Sambulā Jātaka

Once upon a time, King Brahmadatta had a son named Sotthisena. And when he had come of age, the King established him as a viceroy. His chief consort, Sambulā by name, was extremely beautiful. She was so radiant that she appeared like a lamp-flame shining in a sheltered spot.

By and bye Sotthisena was infected with leprosy, and the physicians were unable to cure it. When the sore discharged, he became so disconsolate that in his depression he cried, “What good is my kingdom to me? I shall perish without a friend in the wilderness.” And, instructing them to tell the King, he left his harem and departed.

But even though he made many attempts to stop her, Sambulā refused to leave him. She said, “I will watch over you, my lord, in the forest.” And she went out from the city with him. When they entered the forest, he built a hut of leaves and took up his residence in a shady and well-watered spot where wild fruit abounded.

How then did the royal lady watch over him? Why, she rose up early in the morning, swept out his hermitage, set some water out for him to drink, furnished him with a tooth-stick and water to wash his mouth, and when his mouth was clean, she ground various ointments and treated his sores. She gave him luscious fruits to eat, and when he had rinsed his mouth and washed his hands, she saluted him and said, “Be earnest in doing good deeds, my lord.” Then, taking a basket, a spade, and a hook, she went into the forest to gather wild fruit. She brought it back and set it on one side. And fetching water in a jar, she washed Sotthisena with various powders and clay and again offered him wild fruit. And when he had finished his meal, she brought him scented water, and she, also, ate the fruit. Then she arranged a board with a bedspread, and as he lay down on it, she bathed his feet. And after dressing and cleaning his head and back and feet, she came and lay down by the side of the bed. In this way she watched over her lord.

One day, as she was bringing fruit from the forest, she saw a mountain cave. And putting down the basket from her head, she stood on the edge of the cave. She stepped down in it to bathe. She rubbed her body all over with yellow dye and took a bath. After washing herself, she climbed up again and put on her bark garment and stood on the edge of the pool. The whole forest was illuminated with her radiance.

At that moment a goblin, going out to find his prey, saw her. He immediately fell in love with her, and he repeated a couple of stanzas:

Tied to the spot and trembling as in fear,

Who in this rocky cave is standing here?

Tell us, I pray, O slender-waisted dame,

Who may your kinsmen be, and what your name.

Who are you, lady, ever fair and bright,

And what your birth that you can flood with light

This grove, fit home of every beast of prey?

An ogre I to you due homage pay.

On hearing what he said, she replied in three stanzas:

Prince Sotthisena, know full well, is heir to Kāsi throne,

And I, this prince’s wedded wife, as Sambulā am known.

Videha’s royal son is sick and in the forest lies,

Alone I tend him, mad with pain, or else he surely dies.

This savory bit of venison I picked up in the wood,

And bear it to my lord today, now faint for want of food.

This is followed by stanzas spoken alternately by the goblin and the lady:

What good is this sick lord of yours, O Sambulā, I plea?

No wife, but nurse is what he craves. I will your husband be.

With sorrow worn, a wretch forlorn, no beauty can I claim,

If you do want a bride to gain, go woo some fairer dame.

Four hundred wives have I to grace my home on yonder hill,

O lady, deign o’er them to reign, and each fond wish fulfill.

Fair maid so bright with golden light, whate’er is dear I pray

Is mine to give, so come and live a life of joy and stay.

But if denied to me as bride, you are my lawful prey,

And will be good to serve as food to break my fast today.

(That ogre grim with his seven tufts inspiring dread alarm,

Found helpless Sambulā astray and seized her by the arm.

Thus held by him, that ogre grim, her lustful, cruel foe,

She still despaired her absent lord, not e’er forgot his woe.)

No grief to me that I should be this hateful ogre’s prey,

But that the love of my dear lord from me should fall away.

No gods are here, but absent far they flee,

Nor any guardians of the world I see,

To check the course of outrage and suppress

All acts of unrestrained licentiousness.

Then the realm of Sakka was shaken by the power of her virtue. His throne of yellow marble showed signs of heat. Sakka, on reflection, discovered the cause, and, taking his thunderbolt, he flew with all speed. And, standing above the goblin, he spoke another stanza:

‘Mongst women folk the chief in fame,

She’s wise and perfect, bright as flame,

Should you eat her, your skull be riven.

O goblin, into fragments seven.

So harm her not, let her go free,

For a devoted wife is she.

On hearing this, the goblin let Sambulā go. But Sakka thought, “This goblin will be guilty of the same thing again.” And so he bound him with celestial chains and let him loose on the third mountain from there so that he could not return. And after earnestly praising the royal lady, he departed to his own realm. And the princess, traveling by the light of the moon, reached the hermitage after sunset.

To explain the matter, the Master repeated eight stanzas:

Escaped from ogre, to her hut she fled,

As bird returning finds its fledglings dead,

Or cow, robbed of her calf, laments an empty shed.

Thus Sambulā, of royal fame, made moan,

Wild-eyed and helpless, in the wood, alone.

Hail, priests and brahmins, righteous sages too,

Deserted, I for refuge fly to you.

All hail, you lions and you tigers fell,

And other beasts that in the woodland dwell.

All hail, you grasses, herbs and plants that creep,

All hail, you forests green and mountains steep.

All hail to night, bedecked with stars on high,

Dark as blue lotus of the deepest dye.

All hail to Ganges, mother of rivers she,

Known among men as famed Bhāgīrathī.

Hail, Himavat, of all the mountains king,

Huge rocky pile, o’ertopping everything.

Regarding her as she uttered a lamentation, Sotthisena thought, “She is overdoing her lamentation. I do not know what it all means. If she were acting in this way for the love of me, her heart would be broken. I will put her to the test.” And he went and sat at the door of his hut. Still lamenting, she went to the door, and making a low obeisance, she said, “Where has my lord been?” “Lady,” he said, “on other days you have never come at this hour. You are very late today.” And in the form of a question, he spoke this stanza:

Illustrious lady, why so late today?

What favored lover led to this delay?

Then she replied. “My lord, I was returning with my fruit when I was stopped by a goblin. He fell in love with me, and seizing me by the hand, he cried, ‘Unless you obey my words, I will eat you alive.’ And at that moment, sorrowing only for you, I uttered this lament.” And she repeated this stanza:

Seized by my foe, I, full of woe, these words to him did say,

“No grief to me that I should be a hateful ogre’s prey,

But that the love of my dear lord from me should fall away.”

Then she told him the rest of the story, saying, “So when I was seized by this goblin and was unable to make him let me go, I acted in a way that would attract the attention of a god. Then Sakka came, thunderbolt in hand, and standing in the air, he threatened the goblin and made him release me. Then he bound him with magic chains and took him to the third mountain range from here, and then he departed. In this way, I was saved by Sakka.”

Sotthisena, on hearing this, replied, “Well, lady, it may be so. With womankind it is hard to know the truth. Many foresters, ascetics, and magicians live in the Himalaya region. Who will believe you?” And so saying, he repeated a stanza:

Your tricks are ever by far too clever,

Truth among such is a great rarity,

Ways of the sex are enough to perplex,

E’en as the course of a fish in the sea.

On hearing his words, she said, “My lord, even though you do not believe me, by the virtue of the truth I speak. And by this Act of Truth, I will heal you.” So, filling a pot of water and performing an Act of Truth, she poured the water on his head and spoke this stanza:

May Truth so firm my shelter be,

As I love no man more than thee,

And by this Act of Truth, I pray,

May your disease be healed today.

When she had performed this Act of Truth, no sooner was the water sprinkled over Sotthisena than the leprosy vanished as if it were copper rust washed in acid.

After staying there for a few days, they left the forest. When they arrived in Benares, they entered the park. The King, being informed of their arrival, went there. He commanded that the royal umbrella be raised over Sotthisena. He also ordered that Sambulā, by sprinkling, should be raised to the position of Chief Queen. Then he escorted them into the city. Then the King adopted the holy life. He took up his residence in the park, but he still ate his meals at the palace.

But Sotthisena merely conferred the rank of chief consort on Sambulā. He paid no honor to her. He ignored her existence and took his pleasure with other women. Because she was jealous of her rivals, she grew thin and pale. Her veins stood out upon her body. One day her father-in-law, the ascetic, came to have a meal. To get rid of her grief, she went to him when he had finished eating. And saluting him, she sat down on one side. On seeing her in this languid condition, he repeated a stanza:

Seven hundred elephants by night and day

Are guarding you, all ready for the fray,

Hundreds of archers shielding you from harm,

Who are the foes who fill you with alarm?

On hearing his words she said, “Your son, my lord, is no longer the same to me.” And she repeated five stanzas:

Fair as a lotus are the maids he loves,

Their swan-like voice his deepest passion moves,

And as he listens to their measured strain,

In his affections I no longer reign.

In human shape but like to nymphs divine,

Adorned with ornaments of gold they shine,

Of perfect form the noble maidens lie

In graceful pose, to charm the royal eye.

If I once more might wander in the wood,

To glean a portion for his daily food,

Once more I should a husband’s love regain,

And quit the court in forest realms to reign.

A woman may in softest robes be dressed,

And be with food in rich abundance blessed,

Fair though she be, yet if an unloved wife,

Best fix a rope and put an end to life.

Yes, the poor wretch on bed of straw that lies,

If she finds favor in her husband’s eyes,

Enjoys a happiness unknown to one,

Rich in all else, but poor in love alone.

When she had explained to the ascetic the cause of her sadness, he summoned the King. He said, “Dear Sotthisena, when you were crushed by the disease of leprosy and hid yourself in the forest, she went with you and ministered to your needs. And by the power of truth, she healed your sickness. Now that she has been the reason that you are established on the throne, you do not even know she sits and rises. This is wrong of you. An act of treachery to a friend like this is an act of wickedness.” And rebuking his son, he repeated this stanza:

A loving wife is ever hard to find,

As is a man that to his wife is kind,

Your wife was virtuous and loving too,

You should, O King, to Sambulā be true.

After he had reproved his son, he got up and went away. When his father had left, the King sent for Sambulā. He said, “My dear, forgive the wrong I have done to you for such a long time. From now on, I confer on you all power.” And he repeated the final stanza:

Should you, with wealth in great abundance blessed,

Still pine away, by jealousy oppressed,

I and these maidens, creatures of your hand,

Will be obedient to your command.

From then on, they lived happily ever together. And after a life of charity and good works, they departed to fare according to their deeds. The ascetic, after entering into deep meditation, passed on to the heaven of Brahma.