Mangala Chapter Eleven: The Festival at the River

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 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

* * * * * * * * * * * *

uick! Quick! Look who’s here,” Ant was very agitated. “Bee, Maggot –come and look – I swear it’s Amba but she’s twice as big as when we last saw her.”

“That can’t be her. She was a tiny little thing and it’s hardly any time since we left her with the King’s caravan. It must be her big sister, the one that got lost – or someone else all together,” replied Maggot.

“It was her younger sister that went missing – no, it must be her – I’d recognize those eyes and her radiance anywhere. Don’t you remember how bright and pure she was for a human? It has to be her but how did she get so big so fast – she’s a grown woman…”

“Duh,” Bee chimed in as she joined them up in the branches of a jambu tree, “human lives go by in a flash. Don’t you two ever pay attention? By the time 80 or 100 sun-turnings have passed, it’s all over for them – that’s if they haven’t been killed by one of their own kind or stricken by some gruesome ailment. Our lifespans are ten or twelve times as long – at least a thousand of their years – so everything has to happen faster for them. They have their mid-life crises when they are only 45!”

Ant and Maggot both were overcome by a fit of the giggles at this bizarre thought – this being an age at which an average kinnari would scarcely be trusted to be able to look after herself.

“It’s definitely her,” said Bee, “Come on, let’s go and say hello before she disappears on us.”

* * *

Samavati, still imbibing the exalted mood that she had felt during the Buddha’s Dharma talk, had suddenly realized, as they were all making their way out of the hall, that she had a very unexalted need to relieve herself. She was bursting, but had been so wrapped up in the presence and the words of the Master, that she had simply failed to notice this.

“Hang on a moment, I need to go…” She tapped Khujjuttara to let her know and said, “I’ll catch you up at the entrance.”

She saw some other women making a bee-line from the side of the hall down a small path that led to a dense thicket with low bushes and a couple of large rose-apple trees. She surmised that they had the same need as her and knew that to be a suitably secluded spot, so she followed along.

Comfort regained she was just reflecting, as she picked her way out through the shrubbery, “I must get my father to provide some proper amenities for women visitors here,” when she heard the sound of voices above her head. She turned, looking up into the branches and was startled to see three familiar faces smiling down at her.

“You’re back!” she exclaimed, “I thought you had disappeared forever. Where have you been all these years?” Samavati’s three ethereal friends floated down to join her on the path. Their filmy garments of flower-gauze, with many ribbons and filigreed draperies, billowed about them in the humid evening air and then gently settled around them as they landed. They huddled around her and she held them all close one by one, taking in, as she did, the rich draughts of fragrance that each of them exuded – their own natural perfume that seemed to match, somehow, the colours that each of them wore. Tall stern Bee was still in her magenta-hued sarong and was adorned with jewels of garnet and amethyst; Ant wore the same type of holly-berry red kanavera petals, peppered with tiny rubies and carnelians – as she had before – and Maggot was a shimmer of fruity pinks, a band of rosy-quartz across her forehead.

“Where have you all been?” Samavati asked again, “It’s nearly ten years since I last saw you.”

“Here, mostly, to be absolutely honest,” offered Bee, “it’s easy to lose track of time – human time especially – we’d seen you being taken into keeping by the royal party so we figured you were in good hands, then we just came back here, to the park, and carried on with life as usual.”

“The biggest thing for us this last little while is that the Buddha has been coming to stay and the monks have been living in huts here all the year round. It’s a tremendous honour,” Maggot’s voice was hushed. “Of all the places such a great and holy being as he could stay in, he chooses to be here at Ghosita’s park.

“We came to live here a while ago, since the time Lady Rohini and Lord Ghosaka started inviting the wanderering religious seekers to stay, because of the sacred atmosphere that they brought. Now it’s really something special to be here. ”

“Yes,” grumbled Bee, “and for the tens of millions of the rest of the high and mighty – the deva-hosts of half the sodding cosmos…”

“Bee! Don’t talk like that,” snapped Ant, looking about furtively, afraid that her friend’s rude remark would have been picked up by one of the passing beings of the higher realms.

“Ever since the Buddha came here,” explained Maggot, “many of the high and exalted,” she gave Bee a sharp look as she stressed the word, “love to come and be near the Master and especially when he gives Dharma teachings. When such crowds gather, the likes of us earth-spirits are somewhat nudged into the background. It isn’t easy for us to draw close to the Buddha – even though he lives right here – as he is surrounded by other devatas of great influence. Each of the deva-monarchs has a retinue of a hundred or a thousand kotis of devas, all placing themselves in close positions to see the Tathagata – so it is sometimes hard for insignificant female spirits, kinnaris like us, get a chance to come near and listen.”

“But a koti is 10,000,000! If that many show up how is there even room for any people within the whole city of Kosambi?” Samavati was puzzled.

“Just like time is different for different levels of beings, so too is space,” Ant began, “but…”

“But it’s not that different,” Bee chimed in, “and so we have to tiptoe around and make way all the time, even in our own forest.”

“But it is lovely, isn’t it, Bee? You have to admit; to have the Master here and to hear his words even from a distance – what can compare? It’s better than the sweetest nectar of the Udambara flower, that only blossoms once every three thousand sun-turnings.” Maggot grinned at her and raised a single eye-brow. Bee tried vainly to sustain her frown but broke into a radiant smile regardless.

“OK – point taken. But you, Amba,” she turned to the girl, “what have you been up to?”

At first Samavati did not hear the question as, at the mention of the presence of trillions of devas who gathered around the Buddha, she had looked out into the forest night. She blinked; and as if her vision were clearing after her eyes had been clouded by fog or smoke, she slowly began to discern that all around her, filling the atmosphere of the Ghositarama, and particular densely in the area where the Buddha’s gandha-kuti, was located, the little cabin perfumed by the mere presence of his nature, the space was filled with a myriad bright presences, shimmering with colours and textures that there were not even names for. The forest was alive, thrumming with the energy of a divine and wholesome beauty.

“Amba?...?”

“Oh…sorry, I was distracted. I have been here many times but I had never noticed this mass of holy beings.”

“Not all of them are that holy,” began Bee, “But if you’ve only been staying close to the human crowd and gone into the hall and back, or if you’ve just come and seen the forest in the daytime, it’s no surprise that you have not see us at all. We tend to keep away from most people if we can – present company excepted – and the night and the early morning are our most active times. The brightness of the day is too harsh for most of us.”

“Have you not ventured into the forest here before?” Maggot asked, innocuously.

“This was the first time I had to…well,” and here Samavati hesitated, not wishing to get into a description of body functions that the flower-fairies probably had no conception of. “It was the first time I’ve been away from the hall and the crowds at night-time, certainly.”

“So that’s why you’ve not seen us – or the deva-host – until today. Anyway, what have you been up to, apart from doubling your size? It seems a lot has happened since we left you on the road. You’re practically full-grown; are you married yet?” asked Maggot.

“Married! Not yet!... but I will be sixteen next year. I’ve never thought about it but I suppose it will come eventually.”

Samavati then gave the three a brief account of her last ten years, ending with her adoption by Lady Rohini and Lord Ghosaka and, tonight, her new-found and joyful faith in the Buddha and his words.

“Wasn’t Mr. Mitta and Mrs. Sundari upset when you took off like that?” asked Ant.

“Well I hardly ‘took off’ – I still see them virtually every day – no, they were very happy as they saw this would ‘advance my prospects’ as they put it.”

“What does that mean?” asked Bee, suspecting that she knew already.

“Find a rich husband, I think, although that whole thing seems very far off and hard to imagine. But it is good, being close to the Duke and Duchess – they love the Buddha and his Sangha, so I can come with them on nights like this all the time. Mr. Mitta was not so interested. So I had to stay home and embroider – not so much fun.

“And they love me, my new parents, they truly do.” The talk of family stirred a question and she was shocked that she had not thought to ask it before. “Did you ever find Tamba, my sister? You remember – you were going to look for her again.”

The kinnaris each stared at the ground or away from Samavati’s face for a moment.

“We never found any sign of her, after that day we met, and to be truthful, we all thought it so likely that she had died in the forest, from exposure or hunger or wild animals, that once we returned here, we never went back. Sorry… listen, I’m sure she has been reborn in a beautiful place – she sounded like a wonderful person.” Bee did her best to sound authoritative and realistic, confident as well as compassionate, although it didn’t come out as well as she had hoped.

“We did make an expedition once, to see your brother Krishna in Ujjeni – he’s a colourful character, isn’t he? And he is doing fine. Quite the strapping lad these days, and his mother seems a nice woman – very protective.”

“Couldn’t you ask around?” Samavati’s brow furrowed and her voice was plaintive. She was pleased to hear the good news of her brother but her main concern now was whether Tamba was alive and, if so, where she was. “You know, couldn’t you talk to some of these other devas, ask them to keep an eye open.”

“Us! You must be kidding,” spluttered Bee. “It would be like the blacksmith’s daughter popping into the Royal Palace to ask King Udena if he could pass on a message to the cowherd’s son for her. We hardly get to meet with the great lofty ones at all; besides, most of the devas higher than us earth-spirits don’t have the slightest interest in the human world, other than the sort gathered here who love the Buddha and the other great holy human beings.”

“We’ll spread the word amongst the other kinnaris and the rest of our crowd – the park-devas, grove-devas, medicinal herb-pixies, the dwellers in forest giants and other rukkha-devas – but Amba…” Maggot took her hand, “please don’t get your hopes up too much.” They all stood there silently for a while.

“By the way,” the girl said, now uncomfortable with these sombre reflections, “I’m known as Samavati now – I was given a new name by my foster-parents.” She didn’t know quite what else to add – the silence of the forest was ringing in her ears.

A fresh round of chorusing from the frogs was just beginning, when a familiar figure came limping up the path.

“So here you are Miss, I had quite the run-around looking for you. Thought you might have come to grief or something. Who were you talking to? Yourself?” She laughed at her own remark, also quietly hoping that her mistress had not been having long conversations with herself in the bushes.

Samavati turned to indicate to the three kinnaris; as she did so they, as a body, floated back up into the jambu tree, waving goodbye. As she looked back at Khujjuttara it was plain that her friend was not able to see them.

Samavati smiled and dodged Khujjuttara’s question by taking her hand and saying, “Come on, quick, it looks like another shower is brewing – let’s get back before we get soaked.”

* * *

Now the Rains were just about done the rumour was out that soon the Buddha would be departing on his annual wanderings. The wind had swung to the north and the air was cool and dry.

Samavati caught her father’s attention one morning, to check if he knew any more about this story. “Oh yes – didn’t I tell you? So sorry my dear. I‘ve known his plans for days – or at least that he said he intended to be going soon. Tonight’s the full moon observance so he’ll give a final address for the season and then, tomorrow he should be setting out.”

Samavati’s profound love for the teachings and for the Buddha himself had an unusual flavour to her; she cherished the opportunity to be in his company and to partake of his great wisdom, and that of his lay and monastic students, however, she knew she would not miss him when he was gone.

Before – when she had been in Mitta and Sundari’s part of the household and had had to stay behind – she had felt an ache of longing and resentment that she was parted from what was good and pure, and what she loved. Now, since that magical night when she had understood the words of the Buddha so deeply and when she had re-encountered her flowery friends, all was different – she was delighted to be in the presence of the Master but she knew she would not miss him in his absence.

* * *

A fat golden moon rose over the high eastern wall of Kosambi. It coloured every leaf of the Ghositarama while it painted the floor of the monastery grounds in bright blocks of light and strange shadow-patterns woven by the tendrils of tree-forms overhead. At the end of the Dharma Hall the last few rows of the assembled crowd were lit by the glow, as were the other white-robed lay disciples who sat on grass mats on the forest’s carpet of dry leaves, since the hall was not large enough to contain everyone who had come.

Many had heard that the Buddha would soon depart and were therefore keen to listen:–– Who knew when such opportunities would come again? Life is brief and uncertain… Many were keen not to let the chance pass by, to hear the words of an enlightened master from his own lips.

The moon climbed and its tint changed from the soft glow of its rising to a cool and serene ice-blue. Samavati sat perfectly still as the Buddha gave progressive instruction. Firstly he spoke on the powerful positive karmic effects of generosity and of living virtuously, how these simple practices and principles led to rebirth in heavenly states. Such states were described to be experienced both in this life – with the happiness of an unselfish mind, and a heart free from remorse for any dishonesty or wrongdoing – and also over many lifetimes, with one’s reappearance among the celestial beings in realms of great bliss and beauty.

He explained the danger, the degradation and defilement caused by the reckless pursuit of sense pleasures, and the blessings, the joy that comes from renunciation. For when we chase after happiness through the things we see, hear, smell, taste and touch, the mind habituates itself to every experience, the exciting becomes boring and leaves the heart depressed and weary. The foolish mind then can only think of finding a change of flavour, or a stronger dose to provide the elusive happiness once again, and again… and again...

The blessing of renunciation, he explained, was that of pure simplicity; when we train ourselves to be content with little, we can be happy in all circumstances. It was not about torturing ourselves or making life deliberately difficult – no – it was to do with independence. It was about learning to live so that we might be free from reliance on the caprice of circumstance. The role of simplicity, renunciation, was to provide us with the skill of being at ease with it all, whatever happened – whether we had a lot or a little, in sickness or in health, and whether we were praised or criticised.

Then, when the Buddha knew that the minds of many there were ready, receptive and free from obstructions, were elated and confident, he expounded the teaching that was unique to him and to his Order: the Four Noble Truths, the truth of dissatisfaction – that we all experience discontent at some point in life; the truth of the origin, the cause of that dissatisfaction – which is self-centred craving; the truth of the ending of dissatisfaction – that the heart can be utterly free of that pain; and finally, the Way – the path that leads to this very ending of all dissatisfaction, the path of virtue, meditation and wisdom.

Just as a clean cloth with all marks removed would take dye evenly, so too, while Samavati and the whole assembly sat there, the spotless, immaculate vision of the Dharma became clear to her once again, and to many others. She understood: All that comes into being, has to pass away. The Dharma is the only abiding reality. It is the Ultimate Truth, which is not confined by time.

* * *

The Buddha sat silently for a while, after he had finished his talk, then, casting his eyes about the assembly, he asked, “It may be that some amongst you have doubts about the spiritual path and how to practice it – do any of you have such uncertainties? Are there any questions you’d like to ask?

“Ask friends! Do not afterwards feel remorse, thinking, ‘The teacher was there before us and we failed to ask him, face to face.’“

At these words, at first there was silence – only the ringing of the crickets and the call of a gecko – then a well-dressed young brahmin, seated near the front, spoke up.

“Venerable Sir, you are one who has seen to the Beyond, so I would like to ask you: what is the best way to regard the world so that one will not be seen by the King of Death?” The question hung in the air for a moment as the Buddha took it in. It was as if he was weighing it, feeling its heft, before he offered up a response.

“If, Mogharaja,” the Buddha replied, “you view the world as empty; if you are mindful and give up all fixed views about ‘self’ – seeing yourself as a permanent and special being – then you will have found a way to go above and beyond death. Look at the world like this and the King of Death will not see you.

“Knowing the body as false as foam,
Knowing it as a hazy mirage,
Knowing the barb in Mara’s flowers –
Thus the wise elude Death’s Lord.

“They who look upon the world
As unstable, insubstantial,
As bubble, mirage and illusion –
They’re the ones Death cannot find.”

Samavati took in these verses, and the words that preceded them, and felt a strange understanding dawn within her. Although she now felt the quality of being so intensely, especially when she was around the Buddha like this, with that intense awareness came an almost eerie sense of insubstantaility… Her body and its familiar feelings and textures – and even her mind with its thoughts and perceptions – all were now clearly seen as being just fleeting patterns of nature, like the swashes of moonlight and leaf-shadow that played across the floor. She felt both more completely alive in herself than ever, and yet her body and her thoughts seemed not really to belong to her at all.

A cool and spacious quality filled her being. What the Master had been saying about evading the King of Death deeply entered her heart.

She thought, “The body and these thoughts and feelings are what’s born and what dies; but if those aren’t really who and what I am, what is left for Death to take?”

The question surprised her, even though it had arisen within her own heart, yet it also brought with it a wave of great happiness and a radiant, vibrant peace she had never felt before.

Somehow she knew that the silence of her own mind was the real answer to the question. Nevertheless, off in a corner of her thoughts there was a curtain that she still felt herself to be groping at, trying to feel her way through, like a child fumbling amid dense draperies in the dark, trying to come up with a sensible answer to her own mysterious puzzle. The idea then struck her that maybe this was something that she could ask the Master himself.

Her heart started racing as she tried to formulate exactly what it was that she wanted to ask, while she waited for the right moment to arrive but… In the end, being far too shy to speak up in public, she held her tongue and decided she would mull it over and see if she couldn’t solve this riddle by herself.

* * *

King Udena stood by the window of an upper chamber in his palace. It was a breezy spot. Whatever cooling movements of the air there were that might spring off the River Yamuna, that ran north-south below the ramparts, they were sure to be felt at this spot – one of the highest to be found.

It was now midway through the hot season and any shred of coolness was welcome. If truth be told, however, the main reason that the King was up in this aerie was that it afforded him a clear view over the palace courtyard and the unique traffic that would pass through it today.

The sun having reached the asterism of the Great Goddess in its progress through the yearly cycle, this was the day when the daughters of all respectable families of Kosambi, who by custom rarely went out without their parents, would go on foot with their own retinue of maids and bathe in the River Yamuna. The other occasion when they ventured forth in this fashion was for the annual display of ball games in the park, to do honour to the Goddess who dwells on the Vindhaya mountains.

The time-honoured path that this procession of young femininity would take ran right through the palace court. King Udena reflected that he did not know which of his honorable ancestors had instituted this aspect of the rite but it was a practice of which he thoroughly approved.

He had been watching for a while as various large and small groups of girls had passed below him, he and the cluster of male courtiers who were with him chatting and joking all the time. As the procession went by they kept up a banter of would-be-jocular remarks, praising and fault-finding, as men are inclined to do at such times.

He had just taken a swig of a cooling beverage when his eye caught the emergence of the newest arrivals from the shadows of the colonnade around the courtyard. He looked down at the crowd of black-haired maidens now advancing across the flagstones. The sounds of their eager conversation and the tinkling of their jewellery rose up to him but everything seemed suddenly to grow quiet.

His stare was frozen upon the girl at the front of the group. The cup slipped from his hand and spilled as he clumsily pushed it aside and he leant forward to grip the balustrade.

“Who is she?” His voice had lost every trace of bravado and vulgar humour. “Who is she? Doesn’t anybody know?”

“She is the daughter of your minister Ghosaka, Messire; Samavati by name, I believe,” one of the lords-in-waiting at his elbow provided. “She’s quite a looker, eh?”

The next thing the man knew was that there was a fierce pain in his mouth and that, for some reason, the ceiling was spinning above him. The King had resumed his place of surveillance, meanwhile, watching closely until the last hint of Samavati had vanished from sight.

“I’ve never seen anyone so beautiful in all my life…”

“Pardon me, Your Majesty,” chimed in the court minstrel, Pañcasikha, knowing what had just happened to the last one to offer a comment but deciding to risk it anyway, “but I believe you have.”

“What do you mean?” The King’s brow furrowed and his voice dropped to a suspicious growl. “You dare to question my judgment?”

“Not at all Sire, it’s just that you have met this girl before – perhaps you don’t remember…”

“Please, enlighten me; I have no memory of being in the presence of such a one before – I believe I would recall it, if I had, don’t you think?” He flexed his knuckles again, just to encourage the minstrel to be respectful in his account.

“Samavati is now of sixteen Rains, that’s why she’s taking part in the festival at the river this year, Messire; when you met her it was a full ten years ago, so she was but a child then.

“Before she was adopted by Lord Ghosaka, she was the daughter of his chamberlain, Mitta and his wife Sundari. They in turn had adopted her after she had been orphaned and found on the road to Kosambi, far away in the wilderness. Your Majesty, she is the golden-skinned girl of whom you dreamed, and then caused to be given protection at that time.”

“The golden girl… well, well.”

* * *

The King acted at once and sent for his Finance Minister that very morning.

“Ghosaka – I have seen your daughter and I wish to establish her as my wife and Chief Queen; Her Serene Highness, Queen Vasuladatta will surrender her position – she’s past child-bearing age by now anyway – and she will assume the role of a senior consort.”

“My p-p-profound apologies, Your Majesty,” Lord Ghosaka responded after a long and anxious pause, “but I…I cannot send her to you….” So thunderous was the look on his ruler’s face that Ghosaka’s words disappeared into a mumble.

“Don’t you dare defy me! Do as I say and bring her – now!”

Lord Ghosaka trembled visibly, but with a deep breath and bolstering his posture he replied, “Your Majesty, it would not be right for us to give away a young girl like her in marriage. She is very innocent, for all her physical maturity, and when a maiden like her is given away, people are afraid that she will be abused and maltreated.”

This was possibly the bravest, or most foolhardy act that the Duke had ever performed; but he loved Samavati so much, and he was only too well aware of the fickle moods of his monarch, so he could not in good conscience just submit to the Royal Demand.

The King was angry and without further words dismissed his minister, ordering his guards to accompany him to his house immediately, to throw Lady Rohini and Lord Ghosaka and all their staff out of the gates and to seal the minister’s mansion against all entry.

* * *

The King ached to see the golden beauty of Samavati once again. The bathing area, where the daughters of Kosambi had repaired to, was beyond the city walls, at the base of a gully just upstream from the palace. To his torment, those same cooling breezes that had been so soothing, now wafted to him the sounds of hundreds of female voices, but all of the women themselves were concealed from view.

His mind hunted feverishly for some Royal Excuse whereby he could casually wander in amongst them, in their state of mass déshabillé. He knew, to his regret, that certain religious observances were ranked far higher in import than any royal prerogative. He felt he could easily override the discomfiture of the mob, but he feared the power of the gods and goddesses; and to disgrace the sanctity of the city’s noble virgins at their ritual bath would probably cause him to be cast down and torn to pieces by his own hounds, or some other such grim and luckless end.

“Sing me a song, minstrel, I am smitten and am being denied the one I long for. Make it spiritual, for this is a day dedicated to the Goddess Sarasvati, but not too spiritual – you know the kind I like.”

Pañcasikha picked up his vina and tuned it carefully, then he began:

“Lady, your father Timbaru great,
Oh Sunshine fair, I give him honour due,
By whom was sired a maid as fair as you
Who are the cause of all my heart’s delight.

Delightful as the breeze to one who sweats,
Or as a cooling draught to one who thirsts,
Your radiant beauty is to me as dear
As Dhamma is to the Arahants.

Just as medicine to him who’s ill,
Or nourishment to one who’s starving still,
Bring me, gracious lady, sweet release
With water cool, from my consuming flames.

The elephant, oppressed by summer heat,
Seeks out a lotus pool ‘pon which to float,
Petals and pollen of the flower,
So into your bosom sweet I’d plunge.

As an elephant, urged by the goad,
Pays no heed to pricks of lance and spear,
So I, unheeding, know not what I do,
Intoxicated by your beauteous form.

By you my heart is tightly bound in bonds,
All my thoughts are quite transformed, and I
Can no longer find my former course:
I’m like a fish that’s caught on baited hook.

Come, embrace me, maiden fair of thighs,
Seize and hold me with your lovely eyes,
Take me in your arms, it’s all I ask!
My desire was slight at first, O maid
Of waving tresses, but it grew apace,
As grow the gifts that Arahants receive.

Whatever merit I have gained by gifts
To those Noble Ones, may my reward
When it ripens, be your love, most fair!

As the Sakyan’s Son in jhana rapt
Intent and mindful, seeks the Deathless goal,
Thus intent I seek your love, my Sun!

Just as that Sage would be rejoiced, if he
Were to gain supreme enlightenment,
So I’d rejoice to be made one with you.

If Sakka, Lord of Three and Thirty Gods
Were perchance to grant a boon to me,
It’s you I’d crave, my love for you‘s so strong.

Your father, maid so wise, I venerate
Like a Sal-tree fairly blossoming,
For his offspring’s sake, so sweet and fair*.”

Pañcasikha allowed the resonances of his final notes to fade gently. With eyes half-closed he lowered his beluva-wood lute; a pregnant silence shimmered.

“The sound of your strings and your song blend well, minstrel, neither prevails excessively over the other.” King Udena pulled a fat golden ring with a large ruby from one of his fingers and tossed it to Pañcasikha. He caught it deftly, touched it to his forehead and pocketed it securely in a single fluid motion.

“I am fortunate to have such artistry in my court… I’m not so happy with all those adoring paens for that Sakyan monk – I don’t think much of him, in case you didn’t know – but your words of gratitude for the girl’s father do make me realize I was being hard on the good Duke. Ghosaka’s a noble sort and he’s only acting as any decent father might.”

* * *

When the sun fell behind the western bank of the river, the grand gathering of bathers all packed up and headed home.

Samavati was shocked to find her mother and father sitting with disconsolate expressions outside the barricaded gates of her home, along with a crowd of the Minister’s employees.

“What’s happened to you all?” she asked, “What’s going on?”

Her father explained, “The King saw you today and declared that he wanted to marry you. When we refused to give you up, he had us turned out of our home, and he has had the doors sealed. We have always wanted you to marry well, and to become a queen is of course a glorious thing, but you are still so young and have been with us so short a time.”

“Father,” Samavati drew closer to him, “you have made a grave mistake. When a king commands, you should not say, ’We do not give.’ Rather you should say, ‘If you would like to take our daughter, with her retinue, we will happily give her to you.’”

Lord Ghosaka was at first startled by Samavati’s response – he’d been trying to protect the girl after all. He was forced to conclude now that, above all things, Samavati was kind and compliant, and when one in authority expressed a wish, what could any good and well-behaved person do but assent?

Lady Rohini looked plaintively at her husband but neither of them could fault the innocent logic of their doe-eye daughter. It also seemed remotely possible that, perhaps, she actually wanted this and welcomed the turn of events, rather than was meekly submitting to it. So they shrugged, signaled each other via an inclination of their eyes and a wag of the head, and acquiesced.

“Very well, dear daughter, of that is your wish, we’ll do as you say.” Thus Lord Ghosaka sent a message to King Udena then and there that he and his wife consented to the match.

* * *

The marriage took place very soon after and Samavati had the ceremonial sprinkling conferred upon her. With this anointment she officially became Her Serene Highness, Queen Samavati of Vamsa. The women of her retinue from the Minister’s mansion all came with her so, to her great relief and delight, she was able to bring her beloved Khujjuttara as well.

“Thank the Goddess that all the fuss and kerfuffle are done with, eh, Miss Amba – sorry, I mean Your Serene Highness.” Khujjuttara smirked and plumped up some cushions in the lounge area of the harem building that they had all been granted.

“This is a nice place though, isn’t it Khujj?” Samavati plunked herself down; picking off bits of jewellery and piling them on a side table. “The Rains will come soon and cool things off – then we should be pretty comfy here. Don’t you think?”

“Actually,” Khujjuttara said quietly, still looking away and adjusting some of the furnishings, “I thought the Duke and Duchess said it right Miss, when they expressed their worries, but this is a step or two up, I do grant you that. But even if it weren’t, we’d have to like it or lump it.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s a serious thing to come and live in a king’s household, Miss. You’ve been invited to enter and you’ve accepted it. But now that you’re in, you know, you can’t leave it.” Khujjuttara’s normally hearty voice dropped to a quieter pitch. “Unless Himself decides to take you somewhere, Miss, you’re in ’ere for good; and from what I hear, he doesn’t like the Buddha very much either, so I’m sorry, Miss, but I reckon you’ve made your last trip to the monastery.”


* These verses are reprinted here by kind permission of Wisdom Publications.


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Notes and References:

Chapter 11

1. Page 130 — us earth-spirits are somewhat nudged into the background… This situation is described by a young female devatā when telling the bhikkhu Samiddhi how hard it is for junior characters like her to see the Buddha: “It isn’t easy for us to approach that Blessed One, bhikkhu, as he is surrounded by other devatās of great influence.”

The monk, however, kindly arranges a chance for her to meet the Buddha face to face. The encounter is described at S 1.20.

2. Page 131 — time is different… so too is space … At the time of his final passing away, the Buddha asked the monk who was fanning him, Upavāna, to stand aside since: “The devas from ten world-spheres have gathered to see the Tathāgatha…For a distance of 12 yojanas [≈ 108 miles] …there is not a space you could touch with the point of a hair that is not filled with mighty devas.” D16.5.4-6

3. Page 131 — the Udambara flower… This rarest of blossoms is mentioned in the Lotus Sutra, it flowers only once every 3000 years. There is also a legend in Vietnam that the fragrance remains after the flowers have fallen.
And those people who hear this Dharma –
Such people too, are rare,
Like the Udambara flower,
In which all take delight,
Which the gods and humans prize,
For it blooms but once in a long long time.
Lotus Sutra, Chapter 2, ‘Expedient Devices.’

4. Page 133 — park-devas, grove-devas, medicinal herb-pixies, the dwellers in forest giants… In Pali these are: ārāmadevatā, vanadevatā, osadhitina-vanaspatīsu adhivatthā devatā. Such beings are mentioned, for example, at S 41.10.

5. Page 134 — the Buddha would be departing on his annual wanderings… It was customary for the Buddha (and is still the same for ‘dhutanga’ monks in Thailand) to reside for the Rains at one place and then to travel through the countryside seeking remote places for meditation, during the remaining eight months of the year.

6. Page 134 — the full moon observance… The Uposatha day; each full and new moon the monastics would gather to recite the Rule and to listen to Dharma teachings, and to meditate through the night. On the half moons it was the same but without the recitation. These customs are still carried on today.

7. Page 135 — the chance to hear the words of an enlightened master… The preciousness of such opportunities is described in the scriptures many times, for example at CV 6.4, M 130.28, A 1.19 & A 6.96.

8. Page 135 — the Buddha gave progressive instruction… As, for example, at M 56.18 & D 3.2.21-2

9. Page 136 — It may be that some amongst you have doubts about the spiritual path… This statement comes from D16.6.5.

10. Page 136 — what is the best way to… not be seen by the King of Death?... This passage comes from The Questions of Mogharāja, at SN 1118-9.

11. Page 136 — Knowing the body as false as foam … These two verses come from the Dhammapada, Dhp. 46 & 170.

12. Page 137 — her body and her thoughts seemed not really to belong to her at all… The deepening of Sāmāvatī’s realization here is described in terms of her breaking through the first three of what are called the ‘Ten Fetters’ or ‘samyojana’ in Pali. These first three are 1) personality-view (ie the belief ‘I am this body and this personality’); 2) attachment to conventions and social agreements (eg the belief a one dollar bill has an absolute and intrinsic worth, or that such-and-such a ceremony will purify me); and 3) doubt about what is and what is not the spiritual path to liberation.

Sāmāvatī broke through these three fetters when she Entered the Stream (on p. 125) and here her understanding has deepened to the point where she is on the path to the next level, that of Once-Returner – that is to say, she is close to reaching a spiritual maturity such that she will be born as a human being for just one more lifetime. After that, she will only be born in the heavenly realms and will, with absolute certainty, reach full enlightenment from there.

The reaching of the second level of enlightenment ( ‘sakadāgāmi’ in Pali) is characterized by a distinct diminishing of sensual desire and of aversion – kāma-rāga & vyāpāda in Pali.

13. Page 137 — the River Yamuna, that ran north-south below the ramparts… The old walls of King Udena’s place are still to be found today towering above the River Yamuna, or Jumna as it is known in modern times.

14. Page 138 — this was the day when the daughters of… Kosambi… This account of the annual festival is based on ‘The Story Cycle of King Udena,’ in the Dhammapada Commentary to Dhp verses 21-3; see ‘Buddhist Legends, Vol I,’ p 269.

15. Page 138 — the annual display of ball games … as in ‘The Pilgrim Kamanita’ Chapter 4.

16. Page 140 — this is a day dedicated to the Goddess Sarasvati… The sun is in her constellation in mid-April. This is when all of South Asia celebrates its New Year and enjoys the water/fertility festivals that go with it. In Thailand this water festival – which often involves a ritual bathing of Buddha images, and sometimes monastics, as well as the widespread hurling of water over all and sundry – is called ‘songkran.’

17. Page 141 — Lady, your father Timbaru great … This song, performed for the Buddha by the celestial musician (gandharva) Pañcasikha in the original, is found at D 21.1.5, ‘The Questions of Sakka, King of the Gods.’ This translation of it is the work of Maurice Walshe; it is reprinted here by kind permission of Wisdom Publications.

The vīnā is the ‘Indian lute,’ a stringed instrument often mentioned in the scriptures

18. Page 143 — Father…you have made a grave mistake… This exchange is from ‘The Story Cycle of King Udena,’ in the Dhammapada Commentary to Dhp verses 21-3; see ‘Buddhist Legends Vol I,’ p 269.

19. Page 144 — It’s a serious thing to come and live in a king’s household… This exchange also comes from ‘The Story Cycle of King Udena’; see ‘Buddhist Legends Vol I,’ p 282.