be true to his original style we have maintained this mixture of usage.

Amaro Bhikkhu
Abhayagiri Monastery
December 2008

Chapter Two – The Road

he little house that Kolita had provided for them was on the far side of the town, conveniently remote from Kamanita’s palace. It was not a shanty or in bad repair, but it was nevertheless a far cry from the broad halls, echoing collonades, cool marble floors and swaths of lawn that they had all become used to; the young girls had never known any other way of life than that of the palace so it was a rude shock to be suddenly confined to three or four rooms and a scrap of yard.

In addition to the abrupt shrinking of their living space, from the moment that the Page 2 of 12

three of them arrived in their new home it was clear that, if they wanted to eat, wear clean clothes and not be surrounded by cobwebs, dust and lizard-droppings, they were going to have work for themselves for a change. Once Kolita and the handful of maids, and the handyman who had helped them move, had all departed – with some anxious faces and promises to lend a hand when they could, and the unsettled mien of those caught between two contending parties whilst being sympathetic with both – Amba, Tamba and their mother were left completely alone.

It took them a few days to settle in; although the girls missed their ayah and the maids, whom they had tended to spend most of their time with, and of course their little brother and the other children of the house, they surprised Sita with how quickly they adapted. They were young (only five and six years old), and thus more flexibly-minded, still it was a relief to have them taking on this world as a new and interesting game rather than having them weeping, moaning and complaining.

Sita launched herself into the round of cooking and cleaning, shopping in the market and endless mounds of laundry, with a will and a forthright zeal born of raw necessity. They had to survive and if this was what it took to do that, she was ready. The natural containment of their little house and the absence of much contact with any people outside their tiny clutch also left Sita alone with her thoughts for much of the day. The more she mulled it all over, the clearer the picture became for there is nothing quite like the absence of outside influences for helping a person to be confirmed in
their certainties.

All was now lost to her and her daughters unless she could get Kamanita’s testimony that Krishna’s parenthood was dubious. She could, of course, just go to her parents’ house and raise the children there, or beg for refuge at the home of one of her brothers Page 3 of 12

or sisters. To do either of these she would need to trek all the way to Savatthi, where her father was now a well-to-do merchant and where most of her siblings had settled. However, Savatthi was even further to the north-east than Kosambi and, more importantly, it was a terrible disgrace to crawl home like a beaten dog. After all, she had no more been discarded by her husband than had that little whelp of a yakkhini and, if she neglected to seek Kamanita and set the record straight, justice would have failed to have been done – it was all so clear.

It was not a question of revenge – although she could not resist imagining the scene of the now-provenly wanton upstart being beaten out of the palace gate with her coal-coloured tyke in tow – it was simply a matter of honour and honesty, karma bringing its natural and proper result. That was all.

The more she rehearsed the ‘facts’ in her mind, the more solid they became, as is their nature: She and the children would wait out the Rains here in Ujjeni; when the roads dried out they would pass through the Vindhya mountains, descending to the Yamuna River and the city of Kosambi, capital of Vamsa, the country ruled by King Udena; they would seek the home of the lady Vasitthi; in all likelihood they would find her errant husband there, now married to this woman; she would assure him that she was not interested in winning him back and returning with him to Ujjeni (for in truth she was much more concerned for her children’s security than for any romantic wishes of her own) and would simply ask him, as his final obligation in his duties as a husband to her, to take part in a solemn Rite of Truth. He would agree to this and (she was now sure) testify that he was not the true father of the boy – being as afraid as anyone of the terrible karmic results of lying in such a Rite – she would Page 4 of 12

have this Rite properly witnessed and would then return to Ujjeni. She would show Kamanita’s testimony and call the witnesses before the royal justice; Savitri, that faithless and deceiving strumpet, would be cast out, and Sita’s daughters – as Kamanita’s only legitimate children and therefore, the rightful heirs to the palace, ‘one of the wonders of Ujjeni’ as her former husband was so glad to have it described – would move back into their home and be at peace. Now it was just a question of fitting these few simple elements together.

She was not aware of it but it was through being similarly blinded by emotion – in his case, his youthful bedazzlement with love for Vasitthi – that Kamanita had also rendered himself insensate to the dangers of the road.

* * *

The house that they now lived in was small but not unpleasant. The girls spent the first few days searching out all the nooks and crannies and learned to enjoy – as long as it did not go on too long – the scrubbing and sweeping jobs that their mother gave them. The yard behind the house was paved, there wasn’t any real garden at all, but a good sized guava tree stood in its midst and, even better, a huge old mango tree whose trunk formed part of the back-wall, spread its densely leaf-bedecked branches over much of the area. This meant that they had plenty of good shade for days when the sun was out and burning hot as well as as many mangoes as they could eat, at the start of the rains, and, later on, a similar glut of guava.

Prior to their move to the new house, the girls had not been encouraged if they tried their hand at tree-climbing – that was the sort of thing that boys did and they were supposed to be learning to be lady-like – but now, if with a somewhat anxious eye, Sita happily encouraged them and beamed with as much delight as they did if the girls Page 5 of 12

reaped a goodly crop from these trees. Even though Tamba was the younger of the two of them, she was the stronger-willed and considerably more daring. She was the one, therefore, who was usually in the upper branches, reaching for that perfect fruit hanging up so high, or out on the limits of a limb, spreading her weight across the twigs to reach her precious goal.

Sita was glad to have this fruit and whatever else the three could glean as things were tighter for them than she had hoped. The only source of funds she had was the gold and silver jewellery that had come with her as a bride. Every week, it seemed, she had to sell another piece, just to keep them fed and clothed and safe.

She had reckoned, at the start, that she would have enough for them to live on for the Rains and to help them make the journey to far Kosambi. The situation had worsened in many ways when, after a few weeks, Savitri found out that Kolita was taking the rent out of the funds of the estate. She was incensed and utterly deaf to his assertion that this was quite appropriate and legal. When he took his courage in both hands and, as if he were nervously waging his head on a throw of the dice, tried to insist that he had been entrusted with the administration of the master’s fortune, not her, the stream of abuse that burgeoned forth would have made a battle-hardened soldier blush, and it lasted for several hours. When the good Kolita had finally been brought to his knees and the lady of the house was satisfied that her message had been received, she relented momentarily, picked up her somewhat shell-shocked son, tilted her nose up to an angle suitable for indicating deep affront and strode off.

And, just in case the point needed any underlining, for the next three days, on every occasion that she encountered Kolita and sometimes when she sent for him particularly, she refilled his ear with her Page 6 of 12

insistence that not one wooden masaka from the estate of her son was to be given to that woman and, if she found any one of the staff offering them any food from the stores, materials for repairs, let alone any money from the treasury, they could expect to be up before the royal justice and to lose a hand, their nose and ears, or even their head as a common thief. They got the message and, as a result, Sita and her daughter’s lives got a little harder.

Up until this time their new home had occasionally received visits from Kolita and those of the palace staff who wanted to help them out – mostly the girls’ ayah and the maids who had grown fond of them as they had grown from infancy. These calls came to an abrupt halt. Few were prepared to risk their jobs, if not their lives and limbs, to lend a hand to these exiles from the family. They had usually brought little gifts of sweets, odds and ends of clothing and food and other useful offerings, as well as home-made dolls or trinkets, so this new regimen meant that all these gestures of kindness were to cease.

Sita did everything within her power to keep her children well cared for and tightened her resolve not to allow this increased austerity affect them in any negative way. The main result of this effort was that, more and more, she herself went without for, apart from these few kind people from the palace, there were no others in the town who really knew or cared for them.

Sita reflected: She had never made many friends among the rich merchant class of Ujjeni – they were all too concerned with social climbing and local gossip for her taste – so her whole life since her marriage had been built around her husband and her children. Furthermore, Kamanita’s family was not at all inclined to help them either, for it was his own father who had called in those loathsome and half-witted brahmins, Page 7 of 12

who had convinced him that she would never bear Kamanita a son. Before she knew what was happening they had found this spiteful and mis-begotten little son-producer Savitri, she had been wedded to Kamanita and, with the appearance of her little darkling dung-ball, they – Sita and her daughters – had been firmly consigned to the shelf. Their recent ejection from the palace and the family was just an extension of the same movement; they were on their own now.

More than anything else the fact of their isolation had the effect of narrowing and sharpening Sita’s resolve; she nursed her wrath and tightened her jaw – nothing on earth or in the heavens would stop her seeing that woman ground to dust and cast to the winds. Her will to survive and to succeed in their journey grew stronger and more focused than ever.

Things were hard. However, along with the endless exchanges of: “No, you can’t have…,” “No, there isn’t any…,” “You’ll have to pretend,” “But why can’t we…” There were also many joys that came from this time. Not only did the girls get to climb trees and hunt for fruit and berries on their own, but Tamba also became a crack shot with buzzing little stones at the troop of monkeys that came to raid their garden. And, although they were absolutely forbidden to beg, Amba had perfected the art of happening to wander by the sweet stalls in the market, then letting her large eyes widen in her round and innocent face so the vendors, before they had stopped to think, found themselves inviting the slightly ragged sisters to help themselves. They became a regular feature of the market-place and, to their delight, managed to win the hearts of a few of the different stall-keepers.

Of all the unexpected benefits of their poverty, however, the most gladdening for them was how close the girls now were to their mother. In the palace it was the nurses and maids who were their constant companions and who had most often dried their tears and found Page 8 of 12

them little treats; their mother was so often busy doing other things, being a grand lady and looking after the house, that sometimes they had hardly seen her all day and only got to cuddle and kiss her goodnight when it was time to go to sleep.

Now she was their closest ally and friend as well as being in their company all day. She would also scold them, first as their ayah would, and she’d make them work until they were really tired, but it was worth it ten times over. It was as if they had been strangely separated in the palace and now their hardship had made them close and whole.

In addition to the delight of this new found companionship, leaving the palace had also blessed them with a vision of a greater world, for their new home commanded a glorious view of the lands around Ujjeni. The palace had been splendid and beautiful but you could not see much beyond the walls of the garden – they were so high that all that showed above them were the tree tops and the sky. Here the world was huge. Ranges of distant peaks and gentle valleys spread all about them. On the days after a big rain storm, when every drop of moisture and speck of dust was gone from the air, Amba and Tamba would vie to see who could descry the things furthest away: a speck of an eagle wheeling above a high pass; a tree standing free, silhouetted on a far ridge; a hint of ice-sparkle on the highest of peaks – often Sita would join in with them but then claimed that her eyes were already old, “worn out before my time!” The winner was always decided on between the girls.

* * *

The time in this house passed swiftly. After three months the Rains had all but ceased and the rice in the terraced fields was high, heavy-headed and smelled of ripeness and rich desserts. The mud of the lanes and roads had hardened to a solid Page 9 of 12

surface, in all but the lowest patches, and the sun rode the sky daily amid gently floating clouds. It was time to go.

Sita sent word to the doughty Kolita that she was about to set off. He made his excuses to the mistress of the house – although through his being such an incompetent dissembler and actor she almost certainly knew what he was up to – and came across town to see them on their way.

He made a brave attempt to press some extra gold upon Sita, assuring her that it was not from the estate but from his own savings. She however, easily outweighed him, both in pride and power, and managed to force him instead to accept all the rent that he was owed; she was not going to live as a beggar or be indebted to anyone.

They took to the road early the next morning. The three of them each had a small bundle of clothes for the journey and Sita carried a few simple cooking utensils. She had not told the girls, or Kolita, but she had had to sell every last piece of her jewellery and still only had meager funds to last them.

At first the two girls were filled with excitement and spent the first hour or so of their walk naming the trees and plants that they knew, collecting occasional flowers, and trying to catch sight of the many birds that they could hear along the way: flocks of luminescent green parrots, stately coucals with chestnut wings, blue-black bodies and tails, kingfishers near the ponds and tree-pies – there were so many!

After a couple of hours the lightness of step had waned to a steady trudge and the heat of the day was beginning to tell on the little troupe. They sat down to rest in the welcome shade of a broad banyan and Sita passed out some of the food she had brought with them for the road. Their feet hurt and the long journey ahead seemed suddenly harsh and forbidding. Amba Page 10 of 12

tried not to cry but couldn’t hold it all back.

“What’s the matter, love? Why the tears?”

“I want to go home, mum,” she sniffed.

“Well, so do I, but right now we don’t have one. That’s why we have to go to Kosambi.”

“Come on Amba, don’t be such a wet” offered her sister, “I bet my blisters are much bigger than yours—look at this one…”

They soon got to comparing their wounds and, before long, the salty trails down cheeks and neck had dried into faint grey marks and then were lost in sweat as they took to the road again.

They reached a high bend in the hill around about noon; the two girls were ready to throw themselves down on the verge again, despite the absence of any shade. Just then they began to discern a heavy, creaking sound coming from way down the road behind them. When she looked back Sita saw it was an oxcart. Like them, and many others, they were taking advantage of the end of the Rains and were making their way across the countryside. This wagon had only the driver and what looked like his young son on board, together with several sacks of grain to sell at the nearby villages.

“Well you three look a right sorry picture, I must say – you want a ride?”

“No thank y…” Sita couldn’t finish before Amba and Tamba chorused: “YES PLEASE!”

“I’m only going another league or so, might not even get all the way there today, but you’re welcome aboard. These fellahs love to pull a load and there ain’t a lot of weight on you lot – not so much as they would notice anyway.”

And thus it was for many days, there was plenty of farming traffic on the road and, despite Sita’s determination never to beg for anything, Amba and Tamba developed their skills of looking particularly forlorn and travel-weary, Amba blinking her sorrowful, sad-dog eyes at just the right moment to catch the glance of the Page 11 of 12

waggoner. They were passed from cart to cart, through village to village, sometimes walking for many hours, sometimes riding all day, following, as it turned out, the very route that Kamanita had taken those many years before.

At first, once they got used to the rhythm of the road, to the girls it felt like one long series of picnics – it was a great adventure – but there were periods where the days got desperately tough. Some nights in the mountains had been freezing cold and they had all had to bundle together in a heap to stay even slightly warm. In the Vedisa forest there were few villages and sometimes they had had no food at all. There were often scary noises at night, especially in the wild woods of the lowlands. Nevertheless through all this Sita’s resolve never wavered. She was tested but the challenges only seemed to make her stronger, although this was a strength of the spirit, rather than the body.

She had made a habit of passing most of the food that they acquired on to Amba and Tamba. After some weeks she thus became more thin and physically stressed than ever. In contrast the girls, adapting to this yet new configuration of the world, became more fit and robust than they had ever been – sun-darkened and keen-eyed as they honed their wood-craft skills. Now well-used to the travelling life, the two of them prided themselves on their new found skills as huntresses, nut and berry finders and fire-makers par excellence, to cook and for warmth at night.



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Notes and References:

Chapter 2

1. Page 16 — The more she mulled it all over, the clearer the picture became… The Buddha pointed out that was indeed a very natural trait for people: “Whatever one frequently thinks and ponders upon, that will become the inclination of the mind.” ‘The Discourse on Two Kinds of Thought,’ M 19.6.

2. Page 18 — One wooden māsaka… This was a coin of very small denomination that was Page 12 of 12

used in those times; they were made of copper, wood or lac.

3. Page 19 — “No, there isn’t any,”… There is a well-known exchange, to be found twice in the Commentary to the Dhammapada, (to verses 17 & 382) concerning the pampered young Sakyan prince Anuruddha, who had led a life of such luxury that he had never heard the words, “There isn’t any” – for all his desires were always immediately fulfilled.

One day he was gambling with his friends and using cakes to wager with. He lost three times and each time sent a message home to his mother, asking for more cakes. She supplied them each time but, when he lost a fourth time his mother sent the message back: “There isn’t any cake to send” (natthi pūvam in Pali). Since Anuruddha had never heard the words ‘there isn’t any’ before, he assumed this ‘natthi pūvam’ must be some new kind of delicacy so he sent back another message saying: “Please send me some there-isn’t-any cakes.” The Queen, intending to teach the clueless boy a lesson, responded by sending the messenger off with an empty platter...

This was by no means the end of the story for, eventually, the spoilt child Anuruddha became one of the greatest Arahants.