hy are you doing all this for us?’ Maggot asked Muñca before he made his preparations to get them all to the Tusita Heaven, ‘The Abode of the Contented’. Her grief-torn concerns about Tambaka had been punctuated more and more by this question over the last hours. ‘You are giving us all this time and attention, you’ve risked your own safety in the Underworld, and now perhaps the wrath of the kidnappers if you help us find my daughter – what makes this so important to you?’

‘It’s simple, really, I didn’t spell it out before but the main reason I hold you and your friends in such high esteem is on account of the way you helped me and my dear ones. As you might be aware, musicians are often fond of their drugs – not just in the Human Realm and amongst the Earth Spirits but amongst the gandharvas too – and when they have made what they feel is their finest music under the influence, it makes it even harder to give up than an ordinary addiction,’ Muñca looked pained as he spoke of this, as if a cataract of bad memories were washing through him.

‘A number of my family members got thoroughly hooked on amatagandha and their lives have been sad and painful since. Some have died, some have almost wasted away altogether. This is also why I think that Miss Sugandha, your friend Ant’s, supposition that some gandharvas might be involved in the abduction of your daughter is correct. It’s a grim thought to entertain, but they might be helping not just for spite and vengeance but also to get their hands on whatever diminishing supplies of the perfume might remain.’

Muñca seemed to be enduring this heart-breaking situation well and his story touched Maggot, and the others who were listening in. He paused and said, ‘So that’s the sad story but it’s what motivates me to help and to risk my comfort and safety.’

Maggot’s sombre mood was lifted a little by this impressive display of courage and unselfishness. For a while she brightened up and her countenance matched the iridescent pink and rose-adorned hues of her robes.

As they tidied their things and bid their farewells to Samuddaja and Irandati, and the other nagas of the household, Bee took a moment to check in on Ant, now alone after Ninka’s sudden departure. Ant was often very quiet, and kept her moods to herself but Bee knew that she felt things very strongly.

‘How are you doing?’

‘Alright,’ Ant replied, a little too quietly. Bee gave her a half-sideways look and squeezed her hand. ‘Actually, not good at all. I should be prepared for separation¹ but, when Ninka goes back to the Tavatimsa, I never know if it’s going to be for a few days or a whole sun-turning, or twenty, or more. The situation of Maggot and Tam – how she was just going for a visit to her family for an evening and then never seeing her baby again, I mean maybe never – I feel it can be the same way for us. I might never see Ninka again.

‘I know that the Master has said that, if a couple want to stay together in this life and be in each other’s company in future lives they must have the same faith, virtue, generosity and wisdom² – and I know that Nink and I are super-compatible in that way but you never know.

‘We’ve also taken very seriously the advice on “reappearance through aspiration³” that the Master has referred to from time to time. If you’ve got enough of those four qualities plus ‘learning’ as well, and if you fix your mind on reappearing after this life is over on, say, the Realm of the Earth Spirits or the Tavatimsa Heaven or wherever, and you establish that thought and develop it, then those aspirations will lead to you being born there. That’s how it works. So, if we do things right we will be able to be together forever.’

Bee did not want to burst her bubble but she couldn’t resist saying, ‘Didn’t the Master also stress the point that, “This is for one who is virtuous⁴, not for one who is naughty” – or something like that – so you’d better both be on your best behaviour,’ she was half-joking since, as a deva from the Heaven of the Thirty-Three, Ninka was a shining example of purity and gracious behaviour, and Ant was probably the most quiet and modest of the three kinnari companions.

‘Yes, we know that!’ Ant managed to smile a little. ‘The Master said, “The heart’s wish of one who is virtuous succeeds because of their purity⁵,” I think we can manage that.’

As they were speaking Muñca had taken himself to one side of the broad open chamber where they had all been staying. He sat himself on a flat cushion, framed by one of the wide windows that looked onto the lakes below, and through the sheen of the waters of Lake Anotatta which they seemed to be under at the same time – it was a confusing mixture of dimensions to outsiders but quite familiar to the nagas.

All was prepared now for them to depart for the Tusita Heaven. Muñca became absorbed in his meditation while the three kinnaris sat shoulder to shoulder watching him – the rosy colours of Maggot in the centre, flanked by the magenta-purples of Bee to her left and the kanavera reds⁶ of Ant to her right. Gumbiya held Bee’s hand on one side and the upper arm of Muñca with the other. Rhamba held Ant’s hand on her left and Salassa’s on her right; Salassa held on tight to Muñca’s upper arm, opposite Gumbiya. The circle was now ready. Muñca’s concentration deepened.

A year had passed since the royal wedding and, to the universal joy of Kosala, Queen Vasabha had given birth to a healthy son. As a queen she seemed to be expected to hand over most if not all nursing and caring duties to Kesini and the other maids, wet-nurses and helpers, but she contrived to spend as much time as she could with her child, and to still go along with the court’s expectations. She loved to hold her boy and breathe in the sweet mysterious, unnameable scent of his hair, his skin – everything!

She was used to babies being passed around, being cared for by older sisters and an occasional aunt⁷, but to have to let him out of her sight so much was another test she had not prepared for. She reflected:– It’s strange but still, how can any girl really prepare for how it’s going to be to have her first baby? It’s a test for all of us.

It was a custom among the Kosalans for the eldest female member of the royal line to choose the name for the new heir to the throne. On the naming day the King sent a message to his grandmother, saying, ‘A son has been born to Queen Vasabha, daughter of the Sakyan Prince; what shall his name be?⁸’

The courtier who was charged with this message was, unfortunately, slightly deaf. He went and told the King’s grandmother, passing on the message correctly, but when she replied he misheard her. She said, ‘Even when Vasabha had not borne a son she was more dear to the King than all the world; now she will be his utter darling.’ The courtier misheard the word ‘darling’ that is to say ‘vallabha’ in the Kosalan dialect, so what he thought she said was, ‘Vidudabha’. So, back he went to the King and said, ‘Her Serene Highness, the King’s Grandmother, has said his name is to be Vidudabha.’

The King, never having heard this name before, presumed, ‘This must be some ancient family tradition,’ and chose not to argue with his esteemed grandparent, so he named his son Vidudabha.

The fact that the little boy was away from her so much gave Vasabha a lot of time to reflect on her situation. When she had been kept going non-stop with kitchen work and the duties she had in Kapilavatthu, she had never had much time to stop and think. There was never a pause in the round of activities in daylight and the night hours had little light available for the slaves, so these were usually passed in exhausted sleep, if not in caring for one or two of the younger brothers and sisters who had the gripes or were just starving hungry.

Things were different here. Some days she would have the entire afternoon to herself – the King being taken up with some business, Vidhu being carried round the gardens by his nurse and a page boy with a sunshade – these were the first days of her life in which she had experienced such open hours.

She was now well-settled and the ruse she was pulling on everyone was slipped on daily like a comfortable pair of shoes, or some familiar gloves, it was an easy fit now. She reflected:– What am I really doing here? And what is its value? I am serving an important role in the Kingdom of Kosala which is one of the great powers of Jambudvipa. If I continue to play my part convincingly all will be well but it’s not just about doing a good job of acting... that’s one small part of it... the results of it will be good for me and for everyone else too... it’s an act of service but one which is sadly based on a lie... but if I do it right the lying part becomes insignificant. What the biggest thing is – which is hard to get my head around – is that my actual son, my baby, will be the head-anointed, warrior noble, King of Kosala. That is not just about playing a role... that’s history... that’s forever... that’s real. My actual child – me the slave from the kitchen – my child will be a ruler, and his children, and theirs too... Wherever I’ve come from, I’m now a part of a big story so it’s my responsibility, for everyone’s sake, to do this right... my life, my child, what I do, what I say... it’s all significant now... these are real swords and arrows, as the lads say, not blunted ones for practice.

She stared at her image in a polished bronze mirror, now speaking to her new self, ‘When I was little I never got the chance to dress up and play with my sisters and the other girls and boys, we had none of all that, being marked as slaves. We didn’t have any spare clothes to pretend to be someone else in and the boys would be beaten if they picked up a stick and pretended it was a sword. Now I’ve got all this finery to muck around with, I realize I do get a thrill from the costumes and the sparkles, from ordering people around – I can get giddy over all of that, it’s fun! So, if I am really going to make a go of this I need to be wary... Don’t get puffed up and proud like one of those ghastly... what d’ they call ’em... pompous nobs. Don’t get drunk on it, don’t believe the story, stay alert and we’ll be alright... Some of the maids, when they want to flatter me, say I light up the dark, as if my skin was something special… Don’t make nuthin’ of it… Anything of it…’, she corrected herself, even in her solitary monologue.

‘Come to think of it, how the Buddha talks about “heedfulness” all the time, his way of levelling everything, well at least as much as possible – I like that. That’s a great thing for everyone I reckon... How he’s happy for an ex-slave like Khujjuttara to hold such a high position in his group – the fact that she’s dark-skinned and has a crooked back, as well as starting out a slave, that all counts for nothing as far as he’s concerned. It’s all to do with good qualities – how you are, that’s all that matters to ’im, to him, the Master,’ she corrected herself again.

‘The King and Queen, the other Queen, they all love what he does, what he stands for, without there being any danger of anyone finding fault with his choices, so that’s something I can do... Help support those levelling ideas somehow, so that there’s less, what’s it called... prejudice... and less rigid ideas about the castes... so... How can I, as a queen, help with that?

Vasabha had finally met Khujjuttara on an outing to the Jetavana with the King and many of the court. Kesini had sent word to Krishna about the impending visit so he, in turn, had made sure that Khujjuttara was informed. This way she could be introduced to the young new queen.

The royals made offerings to the Buddha and the Sangha, as they usually did, in the form of alms-food and other gifts, then, after the meal was over, the King and the Queens, along with Princess Vajiri and the assembly of palace officials, and many other lay people who happened to be visiting that day, gathered around the Master and requested a Dharma talk.

Vasabha was doubly pleased that he focused not just on the blessings of generosity and virtue (which was an uncomfortable point for her, especially the Fourth Precept: ‘I undertake the Precept to refrain from lying⁹’) but he also spoke at length about the nature of ‘a true brahmin’. He took the usual caste designation and opened up the meaning to refer, instead of to birth and bloodlines and all that puppet-show, to the purity of heart. The words struck her deeply:

‘One who meditates in seclusion,
Free of the stain of defiling conduct and
Who has done their duty well,
One who has cleansed the heart of
Corruptions and has reached the highest goal;
Such a one I call a real brahmin.¹⁰’

Vasabha’s feelings of inspiration and understanding of the principle of this teaching were tempered by the truth she concealed about her own life, but it was enough for her, for now, to park the disquiet and regret about the deception, the reflection that, ‘I’ll get back to that later,’ was as much as she could resolve on for now.

Once the formal talk was finished the Buddha took his leave and Ananda accompanied him back to the Gandha-kuti. Krishna, who had been sitting close to Ananda on the low platform, remained behind and indicated to Kesini to come up to the front of the hall for a moment.

‘Khujjuttara’s here, just over by that pillar, would this be a good moment for Queen Vasabha to meet her?’

‘I’ll check with their Majesties, but I think this’d be ideal. The King always enjoys her quick-witted wisdom. Hang on a moment.’ Kesini swiftly ducked away, approaching first Queen Mallika and Queen Vasabha, then the King, who agreed they could tarry for a while to spend some time with the sagely elder.

As they had all approved, Kesini brought her agèd friend over to where the royal party was now seated. King Pasenadi, Queen Mallika and Queen Vasabha in turn, had made it their habit to sit at floor level whenever in the monastery, whether the Master was present or not. Khujjuttara, and her companion, Matanga, came over and paid respects to the King and to the other royals.

‘No need for that here!’ Pasenadi was bluff and cheery in his greeting. ‘I’m glad and honoured to see you again.’ Vasabha took note of his words and his expression – he was being quite sincere and this wasn’t just some empty politeness out of form – this King was truly honoured to be meeting a former slave-woman. This was a wonder to her eyes.

After the King had spoken to her for a little while, forgetting that the point of this had been to introduce Khujjuttara to Queen Vasabha, the Princess chimed in, ‘Father, can we let Queen Vasabha get to know Khujjuttara? She’s never met her before.’

‘Of course, I’m getting ever more heedless as I age. Vasabha, here is the wisest of women in the Master’s community of lay disciples. Any Dharma questions you might have, if you wish to know about any teaching the Master has ever given, she’s the one to ask. Her recall is almost as flawless as that of Ananda – if you don’t mind me saying so. Please, take some time to talk together. I’ll walk for a while around the Grove, a bit of exercise will do me good.’ He did not add, ‘After having eaten too much, again, even when sharing food at the monastery.’

Vasabha was hyper-vigilant in her meeting with Khujjuttara and her young helper Matanga. Inside she was excited and her heart leaped at the delight of meeting someone from exactly her background and who was so at ease, and so respected by the King and Queen, as well as by Vajiri, for her wisdom and spiritual qualities. This was something totally new and inspiring to her so she definitely should not get carried away or over-enthusiastic in her voice or in her eyes. ‘Don’t light up and grin like a child getting a lump of palm-sugar¹¹!’ She steadied herself:– Cool, demure and cool; relax the hands, shoulders; be very cool.

The time flew by. She had delighted in Khujjuttara’s company, and her helper was a sweet person too. Now that she was quite old, white-haired and with her back so distorted, getting about for Khujjuttara was much harder, so Matanga had become her constant aide as well as a friend to her. She helped Khujjuttara to her feet, which was now a bit of a process, and they took their leave once the King and his group of courtiers returned from their stroll among the tall trees of the Jetavana.

Vasabha saw how he smiled at the sight of his two queens, and his daughter, sitting and chatting freely with an ex-slave and a candala woman. There was, again, not a shred of disapproval or discomfort in his manner but a pure and simple sympathetic joy¹² – a delight in the happiness and good fortune of others. She was also impressed by how fully at ease Khujjuttara and Matanga were in such company, and how they wore their names – meaning ‘bent back’ and ‘bottom of the heap’ – with such breezy comfort. They were not ashamed or humiliated in the slightest by being known by what probably started out as insults. These were fine and remarkable people.

To the west of the Nandana Grove the jewelled walls of the city of Lord Indra, Masakkasara, with its multitude of gateways and golden turrets, filled the view¹³. The air was scented with the fragrances so familiar, yet now so unwanted by Ninka. She turned her back on the glittering city and entered the grove, crossing the Lotus Lake and following her intuition of where Prince Malabhari was waiting for her. This was not difficult as the sounds of rich and rhythmic music emanated from a glade that was well known to her as the Prince’s favourite. Ninka wasted no time, now that she was here, in hurrying to the Prince’s side. She was supposed to be betrothed to him¹⁴ but she could see that she was serving more as an exquisite embellishment of his merry-making, a trophy of his splendour and power, than one who was truly loved by him.

The crowd of accharas, the nymphs with dove-like feet, were absorbed in their musical creations. There were Gitava and Hasaccanari playing vinas, Sadhu was on the flute, the drummers on their variously sized instruments were Mahatumudi, Tapanaggi, Panggi, Nanda and Yama. The wall of sound was entrancing, compelling, intoxicating and Ninka began to be carried by the sheer beauty and power of it; her inheritance and nature as a deva of this realm had a lot of potency, so that even her mood of resentment in having to come here and be separated from Ant, and not to be able to help with the search for Maggot’s daughter, was being overwhelmed by the sensory flood of it.

The ancient verses celebrating their divine life came into her heart, joining with the beat and empowered by the intense fragrances rising from the censers and flowers of the Grove.

‘While you are dancing, with all your limbs in every way,
Deva-like sounds stream forth, delightful to hear.
While you are dancing with all your limbs in every way,
Deva-like scents are wafted around, sweet scents, delightful.
And the perfume of those sweet-scented, delightful garlands on your head
Blows in all directions, like the mañjusaka tree¹⁵
You breathe that sweet scent, you see the unearthly beauty
Of those devata, beyond all human forms¹⁶.’

‘Ninka! My belovèd – I’ve been calling you for the last, I don’t know, the sun’s shadow has moved at least by half a handspan,’ Prince Malabhari gushed at her arrival. ‘Sit by me, have some nectar, this ambrosia is particularly fine too. You look a little tired. Where have you been? Well, never mind, this will soon refresh you.’

Ninka dutifully settled in at his side and did her best to let herself be carried away on the flushing tide of colour and scent and movement, for many of the dove-like nymphs and devas were dancing with great grace and vigour. Try as she might, however, there was a tight little knot right at her heart that would not loosen, a pining for her belovèd in a different realm.

Notes & References