Ideal Partner

After seven years from the great renunciation (leaving the lay life), for the first time, the Buddha came to his native country, with a great compassion to help his relatives.

After the almsgiving, when the Buddha was about to gladden the almsgivers with a discourse, he noticed the conspicuous absence of Yaśodarā (The Buddha's layhood wife). When the Buddha asked where she was, the king (father of the Buddha) answered,

“Venerable sir, she says ‘if the Buddha knows me for who I am (my virtues), he will come see me,’ and has stayed behind in her bed chamber”

Then the Buddha along with the chief disciples went to Yaśodarā’s bed chamber and sat on the prepared seat. Yaśodarā rushed to the Buddha and clinging to his feet, began to sob with her head resting on his feet. Then the king said:

“Venerable sir, since the day of your great renunciation, she has been in tears. When she heard that you were taking only one meal per day, she too began to take only one meal per day; she heard that you wore yellow robes, and so she robed herself in yellow; that garlands and such things are to be given up, and so she has given up garlands and sits upon the ground. When you entered upon the ascetic life she became a widow; and refused the gifts that other kings sent her. So faithful is her heart to you.”

The Buddha said “Great king, this princess who lives under your guardianship, having fulfilled the perfections (of virtues), is of mature wisdom, therefore it does not come as a surprise that she showed such commitment. In a past life when she was born as an animal, without anyone to protect her, while staying over her husband who was lying unconscious, she selflessly offered her life to save his.”

“It is no marvel, great king! That now in my last existence the lady should love me, and should be of faithful heart and led by me alone. So also, even when born as an animal, she was faithful and mine alone.” Then at the king’s request the Buldha told a story of the past.

The Story of Kinnara Candā

In the ,in Benares, the Great Being (Buddha before Buddhahood) was born in the region of the Himālayas as a Kinnara. His wife was named Candā. These two dwelt together on a silver mountain named Candapabbata.

((*Kinnara = A bird with a human head; half-human half-bird creatures believed to be lived in Himalayas in ancient days.
*Kinnara Canda = A previous birth of the Buddha
*Kinnara Candā = A previous birth of the Buddha's layhood wife))

At that time the king of Benares had committed his government to his ministers, and all alone dressed in two yellow robes, and armed with the five weapons, he proceeded to the Himālayas. While eating his venison he remembered where was a little stream, and began to climb the hill. Now the Kinnaras that live on the Mountain of the Moon in the rainy season remain on the mountain, and come down only in the hot weather.

At that time the Kinnara Canda, with his mate, came down and wandered about, anointing himself with perfumes, eating the pollen of flowers, clothing himself in flower-gauze for inner and outer garments, swinging in the creepers to amuse himself, singing songs in a honey-voice. He too came to this stream; and at one halting-place he went down into it with his wife, scattering flowers about and playing in the water. Then they put on again their garments of flowers, and on a sandy spot white as a silver plate they spread a couch of flowers, and lay there. Picking up a piece of bamboo, the male Kinnara began to play upon it, and sang with a honey-voice; while his mate waving her soft hands danced nearby and sang withal. The king caught the sound, and treading softly that his footsteps might not be heard, he approached, and stood watching the Kinnaras from a secret place. He immediately fell in love with the female Kinnara. “I will shoot the husband,” he thought, “and kill him, and I will live here with his wife.” Then he shot the Kinnara Canda, who lamenting in his pain uttered four verses:

1. “ ’Tis passing away, I think, and my blood is flowing, flowing,
I am losing my hold on life, O Candā! My breath is going!

2. ’Tis sinking, I am in pain, my heart is burning, burning:
But ’tis for your sorrow, Candā, the heart within me is yearning.

3. As grass, as a tree I perish, as a waterless river I dry:
But ’tis for your sorrow, Candā, my heart within me is yearning.

4. As rain on a lake at the mountain foot are the tears that fall from my eye:
But ’tis for your sorrow, Candā, my heart within me is yearning.”

Thus did the Kinnara Canda lament in four verses; and lying upon his couch of flowers, he lost consciousness, and turned away. The king stood where he was. But the female Kinnara did not know that the male Kinnara was wounded, not even when he uttered his lament, being intoxicated with her own delight. Seeing him lie there turned away and lifeless, she began to wonder what could be the matter with her lord. As she examined him she saw the blood oozing from the mouth of the wound, and being unable to bear the great pain of sorrow for her beloved husband, she cried out with a loud voice. “The Kinnara must be dead,” thought the king, and he came out and showed himself. When Candā beheld him she thought: “This must be the brigand who has slain my dear husband!” and trembling she took to flight. Standing upon the hill-top she denounced the king in five verses:

5. “That evil prince – ah, woe is me! – my husband dear did wound,
Who there beneath a woodland tree now lies upon the ground.

6. O prince! The woe that wrings my heart may your own mother pay,
The woe that wrings my heart with my Kinnara dead this day!

7. Yea, prince! The woe that wrings my heart may your own wife repay,
The woe that wrings my heart with my Kinnara dead this day!

8. And may your mother mourn her lord, and may she mourn her son,
Who on my lord most innocent for lust this deed have done.

9. And may your wife look on and see the loss of lord and son,
For you upon my harmless lord for lust this deed have done.”

When she had thus made her lament in these five verses, standing upon the mountain top the king comforted her by another verse:

10. “Weep not nor grieve: the woodland dark has blinded you, I ween:
A royal house shall honour you, and you shall be my queen.”

“What is this word you have said?” cried Candā, when she heard it; and loud as a lion’s roar she declaimed the next verse:

11. “No! I will surely slay myself! Thine I will never be,
Who slew innocent Kinnara, and all for lust for me.”

When he heard this his passion left him, and he recited another verse:

12. “Live if you will, O timid one! To the Himālayas go:
Creatures that feed on shrub and tree the woodland love, I know.”

With these words he departed indifferent. Candā so soon as she knew him gone came up and, embracing the Kinnara Canda, took him up to the hill-top, and laid him on the flat land there: placing his head on her lap, she made a lament in twelve verses:

13. “Here in the hills and mountain caves, in many a glen and grot,
What shall I do, O Kinnara, now that I see you not?

14. The wild beasts range, the leaves are spread on many a lovely spot:
What shall I do, O Kinnara, now that I see you not?

15. The wild beasts range, sweet flowers are spread on many a lovely spot:
What shall I do, O Kinnara, now that I see you not?

16. Clear run the rivers down the hills, with flowers all overgrown:
What shall I do, O Kimpurisa, now you have left me lone?

17. Blue are the Himālaya hills, most fair they are to see:
What shall I do, O Kinnara, now I behold not you?

18. Gold tips the Himālaya hills, most fair they are to see:
What shall I do, O Kinnara, now I behold not you?

19. The Himālaya hills glow red, most fair they are to see:
What shall I do, O Kinnara, now I behold not you?

20. Sharp are the Himālaya peaks, they are most fair to see:
What shall I do, O Kinnara, now I behold not you?

21. White gleam the Himālaya peaks, they are most fair to see:
What shall I do, O Kinnara, now I behold not you?

22. The Himālayas, rainbow-hued, most fair it is to see:
What shall I do, O Kinnara, now I behold not you?

23. Hill Fragrant is to Kinnaras dear; plants cover every spot
What shall I do, O Kinnara, now that I see you not?

24. The Kinnaras love the Fragrant Hill, plants cover every spot:
What shall I do, O Kinnara, now that I see you not?”

So did she make her lament; and putting the hand of the Kinnara Canda on her breast she felt that it still was warm. “Canda lives yet!” she thought: “I will taunt the gods until I bring him to life again!” Then she cried aloud, taunting them, “Are there none who govern the world? Are they on a journey? Or peradventure they are dead, and therefore save not my dear husband!” By the power of her pain the king of the Gods called Sakka's throne became hot. Pondering he perceived the cause; in the form of a brahmin he approached, and from a waterpot took water and sprinkled the Kinnara Canda with it. On the instant the poison ceased to act, his colour returned, he knew not so much as the place where the wound had been: the Kinnara Canda stood up quite well. Candā seeing her well-beloved husband to be whole, in joy fell at the feet of Sakka, and sang his praise in the following verse:

25. “Praise, holy brahmin! Who did give unto a hapless wife
Her well-loved husband, sprinkling him with the elixir of life!”

Sakka then gave this advice, “From this time forth go not down from the Mountain among the paths of men, but abide here.” Twice he repeated this, and then returned to his own place. And Candā said to her husband, “Why stay here in danger, my lord? Come, let us go to the Mountain” reciting the last verse:

26. “To the mountain let us go,
Where the lovely rivers flow,
Rivers all o’ergrown with flowers:
There for ever, while the breeze
Whispers in a thousand trees,
Charm with talk the happy hours.”

When the Buddha had ended this discourse, he said: “Not only now, but long ago as now, she was devoted and faithful of heart to me.”