Mangala Chapter Eighteen: The Bickering Bhikkhus
Ajahn Amaro
June 1, 2010
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
* * * * * * * * * * * *
ust after leaving the muster of the troops, Lord Indra entered the inner palace and sat upon his vast yellow-stone throne – the famous Pandukambala-silasana. At once he discerned that it was hot. This was a rare occurrence and it always portended some event of great significance:–– Perhaps some mighty being was calling for divine aid or maybe there was a person of great spiritual virtue who was about to display their power in some noble act.
He had turned his mind to the question of who had caused the throne to heat up and – being of some spiritual skill himself – he was instantly aware of Queen Samavati’s peril, as well as the depth of her own wholesome qualities. He had called Gumbiya to him and said:
“You have sworn to protect the Queen of Vamsa, the noble lady Samavati. She is pure of heart but she is also in great danger. Go with all haste to her side and provide any aid that is needed.”
The yakkha had swiftly made his bow and left the palace, pausing only long enough to catch his friends, the three pink kinnari, who were still lingering in the marshalling yard.
“I’ve got to go double-quick down to Kosambi and see if the Queen needs a hand, or a club. I dunno what’s up but ’is Lordship seemed a bit fretted. I thought you’d all want to know if she was in trouble.”
“We were all going there anyway.” Said Ant, “to see family and to… say goodbye before we go on this raid – you know, just in case one of us doesn’t come back.” She paused and all of them looked a little nervously at the intricate tiled spirals of the courtyard floor. It was the first time that the risk they all now faced had become fully conscious.
“Well, don’t just stand there like a spare groom at a wedding Gumbiya, get on your way!” snapped Bee, with her customary charm. “By the time you get there all the pollen will be gone if you don’t get a move on. We’ll follow as quickly as we can,” she added, seeing the endearing expression of concern written on his ugly, weather-beaten face.
* * *
They found Samavati in one of her favourite gazebos. She was quite alone, apart from the hulking presence of their yakkha friend. The three kinnaris crowded around her, glad to see she was safe and apparently unharmed, and made their greetings.
“I was just thanking Gumbiya for his kindness in coming to my rescue…”
“But she didn’t really need me – you should’ve seen it! And the look on the King’s face when the arrow lands kerplunk back at his feet – it was priceless – I nearly laughed ’alf me bristles off.”
Once Gumbiya had finished recounting the incident, Samavati smiled modestly. “The best part of it is that now the King has a lot more respect for the Buddha and his teachings – mostly out of his renewed admiration for me, but it’s real anyway – and he also allows me a lot more latitude to wander by myself. See – here we are in the evening dusk and I’m out in the gardens without even an attendant. There are the usual guards all around, as there always are, but over this last day or two I’ve been much freer than ever before.”
“But what about that mean, malicious consort of his?” said Maggot, “she seems worse than a dose of leaf-blight.”
“Or root-worms,” Bee wrinkled her nose in disgust, “aren’t you worried about her?”
“We’ve seen her about the palace gardens once or twice,” Ant joined in, “and you wouldn’t believe the stink around her… to be honest, Udena’s not exactly a night-scented jasmine but next to her he’s positively peachy.”
“What I can’t understand,” said Bee, “is how the King is so blind to her hateful tendrils – she’s like a strangling fig, or maybe a maluva creeper – she’s a murderous fawnguest if there ever was one…”
“Whatever her motives might be,” Samavati responded, “I am not prepared to cast public accusations in her direction, or onto her maids who might be drawn into her scheming. I do not fear or hate her. As for why the King apparently does not see her deceptions and machinations for what they are, well, my husband keeps his own counsel on this – perhaps he does not see it; perhaps he sees it and chooses to let it pass, for his own reasons.
“I sincerely do not feel concerned,” she smiled warmly to the friends gathered round her and tried to reassure them, “and, besides, with the presence of the Buddha and his guiding influence – I feel that this city and my own person are more than well-protected.”
As she said this their conversation grew uncomfortably still. The three kinnari looked anxiously at each other.
“You mean you haven’t heard!?”
“Heard what?” Samavati was curious and a little alarmed by the tone in Maggot’s voice.
“He’s gone,” announced Ant quietly, “he left this morning.”
“We just learnt about it from the great elder Anuruddha, when we visited Ghositarama this afternoon,” said Maggot. “Apparently the Master went through Kosambi on his alms-round this morning without any other monks. After taking his meal by himself at his kuti, he set his lodging in order then, taking his bowl and robe, and without informing his personal attendants, without taking leave of the other monks, he set out on his wanderings alone.
“When the bhikkhus found out he was gone they asked the Venerable Ananda what they should do; he told them, ‘I have been the Master’s attendant for many years, when he sets out like that he wishes to be alone – he should not be followed by anyone.’”
“But why? What would make him leave in such an abrupt manner?” asked the Queen.
“There’s been a quarrel.”
“A big fight, actually…”
“It’s been going on for weeks…”
All three kinnaris chimed in with their impressions, creating a jumble of voices. Samavati wasn’t quite sure who to listen to, so Bee took the lead: “You tell the story Maggot, you’re best at remembering all the details.”
Duly appointed, the small rosy figure settled herself, adjusted the quartz brow-band that she habitually wore, and began:
“It seems that there are two particular elders living in the monastery, one an expert in the Master’s discourses, the other an expert in the monastic rules.
“One day the teacher of Discourses went to the bathroom and left a vessel there with some unused washing water in it. The other elder went in just after him and found it there. He asked the teacher of Discourses, ‘Did you leave some water in the vessel?’
“‘Yes,’ he replied.
“‘Did you know it’s an offence to do that?’
“‘No,’ the teacher answered, ‘I didn’t?’
“‘Well, it is, friend,’ the expert in discipline said.
“‘If that’s so, I am happy to acknowledge it – thank you for telling me.’
“‘On the other hand,’ the other monk said, ‘if you did it unintentionally and out of not being mindful, there was no offense,’” “Simple enough, you would think,” added Bee.
Ant shushed her and their friend continued:
“The expert in the Teachings went away thinking he had done no wrong. The expert in the Rules, however, went to his students and said: ‘This elder doesn’t even know when he’s committed an offence, what kind of expert in the Teachings is he?’ His students then duly passed this comment on to the students of the teacher of Discourses, saying: ‘Your teacher has committed an offence, although he’s under the impression that he has not.’
“When they told this to their teacher he was exasperated and critical, saying: ‘This so-called expert in the Discipline first said there was no offence and now he says there was one. He is a liar…’ When the expert in Discipline heard this, you can imagine how he felt.
“To cut a long story short, the monastery quickly split into two factions, the bhikkhus bickering and quarrelling, stabbing each other with verbal daggers.
“Naturally the Master heard about this dispute and went to each of the factions; he pointed out that, even if you felt sincerely that you had not committed any offence, purely out of respect for your fellow monastics who are learned and desirous of training, you should acknowledge the offence anyway. To create a split, a schism in the community he explained, is a very serious and destructive thing and it should not be caused to happen over such a minor, insignificant issue.
“He also gave many teachings over the subsequent days and weeks on how to establish concord; how acts of kindness by body, speech and mind, the sharing of all you have, how the respect for the monastic rules and most importantly, maintaining insight into the reality of things – all these contribute to the establishment of harmony.
“He told many tales of his former lives wherein argument, and doggedly holding to views, caused endless pain and sorrow, but all to no avail. The final straw came yesterday evening when the Master went to the hall where the squabbles were in full spate. He spoke to the bhikkhus with kindness, but with great force, saying:
“‘Enough, bhikkhus, stop all this quarrelling, wrangling, brawling and disputing.’ When this was said one of the monks spoke up saying, ‘Be at peace, Venerable Sir, please just go and enjoy the quiet of solitude. It is we who shall be known as those responsible for this dispute – there is no need for you to be involved.’
“Again the Buddha rebuked them, encouraging them to listen to his advice and to let go of their views, and again he received the same dismissive response from this monk. After the third time, the Master reflected: ‘These misguided men are obsessed. It is impossible to make them see.’ So he got up and went away.
“Then, early this very morning, the Venerable Anuruddha, being gifted with great powers of insight, discerned these reflections in the mind of the Master:
“‘When many voices shout at once
There is none that thinks himself a fool.
The Order being split, none thinks,
“I too took a part in this.”
“‘They have forgot wise speech, they talk
With minds obsessed by words alone;
Uncurbed their mouths, they bawl at will;
None knows what leads him so to do.
“‘If you can find a trustworthy companion
With whom to walk, both virtuous and steadfast,
Then walk with him, content and mindfully,
Overcoming any threat of danger.
“‘If you can find no trustworthy companion
Then, as a king who leaves a vanquished kingdom,
Walk like a tusker in the woods alone.
Better it is to walk alone
There is no fellowship with fools.
Walk alone, harm none, and know no conflict.
Be like a tusker in the woods alone.’”
* * *
Samavati bade her celestial companions farewell and gave her blessings and good wishes for their forthcoming mission.
When she re-entered the confines of her seraglio the whole harem was abuzz with the news about the quarrel. It seemed everybody had heard about it.
With the warming of his interest in the Buddha, and in an effort to please Samavati, King Udena had sent Lord Ghosaka to the monastery to invite the Buddha and a group of monks to come and receive the offering of a meal at the palace the very next day. Once Ghosaka arrived at the Ghositarama he heard the shocking news that the Master had gone away. Prior to reaching the monastery had been a little concerned about how harmony might be sustained among the monks who visited the palace – for he well knew of the ongoing arguments that had filled the air of the Ghositarama over these last few weeks – but this turn of events was more than he had bargained for.
Late in the afternoon Ghosaka had hurried back to the royal household with word on this crisis. He wasn’t sure what the King would make of the news but he knew that his own daughter, the Queen, would want to know as soon as possible.
When he told her, Samavati seemed surprisingly composed and equanimous – mostly she was delighted that Udena had even had the thought to give her such a pleasant surprise. The opportunity to host the Buddha at the palace and to hear teachings from him after so long would have been much appreciated, but she wasn’t upset or angry that now it was not going to happen.
When the King heard about the Buddha’s sudden departure he met the news with his own blunt response but he was also secretly relieved; he felt frustrated that this gesture of Royal Goodwill toward his Queen was not to be realized, however he was also glad that he would not have to feel judged, scolded and outshone by his wife’s beloved teacher – for always human beings are prone to projecting onto others the very attitudes that they themselves hold onto.
* * *
After some discussion between the royal couple, it was decided that the wise and eloquent elder Ananda would be invited to the palace instead – all the household seemed content with this idea and Lord Ghosaka was sent with the message to the monastery. It was also very clear that, despite his support for the Buddha being rekindled, King Udena did not want Samavati going out to the monastery without him, but through this prohibition a succession of monastic visits to the palace was thus established.
Ananda duly came the next day, with a small group of monks and, despite most of them looking a little haggard and fretful, the elder was as clear-eyed and joyful as ever. It was obvious that he had not been part of the arguments but even he showed moments of care-worn concern. She did not want to ask about it directly but Samavati suspected that the warm-hearted elder was having to put out a lot of fires and work hard to keep the peace between the squabbling factions.
The Elder referred to this obliquely when the Queen asked him when he might next be able to come and offer teachings.
“It is hard to say, I have… er… many duties at present,” and here a look of distinct rueful sufferance crossed his visage.
“I quite understand,” Her Serene Highness responded. With this comment she raised her hands palms together in añjali, and diplomatically pursued the question no further.
* * *
The troop of commandos were an impressive sight as they made their steady progress eastwards to Pubbavideha – at least they did to themselves, for they were cocooned within an enfolding pocket of opaque vapours spun by the warm-cloud devas and were thus, in the heart of the storm, invisible to the outside world. The asparas had also woven spells using a Gandhara charm and this rendered their camouflage complete.
Inside their mobile cloud-chamber, which extended a bow-shot above the tree-tops and a greater distance to either side, the group was flanked by Lord Kuvera, king of yakkhas to the north, and on the south General Punnaka with the naga Princess Irandati. They rode their giant flying horses with hooves of diamond and ruby and glistened in their armour of rippling gold and silver.
Above the colourful assembly flew Queen Samudajja and King Virupakkha, monarchs of the naga realm. In their serpentine forms they, and the four other dragon-warriors, were each almost a bow-shot long and they glinted in tones of silver and jade, gold and umber as their great crested heads and undulant forms flexed and flowed through the air.
Along the ground, through the woods and stream-beds, the kinnaris flitted and hovered – ever seeking the spoor – but were now clustered together in what looked like intense debate.
“Look, Paduma, this has to be the trail,” an elder male kinnari, clad in an array of bright yellow, orange and rich reds, was addressing Bee. “We keep picking up the scents of our nestlings.”
“And there’s these too, Asoka…” another female kinnari chimed in, “I’m sure this comes from my husband’s robes,” she proffered a tiny scrap of purple flower-gauze, edged with mauve and magenta gems.
“Pundarika’s right, Bee,” Ant joined the agitated discussion, “we keep finding odd shreds of clothing – this must be the way and it heads straight to Pubbavideha…”
“But that’s just it! Doesn’t this all seem just a little too convenient!” Bee held up the white strands of Minti’s hair she had collected along the way. “All these spots of kinnari blood, the scraps of cloth, the hair,” She held up the five long strands, “don’t you think it’s all just a little too findable? It’s been dropped in places where we’ll sniff it out if we don’t make too much effort. This all has the aura of accidentally-on-purpose to me. If they were at all concerned to cover their tracks they’d never have left such a trail.
“Besides, even though these precious traces that belonged to our kin point out this way, I feel no presence, no real kinnari-trace at all. The pull I get in that respect is to the north and west – I’m dead certain this is a false scent we are following.” As they knew that Bee’s intuitions were often very reliable Ant and Maggot were persuaded to her view – Maggot especially as she too could not feel the living trace, as Bee had mentioned.
Varuna and Isana drew close, soon followed by Samudjja, Irandati, Punnaka and Gumbiya. Bee put her case to these leaders of the expedition with a fearless vehemence, unfazed by their eminent status. She insisted that she was not afraid, but concerned that they were all being duped.
Once the elders had had the time to confer among themselves, Lord Varuna spoke to them:
“Mahapaduma-sundari – we see your concern is genuine and your heart true, however we do not feel we can jeopardize this mission solely to meet the intuitions of one individual.”
“But I’m not the only one!.. Sir.” Bee blushed a little at her own forwardness in the presence of this high deva-raja. He raised a jeweled hand to still her.
“You may go, with the blessing of us who lead this endeavour, and with those companions who feel as you do that the lost members of your family might have been taken elsewhere. As a guarantee of protection in your own mission, Lady Samudajja, queen of nagas will go with you. All the other members of this expedition,” and at this Gumbiya stirred in protest, “will stay with the assault as planned – in this,” and here he looked directly at the yakkha whom he knew was a close confederate of the kinnaris and whose voice he had just noted, “there will be no exceptions.”
Bee nodded thankfully in acknowledgment; when she lifted her eyes she noticed that the deva-warrior just behind Lord Varuna had a big, self-satisfied smile. It was one of Isana’s sons, she thought his name was Pitipuppha, and she also wondered why he wiped the grin off his face as soon as he saw that she was looking at him.
* * *
The wise and kindly elder Ananda was only able to come to the palace once every couple of lunar phases, usually the day before the new or full moon.
At first King Udena was a keen attendee of these teachings, but the sight of a roomful of his women all gazing adoringly at this (admittedly) eloquent and charming monk, proved to be a bit too much to bear. His inspiration waned and, besides, the effort that his chief consort Magandiya now put into arranging her apartments with fine flowers, sweet perfumes, delicious foods, delectable dancing girls and a seemingly endless supply of his favourite flower-liquor, puppha-rasa, made this a much more appealing destination for the Royal Interest.
He knew she had a reputation for being jealous and manipulative but she always spoke so sweetly, and apparently sincerely. Besides, she never uttered a spiteful word about Samavati although, being a pure-bred brahmin and very aware of the Queen’s humble origins as a foundling, she never deigned to look in her direction when they were in the rare situation of being in the same room together. Thus he was lulled, once more, into granting her the benefit of the doubt:— Perhaps that dream of hers had indeed been prophetic about the snake but just mistaken about Samavati and the Buddha. Maybe the snake just slid into the seraglio on its own was not part of anybody’s plot…
Another draught of puppha-rasa and a fresh ensemble of dancers called in by Magandiya settled any misgivings he might have had:— Anyway, this was all a lot more enjoyable than those endless explanations and graphic cautionary tales about how to be good.
“Those monks are decent chaps, certainly,” the King reflected, “but wholesomeness can grow very tedious.”
* * *
Nature has its way of moving in cycles and, one day, the slow dimming of the King’s enthusiasm for the Buddha and his teachings descended into outright disagreement between him and Queen Samavati once again.
“This quarrel that’s been going on at the Ghositarama these last few weeks, you know it’s all down to poor leadership. I can’t say I think much of a commander who runs away when what he should have done was to crack a few heads together early on and sort out the problem before it degenerated into anarchy.”
“Perhaps,” Samavati ventured, as they walked together through the gardens during a break in the rain, for by now the monsoon had arrived, “his going away was his method of bringing resolution; he was, as they say, ‘teaching with his feet.’ I don’t know if you’ve heard, but since the Master was moved to depart, the townsfolk got to hear more and more about the arguments that had been raging and, once people knew that the Buddha had been driven away by the selfish squabbles of the monks, they stopped donating food in the morning.
“I haven’t been to Ghositarama recently – as you have so kindly let us invite the Venerable Ananda here to teach – but they say the monks have just about settled their dispute and now plan to go to find the Buddha after the Rains and to ask for forgiveness. Once the people no longer fed the monks, while they would not listen to the Master, they eventually listened to the growling of their own bellies.”
Samavati didn’t feel she was contradicting her husband – merely pointing out the efficacy of the Buddha’s tangential teaching method – so she was shocked by the vehemence of Udena’s reaction:
“ENOUGH, woman! Do not gainsay me! I may not understand this monk’s philosophy but I do understand how to rule. You are an orphan child of a merchant – what do you think you can teach a warrior-noble king?” He glared at her with an intense frustrated anger and stomped off, with a couple of pages in his wake, in the direction of Magandiya’s chambers.
* * *
“What do you think she wants, Khujj? They say she’s very much in love with the King.”
“Can’t rightfully say I’m sure, Miss; I don’t see that much of her but, when I do, I’d say she doesn’t really love or even desire the King. Beneath all that flattery for His Majesty she sneers at him. Not as you’d guess from her face, or her ever-so-pukkah brahmin accent, it’s just that somewhere under all of that she’s carrying a thick layer of whatyacallit… disdain. She’s toplofty.
“I know I shouldn’t eavesdrop but sometimes you can’t help overhearing things. One time I was passing the bathing chamber in her part of the palace – I can’t remember what had me going by that way – and I heard her voice between the splashes of the water as she was bathing herself – she must have been talking to herself as she never has her maids help her. What I heard her say was: ‘…crumpling like some consumptive child before that cow-eyed ommadawn…’ Now, isn’t that a nice turn of phrase to use for your husband?” She grinned mischievously and glanced sidelong at her mistress.
“What does it mean?”
“It means she thinks he’s weak and that you’re an idiot, with all due respect, Miss.”
“So what does she want then?” Samavati seemed genuinely perplexed.
“If you put all the pieces together, I reckon she’s insecure and that she feels unworthy, and so what she wants is power. She wants recognition and to control everything ’cos she feels so weak – or at least she’s afraid she’s weak and at the mercy of the world. She doesn’t like that so she wants to make sure she comes out on top. That’s my wooden masaka’s worth, if you ask me.”
“So, why does she hate the Buddha so? I’ve heard people tell of some of the insulting remarks, although very neatly phrased, that she has made about the Master.”
“You’ve got me on that one Miss Amba. Brahmins are usually put out by his Teachings ’cos he’s against the caste system – none of them like that ’cos they’re near the top – but our woman seems to have some special gripe. People sometimes talk like that when their feelings have been hurt. When someone has the idea they’ve been scorned or belittled – that turns real easily into anger and spite. When I reckon some injustice has been done I can get a bit that way too, you know, all righteously huffy and hissy.”
“I know you really don‘t like her, Khujj but, if what you say is true, it makes me feel all the more sorry for her – what a wretched state of mind to dwell in.”
“She’s an evil viper… but a sorry evil viper.”
“Oh, don’t!” Samavati covered her mouth trying stifle a giggle. “You know what I mean – more hatred in the mix is not going to make matters easier for anyone. Even if it’s impossible to like her we can at least wish her well, with all sincerity. Sharing the goodness of our hearts with her might help to bring her to a greater peace. The more her heart’s at peace the better that will be for her and for the King, and for all of us.
“I’m not sure what else to do, to try and bring contentment to this house.”
* * *
As the rainy season progressed and the pall of clouds over Kosambi swelled the River Yamuna, the estrangement between the King and Queen waxed ever greater. Days and weeks would pass sometimes without Samavati so much as seeing her husband.
On a particularly gloomy day Khujjuttara was racking her ample brain for some way to help the Queen resolve things.
“Miss Amba,” she began a little tentatively,” Why don’t we go and have a chat with the dowager queen, Lady Vasuladatta – she’s been married to His Majesty for decades; although I grant that she doesn’t see much of him now. She might have some good advice.”
“What a great idea Khujj – I can’t believe we didn’t think of this earlier – she’s had a lot of experience of his ways.”
The buildings of Samavati’s seraglio stood separately from the rest of the palace complex, so she and Khujuttara waited for a break in the weather and then went via the long garden walk to the entrance of the elder Chief Consort’s dwelling.
They were graciously received by one of the old Queen’s maids and then waited in one of the outer apartments while Vasuladatta was informed of their unexpected visit. When she appeared Samavati was very impressed by the gentle demeanour of the lady. She was a handsome woman of about fifty Rains and was blessed with bright eyes and distinctively graying hair.
They seated themselves cross-legged on some low couches and, once the introductions and the exchanges of pleasantries were done, Samavati looked at the floor as if at a loss as to how to broach the subject they had come to discuss.
“Your Serene Highness,” Vasuladatta began, using the Queen’s formal title with no hint of jealousy or resentment, rather with a sincere affection, “if you have come to discuss our husband, you can speak completely frankly. At this stage of my life I am neither inexperienced nor shockable.” Her eyes sparkled.
“The truth is I’m here more out of concern for His Majesty than for myself – I am at something of a loss as to how to help him.
“One minute he’s vowing sincere and eternal devotion to me, and to a noble path in life, the next minute he’s bored and seeking distraction. It is as if there are two people at loggerheads inside him fighting for control of his estate, his heart. He’s a good man at the core – I feel it – but he’s jealous, proud and impatient. When he becomes surfeited with something or another, or a new experience has lost its sparkle for him, the tedium of it swiftly overwhelms him and, more often than not, the only thing he can think to do to change his mood is to call for another cup of liquor.”
The courteous dowager let these words sink in, took a sip of some refreshing fruit cordial and chose her words carefully. “You now find yourself, Your Highness…”
“Please,” Samavati interrupted – “you mustn’t bother with the title, just use my name – we are equals here.”
“Well, that’s very kind of you, Ma’am, but you are, officially at least, my senior now; be that as it may, if it makes you more comfortable, I will call you by your name.”
“Thank you,” Samavati was feeling greater respect and affection for the Chief Consort by each moment.
“To be blunt, you now find yourself in the position I did – what, three or four Rains ago – when I was first supplanted.” She held up a hand and then brought her palms together to respectfully silence the apology that was on the brink of bursting forth from Samavati.
“No, dear, do not aggrieve yourself on my account – I could see by your countenance and by everything about you, when you appeared on the scene, that you had no ambitions of your own and that you wished me no ill. Your eminent position now is solely of His Majesty’s own making – which is something I cannot say of the latest addition to the royal household.”
She paused, as if in inner debate, then smiling somewhat wryly, she said:
“When I was a girl, a little younger than you are now, I too was chosen by King Udena and he vowed his undying affection to me. May I burden you with my story?”
“I’d love to hear it,” Samavati honestly replied, and Khujjutara inched closer, to be sure not to miss any details.
“I was the daughter of King Canda Pajjota, ruler of Avanti. He heard that young King Udena of Vamsa had skill in taming elephants, that he even had magical charm for this, and my father greatly desired this charm.
“He contrived to capture Udena and hold him prisoner. When this was achieved, and even though Udena was under lock and key, he said he would only teach my father the charm if he would pay obeisance to him. My father, being proud, refused but he learned that Udena would teach it to anyone of his court as long as they paid homage to him.
“Since I was the only person my father could trust he asked me to be the one to learn the charm and to render my obeisance.
“He was afraid, however, both of us being young and needing to spend time together to learn the charm, that we would fall in love. So he told Udena: ‘We have a hunch-backed woman in our house – please teach her the charm, she is happy to pay homage to you.’ Meanwhile he said to me, ’Dear daughter there is a certain leper who knows a priceless charm. Please sit behind this curtain and he will teach it to you. Once you have learned it from him, you will be able to teach it to me.’
“The next day I sat behind the curtain and the man on the other side taught me the words of the charm, repeating them over and over. The language was strange to me and so I could not pronounce it all correctly. Eventually Udena became impatient with me, calling out: ‘Dunce of a hunchback, your lips are too thick and your cheeks are too pudgy! Say it this way!’
“I replied in anger: ‘Foul leper, what do you mean by those words? Why are you calling me a hunchback?’” Here the old queen turned to Khujjutara and said – “Excuse me, dear, but I’m not trying to mock you – this really was the conversation we had.” Khujjuttara, for her part, nodded and said, “It’s all right Ma’am, I’m used to it – please go on with your story.”
“Well, at this point Udena lifted the curtain and asked, ‘Who are you?’
‘I’m Vasuladatta, the King’s daughter.’
‘When your father spoke to me, he called you a hunchback.’
‘And he told me you were a leper.’
“Then we both said: ‘He must…’
‘… have been afraid…’
‘… we’d fall…’
‘… in…’
‘… love.’ It went very quiet then as we looked each other in the eyes.
Needless to say there was no learning charms or getting lessons after that, even though we spent every day in each other’s company.
“Each day my father asked, ‘Are you learning your lessons, daughter?’ ‘Yes, father,’ I would reply, knowing it was not the kind of lessons he had in mind.” She raised an eyebrow mock-conspiratorially.
“Udena and I then made a plan to help him escape from there. I asked my father for permission for one of the palace gates to be left open at all times and for an elephant to be available, saying: ‘In order to work the charm a certain medicinal herb is necessary and this must be obtained at night, at a time indicated by the stars’ – he agreed to this and left a gate open and gave us access to the elephant stables.
“When a few days had gone by Udena and I crept, in the dead of the night, to the stable. We roused Bhaddavati and climbed up onto her broad back and silently left the palace, for her tread was supremely gentle, despite her size; once out in the open we used Udena’s elephant-charming vina and Bhaddhavati broke into a great and joyful charge.
“Even though my father discovered our flight before too long, such was our elephant’s speed, as she ate up the leagues between Ujjeni and Kosambi, that he was entirely unable to catch us. Once we arrived in Kosambi, safe within the palace here, I was sprinkled with the Royal Blessing and was made into his Chief Queen.
“It was very romantic.”
She paused again and took another sip of cordial.
“And now… I am fifty and flabby and grey hairs have appeared on my head, so I have been granted the blessing of ‘time alone in peace and quiet.’ I do not wish the same for you, Samavati, at your young age, but I can see that you spoke the truth when you said your concern was more for our fickle husband than for your own position or well-being. This is noble and wise on your part – qualities that Udena, and his latest fascination, Magandiya, could well do with more of.
“As for how to help him find greater happiness and ease – if I had been able to find such a charm that could effect this, spiritual or otherwise, you can rest assured I would have used it before now.
“Still, your own goodness and sincerity are a powerful message to him – even if he’d rather not receive it most of the time – so I would suggest you have faith in your own wholesome ways and trust that they will have their good effect in time. I’m sorry but I have nothing better to suggest.”
* * *
That said, still their conversation unfolded in a dozen joyful avenues throughout that long and rainy afternoon. At one point it was mentioned how the great elder Ananda was a regular visitor to the apartments of Queen Samavati and it was clear that the dowager was interested too.
“Please forgive me for never thinking to invite you,” Samavati apologized. “We live such separate lives here, despite being in the same compound.”
The old queen hushed her and made it clear that she was very happy now to have the opportunity to come to these regular teachings. She also asked: “In my household there are a few others whom I am sure would like to come too; would it be agreeable if they attended these talks?”
Just as she said this there appeared in the doorway an aged woman, on the arm of a young maidservant. She was very wrinkled and her skin was unusually pale; there were strange faded blue markings along her forearms and at her temples. Her hair was mostly white but mingled in with it, in folded layers, were striations of dense red-gold. It was still thick, and was braided in four-stranded plaits, in a style Samavati had never seen before. Her eyes were filmed with opaque pearly cataracts.
“Right on cue,” Vasuladatta smiled, “you always know when you are being talked about. Your Serene Highness, may I introduce Gavinna – or Guru-Vinna as we all call her – she is a wise woman indeed and, despite her failing eyes, gifted with sight that few of us could ever hope for.”
“That’s a polite way of saying I’m regularly off with the fairies, or floating about in various dream worlds.” She smiled endearingly and tottered slowly into the room. Vasuladatta made space for her at her side and the ancient figure gently lowered herself to couch level. Samavati now noticed that she had the same strange blue markings on her calves and shins as well – intricate and blurred patterns of hatchings, spirals and delicately curving lines.
“She was a concubine of King Udena’s grandfather, many years ago, and was settled in these apartments long before…”
“…before you were even born.” She wrinkled her face again in a broad and friendly grin. “I wanted to meet you, Ma’am,” she directed her lightless eyes at Samavati, “and yes, I would be delighted to visit your residence when the elder comes to teach. Only…” here she wheezed for a moment, “please make sure we get plenty of warning – it takes a long time to persuade these old limbs to cross the garden.”
She faced Samavati silently for a moment, as if reading something written in her inner planes of vision. Her face both smiled again and, simultaneously, formed a frown – she seemed to nod almost imperceptibly to herself but said no more.
* * *
Now that the Sakyan monk was apparently gone for good, Magandiya’s confidence and sense of ease grew strong. The fact that she also seemed to have got the King firmly back under her thumb only added to these feelings of self-assurance.
Things were going well for her now, after the many frustrations she had experienced, but she saw she would need some help in order to fulfill the goals she had in mind. She needed an ally of fail-safe reliability:– The bribable people she had used so far… their very buyability betrayed the frailty of their allegiances… no, she would have to go to her family.
She pondered the issue for a long time and then, one day, the answer came: “Of course, the brahmin priest from Taxila, my Uncle Slyma.”
This was going to work well.
Notes and References:
Page 223 — his vast yellow-stone throne… Reference is often made to Indra’s throne; it grows hot for the kind of reasons mentioned in the story, also when Lord Indra (Sakka) has exhausted his merit or when his life is drawing to an end. See, for example Jāts §§440, 472, 480 etc.; it is also said to tremble sometimes when some deed of great virtue is being performed, e.g., at Jāt §488.
Page 224 — like a strangling fig, or maybe a maluva creeper… Two Jātaka stories use the parasitic figs as a way of illustrating the dangers of tolerating even the slightest amount of unwholesomeness ‒ these are Jāts §§370 and 412. (See also Bhikkhu Bodhi’s note on S 46.39 re these plants, in ‘Connected Discourses V’ note 81.) On the perilous properties of the ‘tender, soft, downy tendril of the māluva-creeper,’ see M 45.4: “The creeper enfolded the sāla tree, made a canopy over it, draped a curtain all around it, and split the main branches of the tree.”
Page 225 — he went through Kosambi on his alms-round… This account of the quarrel and the Buddha’s departure is largely as found in M 48, M 128, MV 10.1-3 & S 22.81. An excellent telling of the whole sorry tale is found in ‘The Life of the Buddha’ by Bhikkhu Ñānamoli, pp. 109-119, BPS.
Page 226 — teachings over…weeks on how to establish concord… These are the ‘Six Memorable Qualities’ — the sārānīya-dhammas, as at M 48.6.
Page 226 — many tales of his former lives… Such as Jāts. §§357 and 33, as mentioned in ‘Buddhist Legends, Vol. I,’ p. 177.
Page 226 — Enough, bhikkhus, stop all this quarrelling… This passage comes from M 128.4-6.
Page 228 — Ananda would be invited to the palace… This turn of events comes from ‘The Story Cycle of King Udena’ once again; see ‘Buddhist Legends, Vol. I,’ p. 287.
Page 229 — using a Gandhara charm… This ‘vijjā’ is mentioned at D 11.5; it was used to render oneself invisible.
Page 230 — his women, all gazing adoringly at this… monk… This description of Udena taking offence at his court women’s feelings of devotion to Venerable Ānanda are recounted in ‘Buddhist Legends, Vol. I’ p. 287: “One day, after they had listened to the Elder’s discourse on the Dhamma, their hearts were filled with joy and they rendered honour to the Elder by presenting him with 500 yellow robes.” A similar but more canonical account is found in the books of the Monastic Rule, at CV 11.13-14, (see ‘Hooked! ‒ Buddhist Writings on Greed, Desire and the Urge to Consume’ p. 195).
Page 230 —flower-liquor, puppha-rasa… This kind of alcoholic drink is mentioned at Vin. I 246.
Page 231 — they stopped donating food in the morning…. As recounted in ‘Buddhist Legends, Vol. I’ p. 178: “The monks got so little food they were nearly famished and it required only a few days to bring them to a better state of mind.”
Page 233 — Sharing the goodness… The principle of sharing blessings, (merit, or ‘puñña’ in Pali) is a central practice in Buddhist tradition. See ‘The Sharing of Blessings’ in the Abhayagiri chanting book, http://www.abhayagiri.org
Page 234 — I was the daughter of King Canda Pajjota… This account is largely as found in ‘The Story of Cycle of King Udena,’ ‘Buddhist Legends, Vol.’ I pp. 270-272.