Part 3: The charioteer Nāga

Now, in that same city there was a charioteer, named Nāga, a bee to King Prasenajit’s lotus-feet. Liberal to the one deserving sympathy and assistance, a brother to other men’s wives, strong, brave, knowing the arts, he was the depository of all the virtues. He had a wife Sulasā, who was untiring in meritorious works like an incarnation of the Śrī of merit. Virtues—loyalty to her husband, right-belief, sincerity, et cetera—dwelt in her at the same time like playmates making mud pies together.

One day, charioteer Nāga, who was childless, his face resting on the couch of his hand like a lotus on a lotus-stalk, thought aloud:

“The wish of me who am sonless, ‘I shall play with and caress a son,’ has been fruitless like a barren plant. By whom chastity has not been practiced from childhood, by whom the face of a son has not been seen, shame on their unrestrained love deceiving the two worlds.^[1]

Sulasā, making the aṭjali respectfully, said to her husband, whose face was wan from anxiety, like an elephant immersed in mud:

“This hand-couch of your face betrays anxiety on your part, lord. What arc you worrying about, lord? Tell me. Make me share in your anxiety.”

Nāga replied: “I am childless. I have a great desire for a child. There is no device for obtaining a child for the one desiring a child.”

Sulasā said: “Marry many other maidens. Will there not be one among them who will bear a child?”

Nāga said: “I have a wife in you alone in this birth. Enough of other wives, to say nothing of children by them. I wish a child borne by you, lady, pleasing to look at. There should be fruit of the vine of our love even after a long time. You are my life: you are another body of mine; you are my minister; you are my friend. So, in this matter of a son, try by prayers, et cetera.”

Sulasā said: “I shall make a propitiation of the Arhats, husband. A propitiation of the Arhats, alone among all religious practices, is a cow of plenty.”

Even though she was pure from birth, she purified herself especially by penance hard to endure, the ācāmāmla,^[2] et cetera. Adorned with a few pearls like a new-blown jasmine; wearing saffron garments like the morning twilight with red clouds; devoted to worship of those free from passion, observing chastity; her mind concentrated in meditation, her heart was tender from her husband’s sorrow.

Now, Śakra in his assembly gave a commendation, “Now laywomen in Bharata are inferior to Sulasā.” A certain god heard this, his ears pricked up from astonishment, and went to test Sulasā’s laymanship. After making the niṣedhikā,^[3] in the form of a sādhu he entered the house of Sulasā who was engaged in the worship of the gods. When Sulasā had seen him who had come like a cloudless rain, she paid homage to him with devotion and asked the reason for his coming.

He replied: “A doctor told me that a fine oil made from a lac of ingredients is in your house. Give it because of sickness.”

Saying, “This preparation of oil will benefit the sādhu by its results,” she brought a pitcher of oil joyfully. The god made the pitcher of oil fall from her hand of its own accord. It burst at once with a cracking noise, like an egg that has fallen from the nest. She brought again a second pitcher of oil and it burst in the same way; but she did not despair. She brought a third pitcher and it also burst. She thought, “I must have little merit since the sādhu’s request is in vain.”

Then the god assumed his own form and said to her:

“Lady, Indra praised your laymanship. I, a god, was astonished greatly at Śakra’s praise and came to test you. I am satisfied. Choose a boon.” Laywoman Sulasā said:

“If you are satisfied, then give me a son. There is no other wish of a childless woman than this.” The god gave her thirty-two pills and said: “If you eat these successively, you will have the same number of sons. Furthermore, if I am called on by you for some purpose, faultless lady, I shall come again.” With these words, the god went away.

Sulasā thought to herself’: “Who will get rid of the impurity of many children from eating the pills in succession? Therefore, I shall eat all these pills at the same time that I may have one son with thirty-two favorable marks.” So reflecting, with this idea she ate all the pills, just as this idea originated. What is to be can not be otherwise. Accordingly, thirty-two embryos developed in her womb. She became unable to endure these embryos, like a vine with much fruit. She had a small womb and, unable to carry the embryos hard as diamonds, standing in kāyotsarga, she thought again of the god.

The god was present at once just from being remembered and asked her, “Why was I remembered?” She told the full story of the pills. The god said: “Why did you eat the pills at the same time? They are surely efficacious. Hence you will have the same number of embryos. Lady, this was not well-done by you, simple-minded. Thus you will have thirty-two children of the same age. Do not despair, lucky lady. Fate is very strong, but I shall take away the pain in the womb. Be comfortable.”

The god removed the pain in Sulasā’s womb and went away. She became comfortable, her embryos concealed, like the earth. When the time was completed, at an auspicious moment on an auspicious day Sulasā bore thirty-two sons with thirty-two auspicious marks. The sons, tended by nurses, gradually grew up like young elephants on the Vindhya Mountains, their wishes unbroken. Playing in the courtyard, the small boys had the handsome appearance of pleasure-trees of the bird, the Lakṣmī of the house. The charioteer Nāga took the little boys one by one on his lap and from affection bathed them, as it were, with the water of his tears of joy. With the little boys clinging to his feet, breast, and head the charioteer Nāga had the beautiful appearance of a mountain with young lions. All of charioteer Nāga’s sons became companions of Prince Śreṇika, being of the same age.

Footnotes and references:

[1]:

I.e., chastity would have obtained heaven; lack of a son causes unhappiness in this world.

[2]:

Dry meals, such as plain cooked rice and flour-cakes. See I, n. 374.

[3]:

Warding off other business. See I, p. 82, n. 122.