very tongue was wagging in Savatthi. The stories of the massacre of the Sakyans – the Master’s own people – as well as the demise of virtually the entirety of the Kosalan army, had reached the city with great speed. Bad news travels fast.

People had been generally unhappy about the way that Vidudabha had seized power. Even though his father, King Pasenadi, had made some grievous mistakes, such as the wiping out of General Bandhula’s family so recently, he had been regarded as a good and just king. He was a sincere and dedicated disciple of the Master and always displayed the most genuine humility and friendship towards him, and to his monks and nuns¹. He had been beloved by the populace, his only shortcoming in the eyes of most people had been his failure to produce more than a couple of children. Princess Vajiri and now the late King Vidudabha were his only offspring, either through formal or casual liaisons. Now that Vidu the Fay was gone, and it was well known that the old King had passed away near Rajagaha, the big question of the day – along with the issues of funerals and inheritances for many of the noble houses of Kosala – was ‘who will ascend the throne of the kingdom, since both legitimate kings have passed away?’

It was a sad time for all. It seemed that a majority of the families of Savatthi, whether humble or noble, had lost at least one man in the army that was washed down the Aciravati, as well as many women who were in the waggon train and cook-tents. Hardly anyone had any physical remains of their loved ones that could be properly cremated, however, so there was an endless succession of bodiless funeral ceremonies and memorials held in the burning grounds outside the city and on the river’s banks, and at the local shrines².

The lamentations and mourning for the Sakyan people also filled the air. Yes, they had caused offence by foisting a low-caste bride upon the King, and that subterfuge had been maintained for many years, but Queen Vasabha was well-liked regardless. It was now suspected that her genuine ‘common touch’, and ability to relate comfortably and helpfully with the poor-folk, was a result of her own humble origins, like those of the equally appreciated Queen Mallika.

In the search for a new ruler it was appreciated that King Pasenadi had had a number of other, so-called ‘minor wives’³. There were Ubbiri, Soma and Sakula (some male relatives of whom were considered), and Vimala who was a sister of King Bimbisara. Pasenadi’s sister, Kosaladevi, was married to Bimbisara too, so there was a doubly close connection. The problem with looking to Magadha for a suitable ruler was that King Ajatasattu had recently killed his father by starving him to death, while imprisoned, and the Queen, Kosaladevi, had died of grief shortly after. If any approach was made to the throne of Magadha, it was highly likely – as many of the busy gossip-mills had it – that King Ajatasattu would grasp the opportunity to claim the throne of Kosala for himself as well, thus uniting the two great power-holders of the region and perhaps seeding a whole empire for himself. Thus, amid the sad ceremonies to mark the great losses experienced by the manyfolk, there was an energizing anxiety about the future:– Who would lead the country?

Although it was unprecedented, the solution that the ministers of state decided upon, despite a few of them offering to be a ‘steward’ of the throne until a suitable royal could be found, was to appoint Queen Mallika as Royally Anointed Regent⁴, with Princess Vajiri at her side as Crown Princess Regent. Amidst the many heated and convoluted discussions, with the Princess being the only legitimate heir of King Pasenadi, and Vidudabha having been too young to be married, many were the glances cast in her direction with the word ‘husband’ being mingled freely with them. The Princess, meanwhile, cultivated a selective deafness when she overheard such conversations. She was in her twenties and as yet unmarried and was keen to stay that way for as long as possible⁵.

---

‘Given everything that has happened, Vajiri, don’t you think we should release Vasabha from her imprisonment in her chambers?’ The Queen Regent was slowly getting used to the accoutrements of power; it was up to her to decide on many, if not most matters, now that the symbols of Royal Office were in her hands.

‘Absolutely,’ Princess Vajiri leaned into a pile of cushions in their cosy antechamber that now served as their day-to-day conference room, ‘but what do we do about her status? She was Queen and the mother of the King so she can’t exactly go back to the kitchens, or even marry someone else and open a shop, or if one of the lords wanted to marry her regardless – she is beautiful and still of childbearing age, after all… and she’s a nice person! People love her, or loved her until this scandal broke and these thousands of people have died on her account,’ for so it was popularly regarded. Vajiri rummaged in a bowl of fruit until she found a custard apple, then deftly broke the sections apart and removed the rough peel. She popped chunks of the sweet fruit into her mouth between sentences, delicately spitting the hard dark pips into her hand and dropping them into a dish.

‘You know, mother, I think that the best thing might be to simply invite her here for a chat, or,’ she paused to drop a few seeds thoughtfully into the vessel, ‘if you didn’t think it outrageous, or even a little bit inappropriate, we could go and see her – make a social visit. What d’you think?’

‘I think that’s a very good idea. It might be unprecedented – and earn a few scowls from the ministers and court officials.’

‘And some of the more snooty servants.’

‘Yes, them too, but I am the Royally Anointed Regent so I can do what I like and no one can object.’ Queen Mallika was beginning to enjoy this new role.

---

Vasabha had been even more broken up and tearful to hear the shocking and horrific news than many others in Savatthi; not only had her son wrought brutal destruction on the family and city of the Master, he had died himself, literally washed away on the waves of his own hubris, his inflated pride and conceit. She had wept for days, feeling also the echoes of the painful results of such fear-based pride in her previous life, the horrific tang of her own flesh frying and being fed to her, and in flashes of heat, scarlet flame and smoke, and molten green-flamed rivers, that broke into her consciousness from time to time.

Dusaka had contrived to visit almost daily during these dark days, along with Khujjuttara whom he managed somehow to bring with him. He persuaded the palace guards that the most appropriate means of conveyance for her to visit the former queen was in a sedan chair. Thus he would push her in her cart to the edge of the courtyard – with Tingri invariably catching a ride onboard – then two sturdy footmen would help her into the chair and carry her, in great style, through the halls along the loggias in the inner palace, until they reached the rooms where Vasabha was kept confined. No one ever questioned how it was that these people were allowed to see the disgraced former queen and why royal guards were doing the duty of chair-men.

On this day Dusaka, Khujjuttara and Tingri were well settled in with Vasabha and Kesini before the royals arrived for their social call. Without trying to get her to suppress her grief, which is never a good policy, Dusaka had brought up the subject of her learning to see etheric beings, and how he could teach her, and how that would probably be to great advantage in the long run. He had told her that her mother, Maggot, was often present (which was an understatement), along with Ambaka, who had once been her sister and later rival, and more recently her friend Matanga.

They were deeply ensconced in what had become a daily lesson. Dusaka was saying, ‘You almost have to catch yourself unawares – looking to the side of things…,’ when a knock came to the door. It was far more gentle and tentative than the sharp raps that she and Kesini were used to from their guards.

‘Come in,’ Vasabha responded. ‘We’re quite decent,’ the prisoners being expected to be in plain-coloured clothing and well-covered up in their chastened status.

‘Your Majesty!’ Both Vasabha and Kesini knelt at the Queen’s arrival with the Princess. ‘Majesties,’ Kesini corrected her, automatically.

‘S’cuse us if we don’t get up,’ Dusaka indicated the white and wispy-haired Khujjuttara beside him. ‘Old age and infirmity.’ Tingri yipped and sniffed in a way that indicated sarcasm, which, surprisingly, everyone present was able to understand as, ‘“Infirmity” – oh yes – very convenient.’ Dusaka cocked a bushy eyebrow at her, while she stood up and pointedly walked in a composed fashion to the Queen’s feet and, stretching out her front paws, lowered her head. She then did the same for the Princess, sniffed again, as if to say, ‘That’s how it’s done properly’ then processed in stately mode back to the cushion she had been settled on.

‘Dear Vasabha, how have these terrible times been for you? I’m so sorry we have taken so long to come and see you.’ Princess Vajiri, who was closer to her in age, immediately leant into her and took her hands.

‘We really don’t care about your humble origins,’ Vajiri began, ‘after all my Royal Mother was a flower girl when she caught the King’s roving eye. The fact that you were a slave matters not to us.’

Khujjuttara had long been unbothered by social niceties and protocols. She was not rude, as a person, but such aspects of life were of little value to her. She cheerfully said, ‘Well, afore she were a slave she were born in a diff’rent family, her dad was a novice monk then, he’s the elder Krishna now – you’ll ’ve seen ’im at the Jetavana from time to time – and ’er mum was a kinnari,” the elderly sage forgetting that Dusaka had mentioned that Maggot was in the room that day with them, as ever, although not visible. Both Dusaka and Tingri glanced over to where she was sitting; Maggot blushed a deeper shade of pink.

‘A kinnari! Your mother?!’ Vajiri was amazed. ‘Is that why there’s always that mysterious fragrance around you, like now, even when you’re forbidden perfumes? And you do glow gently pink in the dark – I’ve seen it. Well… What…’ Her words ran out.

Vasabha was not sure what to say. Dusaka had told her of her real ancestry many years previously and Krishna and she had drawn close, but it was still something of a mystery to her. She had never met her real mother although she had been trying hard to learn how.

‘What we came here for,’ Queen Mallika interjected, ‘was to talk with you about your future and what we could do to help you out of your current predicament. You’re a widowed dowager queen, and guilty of a grand fraud, albeit not at your own instigation, and of a mixed ancestry, very mixed we now learn. So we’re at a bit of a loss as to how you might fit into society. We wish to protect you but not everyone does. Some are…’

‘… saying it is on account of me that half the menfolk of Savatthi have been slaughtered. I’m the one who caused an army of 10,000 to be destroyed,’ she smiled wryly, sadly.

‘We know that’s not true,’ Vajiri chimed in, ‘but…’

‘… people say what they say,’ Vasabha finished the sentence for her too.

‘What I’ve been thinking,’ Vasabha continued, ‘is why “fit into society” at all? I could just go and live in a monastery, then I would be outside the expectations of folk in the worldly sphere, and I could give more time to learning how to see and be with my mother, and her friends. I’ve been thinking that,’ she looked around the people gathered there and vainly to where she thought Maggot might be perched, ‘the nuns’ monastery by the Eastern Gatehouse of Savatthi might be a good place. I could be a lay sister there, no status to speak of or to argue about. The holy life is admired as an alternative to marriage so I would not be bothered by any suitors.’ She gave a sympathetic glance to both Queen Mallika and the Princess. ‘It’s close to the city but outside the walls. What do you all think?’ Around her was a field of nods and smiles, everyone agreed.

As joyful tears came to her eyes, at the way this next phase of her life was unfolding, she saw a definite rosy pink form through the glazy film – she hadn’t been looking and was distracted from herself – and that half-distraction enabled her to see her loving mother, for the briefest flicker, for the first time since she was a baby. As their gazes met for just that instant, after so many trials and travails, tears of joy burst freely from Maggot’s eyes as well.

---

The move to the Eastern Gatehouse Monastery went very smoothly. Vasabha was keen to shed many of her possessions, those that still remained hers, so she and Kesini had distributed many small items of clothing, and the jewellery that had not been taken from them already, amongst the maids and servants, cooks and cleaners of the palace.

Dusaka and Tingri ‘helped’ with the move, mostly by gently encouraging people to lend a hand and guide the way, and then to ask the nuns at the new monastery to help her get settled in. Vasabha and Kesini soon took their simple vows as lay sisters, committing to live on the Eight Precepts and to wear plain, unadorned clothing around the sanctuary⁶. And that was about it. They were given one of the modest kutis to share, just as were the other former royals and ladies of state had who had joined the Sangha, such as Sister Khema who had been a wife of King Bimbisara⁷.

There was a great joyfulness in this new life. No more pretences, nobody to be afraid of, no expectations put upon them other than to live harmoniously with the other nuns, novices and lay women who comprised the community.

‘Oh, what bliss!’⁸ Vasabha was wreathed with smiles. ‘After all the drama, Kes, we can be who we are and live a simple life. I can even help in the kitchens again! I don’t think I will have forgotten how in the last twenty years.’

Somehow Dusaka managed to contrive the same arrangement that he and Tingri had had at the palace. Despite being almost the only male person in the compound, he was given a free pass to come and go as he pleased and seemed to be held in the minds of the sisterhood as an honorary female. In respect of the welcome he was given he was always gracious and helpful where he could be and Tingri strove to make herself useful as well. She was particularly adept at staving off monkey-raids to the food stores and fruit trees in the compound and in keeping stray dogs from the city in their proper place.

The lessons in deva-vision continued, with ever-increasing success after the small breakthrough in the palace room. Vasabha’s ability to see Maggot and the other kinnaris, plus Gumbiya and Ninka and Ambaka, steadily developed. Initially there were just flashes of clarity, vague shapes that held distinctly but only for a moment. She could not hear their words but Kesini began to have this ability; just a phrase, or a sound here and there, was all she could discern at first. On rare occasions this blur of sound formed into whole sentences but it was tricky to sense who had said what.

Dusaka was not there every day as he was spending equal time with Krishna at the nearby Jetavana Monastery, all the more poignantly named since Prince Jeta had been the only one of the Kosalan nobles to stand up to Vidudabha and condemn the attack on the Sakyans. The progress Krishna made just about paralleled that of Vasabha and Kesini. He had acquired the skill in the past whereas the others never had, but he now had a lot of layers of resultant karma to deal with⁹, far more than when he had been a child in the garden in Ujjeni with Dusaka and Tingri¹⁰. Bad memories could easily pop up – of Kitagiri, of Devadatta and Matanga, of his dubious friend Surama who seemed to have vanished these days. There were the images of the journey with the Master to Sakya, and Krishna’s perceived causing of untold misery in the destruction of the Sakyans and the Kosalan army too – there was a lot to let go of. Not to mention the old scar of having lost the belovèd baby of Maggot and himself, and how that heedless act still left an ache in his heart; despite having now been reunited with Tambaka, the love of his life had been lost to him – there was a lot to let go of.

Nevertheless, his faithful mentor Dusaka did not seem to have wearied of the task of helping him, and this great wise being kept repeating: ‘Let go of the past¹¹; learn from your mistakes, acknowledge them, and endeavour to do better in the present and on into the future. Don’t create the future, with plans and hopes and worries. And don’t fill up the present with thoughts about yourself. We don’t need to get too excited about our own story – I haven’t told you a hundredth or, come to think of it, a thousandth part of my story yet.’

The Moons went by as they each developed their skills in seeing the beings of other worlds. When Khujjuttara was around she regularly chimed in with comments of ‘Oi’m too ol’ for this lark. It don’t interest me much either – visible world¹², invisible world, it’s still jes’ the world, eh?!’

Finally the day came when Krishna could see the deva friends who had come with Dusaka and Tingri. ‘Bee! Ant! And Gumbiya, you are so huge – I keep forgetting. And Ninka… and you must be…’ he went very quiet.

‘I am Ambaka – in past days I lived as your sister Amba, then as Samavati who burned. Then as Harita who became Matanga, your daughter by Sugandha of Kulluta, and now I’m here again. I’m newly…’ she was not sure how to phrase it, she had not been born like a girl, or hatched like a kinnari, ‘… arrived. I reappeared in the Heaven of the Thirty-Three a short while ago. I’m still getting used to everything.’ She looked to Bee and Ant appreciatively, for all the help they and Ninka had given in aiding her to find her feet and her flight in this new life.

As Krishna took in who this beautiful golden deva was, now that he was able to see her at last – not only Amba and Samavati of forty or fifty years ago, but Matanga at the Jetavana, who had visited here so often and whom he had befriended at the well when she became besotted with Ananda – a wave of grief and regret surged up in him.

‘Matanga – I caused your death! You were murdered because of me, because of some stupid plot to discredit the Master that I was too blind to see. And you were my daughter. You saw what was happening and you walked to your death willingly; if I had had half your wits I would have seen it and stopped it, I promise,’ he choked up and felt his eyes filling. ‘And you were Amba, Samavati too!? I failed to save you then as well.’

To his surprise Ambaka seemed to glow with pride at the reminders of her deaths.

‘Well, it has ended happily enough,’ she spread her arms and blazed with even more radiance than before – she shone like the sun. ‘No blame! Brother, father, friend! No blame!’

Such was the intensity of her kindness it was impossible for Krishna to stay sad. He found his dark grief and self-reproach being drenched in the pure light of Ambaka’s warmth and compassion. Now he smiled too.

---

When Dusaka and Tingri went over to the Eastern Gate Monastery, they were still glowing with the flush of success in the way they had finally enabled Krishna to overcome his obstacles and to be reunited with his companions of old. It had been more than thirty turns of the human year since he had last seen a deva of any kind.

Vasabha’s abilities had been gaining strength too. Bee and Ant and the others came along with Dusaka, also beaming and brimming with the energy of being reunited with Krishna after so long. They had seen him, of course, many times, but until this day it had all been one way. Copious tears of joy had been shed and fragments of each other’s stories had abounded; they talked across each other and gleefully interrupted to tell their tales a different way or plug in a missing tidbit. Krishna expressed regret again and again, apologizing for his repeated and unconscionably stupid choices but, again and again he was met with compassion and forgiveness from his dear companions.

The group had left him when Tingri pointedly yipped and sniffed, and Dusaka announced, ‘Let’s go and see how Vasabha is doing.’

They arrived to find Vasabha and Kesini at the base of their kuti, on some mats with Maggot very close by, face-to-face with her daughter. Singing old kinnari songs and lullabies in an attempt to break through the walls of fog and non-reception.

Dusaka and Tingri made themselves at home, as usual. The other companions gathered round and almost automatically joined in the songs with Maggot.

Vasabha told Dusaka that she was frustrated at not being able to properly see or hear, and this aggravated the sense of blockage. ‘I’m not a patient person!’

‘Yes!’ Dusaka chuckled, ‘that’s how it is and you’ve always been this way. You’ve got to try not to try. Play at being nonchalant. Trick yourself into being focused and totally relaxed. Not preoccupied or wanting anything at all – even unconsciously.’

The songs meandered on, with all parties at least semi-consciously wishing for a break in the haziness for her. Slowly an idea formed in Gumbiya’s mind, informed by some of his military training. He gently blew up his size to full battle-yakkha mode and innocently drifted behind Vasabha and Kesini, as if a bit distracted and not drawing attention to himself, while all were focused on Vasabha and Kesini. Just when there was an almost soporific lull, the music having soothed the senses to quietude, he clapped his huge hands together¹³ and CRACK! The sound exploded through the trees and all the friends gathered there rose several hand-spans into the air, Tingri and Dusaka included. Those who could fly kept rising even more.

Vasabha spun around. ‘What was that?’

‘I,’ Kesini whipped her head to look too, “I’m not sure, it…” she turned to face the front again and that distraction had done the trick. ‘Oh my…’

Vasabha turned back also and there, those eyes that she had met for the briefest of instants, the face that had at first only been a fleeting phantasmal impression, beamed with a full teary smile. ‘It’s you! I can see you and…’

‘I think you can hear and feel us too,’ Maggot wrapped herself around her child.

Vasabha could indeed. The levitation-inducing clap from Gumbiya had succeeded where gentler means had not. Vasabha enfolded Maggot in her arms as well and burst out laughing and crying at the same time. ‘I can’t believe it! So long I’ve waited. I know your smell! That’s what I knew the echo of but could never find. It was you – mother. Oh, I’m so happy to be able to say that.’ The tears came thick and fast now. Maggot sobbing too. Kesini, meanwhile, was gobsmacked at the whole experience. All she could say was, ‘My heavens!’ then hearing herself she added, ‘Real heavens and heavenly beings!’

After a while Maggot held Vasabha at arm’s length and looked closely into her face. ‘You are so much older than me!’

‘Yes! How is that?’ laughing through her tears, Vasabha was indeed curious. ‘I’m about thirty-eight Rains, give or take, you look like you’re fifteen. How is that?’

‘It may look that way but, by human reckoning, I’m one hundred and seventy Rains. We kinnari live to about one thousand, by your reckoning, so me and Bee and Ant are relatively young, by our standards. I’m the old lady of us three, Bee is the youngest at one hundred and fifty-three and Ant is in the middle at, I think one hundred and fifty-eight, give or take.’

Vasabha shook her head, as if that would make the concept of a mother who was one hundred and seventy, but who looked twenty years younger than herself, easier to digest.

‘Time is a strange quality,’ Dusaka offered, to which Tingri barked an agreement.

Once the intensity of their first meeting had peaked, the conversations began. There was a flood of questions from Vasabha about what had happened in their search and, in turn, there were half-a-dozen stories ready to be told simultaneously. Vasabha had heard some of the accounts via Dusaka but it was completely different to hear it all from her mother and her companions in the search. They explained that a brother and sister apsara couple had helped them too but that they had returned to their home in the Heaven of the Four Guardians a while ago.

After the tale of the great search had been completed, with account of those whom they met along the way, Maggot asked in turn how it had been for Vasabha with the tragedy of Vidudabha’s brief and ill-starred reign, his war on Sakya and his own consequent destruction. She had been in the room for much of Vasabha’s grief and regret but she had not been able to talk or console her.

Vasabha went quiet, ‘I feel my child, your grandson, was born under a bad sign. Since his birth a shadow of conceit and selfishness clung to him. All good influences we tried to bring to bear, he had no sympathy for. On account of this I found it hard to love him, which pained me greatly too – there was an otherness to him, even as a babe, that I do not feel in relation to you, despite our just having met. I know you; my son has always been a stranger to me.’ She breathed deeply and sighed.

‘He seemed cursed by evil counsel¹⁴, but whence that came, who can say? He was surrounded by teachers and mentors who were good-hearted, noble people but perhaps that evil counsel came from within. I know not.’

‘Well said,’ Dusaka joined in. ‘I would have described it that way myself. Sometimes the Lord of Lies exercises all of his capacity to inflate the defilements of mind in an individual. And when such a one is an intelligent and rich crown prince, the field of opportunity for the Evil One is fertile indeed: conceit, views and opinions, doubts, dullness and restlessness, moral shamelessness, combined with greed, hatred and delusion, all of these are empowered to grow to fruition if there’s a lack of awareness in the mix.

‘Your child, grandchild, was cursed with superiority of birth and fortune. Maybe he will learn lessons in lives to come that will help him find peace and fulfilment, so that he can put his great capacities to work in better ways. We shall see.’

---

Maggot was a new being, now able to spend so much time with her daughter after having been parted from her for so long, in both human and heavenly time-spans. Her days were joyous but an anxious shadow lingered in the sidelines as she had not been to see Krishna for a long time and Dusaka had assured her, and the others, that Krishna had been making as much progress as Vasabha and Kesini had. Almost on account of that progress, Maggot was reticent to go to the Jetavana.

The day soon came when they heard that the Master was to offer a teaching in the evening and Vasabha deliberately suggested that they all go over in the day, to spend time at the Jetavana and to find good places to sit in the Dhamma Hall for the talk. Maggot gave her a momentary imploring look. Her daughter knew exactly what the silent message meant.

‘I have been close to Krishna for ten years or more now. He’s not the same person that you lived with. He was a good father to me, as far at that was possible with my covert life, and a solid spiritual advisor. You have seen him – he’s a grey-haired Elder now. He’s been a monk for nearly forty years – he’s a changed man. He still makes mistakes – that hasn’t changed! But you should see him, please; for me if not for you.’

Maggot had no riposte for this so they all agreed to go that day. A large group of nuns from the Eastern Gatehouse Monastery, led by the Elder, Sister Khema, plus Vasabha and Kesini, and Dusaka and Tingri, made the short walk to the Jetavana in the late afternoon.

As they followed the broad track, Maggot asked Dusaka, ‘Will he be able to see me?’ Half-hoping that there was some possibility that the meeting wouldn’t happen. ‘Oh, I think so,’ Dusaka sounded confident, ‘but you never know. Everything is always uncertain. Let’s see what we find there.’

The large group settled themselves in various parts of the Dhamma Hall and sat in meditation for a while. Maggot found it hard to settle, her eye darting to one side of the open-walled hall or the other. Every ochre robe she saw arriving along the forest paths she stared at for a moment; anticipatory tension building within her.

Moments before the Master himself arrived Krishna appeared with Ananda and readied the teaching seat, checking to see there was water¹⁵ to drink and a palm-leaf fan, in case he needed to be offered a cool breeze should the evening stay hot. Krishna sat close to the Master and, to her disappointment, Maggot’s head was so filled with scripting the upcoming conversation, she swore she did not really take in a single word that the Master had said during the entire evening. She only realized that distraction when the Master concluded the teaching by saying, ‘Evam – thus it is.¹⁶’

As the assembly broke up, Dusaka and the companions settled in their familiar spot on the north side of the hall, under the eaves. Vasabha and Kesini were there, as well as Bee and Gumbiya (still basking in the impressively positive result of the great hand clap), Ant and Ninka, Ambaka and, of course, Tingri. Gumbiya was wondering if Krishna would need a levitational clap too but, as Dusaka led him over and offered him a place on the mat, he looked about him with a broad grin, ‘Good to see you all again,’ he made añjali towards Ant and Ninka, Bee and Gumbiya, smiling broadly and nodding his greying head – shining in the moonlight in strong contrast to his inky skin.

His eyes met Maggot’s and his breath caught. ‘I… er’ was all he could manage at first. He too knew that this deeply awkward moment was going to come at some point. He too had found his mind racing and rehearsing – to no avail as now, both of them looked down at the mats in silence. Vasabha made a glance around the circle.

‘I fink I’ll take a wander. See if any o’ my mates came for the talk too,’ Gumbiya broke the ice. In short order the rest of the group departed except for Krishna, Vasabha and Maggot.

‘I… I’m so happy to see you. It’s been nearly forty Rains for me… You’re so beautiful still, and I’ve become an old man.”

‘I didn’t think monks were supposed to say that sort of thing,’ Maggot half-quipped.

‘Well, you know I come from the “Bad Monk” lineage.’ He glanced up at Dusaka, sitting a short distance away and chatting, apparently, with Tingri in their own language.

‘I’m so sorry…’ Krishna began to weep, at first gently and then in great gouts. ‘I’m so very sorry. How could I have been so foolish, selfish? Our child grew up and we weren’t there for her. She was raised by strangers in a strange place. We… I…’ He lost his voice in tears again.

Maggot was experiencing a flood of swirling emotions as she received all this. The desire to forgive and the inability to forgive were there in equal measure. She reached out and wrapped her arms round him.

‘You shouldn’t really be doing that,’ Krishna half-quipped in turn.

‘It’s my prerogative,’ Maggot chuckled, ‘I don’t have the same rules as you.’

Vasabha smiled, her heart warmed to its core by this seeming mutual love and forgiveness. This was just what she had been hoping for.

Ambaka, meanwhile, had been politely waiting at a distance, watching the dynamics and waiting for her moment. Up until now, on account of wanting to allow Maggot the fullest opportunity to reconnect with her daughter, and vice versa, she had held back from introducing herself to Vasabha. The others had agreed that this was very kind and thoughtful of her. Now that she thought about it, all her intuitions said this would be the best moment – all of them, who had been so close in different lives – could come together again. She floated over to the mat and settled between Krishna and Vasabha. At first Maggot was wondering if she should make the introductions as this new golden deva had never been seen before by Vasabha, although she had been able to be seen by Krishna for a while. Maggot was about to speak, then paused.

Ambaka was looking meaningfully into the faces of Krishna and Vasabha, back and forth, as if contemplating making some powerful statement. Vasabha was wondering who this radiant, golden being could be who had joined them on her own initiative and who seemed to be acting as if she knew them. Instead of some profound utterance, to their mutual surprise she began to chant an old playground rhyme – one that had been adapted to their family in Ujjeni:

‘Amba, Tamba, Krishna too,
The one who will be He, is YOU.’

Ambaka smiled genially. ‘That’s the last time we were all close together. Do you remember?’

Faint echoes reverberated through both Vasabha and Krishna. She recalled it all before Krishna did. The image of playing He in the rain, lifetimes ago; it shot into vivid memory.

‘Amba, is that you?’

Ambaka’s smile broadened visibly. ‘Amba,’ she pointed to herself, ‘Tamba,’ she pointed to Vasabha, ‘Krishna too… It was more than fifty Rains ago, by how old Krishna now looks. But that’s when we were last all together, playing off-ground-He in the rain, before our mothers argued and we had to leave,’ she indicated Vasabha. Waves of recollection washed over Vasabha and Krishna. He had forgotten that that game in the monsoon-burst was the last time they had been united as a family.

Ambaka was pleased with the impact she had made. Maggot had released Krishna from her hug by now so Bee and Ant, Ninka and Gumby all gathered in close as well.

Dusaka heaved himself to his feet, ambling over to join them. Kesini and Tingri were the last to sit with the group.

Krishna looked all around him. ‘I can’t believe it. Here we all are, after so many troubles, so many lifetimes lived. My sisters, my children, my friends, my…’ he paused, ‘my belovèd whom I hurt so much – here we all are.’

‘Not all,’ Dusaka added, always ready to give the final word. The group looked perplexed. ‘Khujjuttara’s not here. And I don’t think she will be with us at all for much longer. We should go to see her.’

---

Ever since Matanga was so cruelly killed, the great lay disciple Visakha¹⁷ had taken it upon herself to organize physical support for Khujjuttara. Dusaka was prone to coming and picking her up, to wheel her in her cart to the Jetavana, to the palace or to the Eastern Gatehouse Monastery to see Vasabha, and when she was with him all her comforts were taken care of, but on a day-to-day level the increasing needs she had required some fit and youthful women to help.

When the group reached her little cabin they were surprised to see not one or two but a whole crowd of the folk from the village who had been taking care of Khujjuttara. Their faces looked grave as they turned to meet the newcomers.

Khujjuttara had long since eschewed the stairs to the upper storey and had set up residence at the kuti’s base, between the stilts of the building. She was lying on a low, broad platform with the seven or eight helpers gathered around.

Dusaka stepped up and cheerily announced, ‘More company for you to make small-talk with!’ She smiled, her deeply wrinkled face now looking far older than his; white skimpy strands of hair lay unbraided on her shoulders.

‘Ah,’ she wheezed, ‘my charioteer. Would you be so kind as to prepare the vehicle? I have one more journey to make.’ She thought for a moment then corrected herself. ‘I suppose that should technically be “two” but one is related to physical location and the other is not.’ She was still mentally as sharp as an arrow, despite being some ninety-five Rains in age.

‘As you wish, Milady.’ Dusaka rose to the request with a wry wrinkle to his expression. The villagers seemed concerned about their agèd charge making any movement, Lady Visakha having pressed upon them the special and sacred duty they had in looking after the wizened sage. Despite that caution, Dusaka exercised his way of causing everyone to comfortably adapt to his wishes. He brought the cart up to the side of the sleeping platform, arranged a few mats and cushions, and the village women, aided by Vasabha and Kesini who had joined them that day, carefully lifted her in, each of the villagers now convinced that Lady Visakha would be very happy with this arrangement on this occasion.

Dusaka gently wheeled her forwards with Tingri at the vanguard, paws set upon the front bulwark of the cart, following the well-worn path into the eastern entrance of the Jetavana.

---

The Master seemed to have been waiting for them, which should have been no surprise. He received them on the verandah of the Gandha-kuti; his own dwelling, which was a rare honour.

‘Venerable Sir,’ Khujjuttara began, ‘do forgive my not rising and bowing but my lifeless limbs have joined my bent back in refusing to cooperate with my wishes.’

‘Noble lady,’ please be at ease; for what reason would you pay honour¹⁸ to this unattractive collection of parts that are called the Tathagata’s body?’

‘It’s a long time since I’ve seen y’, Master; I’ve not bin fit enough to come.’

‘Why do you feel the need to see this body? One who sees the Dharma, sees me; one who sees me sees the Dharma.’

Following this the Master expounded the teaching on not-self. He asked the question: ‘If the body, feelings, perceptions, thoughts and sense-consciousness are subject to change, and to states of affliction, is it appropriate to say of those aspects of body and mind: “This is mine; this is what I am; this is my true self”?’

Khujjuttara’s answer was soft and breathless: ‘No, Venerable Sir.’

‘And so,’ the Master continued, ‘Khujjuttara, whatever aspect of the body, feelings, perceptions, thoughts and sense-consciousness there may be, past, present or future, internal or external, far or near, gross or subtle, all aspects of body and mind should rightly be considered thus: “This is not mine; this is not what I am; this is not my true self”.

‘Seeing in this way, Khujjuttara, the wise noble disciple becomes dispassionate towards the body, feelings, perceptions, thoughts and sense-consciousness. With such dispassion, such coolness of heart, there comes liberation. The heart knows: “It is liberated”. What needed to be done in terms of spiritual work has been done. All dissatisfaction has now ended.’

These were the words of the Master, the Blessèd One. As he finished this discourse, on the word ‘ended’, Khujjuttara smiled, breathed out and did not breathe in again.

The group sat quietly around her now lifeless form. The deva companions, Dusaka, Vasabha, Kesini, the village women and Tingri too, all felt uniquely blessed to have been present at this passing of a Great Being.

The Master declared, ‘This great and noble one reached the state of non-returner before her death. Accordingly, she has already reappeared in the Aviha Brahma World¹⁹. She realized Arahantship even before she reappeared there²⁰ – this rare accomplishment is called “enlightenment in the interval” – so she will live out the life of a brahma deity, which in that Realm is one thousand kalpas, and live as an Arahant throughout that time. Great was her wisdom and virtue. She was foremost amongst my female lay disciples possessed of extensive knowledge²¹.’

---

A few days later, after the grand cremation ceremony that the Master officiated at, there was a small gathering of the friends in their regular spot on the north side of the hall. Krishna and Dusaka were there, with Vasabha, Kesini, Maggot and Ambaka. Bee and Gumbiya, Ant and Ninka had set off for their various homes, now that parents and child had all been reunited, as well as brother and sisters who were also father and daughters.

Krishna, his expression sober, looked for a moment to Dusaka. He raised an eyebrow and Tingri snorted, so Krishna began. ‘It is wonderful that we have all had the chance to come together during these times, despite all the trials and challenges along the many roads we have each taken, or found ourselves on. I have made many mistakes but, somehow, miraculously, Vasabha has found a home at the Eastern Gate Monastery, with dear Kesini; Ambaka is a bright and beautiful deva of the Tavatimsa Heaven; and Maggot has learned how to move with ease through all realms – although I don’t know how she developed that ability.’

Dusaka interrupted, ‘Such a skill comes from honesty. Our Maggot never deceives others and she doesn’t deceive herself, this is the source of her great power and also why the meaning of the Bodhisattva Maitreya’s words were so clear to her, and how to understand them in order to find Tambaka, our Vasabha.’

He nodded to Krishna, indicating that he could continue, if he wished. Krishna ploughed on with his speech.

‘I have made terrible mistakes, repeatedly, but I’m profoundly glad that, after all my mistakes, Maggot can spend as much time as she likes with our dear daughter Vasabha, or maybe we should call you Tambaka, again. It was deeply moving to meet up, after so many Rains and, even though we have shared a moment of great closeness once again, I don’t want to force Maggot to forgive me and be near me if that is not in her heart to do so.’

‘I wish to forgive you in my head, in my mind, but I can’t in my heart… thus far; but I can be patient with my inability to forgive²².’ Maggot spoke sincerely and quietly. Dusaka nodded his approval, ‘See – perfectly honest, even though it might sound harsh or unsympathetic,’ he was looking at Krishna as he said this, as if to indicate: ‘Take note.’

‘I have felt that was so,’ Krishna replied. ‘So I will leave you to your new lives together. Like the Bodhisattva Gotama²³ did when he had fallen in love with the queen who was his pupil; once he had seen the error of his ways he took leave of those who loved him and went to the mountains.’ All gathered there were still, listening closely.

‘I will go to the Himavant²⁴, with my great mentor and guide Dusaka, and I will reside there in solitude, endeavouring to learn from my mistakes. We will take our leave in the morning.’

It was a dramatic ending – even a bit melodramatic – which Tingri lightened with an indignant ‘Yip!’ The indication being that it was actually the three of them going off to the forest and the mountains, and not just two – it was irritating how the four-legged and the small were continually overlooked.

Notes & References