Yasodhara and the Buddha

Vanessa R. Sasson

• Verlag: Bloomsbury Academic
• Jahr: 2020
• ISBN:
  9781350163188
• Auflage: 1
• Thema: Theology & Religion
• Thema: Buddhism

By combining the spirit of fiction with the fabulism of Indian mythology and in-depth academic research, Vanessa R. Sasson shares the evocative story of the Buddha from the perspective of a forgotten woman: Yasodhara, the Buddha's wife. Although often marginalized, Yasodhara's narrative here comes to life. Written with a strong feminist voice, we encounter Yasodhara as a fiercely independent, passionate and resilient individual. We witness her joys and sorrows, her expectations and frustrations, her fairy-tale wedding, and her overwhelming devastation at the departure of her beloved. It is through her eyes that we witness Siddhattha's slow transformation, from a sheltered prince to a deeply sensitive young man. On the way, we see how the gods watch over the future Buddha from the clouds, how the king and his ministers try to keep the suffering of the world from him and how he eventually renounces the throne, his wife and newly-born son to seek enlightenment. Along with a foreword from Wendy Doniger, the book includes a scholarly introduction to Yasodhara's narrative and offers extensive notes along with study questions, to help readers navigate the traditional literature in a new way, making this an essential book for anyone wanting to learn about Buddhist narratives.

1

Beginnings

I was born during the hottest season in the year. The clouds sat poised on the edge of release, teasing us with the possibility of rain, but not giving in. While they dallied, we were suffocating.

Most of my household had moved to the flat, clay-baked roof in the hope of some respite after I was born, but my father wanted a few moments to himself. We lived on the edge of the town, far from the bustle of hawking merchants and clanging noise. My father soaked in the quiet and approached the magnificent asattha tree that stood a few paces from our front door. He bowed to it with reverence, circumambulated it three times, keeping it by his right side, and whispered a prayer of gratitude for the delivery that was my birth. There would be all kinds of ritual celebrations to properly thank the gods for my safe arrival in the coming days, but that evening after my mother’s many hours of painful labor, a silent prayer was enough.

The sound of clicking hooves reverberated from a distance. A rider bearing the royal flag was approaching. My father watched as this unexpected visitor drew near.

“Are you Dandapani?” the royal messenger asked from the height of his horse.

“I am,” my father replied.

The messenger nodded, dismounted and pulled out a trumpet. He blew into it without producing any semblance of a melody, making a terrible racket that was sure to disturb the entire household. He was announcing his own arrival in case my father had not noticed.

“I come bearing a message from Maharaja Suddhodana, King of the Sakya Kingdom!” he declared with a well-rehearsed voice, as he lowered his instrument and tucked it under his arm.

News certainly does travel quickly, my father marveled to himself. He expected a royal message to arrive eventually—the king was, after all, family—but not on the very same day of my birth.

“Maharaja Suddhodana has received news of your daughter’s successful arrival. He congratulates you and looks forward to welcoming your family at the palace.”

My father imagined the moment when he would present me to the royal court for the first time. His heart swelled with pride at the thought of it. He pictured the festivities that would be thrown in our honor, flower petals raining over him as he carried his first child through a sea of boisterous applause.

The messenger’s voice interrupted my father’s fantasy. “The king would also like to announce the successful birth of the Prince of the Sakya Kingdom!”

What was that?

“I am sorry,” my father stammered. “Did you say that the king’s son was born today as well? The queen has delivered her child?”

“That is correct,” replied the royal messenger.

Two little brown monkeys chased each other through the branches overhead, squealing with dangerous delight.

“But … why wasn’t this announced? I don’t understand!” My father looked around in bewilderment, half-expecting a parade of elephants to materialize in front of him. “Where are the festivities? Why haven’t I heard the sounds of conch shells blaring? Why is it so quiet?”

The messenger ignored his confusion and continued with his recitation.

“Unfortunately, the king requests that there be no festivities of any kind for the time being. The prince’s birth is accompanied by complications that Maharaja Suddhodana is not prepared to announce. The entire Sakya Kingdom is asked to refrain from celebration. In fact …” and here his royal demeanor expanded dramatically, “the kingdom is hereby declared to be in a state of mourning.”

My father’s face blanched.

“Mourning? But why?”

One of the monkeys launched a mango pit at the messenger’s head before he could answer. It hit the messenger squarely between the eyes. In a flash, the messenger transformed into a petulant child, abandoning his required demeanor, stomping his feet and screaming at the monkeys who were racing away with what seemed like victorious giggles.

My father, however, barely noticed. “Why are we in mourning?” he repeated.

“Unfortunately,” replied the royal messenger as he wiped the mango slime off his face, “that is not part of the message.”

Without another word, the messenger climbed back onto his horse and rode off, rubbing the sore spot on his forehead and leaving my father far behind.

My father let himself fall onto the brittle grass. He could not understand what had just happened. The king had sired an heir, which meant that the kingdom finally had a prince. And the prince and I were born on the same day, which should have been an auspicious sign for both families, but obviously something had gone wrong. Enough to warrant placing the kingdom in a state of mourning…

He knew what that meant but he could not bear to think of it. Queen Maya was my father’s sister, my paternal aunt. He could not allow himself to consider the possibility that seemed to be looming on the horizon.

He sank further into the grass as reality encased him. The kingdom finally had an heir to the throne, after years of waiting, but something had gone wrong. He kept repeating the words to himself, trying to make sense of them. Where was Maya, his beloved older sister? Why wouldn’t more news be shared?

And then something else dawned on him. Something even more wrenching than the question of his sister: the kingdom was placed in mourning on the day of his daughter’s birth. Was that a bad omen? Were the stars condemning his daughter before she even began? The protective impulse of fatherhood rose to greet him for the first time and it was more powerful than he expected.

And what about the celebrations? All celebrations were cancelled, said the messenger. That meant our celebrations as well. That was why the king had sent a message so soon. Whatever the women might have prepared would have to be cancelled.

The day I was born, the day that was supposed to be filled with celebration and congratulations, was now darkened. My father’s long-awaited moment of public fatherhood, the moment when he would be able to parade me through the palace hallways with pride and joy, had been snatched away.

*

The queen’s death haunted the king. She had experienced such an easy pregnancy. Everything was going so well. And they had waited so long to conceive a child together! The entire Sakya Kingdom had. How could he lose her now? He paced the length of his Throne Room for days, replaying their final moments together over and over in his mind. She knew that the end of her life was drawing near and she had asked him to let her go. She insisted on giving birth in Lumbini Garden.

“But Maya, do you realize what you are asking?” he asked her. “We have plenty of gardens right here in the palace compound. Lumbini is a long road away! It’s too dangerous to be going on a trip now!”

“I know what I am asking, Husband,” the queen replied. “But the Goddesses of Lumbini are calling. I must go to them. I am certain of it.”

“But … when would you return?”

“I will not return, Husband,” she explained quietly. “I will stay until the end.”

King Suddhodana never saw his wife again. Her final scene had played itself out exactly as she said it would. She died in the garden not long after delivering their one and only child, surrounded by her maidservants at the base of Lumbinidevi’s tree.

Try as he might, the king could not face the loss of her and celebrate the birth of his son at the same time. He could not imagine raising a prince without his wife, so closed the doors to the kingdom instead, outlawing celebration and stifling any happiness he might have otherwise felt.

He did make one exception to his rule, though: he requested an astrological reading of his son’s chart. He gave them very little time to prepare, sending the astrologers into a last-minute scramble, but that was irrelevant to him. The king needed to understand who the child was. At the very least, he required confirmation that his son would play the part kingship required of him. The crown was a heavy burden to bear; without Maya by his side, it promised to be more isolating than ever. But if he could lean on his son, if he could depend on a future promised by the stars, maybe … just maybe, he would find the strength he needed not to fail.

The astrologers were invited into the Royal Nursery for the occasion—a room that overflowed with the queen’s expectations, from the elephants carved into the great wooden beams of the ceiling to the vibrant paintings she had commissioned to cover the walls. There were images of monkeys swinging in trees, swans gliding gracefully on lotus-covered ponds, and a cluster of gods lounging on a bed of clouds, looking down into the room with loving guardianship. The floor of the Royal Nursery was littered with toys she had received during the pregnancy—toys the infant was still much too young to notice, let alone play with—but that everyone looked forward to watching him enjoy. Every detail of the room spoke of her hopes and dreams. The hopes and dreams that had been shattered with her death.

The astrologers entered the Royal Nursery soberly, all too aware of the mood they would be met with. They knew not to expect trumpets announcing their arrival. It was not a joyous occasion, even if it should have been. Chief Astrologer led the procession, followed by his junior acolytes who shouldered the tremendous scroll they had been slaving over.

“Well?” demanded the king before the door had closed behind them. “I am ready to hear your analysis.”

Chief Astrologer cleared his throat nervously. “Of course, Your Highness,” he said as he stumbled his way through the ceremonial greeting, touching the king’s feet with his forehead. “But … might I make one small request before we begin?”

“A request? You were commissioned to provide a reading!” His anger shot out of him before he was even aware it was there.

“Of course, Your Highness,” Chief Astrologer repeated. “We have prepared everything …” he stammered as he gestured to the scroll behind him. “It is just that … Would you be so kind as to grant us permission to look at the child before we complete the process? We would like to see if there are any unusual marks on his body that might help us finalize our discussion.”

“Do you mean to tell me that the charts are still not complete?!” His anger exploded. “What have you been doing?! This is the prince of your kingdom, YOUR future king! A GOD in human body! Do you not consider this chart worthy of your time?!”

The king’s rage ripped through the astrologers’ confidence like a tornado. This was precisely what they feared would happen. None of them responded; they all stared at the floor, dumb with terror, unsure of what to do or say next.

Why does everything have to be so complicated, the king hollered to himself in frustration. Why couldn’t they just do what he had asked? He wanted to punish them just for upsetting him, but … If the astrologers required an examination to finish their work, refusing the request would only delay the situation that much longer. He ordered one of the nurses to bring his son to the leader while the junior astrologers busied themselves with the chart.

Chief Astrologer was forbidden from laying his hands on the precious heir, so he moved around the nurse who was holding him, bobbing and weaving awkwardly as he tried to see if there were any significant markings. The junior astrologers, in the meanwhile, kept their distance and busied themselves with the scroll. They laid it down on a table and removed the embroidered silk it was wrapped in. They carefully unrolled the parchment, making sure not to touch any of the paint with their fingers, until it lay completely flat on its surface.

Although he was still frustrated with them, the king could not withhold his awe. The chart was unequivocally a masterpiece—and this despite the speed at which he knew he had forced them to work. The background was dyed a deep red and it was covered with rows of golden calligraphy. Exquisite depictions of the stars and planets filled the edges, producing an utterly mesmerizing effect. The secrets of my son’s future are embedded somewhere on that parchment, the king marveled to himself. He was now more anxious than ever to hear what they had to say.

As soon as Chief Astrologer completed his inspection, the child was returned to his bed. Chief Astrologer summoned his helpers. They stepped away from the glittering scroll and joined their superior in a corner. Almost immediately, the discussion swelled into a heated debate, with arms waving and hysterical whispering as they argued about the signs they were trying to interpret, none of it being explained to the increasingly impatient king.

Just before the king exploded again, Chief Astrologer broke through the circle with his declaration. “We have reached a conclusion, Maharaja.”

Finally, the king said to himself.

“After careful consideration …” he began.

The king’s worried brows were arched in anticipation. A small bead of sweat was forming along his temple. This king wanted so much from them. How could he tell him the truth? The chart prophesied disaster for the royal lineage. The small prince swaddled in delicately embroidered cloth would not turn into the man the king wanted. According to the stars, the prince would achieve more than any man had ever achieved. He would, in fact, offer freedom to the entire world…

But in the process, he would break everyone’s heart.

“After careful consideration,” he resumed hesitantly, “we believe that your son may take one of two roads. It is not clear from the stars which of these your son will take.”

“I am listening …”

“If, Your Highness, the Royal Prince chooses to live as a householder, he will become the greatest king the world has ever known. He will bring law to every corner of the land, make peace with neighboring tribes, and he will bring justice to every subject in his domain. He will be the kind of king that materializes only once every ten thousand years.”

The other astrologers stared at their superior in dis...