Pregnant Words: South Asian Buddhist Tales of Fertility and Child Protection
Author(s): Amy Paris Langenberg
Source: History of Religions, Vol. 52, No. 4 (May 2013), pp. 340-369
Published by: The University of Chicago Press
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Amy Paris Langenberg PREGNANT WORDS:
SOUTH ASIAN
BUDDHIST TALES OF
FERTILITY AND CHILD
PROTECTION
Apology and distancing are two discursive strategies for openly acknowledg-
ing opposing interests while subtly dictating the terms of their acknowledgment.
Apology, for example, can be simultaneously an admission of wrongdoing
and a means of reconciling all involved to the transgression. The child who
apologizes for grabbing his sister’s toy does not necessarily mean that he will
never do it again. He recognizes, however, and desires to make amends for
the disturbance he has caused. Distancing through sarcastic asides or dismis-
sive body language can be a means of pushing someone away while still keep-
ing her within reach. A mall-going adolescent who employs distancing strate-
gies to separate from her mother is saved from social ignominy but need not
reject the maternal credit card. This article contends that middle period (ca.
100 BCE–600 CE)1 Indian Buddhist monastic storytellers engaged in distanc-
Earlier versions of this article were presented at the annual conference on South Asia (2008), the
annual meeting of the American Oriental Society (2009), and the annual meeting of the American
Academy of Religion (2010). I would like to thank all who listened and commented. In addition, I
would like express sincere appreciation for my generous colleagues, Bhikkhu Analayo, Alexander
von Rospatt, Robert DeCaroli, Matthew Bagger, Joseph Walser, David Mellins, and the anonymous
reviewers, who were all kind enough to read and provide detailed responses to earlier drafts. Thanks
also to Alex Hsu, editorial assistant for History of Religions, for his astute comments and valuable
suggestions.
1
Here I follow Schopen, who uses the term “middle period” because he wishes to avoid the dis-
tortions introduced by referring to this period as “the early Mahayana Period,” a more traditional
way of periodizing Indian Buddhism. Schopen argues that scholars’ dependence on Chinese trans-
Ó 2013 by The University of Chicago. All rights reserved.
0018-2710/2013/5204-0002$10.00.
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History of Religions 341
ing and apology through various narrative strategies when they produced
accounts of fertility and child protection rituals. In so doing, they, like the toy-
grabbing child and the mall-going adolescent, attempted to manage conflict
while keeping options open, to push certain practices away, but not too far
away.
It is no longer news that Indian Buddhist monks and monasteries partici-
pated in any number of ritual interactions with local spirits and local commu-
nities in the ancient Indic milieu.2 For the Buddhist community to thrive, it
had to provide not only for the ritual requirements of monks but for lay ritual
needs as well. Working in part from middle period and early medieval narra-
tive texts, Phyllis Granoff has suggested that, at least in theory, Buddhists and
Jains did reject certain village rituals, including rituals performed for the pur-
pose of procuring children, as part of their effort to distinguish themselves
from Vedic Hindus. She also argues, however, that ritual practice is not a sta-
ble marker of sectarian identity and that we should not be surprised to find
descriptions of Jains (her primary focus) performing the same rituals they pur-
port to reject.3 Here, I build upon Granoff’s insight, maintaining that the
ambivalence Buddhist storytellers evince toward this common type of ritual
is not an indication that Buddhists eschewed fertility or child protection rituals
as a category but rather evidence of their creative attempts to reconcile such
rituals with a monastic ethic. Indeed, The teachings of monastic Buddhism
offered little in the way of direct support or encouragement for the reproduc-
tive ambitions of householders. As an ideal, monasticism rests on the princi-
lations of Indian Buddhist texts has led them to exaggerate the influence of Mahayana texts and
doctrines in India during this period. Gregory Schopen, “The Mahayana and the Middle Period in
India Buddhism: Through a Chinese Looking-Glass,” in Figments and Fragments of Mah ayana
Buddhism in India: More Collected Papers (Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2005), 3–24. I
posit 100 BCE as the beginning date for the middle period because this is a likely date for the clos-
ing of the Pali canon, and the end of the early period. See Analayo, “The Historical Value of the
Pali Discourse,” Indo-Iranian Journal 55 (2012): 223–53. I posit 600 CE as a closing date for the
middle period because this is the time when Tantric literature begins to appear, marking a new and
distinct period in Indian Buddhism.
2
John Strong, The Legend and Cult of Upagupta: Sanskrit Buddhism in North India and South-
east Asia (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1992); Gregory Schopen, “Counting the Bud-
dha and the Local Spirits In: A Monastic Ritual of Inclusion for the Rain Retreat,” Journal of
Indian Philosophy 30, no. 4 (2002): 359–88; Robert DeCaroli, Haunting the Buddha: Indian Pop-
ular Religions and the Formation of Buddhism (New York: Oxford University, 2004); Phyllis
Granoff, “My Rituals and My Gods: Ritual Exclusiveness in Medieval India,” Journal of Indian
Philosophy 29, no. 1 (2001): 109–34, “Other People’s Rituals: Ritual Eclecticism in Early Medie-
val Indian Religious,” Journal of Indian Philosophy 28 (2000): 399–424, and “Paradigms of Pro-
tection in Early Indian Religious Texts or an Essay on What to Do with Your Demons,” in Essays
in Jaina Philosophy and Religion (Delhi, 2003), 181–212; Richard Cohen, “Naga, Yakṣiṇı¯, Bud-
dha: Local Deities and Local Buddhism at Ajanta,” History of Religions 37, no. 4 (1998): 360–
400.
3
Granoff, “My Rituals and My Gods.”
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342 Pregnant Words
ple of homelessness, of living ones life outside of the clutch of blood relations
and sexuality, a principle clearly expressed in narratives of the Buddha’s life.
In theory, at least, the matter of enhancing a woman’s fertility falls well out-
side of the purview of Buddhist monks and nuns. If, therefore, middle period
monastic communities were going to involve themselves in fertility and child
protection rituals, it would have been useful for them to distance themselves
from or apologize for their participation in such rituals by engaging narrative
strategies such as characterization, dramatic irony, and conceptual reframing.
In Sanskrit and Pali narratives, Buddhist practices aimed at promoting the
successful birth of children are treated in complex ways and with obvious am-
bivalence. Some narratives depict humans and deities specializing in the protec-
tion of mothers and children, for instance, as exceedingly pernicious prior to
Buddhist conversion. Other Buddhist narratives describe monks engaging in
tense negotiations with infertile laypeople, bringing their spiritual powers to
bear on the problem but exacting the high price of a child in return. My discus-
sion of the interpretive dynamics surrounding issues of fertility in Buddhist nar-
rative is based on four specific examples from the middle period of Indian Bud-
dhism. First, representations of the monastic protector and disease goddess
Harı¯tı¯ are (though a topic that has already received ample scholarly attention)4
an important source of information about the intersection of Buddhist monasti-
cism and the reproductive needs of householders in early first-millennium India.
Pali narratives about the serial-murderer-turned-monk, A_ngulimala, provide
another ambivalent account of a monastery-sponsored fertility and protection rit-
ual. Additionally, Pali versions of the traditional tale of the laywoman Sujata’s
offering to the Bodhisattva on the eve of his enlightenment can be read as a sly
commentary on the ritual dynamics of fertility. Finally, Sanskrit avad ana pas-
sages in which Aniruddha and other monastic elders assist in child protection
through the prenatal initiation of children situate what is essentially a monas-
tery-sponsored Buddhist ritual for protecting fetuses and infants within the
logic of merit making and renunciation.
4
See, e.g., Noel Peri, “Haritı¯, la me`re de demons,” Bulletin de l’E´cole Franc¸aise d’Extreˆme-
Orient 17, no. 3 (1917): 1–102; R. Misra, Yaksha Cult and Iconography (New Delhi: Munshiram
Manoharlal, 1981); Miranda Shaw, Buddhist Goddesses of India (Princeton, NJ: Princeton Univer-
sity Press, 2006); Alfred Foucher, “The Buddhist Madonna,” in The Beginnings of Buddhist Art
and Other Essays in Indian and Central-Asian Archaeology (London: Humphrey Milford, 1917),
271–79; A. D. Bivar, “Hariti and the Chronology of the Kuṣaṇas,” Bulletin of the School of Orien-
tal and African Studies 33, no. 1 (1970): 10–21; Alexander von Rospatt, “The Sacred Origins of
the Svayambh ucaitya and the Nepal Valley: Foreign Speculation and Local Myth,” Journal of the
Nepal Research Centre 13 (2009): 33–89; Schopen, “Counting the Buddha and the Local Spirits
In”; Brigitte Merz, “Wild Goddess and Mother of Us All,” in Wild Goddesses in India and Nepal,
ed. Axel Michaels, Cornelia Vogelsanger, and Annette Wilke (Bern: Peter Lang, 1996), 343–54;
Reiko Ohnuma, “Mother-Love and Mother-Grief: South Asian Buddhist Variations on a Theme,”
Journal of Feminist Studies in Religion 23, no. 1 (2007): 95–116.
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History of Religions 343
_
Stories concerning Harı¯tı¯, Angulim ala, and Sujata and the practice of pre-
natal pledging are discussed here because of their narrative complexity, not
because they comprise the only or even the best evidence of monastic involve-
ment in rituals performed to ensure fertility, safe childbirth, and the protection
of very young children from the early and middle periods of Indian Buddhism.
The Vinaya tradition in particular contains compelling traces of such involve-
ment, which Gregory Schopen has documented in two of his essays. In the
M ulasarvastivada tradition, for example, the nun Sthulananda is censored for
carrying what appears to be a ritual vessel used for blessing and protecting
children.5 The Pali Vinaya contains a rule that allows monks to tread upon
pieces of white cloth (something ordinarily forbidden to monks) if requested
to do so by childless laypeople as part of an auspicious ritual.6 Unlike those rel-
atively obscure and compellingly specific vignettes from the Vinaya, the four
tales examined here were told and retold multiple times in a number of different
textual (and sculptural) contexts over centuries. They are developed, multiva-
lent, story traditions and, as such, have the potential to reveal interesting dimen-
sions of how monastic intellectuals and storytellers came to frame and justify
unorthoprax Buddhist concessions to village ritual. In them, monastic discom-
fort with village fertility and child protection ritual is not only expressed but
also managed through the art of storytelling.
Historically, Indian monastics had much to gain from neutralizing their
discomfort around rituals of reproduction and child protection. A monk who
could bring about a pregnancy, ease childbirth, or protect an infant boy from
the fever goddess would never lack a meal or a robe. Indeed, unwinding the
discursive and literary contrivances that swaddle Buddhist narratives involv-
ing fertility and childbirth reveals a surprising figure: a Buddhist adept who is
not only a master of virtue and understanding but also, however reluctantly, a
virtuoso of human fecundity. Thus, reading these old Buddhist stories with
special attention to strategies of distancing and apology elucidates important
dimensions of an ancient Indian Buddhism that comprised not only philoso-
phy and ascetic discipline but also a symbolically complex, richly narrated,
5
Gregory Schopen, “The Urban Buddhist Nun and a Protective Rite for Children in Early
North India,” in P
asadikad
anam: Festschrift f€ ur Bhikkhu Pasadika (Marburg: Indica et Tibetica,
2009), 259–380.
6
Cullavagga v.2.127–129. A description of Prince Bodhi laying a white cloth on the ground and
requesting the Buddha to walk over it is also found at Majjhima-nik aya ii.91. 5–8. The Majjhima-
nik
aya Aṭṭhakatha explains that he did this in hopes that good fortune in the form of a son would
result. Bhikkhu Bodhi and Bhikkhu N ˜ aṇamoli, trans., The Middle Length Discourses of the Bud-
dha: A Translation of the Majjhima Nikaya (Boston: Wisdom Publications, 2005), 705 n. 817;
Gregory Schopen, “A New Hat for Harı¯tı¯: On ‘Giving’ Children for their Protection to Buddhist
Monks and Nuns in Early India,” in Little Buddhas: Children and Childhoods in Buddhist Texts
and Traditions, ed. Vanessa Sasson (New York: Oxford University Press, 2012), 43–74.
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344 Pregnant Words
and thickly ritualized religious system capable of serving a range of social,
cultural, and psychological functions.7
distancing through characterization: ha rı¯tı¯ and angulim
_ la
a
Characterization is the process of creating characters for the purpose of story-
telling. Playwrights, novelists, and screenwriters provide their protagonists with
backgrounds, private thoughts, special physical traits, and distinctive speaking
styles in order to convey information about them crucial to the story being told.
Without developed characterization, protagonists cannot embody the author’s
meanings. Rather, they are without texture, flat, capable of sounding only one
note. Characterization is a literary feature especially associated with character-
driven genres such as the modern European novel. Sanskrit aestheticians also
theorized the ways in which characterization evokes certain aesthetic moods
(rasa) in plays and poetry.8 Here, I do not seriously engage either aesthetic tra-
dition, Sanskritic or European. I use the term “characterization” only in the
sparest sense to index the ways that Buddhist storytellers establish characters’
backstories and associations, supplying tone and complexity to their descrip-
tions of (and prescriptions for) lay-monk interactions. In particular, the associa-
tion of ambivalent and formerly violent figures with rituals concerning fertility
and childbirth creates a distancing effect that allows such rituals to be simulta-
neously legitimized and marginalized.
The tale of Harı¯tı¯ is the first instance of distancing through characterization
to be considered here. Buddhist narrative literature recognizes many spirits
capable of bringing both benefit and harm to fetuses, infants, and small chil-
dren, but the most famous of these by far is this infantophagic yakṣiṇı¯ turned
dharma protector. The figure of Harı¯tı¯ also appears regularly in Indian Buddhist
art during the middle period, especially in the regions of Gandhara and
Mathura. The impressive schist Harı¯tı¯s from Gandhara show her alone or
accompanied by her yakṣa husband Pan˜cika, seated or standing, and bearing a
7
Throughout this article, I use the words “ascetic” and “asceticism” to refer to all varieties of
Buddhist renouncers and Buddhist monasticism, making no distinction between more and less rig-
orous types. As Oliver Freiberger has pointed out, early Buddhist texts criticize extreme forms of
asceticism of the type practiced by the Buddha and his companions prior to his enlightenment and
also record monks performing these very same practices. Hence, Oliver Freiberger (“Early Bud-
dhism, Asceticism, and the Politics of the Middle Way,” in Asceticism and Its Critics: Historical
Accounts and Comparative Perspectives [Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006], 235–58) draws
a distinction between “ascetic” and “monastic” Buddhists. I make no such distinction here, as it is
not relevant to my argument. All Indian Buddhist monastics, whether monks of the forest or of the
town must refrain from sexual contact and put a stop to the production of children, at least in the-
ory. These are the features of the ascetic path most germane to this study.
8
For instance, the Naṭyasastra, an early first-millennium Sanskrit manual on the performing
arts, provides advice about what facial expressions, gestures, manner of dress, and speaking style
ought to be employed to express various aesthetic moods and character types.
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History of Religions 345
variety of auspicious symbols, including money purses, cups, and clusters of
grapes. She is usually depicted as an ample woman, richly dressed and benignly
smiling while her children nurse at her breast, climb on her shoulders, play with
her bead necklace, or wrestle at her feet. Sculptural depictions of Harı¯tı¯ are non-
uniform, but these busy infants are one distinctive and identifying feature of
her iconography.9
In Gandhara, images of Harı¯tı¯ and her husband, Pan˜cika, inhabited many
Buddhist sites.10 Although a large number of well-known early images are
from Gandhara, Harı¯tı¯ was also present in other parts of Buddhist India during
the Kuṣaṇa period.11 In Mathura, what are taken to be representations of
Harı¯tı¯ often resemble other locally popular fertility goddesses, especially the
matṛkas, who are sometimes shown sitting with wide-planted feet and babies
on their laps. Doorjambs and other panels from Mathura depicting tutelary
couples are also usually taken to be representations of Harı¯tı¯/Pan˜cika.12 Cave
2 at Ajaṇṭa, which dates to the late fifth century CE, contains a well-preserved
Harı¯tı¯ shrine, completed, in Walter Spink’s opinion, prior to the main Buddha
image. This, again in Spink’s opinion, indicates a possibly female patron’s
special devotion or awe for this goddess, “so connected in particular with the
protection of children.”13 In contrast to narrative depictions, statuary depic-
tions of Harı¯tı¯ do not typically depict her as a tamed demoness, but, perhaps
9
“The presence of the infant is the identifying mark of the goddess and leaves little doubt con-
cerning this iconography.” Stanislaw J. Czuma, Kushan Sculpture: Images from Early India
(Cleveland: Cleveland Art Museum/Indiana University Press, 1985), 157. “In the sculptures Hariti
has been shown either with Pan˜cika or alone, but always encumbered with children.” Misra, Yak-
sha Cult and Iconography, 77.
10
W. Zwalf, A Catalogue of the Gandh ara Sculpture in the British Museum (London: British
Museum Press, 1996), 44–45, especially pl. 92. Stanislaw J. Czuma, Kushan Sculpture: Images
from Early India (Cleveland: Cleveland Art Museum/Indiana University Press, 1985), 22, pls. 74,
7, 80. Harald Ingholt, Gandh aran Art in Pakistan (New York: Pantheon, 1957), pls. 340, 342, 344.
Anna Maria Quagliotti, “An Inscribed Image of Harı¯tı¯ in the Chandigarh Government Museum
and Art Gallery,” in Silk Road Art and Archaeology, vol. 6, Papers in Honour of Francine Tissot,
ed. Elizabeth Errington and Osmund Bopearachchi (Kamakura: Institute of Silk Road Studies,
1999–2000), 51–60.
11
Foucher documents Harı¯tı¯’s spread from Gandhara and Mathura north and east through Cen-
tral Asia to Japan and China and southeast to Java. See also Aruna Tripathi, The Buddhist Art of
Kau sambhı¯ (from 300 BC to AD 550), Emerging Perceptions in Buddhist Studies 17 (New Delhi:
K.D. Printworld, 2003), 29, 119–20. Mallar Mitra, “Harı¯tı¯ in Buddhist Monasteries,” in Historical
Archaeology of India: A Dialogue between Archaeologists and Historians (New Delhi: Books &
Books, 1990), 323.
12
Ananda Coomaraswamy, Yakṣas: Essays in the Water Cosmology (1928; New York:
Oxford University Press, 1993), pt. 1, 42, pl. 21, numbers 3–4; Shaw, Buddhist Goddesses of India,
128–29.
13
Walter Spink, Ajanta: History and Development (Leiden: Brill, 2007), 48. Cohen (“Naga,
Yakṣiṇı¯, Buddha”) discusses this shrinelet in detail. In the cave monasteries of Aurangabad and
Ellora, and at later Buddhist centers such as Ratnagiri and Nalanda, Harı¯tı¯ and her spouse were
somewhat less prominently placed, occupying niches or alcoves on the verandas or outer walls of
viharas.
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346 Pregnant Words
euphemistically or for purposes of appeasement, as a gentle and smiling
matron. The fact of this interpretive difference suggests that monastic story-
tellers’ choice to emphasize Harı¯tı¯’s bloodthirsty ferocity, narrowly con-
tained, it is implied, by the superior power of the Buddha and his community,
is deliberate, and can be legitimately interpreted as an example of distancing
through characterization.
Harı¯tı¯ is ubiquitous in the Buddhist Sanskrit textual tradition,14 the most
extensive version of her story being located in the Mulasarvastivada Vinaya.15
The Vinaya informs us that after miscarrying a child in a previous embodi-
ment, Harı¯tı¯ angrily vows to be reborn as a child-eating yakṣı¯ with five hun-
dred yakṣa sons. She is indeed born as a tutelary goddess with five hundred
sons in the city of Rajagṛha, and eventually succumbs to an overpowering
urge to capture and consume the city’s young children. Only the Buddha is
able to cure her craving for the flesh of children by kidnapping her beloved
_
youngest child, Priyankara. When the Buddha finally returns the baby to his
frantic mother, reminding her that the mothers whose children were her vic-
tims cared as much as she, the ogress is chastened. She promises to cease her
murderous ways and act instead as guardian to the Buddhist sangha. In return,
the Buddha pledges that the Buddhist community will henceforth provide her
and her children with sustenance in the form of food offerings. Thus, the Bud-
14
The story of a demon mother hushing her crying child, Priyankara, _ in the night so they can
hear the edifying recitations of the visiting monk, Aniruddha, is found in the Sanskrit tradition of
the Saṃyukta- agama. This story is also cited in the Mah aprajn˜aparamit asastra (attributed to
Nagarjuna) and Xuangzang’s Mah avibh asastra; Peri, “Haritı¯, la me`re de demons,” 34–37. The
aṣ
Lalitavistara mentions Harı¯tı¯ as the mother of five hundred yakṣa sons, who, along with Pan˜cika
and other yakṣa commanders, conspires to escort the Bodhisattva from the city on the night of the
Great Departure, supporting the hooves of his mount, Kaṇṭhaka; Bijoya Goswami, Lalitavistara
(Kolkata: Asiatic Society, 2001), 192. The Mah avastu mentions a Harı¯tı¯-like yakṣinı¯ whose one
thousand sons descend upon Vaisalı¯ after her death and steal the vitality (ojas) of the people there.
No one is able to quell the demonic horde except the Buddha; Emile Senart, Le Mah^ avastu (1897;
Tokyo: Meicho-Fukyu-Kai, 1977), 253–54. Brief mention of Harı¯tı¯ can be also found in the
dharaṇı¯ chapter of the Saddharmapuṇḍarı¯ka S utra, in which a group of rakṣası¯s led by one Kuntı¯
pledge to protect the dharma teachers from all manner of malign beings. The Mah am aya S
utra
reprises the tale of her conversion in verse; Peri, “Haritı¯, la me`re de demons,” 30–31. The snake-
bite text, the Mah amayurı¯, also prescribes methods for pacifying her and counts her among those
deities present at the Bodhisattva’s birth (ibid., 27). This is a representative, but not exhaustive, list
of Sanskrit Buddhist texts that mention Harı¯tı¯.
15
In the Tibetan Kanjur, the Harı¯tı¯ story is found at Derge ‘dul ba Da 144b.5 or Tog Palace
‘dul ba Tha 215b.5. All Kanjur references are to chos kyi ‘byung gnas, bka’ ‘gyur (sde dge par
phud), TBRC W22084, 103 vols. (Delhi: Delhi Karmapae Chodhey Gyalwae Sungrab Partun
Khang, 1976–79), http://tbrc.org/link?RID¼W22084, or bka’ ‘gyur (stog pho brang bris ma),
TBRC W22083, 109 vols. (Leh: Smanrtsis Shesrig Dpemzod, 1975–1980), http://tbrc.org/link?
RID¼W22083. Unless otherwise noted, all translations are my own. Peri (“Haritı¯, la me`re de
demons”) provides an account of Yijing’s Chinese translation of the Mulasarvastivada Vinaya,
which contains an epilogue missing in the Tibetan version. Some of the missing material is present
in various commentaries on Guṇaprabha’s Vinayas utra preserved in Tibetan; for details, see Scho-
pen, “New Hat for Harı¯tı¯.”
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History of Religions 347
dha saves Harı¯tı¯ and the people of Rajagṛha, neutralizing Harı¯tı¯’s negative
traits, accentuating her only positive trait (her strong maternal love), and sub-
jugating her forever to the superior authority of the sangha.
In this way, the M ulasarvastivada narrative tradition assigns the formerly
autonomous yakṣiṇı¯, Harı¯tı¯, to the role of dharma protector. This new role
does not, however, negate or even dilute her association with fertility and
childhood disease. Chinese pilgrims to India report on her ongoing role as fer-
tility and disease goddess. The seventh-century monk Yijing recounts the
story of how the Buddha tamed Harı¯tı¯, enlisting her to protect the sangha, and
describes her worship by monastics and laypeople. “The sick and those with-
out children,” he notes, “offer her food to obtain their wishes.”16 Xuanzang,
too, reports on laypeople who desire offspring propitiating the “mother of the
demons” (a common epithet of Harı¯tı¯ in Chinese sources) with offerings in
Gandhara.17 Inscriptional evidence also supports Harı¯tı¯’s ongoing association
with fertility and protection from disease.18
Although Harı¯tı¯ is seen primarily as a “Buddhist” goddess, this sectarian label
is probably misleading. Indo-Grecian and Kuṣaṇa-era seals and coins show, for
instance, tutelary couples variously identified with any number of Brahmaṇa,
Iranian, or Buddhist Harı¯tı¯/Pan˜cika-like deities.19 In the Gandharan context,
this tutelary couple (found also at Mathura) is not primarily a signifier of sec-
tarian affiliation but rather serves a functional role as the bringer of fertility
and wealth.20 Furthermore, as the archaeologist Prierfrancesco Callieri has
suggested, the classical Gandharan sculpted images of Harı¯tı¯ “likely represent
a reemergence of the same form of local devotion that, prior to the develop-
16
Samuel Beal, trans., Si-yu-ki: Buddhist Records of the Western World, vol. 2 (Calcutta:
Susil Gupta, 1958), 160 n. 96.
17
Ibid., 160.
18
Quagliotti, “An Inscribed Image of Harı¯tı¯,” 54; Gerard Fussman, “Les Inscriptions Kharoṣṭhı¯
de la Paline de Chilas,” in Antiquities of Northern Pakistan: Reports and Studies, ed. Karl Jettmar
(Mainz: von Zabern, 1989), 10–11; Martha Carter, “Petroglyphs at Chilas II: Evidence for a Pre-
iconic Phase of Buddhist Art in Gandhara,” in South Asian Archaeology 1991, ed. Gail Adalbert
and Gerd J. R. Mevissen (Stuttgart: Steiner, 1993), 355 n. 13; Sten Konow, Kharoshṭhı¯ Inscrip-
tions: With the Exception of Those of Asoka (Varanasi: Indological Book House, 1969), 124–27;
E´tienne Lamotte, History of Indian Buddhism: From the Origins to the Saka Era, trans. Sara
Webb-Boin (Louvain-la-Neuve: Universite Catholique de Louvain Institut Orientaliste, 1988),
689.
19
Pierfrancesco Callieri writes, “The seals indicate religious devotion to a goddess who, whether
Srı¯, Ardoxsˇo, Uma, or Harı¯tı¯, expresses concepts of fertility and fortune. They also show a male
deity who is at times possible to identify as Kartikkeya, Siva, or Pharro. We can call this couple
the ‘Gandharan tutelary deities’” (“Buddhist Presence in the Urban Settlements of Swat,” in
Gandh aran Buddhism, ed. Pia Brancaccio and Kurt Berhrendt [Toronto: UBC Press, 2006], 77).
20
Wladimir Zwalf (A Catalogue of the Gandh ara Sculpture in the British Museum [London:
British Museum Press, 1996], 44) calls these representations of seated pairs, the male with purse
and spear, his mate with cornucopia, sometimes with pots of money and children at their feet, a
“very diffuse iconography, in which the concept was of tutelaries perhaps more than single defined
entities” and relates them to coins depicting the Iranian gods Ardoxsˇo and Pharro.
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348 Pregnant Words
ment of stone sculpture, relied on terracotta figurines.”21 These figurines
depict fertile female forms and are believed by scholars to have served a reli-
gious purpose.22 In other words, sculptural images of Gandharan Harı¯tı¯s
appear to be new during the middle period only because they express emerg-
ing sculptural styles, but they actually represent a continuation of pre-Buddhist
local forms of worship. A similar argument can be made regarding what are
taken to be Harı¯tı¯ images from Mathura in relationship to the local worship of
yakṣiṇı¯s and m atṛkas. Indeed, Peri makes the same general point regarding
Harı¯tı¯ in all of her Indic contexts, commenting on how local disease goddesses
were “enveloppe dans la gloire de Harı¯tı¯,” some of their traits replacing some
of hers, and her more famous name attaching to them.23
I have laid out evidence supporting the view that both historically, and in
terms her ritual role across North India, Harı¯tı¯ was a disease and fertility god-
dess first and a monastic protector second.24 Only after understanding this pri-
mary, widespread, and long-standing identification of Harı¯tı¯ with childbirth
and disease can the message of the M ulasarvastivada narrative be fully appreci-
ated. Beset by a rampaging demoness known to them by the name Abhirati
(Joyous), the people of Rajagṛha are portrayed as unable to solve the problem
through customary offerings. In the end, the people label the yakṣiṇı¯ a merci-
less “snatcher” and send an appeal to the Lord Buddha for assistance:
The king asked the nobles of the various surrounding districts, “Hey, tell me who is
taking the children born to the many people of Rajagṛha.” Somberly, they told him,
“With every child taken, the demons increase. With the demons increasing, which-
ever household has a pregnant woman is shifting to another country and staying
there.” . . . He commanded his ministers, “Hey listen! Make a proclamation in the
town of Rajagṛha. Everyone from Rajagṛha and everyone coming from various
places in the countryside must make offerings at the place [sacred to] the yakṣas,
worship there, and pay respects. . . . The many people of Rajagṛha swept the stones,
pottery shards and rubble away from the town. Having sprinkled everything with
drops of sandalwood-scented water, they hung out various fragrant incense burners,
hoisted up streamers and the royal insignia, and hung many five-colored silk flags.
Scattering various flowers, they adorned the place so that it resembled the divine
apsara pleasure garden, Tuṣita. Then they made offerings, worshiped and showed
their respects at all of the places [sacred to] the yakṣas, but despite all of this, Abhir-
ati was not pacified. Then the gods of Rajagṛha said to the many people of Rajagṛha,
21
Callieri, “Buddhist Presence,” 72–73, 77.
22
Ibid., 62.
23
Peri, “Haritı¯, la me`re de demons,” 38.
24
Von Rospatt (“Sacred Origins,” 35–44) interprets the Nepalese history of Harı¯tı¯ (or, more
commonly in Nepal, Haratı¯) in a similar manner, stressing the various strategies by which Newar
Buddhist practice and sacred architecture serves to keep the autochthonous mother goddess,
domesticated as Haratı¯, “in check.”
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History of Religions 349
“Go see the Lord Buddha, and he will discipline her.” [The people] replied, “You
know, she is not joyous (Abhirati)! She is a snatcher (Harı¯tı¯)! She steals our children
and babies!” Thus, the name Abhirati was eliminated. The yakṣiṇı¯ was given the
name Harı¯tı¯.25
As mentioned above, the Buddha eventually pacifies the hungry yakṣiṇı¯ by
appealing to her maternal feelings. Thus, the Mulasarvastivada narrative of
Harı¯tı¯ inserts the main deity of Buddhism (the Buddha) and by association his
disciples (Buddhist monks) as a fulcrum mediating between the townspeople
and their local gods, especially those unpredictable spirits that rule over the
dangerous processes of pregnancy and birth.26
The M ulasarvastivada Harı¯tı¯ narrative legitimizes Harı¯tı¯ worship in monas-
tic or Buddhist cultic contexts, Through this story, local people are encouraged
to believe that her infanticidal excesses will be curbed and regulated only in
Buddhist settings. For their part, Buddhist monks are taught that they need not
shrink from acting in the role of priest, possibly even laying the reproductive
aspirations of lay sponsors before her, as she is a perfectly legitimate monastic
protector.27 Indeed, as Alexander von Rospatt points out, the Mulasarvastivada
commentarial tradition of Guṇaprabha consistently champions her as “the pro-
totypical naiv asika [residential] deity attached to a monastery.”28
Still, it is difficult to avoid the impression that some lingering distaste adheres
to the figure of Harı¯tı¯, literally “the snatcher,” in monastic contexts. Histori-
cally, Harı¯tı¯ images were kept waiting on monastery porches, assigned a corner
of the mess hall, kept at home to guard the women and children, or assigned to
subsidiary shrines. They never occupied the main temple altar. However popu-
lar in some quarters, her narrative reminds us that she is a deity with a dark past,
that her adherence to the Dharma was coerced, and that her relationship to the
Buddhist community is contractual. Though she occupied monastic spaces,
purity, insight, and freedom were never really the domain of Harı¯tı¯, the great
mother of demons.29 On the contrary, despite her alliance with Buddhist mon-
asteries, her special domain remained the dangerous and blood-filled realm of
childbirth, and the anxious nursery worries of mothers. Like the backhanded
25
Kanjur, Derge ‘dul ba Da 147a.5–147b.7.
26
For a book-length treatment of interactions between Indian monastic Buddhism and village re-
ligion, see Robert DeCaroli, Haunting the Buddha.
27
In his discussion of Ajanta Cave 2, Cohen (“Naga, Yakṣiṇı¯, Buddha,” 383) writes about how
“at some level Harı¯tı¯ may have served to limit local impact on Buddhist life. The apologetic was
always available: she looks like a local yakṣiṇı¯ but ‘really’ is not.”
28
Von Rospatt, “Sacred Origins,” 38.
29
Von Rospatt makes a similar point in comparing the Haratı¯ cult at Svayambhu to the Vaj-
rayoginı¯ temple at Sako: “it has to be borne in mind that unlike the converted local yakṣiṇı¯ of the
Haratı¯ legend, Vajrayoginı¯ is a central tantric goddess whose cult is clearly soteriological in inspi-
ration” (ibid., 46).
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350 Pregnant Words
compliment of an acquaintance who “knew you when,” and so marvels at how
far you’ve come, the Harı¯tı¯ narrative lends legitimacy to this ambivalent god-
dess, while simultaneously evoking, through the technique of characterization,
the specter of her unseemly appetites and erstwhile tendencies.
Another figure from Buddhist narrative closely associated with the travails
_
of child bearing is Angulim ala, a murderer who embraces the dharma. In con-
temporary Theravada Buddhism, Angulim _ ala is revered as a saint and is a
symbol of spiritual transformation. His story is taken as evidence of the Bud-
dha’s great power as a teacher and of the moral salvation that the Buddha’s
dharma offers. Still, though he becomes an arhat and Harı¯tı¯ does not, the two
are similar in important and striking ways. Both spill a lot of innocent human
blood before meeting the Buddha, both are finally tamed by wisdom (not
might), and both become protectors of pregnant women and very young chil-
_
dren after their transformation. Thus, the Angulim ala legend potentially broad-
ens the claim that South Asian Buddhist narratives portray ritual treatments of
fertility as distasteful yet tolerable through complex characterizations.
The canonical Pali version of the A_ngulimala tale is found in the Majjhima-
nikaya.30 In it we learn that a homicidal brigand has been terrorizing the king-
dom of Kosala, laying waste to its villages and town. Since he wears the fingers
of his victims around his neck as a tally, he is known as A_ngulimala, “the one
who wears a garland of fingers.” One day, Angulim _ ala encounters the Buddha
on the road outside of Savatthı¯ and pursues him with murderous intent. Through
a display of magical power, the Buddha arrests him on the road, instructing him
in the teachings and initiating him into the community of monks. One day, as
the newly ordained A_ngulimala is begging for alms in the town of Savatthı¯, he
encounters a woman in the grip of a breach labor, struggling to deliver a dead
or deformed child.31 He feels very anguished for the mother and child and,
upon returning, tells the Blessed One about that sorrowful sight. The Blessed
One advises him to perform an act of truth (saccakiriy a) for the woman and her
infant, consisting of uttering the phrase, “Sister, since I was born with the noble
birth, I do not recall that I ever intentionally deprived a living being of life. By
30
Majjhima-nik aya ii.97–105; V. Trenckner, R. Chalmers, and Caroline Rhys Davids, eds.,
The Majjhima-nik _
aya (Oxford: Pali Text Society, 1888). The Angulim ala Sutta has five parallels
in the Chinese canon (two in the Saṃyukta- agama, one in the Ekottarika- agama, and two stand-
alone versions), survives in several Sanskrit fragments, and is recorded in a Chinese Ud ana collec-
tion and in a story collection perserved in Tibetan and Chinese titled “Discourse on the Wise and
the Fool.” For a detailed comparison of the Majjhima-nik aya version and its five Chinese parallels,
a translation of one of the Saṃyukata-ag ama versions, and detailed bibliographic information on
the A_ngulimala tradition across Buddhist literature, see Analayo, “The Conversion of A_ngulimala
in the Saṃyukta- agama,” Buddhist Studies Review 25, no. 2 (2008): 135–48, and also A Compara-
tive Study of the Majjhima-nik aya, Dharma Drum Buddhist College Research Series (Taipei:
Dharma Drum, 2011).
31
Majjhima-nik aya ii.102.
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History of Religions 351
this truth, may you be well and may your infant be well.”32 This is, in fact, a true
statement, the Buddha explains, since the “noble birth” mentioned refers to the
A_ngulimala’s ordination, not his physical birth. He follows the Buddha’s advice
and the woman and her infant become well. Thus, A_ngulimala, a serial killer,
spontaneously manifests compassion, bringing life rather than death to the
townspeople.33 Here, “noble birth” is also rather obviously put forth as a curative
for ordinary physical birth. After this watershed event, A_ngulimala soon finds
peace.34 This dramatic story is reprised and further developed in two commen-
taries attributed to the fifth-century scholar Buddhaghosa,35 and in later Pali and
Sinhala commentaries.36 In modern Theravada Buddhist countries, recitation of
the A_ngulimala paritta (protective verses from Buddhist scriptures) is the central
component of a ritual commonly practiced to ensure safe childbirth.37
Buddhist literature is rich in stories about conversion and awakening. Of
these many tales, very few link the acceptance of the Buddha’s teachings to
the prevention of miscarriage or ease in childbirth. Of those very few, the tales
_
of Harı¯tı¯ and Angulim ala are the best known. It seems that somehow former
murderers and dangerous ogresses make good midwives and pediatricians
from the ancient South Asian Buddhist point of view. Perhaps this has some-
thing to do with the isomorphism of the death and birth processes, an awe for
the blood and impurity associated with both,38 or a symbolic association of
bloodletting with generativity. Within a view of existence in which lives flow
32
yatohaṃ bhagini, ariyaya jatiya jato nabhijanami san˜cicca paṇaṃ jı¯vita voropeta. tena sac-
cena sotthi te hotu sotthi gabbhassa (Majjhima-nik aya ii.103; English translation from Bodhi and
N˜ aṇamoli, Middle Length Discourses of the Buddha, 714). A useful summary of Pali narrations of
_
the Angulim ala story can be found in Thera Nyanaponika and Hellmuth Hecker, Great Disciples
of the Buddha: Their Lives, Their Works, Their Legacy (Boston: Wisdom, 1997), 317–34.
33
According to the Majjhima-nik aya Aṭṭhakath a, A_ngulimala’s compassion for the laboring
woman is the result of his ordination. He had never previously felt any comparable feeling for his
multiple victims; Bodhi and N ˜ aṇamoli, Middle Length Discourses of the Buddha, 714 n. 822.
34
This incident is also recorded in three out of five of the Chinese parallels of the A_ngulimala
tale. It doesn’t appear in either of the Chinese Saṃyukyta- agama translations. In the Chinese
Ud ana-varga version, A_ngulimala helps a laboring female elephant rather than human woman;
Analayo, Comparative Study, 495–96.
35
The Papan˜cas udanı¯ and the Dhammapadaṭṭhakath a. Among other things, the commentarial
literature provides background information about A_ngulimala’s youth and the path that led him to
become a serial murderer.
36
See, e.g., Dhammapala’s Paramatthadı¯panı¯ and also the thirteenth-century Sinhala digest of
the Dhammapadaṭṭhakath a by Dharmase¯na Thera called the Saddharma Ratn avaliya. My sincere
thanks to Liz Wilson for kindly bringing these Theravada sources on A_ngulimala to my attention.
37
Richard Gombrich, Precept and Practice: Traditional Buddhism in the Rural Highlands of
Ceylon (Oxford: Clarendon, 1971), 202, 224; M. Charles Duroiselle, “Four Burmese Saints,”
Archeaological Survey of India (1922): 176.
38
This point was also made by Elizabeth Wilson in her presentation on “Male Motherhood in
Pali Buddhist Accounts of the Conversion of A_ngulimala,” delivered at the South Asian Masculin-
ities Symposium, Miami University, 2011.
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352 Pregnant Words
on and on, and bodies are constructed and discarded endlessly, it makes some
sense to view knowledge of death as a good qualification for the birthing room
and nursery. Perhaps this association also stems from an ambivalence toward
motherhood and mothering of the type explored by Reiko Ohnuma in her
work on maternal love and grief in South Asian Buddhist texts.39 Or perhaps,
as Richard Gombrich suggests, Angulim _ ala is meant to be recognized as a
prototantric devotee of Mahesa, a dark master of both life and death and there-
fore a lineage brother to demonesses like Harı¯tı¯.40
_
A full comparison of the figures of Harı¯tı¯ and Angulim ala is beyond the
scope of this article. Still, even in the absence of such an analysis, one might
venture a more modest claim regarding the apparent convergence of murder-
ous bloodletting and attendance on childbirth in South Asian Buddhist narra-
tives, namely, that this association has the power to place distance between
monasteries and monastics on the one hand, and Buddhist-inflected practices
of fertility and child protection rituals on the other. Harı¯tı¯ is an ambivalent
and marginalized presence, her commitment to the ethical principles of Bud-
dhism questionable.41 Even though A_ngulimala becomes an arhat, society still
marks him as a violent and fearful man, a reality brought home when angry
townspeople pelt him with mud clods, sticks, and potsherds as he makes his
begging rounds.42 Indeed, according to the Mah avagga, a section of the Pali
Vinaya, it is in response to the ordination of A_ngulimala that the Buddha estab-
lishes a monastic law forbidding the future initiation of criminals into the
monastic ranks.43 Whatever symbolic equivalence, metaphysical tenet, or sec-
tarian message underpins the pairing of murder and midwifery, the narrative
_
traditions of Harı¯tı¯ and Angulim
ala also function as commentaries on the ortho-
praxy of Buddhist fertility rituals. They indicate in indirect ways that if a Bud-
dhist laywoman wishes to secure for herself safe passage through childbirth,
protection for her child, or a new pregnancy, within a Buddhist ritual context,
39
Ohnuma, “Mother-Love and Mother-Grief.”
40
Richard Gombrich, “Who Was A_ngulimala?” in How Buddhism Began: The Conditioned
Genesis of the Early Teaching, ed. Richard Gombrich (London: Athlone, 1996), 135–64. Analayo
(“Conversion of A_ngulimala,” 144–45 n. 42) takes issue with Gombrich’s theory.
41
Von Rospatt, “Sacred Origins.”
42
As mentioned previously, A_ngulimala’s act of compassion toward the laboring woman does
not appear in all versions of his story. Moreover, historically, other aspects of this narrative have
been given more attention than A_ngulimala’s talents as a midwife, namely, the Buddha’s miracu-
lous ability to walk slowly and fearlessly but still outpace the fearsome killer. But the very fact that
the origin story for a Buddhist ritual of childbirth is a nonessential side episode, not vital to the main
narrative, suggests that it may have been more or less deliberately inserted into the Angulim _ ala
Sutta at one point and removed at another. This would tend to support the idea that the A_ngulimala
story struck Buddhist redactors as an appropriate and fruitful place to include a passage concerning
the dangerous, polluting, and scary business of childbirth.
43
Mah avagga 41.
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History of Religions 353
she may have to move away from the centers of power and authority and out to
the portico of mainstream Buddhist monasticism.44
At the same time that the A_ngulimala and Harı¯tı¯ narratives create distance
between the pure, nonviolent, male-gendered center of Buddhist discipline and
female-oriented auspicious ritual45 at the periphery through the repugnant trope
of uncontrolled and brutal violence, however, they also open an umbrella over
this popular type of village practice, claiming it as Buddhist. Later commenta-
tors suggest the power to heal may have been the only thing standing between
marginal monks like A_ngulimala and starvation, and therefore was an option
that the Buddhist establishment could not afford to foreclose.46
The tension between Buddhist monastic tolerance of and distaste for village
_
rituals of fertility and child protection is expressed in the figure of Angulimala,
who, like the god Siva, is simultaneously generative and celibate.47 As recent
work on Buddhism and masculinity has shown, the Buddha, himself, that “bull
of a man,” is sometimes described in just this way in Buddhist narrative.48 It is
to a story concerning both the sage Gotama’s superior generativity, and his
transcendence of village fertility rites, that we now turn.
distancing through dramatic irony: suja ta’s oblation
As argued above, the narrative traditions of Harı¯tı¯ and An˙gulimala function as
subtle commentaries on the orthopraxy of Buddhist rites of fertility and child
protection, using characterization to generate a sense of distance between the
core principles and practices of monasticism at the center, and the messy busi-
ness of childbirth and childrearing on the periphery. Here, I adduce an exam-
ple of a Buddhist narrative deploying dramatic irony for much the same
purpose. I refer to irony as the feigned ignorance or dissimulation that is oper-
ative in literary contexts when actions or words have the opposite effect of
what is literally intended. In situations of dramatic irony, the actor is unaware
of a truth to which the audience has special access. Some (but not all) tellings
of a traditional story about the laywoman Sujata’s offering of milk-rice to the
44
_
It is not clear if the contemporary use of the Angulim ala paritta for protecting pregnant
women is problematic in the way I am describing, at least not from the available secondary litera-
ture, although one author does note that the worship of saints for worldly purposes, is “not tolerated
by the Theravada system of Buddhism now prevailing in Burma”; Duroiselle, “Four Burmese
Saints,” 174–75.
45
_
Asoka’s ninth rock edict criticizes the many “auspicious rituals” (mangala) performed by lay-
people, especially women; Alexander Cunningham, Inscriptions of Asoka, vol. 1, Corpus Inscriptio-
num Indicarum (Calcutta: Office of the Superintendent of Government Printing, 1877), 77–78.
46
Nyanaponika and Hecker, Great Disciples of the Buddha, 328.
47
Wilson, “Male Motherhood.”
48
John Powers, A Bull of a Man: Images of Masculinity, Sex, and the Body in Indian Buddhism
(Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2009).
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354 Pregnant Words
Bodhisatta directly prior to his enlightenment employ dramatic irony in a
manner relevant to the topic of fertility rites in Buddhist narrative.49 In the
Pali versions of this tale found in the Nid
anakatha (the introduction to the past
life stories or J ataka) and the Manorathap uraṇı¯ (a commentary on the
_
Anguttara Nikaya), both attributed to Buddhaghosa,50 Sujata’s female servant
mistakes the gaunt yet magnetic stranger sitting in meditation under a tree for
the powerful yakkha (here, a tree spirit) she believes has blessed her mistress
with a felicitous marriage and healthy baby son.
When Sujata’s servant happens upon him, the Bodhisatta is sitting on the
bank of the Nairan˜jara River, having recently forsaken his rigorous austerities.
As a result of finally taking nourishment, he emits a golden glow and displays
the thirty-two marks of a great man. He occupies a tree shrine, or caitya, of a
local tree spirit to whom Sujata had previously made a vow. “If, once I am
married to someone of the same caste, my first child is a son,” she promised,
“I will every year make a food offering to you.”51 She subsequently married a
man of equal rank, and bore a healthy son, to whom she gave the name of
Yasa. Planning to perform her obligatory offering on the full-moon day of
Visakha, the very moment when the Bodhisatta is concluding his six years
of austerities, she carefully prepares a rich offering of milk-rice (payasa) in a
golden bowl.52 Realizing who the recipient of the offering will be, the four
directional guardians fortify it with oja, a vital sap or warmth essential to
life.53 When Sujata’s servant girl sees the Bodhisatta seated at the caitya,
believing him to be the yakkha descended from his sacred banyan, she hastens
49
John Strong, The Experience of Buddhism: Sources and Interpretations, 3rd ed. (Belmont
CA: Wadsworth, 2008), 58–60; Alan Cole, “Buddhism,” in Sex, Marriage, and Family in World
Religions, ed. Don Browning and M. Christian Green (New York: Columbia University Press,
2006), 338–41; DeCaroli, Haunting the Buddha, 109–14; Hans Penner, Rediscovering the Bud-
dha: Legends of the Buddha and Their Interpretation (New York: Oxford University Press, 2009),
30–31, 202–3.
50
V. Fausb€oll, The J
ataka Together with Its Commentary being Tales of the Anterior Births of
Gautama Buddha (London: Trubner, 1877), 68–69; M. Walleser and H. Kopf, Buddhaghosa’s
Commentary on the Anguttara Nik aya, vol. 1 (London: Pali Text Society, 1924), 402–4; N. A
Jayawickrama, trans., The Story of Gotama Buddha: The Nid ana-Kath a of the J
atakaṭṭhakath a,
reprinted with corrections (Oxford: Pali Text Society, 2000), 90–92; Strong, Experience of Bud-
dhism, 58–60.
51
“sace samajatikaṃ kulagharaṃ gantva paṭhagabbhe puttaṃ labhissami, anusaṃvaccharaṃ
balikammaṃ karissami.” Her vow is the same in the Nid anakatha, except she puts a number on it,
promising to “spend a hundred thousand”; Strong, Experience of Buddhism, 59; Walleser and
Kopf, Buddhaghosa’s Commentary, 402; Jayawickrama, Story of Gotama Buddha, 90; Fausb€oll,
J
ataka Together with Its Commentary, 68.
52
Walleser and Kopf, Buddhaghosa’s Commentary, 68; Fausb€oll, J ataka Together with Its
Commentary, 402. The Sanskrit p ayasa (something made from milk) is from payas (milk, semen).
53
Walleser and Kopf, Buddhaghosa’s Commentary, 402. In the Nid anakath a, the directional
guardians collect oja enough for all the men and gods of the four continents and two thousand sur-
rounding islands and add it to the p
ay
asa.
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History of Religions 355
to tell Sujata. After hearing the news, Sujata personally attends upon the “yak-
kha,” offering the golden bowl of p ayasa that she has already prepared in ful-
fillment of her vow. Although aware of many auspicious portents and over-
joyed by his presence, it is unclear whether she fully and clearly recognizes
the figure under the tree as the Bodhisatta he is or the Buddha he will shortly
become.54 She receives no religious teaching and makes no religious vow.55
Before departing, she does, however, express a hope that implies a parallelism
between her marital felicity and his spiritual accomplishment: “Even as my
wish has been fulfilled may yours as well be fulfilled!”56 In fact, Sujata even-
tually becomes a student of the dharma and a stream winner, but only after her
child has grown and joined the order, not as an immediate result of her early
encounter with the Bodhisattva. After she leaves, the Bodhisattva rolls the milk-
rice oblation she has offered into rice balls, or piṇḍas, four according to the
Manorathap uraṇı¯ and forty-nine according to the Nid anakatha. This super-
naturally fortified meal sustains the Buddha through the night of his awaken-
ing and during the forty-nine days afterward while he sits in meditation.
This confusion of the Bodhisatta for the tree spirit Sujata believes has given
her a son is the central irony of the Sujata tale in these two fifth-century Pali
commentaries. Sujata and her maid mistake the Bodhisatta, impressively radi-
ating the power of his six years of wisdom seeking, for a demigod of the type
commonly consulted in matters of fertility, childbirth, and childhood illness.
The Bodhisatta, celibate and removed from worldly concerns for all these six
years, had nothing to do with the pregnancy. In fact, he is on the verge of
unlocking the secret to bringing the cycles of birth and death, generation and
decay to a halt. Since Sanskrit versions of this story do not contain this element
of mistaken identity, it is fair to assume that its inclusion by Pali authors is
intentional.57 By playing on elements of village fertility practice as well as sex-
54
The Nid anakath a simply states rather mysteriously that “The Great Being looked at Sujata.
She understood what it meant” (“mahapuriso sujatam olokesi. sa akaraṃ sallakkhetva”); Jaya-
wickrama, Story of Gotama Buddha, 92; Fausb€oll, J ataka Together with Its Commentary, 69.
According to the Manorathap uraṇı¯, “When she saw the Great Being, there arose in her an over-
powering gladness” (“mahapuriṣaṃ disva balvapı¯tiṃ uppadetva” ); Strong, Experience of Bud-
dhism, 59; Walleser and Kopf, Buddhaghosa’s Commentary, 403.
55
According to the Manorathap uraṇı¯, however, the chance meeting between the Bodhisattva
and Sujata is itself the result of a past intention or adhik
ara to be a Buddhist laywoman, declared
in the time of the Buddha Padumuttara.
56
“yatha mayhaṃ manoratho nipphanno evam tumhakaṃ pi nippajjatu”; Jayawickrama, Story
of Gotama Buddha, 92; Fausb€oll, J ataka Together with Its Commentary, 69–70; Strong, Experi-
ence of Buddhism, 60; Walleser and Kopf, Buddhaghosa’s Commentary, 403.
57
The Mah avastu has Sujata suffering alongside the Bodhisattva during the six years of his pen-
ance in the forest as a result of a religious vow she has taken. When she presents the milk-rice, she
demonstrates a fairly specific knowledge of his path: “Partake of this sweet milk-rice and become
the destroyer of the conduit that formerly irrigated existence, and attain immortality, the griefless
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356 Pregnant Words
ual and reproductive symbolism drawn from solemn Vedic ritual, Pali versions
of this old Buddhist story about the first laywoman double as a sly Buddhist
comment on the aims and effectiveness of such rituals.
Sujata is supposed to be just a village woman worshipping a local god at a
village shrine, not a brahmaṇı¯ participating in a solemn Vedic rite. Still, given
the growing association between br ahmaṇa tradition and Indian Buddhism,
through the early centuries of the first millennium,58 to suggest that Vedic-
Hindu symbolism and the ritual role ascribed to women in Vedic Hindu ritual
carries over to this Buddhist narrative text, however loosely or imprecisely,
does not seem far-fetched. Many Buddhist scholars, including Buddhaghosa,
are said to have been raised in the br ahamaṇa tradition. Even in the absence of
a bona fide br ahmaṇa education, however, there is no reason to think mid-first-
millennium Buddhist authors or audiences would not have grasped the basic
structures and aims of Vedic Hindu ritual, especially since post-Vedic popular
narratives, notably the R amayaṇa or Mah abh
arata, contain many references to
Vedic style rites. In any case, a broad familiarity with and instinctive under-
standing of Vedic Hindu symbolic resonances would have been sufficient for
the purposes of this Buddhist critique.
Grain and milk are heavily laden with sexual and reproductive symbolism
in Vedic ritual lore.59 In ritual contexts, milk (payas), the Sanskrit word for
which means “something expressed” and can signify both milk and semen,
state, in a grove in the king’s domain.” No mention whatsoever is made of a child. See J. J. Jones,
The Mah avastu, vol. 2 (London: Luzac, 1952), 196. In the Buddhacarita, she is called Nandabala.
In its brief description, she is both joyful and faithful and, by eating her offering, the Bodhisattva
“cause[s] her to obtain the reward of her birth” (“kṛtva tadupabhogena praptajanmaphalaṃ sa
tam”). Although this statement is usually interpreted to be a reference to the merit she will gain
through her offering, the Pali stories open up the possibility that janmaphala may refer to the reward
of successful childbirth rather than a better rebirth. No specific mention is made of a child, however;
see Patrick Olivelle, Life of the Buddha by Ashvaghosha (New York: Clay Sanskrit Library, 2008),
365. In the Lalitavistara, Sujata feeds five hundred br ahmaṇas daily, a way of feeding the Bodhi-
sattva by proxy. At the conclusion of his fast, she prepares the honeyed milk-rice. Upon noting
auspicious portents, she thinks, “Since such signs have been seen, without doubt the Bodhisattva
will attain highest complete awakening after eating this food” (“yadṛsanı¯mani purvanimittani
saṃdṛsyante niḥsaṃsayamidaṃ bhojanaṃ bhuktva bodhisattvo ‘nuttaraṃ samyaksaṃbodhiṃ
prapsyati”). Here the offering is linked directly to his status as an enlightened being. Again, no men-
tion whatsoever is made of a child; S. Lefmann, Lalita Vistara: Leben und Lehre des S akya-Buddha
(1902; Tokyo: Meicho-Fukyu-Kai, 1977), 264–72. For an English translation of the Sujata section
of this text, see Goswami, Lalitavistara, 247–53.
58
Johannes Bronkhorst, Buddhism in the Shadow of Brahmanism (Leiden: Brill, 2011).
59
See Wendy Doniger’s work on the symbolic equation of milk, soma, and semen in Vedic
and post-Vedic texts, Women, Androgynes, and Other Mythical Beasts (Chicago: University of
Chicago Press, 1980), 17–61. Stephanie Jamison also provides many examples of these equiva-
lences; Sacrificed Wife/Sacrificer’s Wife: Women, Ritual, and Hospitality in Ancient India (New
York: Oxford University Press, 1996), 55–59, 51–53. A locus classicus for the association of
payasa with fecundity is the Bṛhad aranyaka Upaniṣad 6.4.13–18, which prescribes the ritual feed-
ing of rice, mixed variously with water, milk and ghee, to women immediately after their men-
strual periods in order to promote fertility.
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History of Religions 357
often operates as a soma and semen substitute.60 In the Nid anakath
a version,
the milk that Sujata uses in preparing her p ayasa (something made from
payas) is particularly potent, as she has obtained it through a process that the
text names “recycling the milk” (khı¯raparivattana).61 In this process, one
feeds the milk of one thousand cows to five hundred cows, the milk of those
five hundred cows to two hundred and fifty, and so on down to eight cows.
Sujata then boils this superenriched milk with rice over a smokeless fire.
While it boils, its bubbles all rising and turning auspiciously to the right, the
four guardian deities, including Brahma and Sakka, empower Sujata’s p ay asa
further by infusing it with a vital essence or oja.
In Vedic Hindu ritual practice and mythology, any woman who consumes
the leftovers from a supercharged oblation of the type offered by Sujata would
surely become pregnant. The trope of pregnancy through oblation eating,
which finds a mythic prototype in the Vedic goddess Aditi, is played out in
epic literature and elsewhere.62 Sujata’s oblation would also have been seen
as conducive to fertility from an ancient medical point of view. Physiologi-
cally, many medical authorities held oja (Sanksrit ojas), which the directional
deities added to Sujata’s p
ayasa, to be the essence remaining after semen has
been distilled from the body’s tissues. Some call it the essence (s ara) of
semen.63 Its ingestion would have been akin to a procreative act.
In Sujata’s case, however, the aim of bearing a son has already been accom-
plished, and not, presumably, through the offices of the actual (as opposed to
intended) oblation recipient, the Bodhisatta. Furthermore, the imposter recipi-
ent of her ritual efforts consumes every bit of the potent oblation, full as it is of
fungible, fertility-promoting substances, and traps it within his own powerful
male body by means of his perfect sexual continence.64 No oblation leftovers
60
Doniger, Women, Androgynes, and Other Mythical Beasts, 20–28; Francis Zimmermann,
The Jungle and the Aroma of Meats: An Ecological Theme in Hindu Medicine (Berkeley: Univer-
sity of California Press, 1987), 221–22.
61
C. A. F. Rhys Davids translates this phrase as “working the milk in and in”; Buddhist Birth-
Stories: Jataka Tales; the Commentarial introduction entitled Nidanakatha; the story of the line-
age, trans. from V. Fausbo¨ll’s edition of the Pali text by T. W. Rhys Davids (London: Routledge,
1878), 184; Fausb€oll, J
ataka Together with Its Commentary, 91.
62
According to the Maitr ayaṇı¯ Saṃhita (I.6.12), Aditi gives birth to three sets of twin sons
after cooking three rice porridges (odana), offering them to the gods, and eating the leftovers. The
fourth time, she decides to eat the rice porridge before making an offering. The fourth set of twins
are aborted by their brothers. With intervention, they both survive MS I.6.12.; translated in Stepha-
nie Jamison, The Ravenous Hyenas and the Wounded Sun: Myth and Ritual in Ancient India (Ith-
aca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1991), 205.
63
Rahul Das, The Origin of the Life of a Human Being: Conception and the Female according
to Ancient Indian Medical and Sexological Literature, 1st ed. (Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 2003),
530–32; Zimmermann, Jungle and the Aroma of Meats, 177–78.
64
See Powers, Bull of a Man.
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358 Pregnant Words
are to be had. Sujata’s act of worship is impotent, at least as regards her ongoing
aims and desires as an auspicious young wife and mother.
When Sujata makes her offering no husband or male relative is present. She
and her young female servant face the strange presence under the tree on their
own. This gender dynamic, in which a female worshipper approaches a male
deity is, I suggest, also significant within the context of Vedic Hindu ritual tra-
ditions. Stephanie Jamison tells us that almost every action of the sacrificer’s
wife in Vedic Hindu rites increases the power of the ritual to bring about gener-
ativity and fecundity of all types. Many of her actions are charged with sexual
symbolism, as when, for instance, she symbolically copulates with the altar
broom65 or performs a repeated ritual action called “grasping from behind”
(anvarambhana).66 In Vedic Hinduism, women’s ritual roles are often tied to
their auspicious sexuality and power as reproducers.67 The Sujata story, in
which an auspicious wife and her maid are the ritual actors, exaggerates the tra-
ditional association of women with sexuality and fecundity in Vedic Hindu rit-
ual by doubling up on female agency and excluding male relatives from the rit-
ual entirely. It also, in casting the Bodhisattva as the consumer and neutralizer
of Sujata’s superpotent oblations, implies a Buddhist mastery of fecundity.
Sujata is traditionally held to be the first female lay devotee of the Buddha,
by virtue of the milk-rice she offers him just prior to his enlightenment. Hans
Penner is in line with traditional interpretations of the Sujata episode in
arguing that it acts as a template for the lay-monastic relationship, one in
which a gift is made to the renouncer in exchange for the promise of spiritual
merit.68 Penner’s structuralist interpretation emphasizes the polarity of house-
holder/renouncer, and the way this relationship is cemented through an asym-
metrical gift exchange in which the recipient benefits in this life, the donor in
the next. While this interpretation may work well for some versions of the epi-
sode, and certainly conforms with the Buddhist tradition of regarding Sujata
as the first Buddhist laywoman, Pali versions of this tale actually say nothing
about Sujata earning merit. Penner bases his larger study of the Buddha’s life
story on the Pali Tipiṭaka, but here he is forced to go outside of the Pali tradi-
tion to Asvaghoṣa’s Sanskrit Buddhacarita to find a reference to Sujata’s spir-
65
Jamison, Sacrificed Wife/Sacrificer’s Wife, 59–61.
66
In this action, she holds the sacrificer’s clothing or a sacrificial implement in order to infuse
ritual actions with her auspicious sexuality; ibid., 53–55.
67
Sujata is specifically said to perform her ritual worship of the tree spirit on the full-moon day,
a day when Brahmaṇas would also have been performing an important nonsanguinary srauta rit-
ual, the dar sap urṇam asa. This brahmaṇa ritual contains appeals to the Vedic deities to increase
fecundity, and ritual actions that, according to Jamison’s analysis, magically connect the sacrificer
and the ritual itself to the sexual and generative power of women; ibid., 42–62.
68
Penner, Rediscovering the Buddha, 202–3.
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History of Religions 359
itual reward.69 By attending to the particulars of each telling of Sujata, and
especially the differences between the Pali and Sanskrit Buddhist traditions, a
different Sujata from the one Penner and others describe swims up to the sur-
face. She is not, as the Pali commentators narrate it, the paradigmatic Bud-
dhist laywoman because she exchanges gifts for merit; rather, she is “typical”
(in the eye-rolling sense), because she looks upon a future Buddha not as a
precious source of wisdom, but as an agent of fertility.
Sujata’s ritual fails to proceed according to the usual Vedic Hindu patterns.
Rather than consuming a subtle portion and returning the rest to fuel the
cycles of terrestrial fecundity, the “deity” swallows up Sujata’s superpotent
oblations and traps them in his hypercontinent body, but not, just to further
prove his point, without first transforming them into something reminiscent of
funerary offerings.70 Here, commentators are not critiquing the efficacy of rit-
ual action in general, or questioning the power of rice and milk oblations to
nourish various types of beings, whether they be living or dead, gross or sub-
tle. Radical skepticism about ritual efficacy is sometimes present in Indian
Buddhist thought. In the Sujata story, however, the Buddha is said to live on
the potency of Sujata’s oblations for forty-nine days after his enlightenment.
The power of Sujata’s oblation is not in question. The commentators’ ironic
critique is aimed not at ritual insights about the fungibility of and equivalences
between essential fluids like semen, soma and milk, or the gods’ power to
sanctify offerings, but at underlying Vedic-Hindu assumptions about the
source of ritual power. In Pali commentaries, the Buddhist Great Being
trumps the local demigod, the Buddhist ascetic brings more vital power to the
ritual than the auspicious wife, and potent offerings serve to nourish a monk’s
ascetic practice rather than fill a woman’s womb. Contra Penner, then, we
should not read this Pali version of Sujata’s story as a paradigm of gift
exchange between laypersons and monastics, but rather as an attempt by Bud-
69
Although this excursion is not marked in the body of his text, Penner discloses his methodol-
ogy in his introduction to part 1 and cites his source in a footnote. The giving of alms to monks is,
of course, the primary mechanism for merit generation in Theravada Buddhism, a view that likely
dates to the earliest days of the community. See, for instance, Dı¯gha-nik aya ii.135. The point I
make here is that the version of the Sujata story that appears in the Nid anakatha and Mano-
rathap uraṇı¯ does not foreground this aspect of that famous encounter between the Bodhisatta and
the first Buddhist laywoman.
70
DeCaroli (Haunting the Buddha, 110–11) takes his analysis of the Sujata story in a some-
what different direction than I do, emphasizing the funerary nature of the forty-nine piṇḍas in the
Nidanakath a. Alexander von Rospatt suggested to me that “the piṇḍas serve . . . to reconstitute the
body of the Buddha just as they do in death rituals for the ancestors and hence can be understood
in terms of gestation and deification.” (personal e-mail communication, May 2, 2011). Even in the
brahmaṇa sraddha ritual, the symbolism of the piṇḍa is generative and embryological. As a cau-
tionary note, it should be noted, however, that piṇḍap ata is the standard Pali word for “alms food.”
Piṇḍa by itself is a standard metonymic term for food, not unlike the English use of “bite” or
“bread” to refer to food in general. Thanks to Bhikkhu Analayo and James Fitzgerald for remind-
ing me of these uses.
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360 Pregnant Words
dhist monastic storytellers to subvert Vedic-Hindu ritual patterns through dra-
matic irony, thereby gaining appropriate distance from non-Buddhist and
fecundist accounts of what can be taken to be auspicious and powerful.
apology through conceptual reframing: karma and child
initiation
Through characterization and irony, Buddhist narratives work to create a
sense of skeptical aloofness regarding the various popular rites of fertility and
child protection practiced in and around Buddhist sites and monasteries.
These rites likely included the propitiation of Harı¯tı¯, direct appeals to power-
ful and charismatic monks, the recitation of protective scriptural formulas,
and the worship of yakṣas associated with Buddhist sites or villages occupied
by Buddhist lay supporters. Buddhist story literature also describes another,
less uncomfortable, type of Buddhist fertility and child protection ritual, posi-
tioning it vis-a`-vis the monastic ethic by linking it to a prestigious monastic
ritual and embedding it in the logic of moral causality (karman).71 Here, I use
the term “conceptual reframing” to designate a discourse that explains certain
religious practices in terms of orthodox Buddhist doctrine regardless of how
they may have been commonly understood by actual practitioners. In two dif-
ferent avadanas featuring the elder Aniruddha,72 infertile couples are able to
conceive only after committing any child that might be born to Aniruddha’s
care to serve as his “following-after-ascetic” (pa scacchramaṇa, hereafter
translated as “monastic servant”), a low-status monastic initiate who serves as
attendant to a senior monk.73 Other tales of pre-natal pledging include the ini-
71
It is in Strong’s stunning book on the elder Upagupta that I first learned of the Indic Buddhist
practice of initiating children before birth. I am indebted to his book for getting me started on this
topic and am especially grateful for nn. 6–9 (Legend and Cult of Upagupta, 59).
72
Aniruddha (Pali: Anuruddha), one of the ten principal disciples of the Buddha and a member
akya clan, is famous for his mastery of the divine eye and his cultivation of the four founda-
of the S
tions of mindfulness. In a number of jataka tales, he is identified with Sakka, the lord of the heaven
of the thirty-three. He also seems to have been particularly magnetic and handsome for, in many
narratives, women are drawn to him. For a summary of Pali accounts of Anuruddha, see Nyanapo-
nika and Hecker, Great Disciples of the Buddha, 183–210.
73
The “following-after-ascetic” (pasc _
acchramaṇa) is described at Anguttara Nikaya iii.137
and in the av adana literature as a low-rank servant and student, often very young, who accompanies
a senior monk on begging rounds to carry the alms bowl, and to alert his master should he be in dan-
ger of breaking a vow. Schopen (“New Hat for Harı¯tı¯”) is of the opinion that the term pa sc
acchra-
maṇa is better translated as “attending menial” or “menial” because the basic meaning of sramaṇa
is “laboring” or “exerting effort” and those designated as such seem to often have been young boys
initiated for the purpose of performing menial tasks around the monastery. For a more thorough
discussion of the ritual status of children in Indian Buddhist monasteries, see Amy Paris Langen-
berg, “Scarecrows, Upasakas, Fetuses, and Other Child Monastics in Middle Period Indian Bud-
dhism,” in Little Buddhas: Children and Childhood in Buddhist Texts and Traditions, ed. Vanessa
Sasson (New York: Oxford University Press, 2013), 43–74. I have chosen to translate this term as
“following-after-ascetic” because in Buddhist contexts sramaṇa generally means simply “monk,”
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History of Religions 361
_
tiation stories of Upagupta,74 Dhı¯tika,75 and Sangharakṣita, 76
a Karmasataka
story about a young disciple of Sariputra’s called “Little Eye,”77 and a story
from the Upagupta cycle involving twin tigers reborn in the womb of a
brahmaṇı¯ woman.78 A similar pattern is repeated in all such stories (although
infertility or childhood illness is not explicitly at issue in every example): a
lone senior monk approaches a household equipped with the clairvoyant
knowledge about the spiritual potential of the family but unaccompanied by a
monastic servant or pasc acchramaṇa. In response, the householder pledges his
unborn child to serve the elder as his pa sc
acchramaṇa. The elder then empha-
sizes the solemn nature of this vow. The monk is fed. The child is born and
grows up. When the child is about seven the elder returns to claim him as his
own monastic servant.79 Ritually speaking, the senior monk assumes a position
parallel to that of Harı¯tı¯ in these stories. Offerings are made to him in the
child’s name in return, it is implied, for safe passage through pregnancy, birth,
and early childhood, but he retains special and enduring rights over the child.80
The Sumanas Avad ana from the Avad sataka (second century CE),81 is
ana
“renouncer,” or “ascetic.” Also, while these boys’ status in the monastery was undoubtedly low,
they were nonetheless official members of the monastic community.
74
Divyavad ana 26; see E. B. Cowell and R. A. Neil, eds., The Divy avad
ana, a Collection of
Early Buddhist Legends (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1886), 351–556.
75
Dhı¯tika’s ordination story is found in the Asokar
ajavad
ana, Taisho 2042 (50): 126a–b, and
translated in Strong, Legend and Cult of Upagupta, 134–35.
76
Divyavad ana 23; see Cowell and Neil, Divy avadana, a Collection, 329–31.
77
A story about a little dog that loves the elder Sariputra and becomes his following-after-
ascetic after being reborn in his former mistress’s womb is found at Karmasataka 2, Kanjur, Derge
mdo sde Ha 5b.7, and summarized in Leon Feer, “Le Karma-c¸ataka,” Journal Asiatique 17
(1901): 63–64.
78
This story occurs in the Chinese Asokar aj
avadana. Upagupta finds the two starving cubs
then causes them to be reborn in the house of a brahmin family. The family pledges one of the
twins to Upagupta. The other twin does not wish to be left alone, however. Upagupta initates both
boys at age eight: Taisho 2042 (50) 121b-22b; translated in Strong, Legend and Cult of Upagupta,
134.
79
Seven years, or old enough to scare crows, is the minimum age for Buddhist initiation
according to the Vinaya. For a full discussion of the crow-scaring age rule, see Langenberg,
“Scarecrows, Upasakas, Fetuses, and Other Child Monastics.”
80
Two reliquary inscriptions from the San˜chı¯ and Andheri Topes in Central India mention
Haritı¯putasa (“belonging to the son of Haritı¯), which could mean, as Quagliotti suggests, that the
entombed was a devotee or ward of the goddess. Quagliotti, “An Inscribed Image of Harı¯tı¯,” 54.
Alexander Cunningham, The Bhilsa Topes or Buddhist Monuments of Central India (Varanasi:
Indological Book House, 1966), 185, 226.
81
Avad anasataka 82. An edition of the Sanskrit text based on Nepalese manuscripts with refer-
ence to both the Tibetan and Chinese translations, can be found in J. Speyer, Avad anac¸ataka:
A Century of Edifying Tales Belonging to the Hı¯nay ana, 1st Indian ed. (Delhi: Motilal Banarsi-
dass, 1992); see also Parasurama Vaidya, Avad
ana-Sataka (Darbhanga: Mithila Institute of Post-
graduate Studies and Research in Sanskrit Learning, 1958). Vaidya’s edition is a largely a rework-
ing of Speyer. A shorter version of the story of Sumanas is also found at Karma sataka 10. The
Sumanas Avad ana is discussed as an example of child initiation in Langenberg, “Scarecrows,
Upasakas, Fetuses, and Other Child Monastics.” Schopen’s “New Hat for Harı¯tı¯” covers some of
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362 Pregnant Words
a particularly interesting example of this Buddhist narrative trope.82 It tells of a
wealthy householder in Sr avastı¯ who marries a woman from a suitable family.
He is delighted by her, enjoys her, and makes love to her. Sons are born, but
they all die. The elder Aniruddha, one of the Buddha’s senior disciples, is a reg-
ular visitor in that home. One day, a thought occurs to the saddened house-
holder: “The elder Aniruddha is called ‘the great master [whose past virtuous
deeds] are ripe.’ I will make a proposal to him as follows: if a son is born to me,
I will give that son to him as a monastic servant (pa acchramaṇa).”83 Having
sc
approached Aniruddha with a food offering (piṇḍaka), the childless house-
holder makes his request. Aniruddha replies, “So be it,” and then, perhaps
recalling the strong bonds of parenthood, adds, “but remember your promise.”
In due time, the householder’s wife becomes pregnant and a beautiful and
special boy baby is born. His birth ceremony (j atimaha) is performed, and he
is named Sumanas (Fair-minded). Aniruddha is respectfully summoned and
the boy is ritually “returned” (niry atita), a word choice indicating that with the
symbolic offering of the boy, a debt has been paid.84 Aniruddha then provides
red-brown robes (k aṣ aṇi), as is the duty of a monastic preceptor, and wishes
ay
the child a long life. The boy remains with his parents until age seven, at which
point he is entrusted to the care of Aniruddha. Aniruddha causes him to go forth
and invests him with the power of mental focus (manasik ara). Sumanas prac-
tices hard and soon realizes the unstable nature of cyclic existence. He destroys
all the psychic poisons (klesa) and achieves sainthood.85
In another avad ana collection known as the Karma sataka is found a similar
story involving, again, the elder Aniruddha, and a boy called Purṇa. A rich but
avastı¯ is distraught over the sterility of his marriage.
childless householder in Sr
The elder Aniruddha realizes that this childless householder is destined to be
converted by a sr avaka and not by the Buddha himself. After coming to his
house to preach the dharma many times, Aniruddha arrives one day absolutely
the same ground as the current article, including the Sumanas Avad ana and the role of Harı¯tı¯ as
child protector in monastic contexts.
82
In the Pali tradition of the Dhammapadaṭṭhakath a, Aniruddha and Sumanas, there known as
Anuruddha and Sumana, were also destined to be linked as master and student. In this version of
the story, Sumana is initiated as a young boy of seven, but we hear nothing of infertility, child pro-
tection, or prenatal pledging. See Buddhaghosa, Buddhist Legends, trans. Eugene Watson Burlin-
game, vol. 3, Harvard Oriental Series 28–30 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1921),
XXV.12c.
83
“ayaṃ sthaviraniruddha vipakamahesakhyaḥ. etaṃ tavadayaciṣyate yadi me putro jayate
asya pasacchramaṇaṃ dasyami”; Speyer, Avad anac¸ataka, 67, lines 10–11.
84
This word is sometimes used in donative inscriptions. Consider, for instance, “savatrateṇa
niyatito vihare matapitu puyae devadato”; see Konow, Kharoshṭhı¯ Inscriptions, 100 (xxxvii, 6).
I am grateful to Jason Neelis for alerting me to this usage.
85
Speyer, Avad anac¸ataka, 68, line 3, through 69, line 2; Vaidya, Avad
ana-Sataka, 204, lines
7–20.
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History of Religions 363
alone, which appalls the householder. Aniruddha explains that, while he does
not currently have a monastic attendant to accompany him on his begging
rounds, it is in the householder’s power to furnish him with one. The house-
holder responds that should a son be born to him, he will give him gladly.
Aniruddha warns him not to forget the promise. A little later, the wife of the
householder becomes pregnant and has a son who receives the name Purṇa
(full, accomplished, complete) since his parents’ wish has been fulfilled.86
The child is subsequently initiated into the Buddhist monastic community.
Though the dominant explanation for infertility and miscarriage in the
ancient South Asian context references ambivalent, potentially infantophagic
spirits like Harı¯tı¯, Buddhist avad
anas appeal mainly to karman as a causal
explanation for these events. The “stories of the past” (atı¯tavastu) for the
avad anas discussed above describe how the children’s past deeds enable them
to encounter a teacher in the dharma. Thus, the dominant logic of these tales
indicates that a child’s good luck at entering a human womb and surviving
gestation, birth, and childhood has little to do with a senior monk’s influence
over malign beings but everything to do with his own past virtuous actions.
Whatever good there is in the child’s past karma has led him safely through
the dangers of the birth process into the protective embrace of the Buddhist
sangha, where he will experience a state of security more profound than what
his own family could hope to offer him. His parents have only to stand back
and allow it. According to the logic of these stories, pledging a fetus or pre-
committing a child not yet conceived to the monastery is the ultimate act of
child protection, one that protects not from temporary illness or simple death,
but from something much worse: the suffering that comes from ignorance and
desire and repeated death. Just as the Vedic life cycle rites, or saṃsk aras,
remove what Manu calls the baijika and g arbhika impurity (the impurity that
comes from seed and womb),87 the initiation of a child ritually and symboli-
cally removes the taint of the mental poisons (kle sa).88 This conceptual
reframing of what desperate childless laypeople likely interpreted simply as
an effective ritual of child protection explains the protective capacities of
monastic ritual in a manner that appeals not to magic or supernatural entities,
but to basic Buddhist principles such as the law of cause and effect or the role
of desire, hatred, and ignorance in causing suffering.
86
Kanjur, Derge mdo sde, Ha 11a.3, and summarized in Feer, “Le Karma-c¸ataka,” 58–57.
87
Manusmṛti 1.27.
88
For a fuller discussion of possible continuities between Vedic-Hindu life cycle rites and Bud-
dhist initiation, see Langenberg, “Scarecrows, Upasakas, Fetuses, and Other Child Monastics.”
John Strong makes the argument that the ritual of ordination is properly understood as a culmina-
tion, rather than a beginning; that it bestows not just the status of monkhood, but of ideal monk-
hood, that is arhatship. It is, in effect, a ritualization of arhatship. Strong, Legend and Cult of Upa-
gupta, 86–89.
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364 Pregnant Words
In general, Buddhist narratives often express skepticism about super-
natural intercessions in the processes of birth by giving pride of place to
quasi-naturalistic explanations of conception. Throughout Sanskrit Buddhist
literature, including avad ana, vinaya, abhidharma, and s utra, we find the
authoritative advocacy of an explanation for conception that grants no purchase
to gods and semidivine beings. A common Buddhist formulation teaches that
successful conception results from the presence of semen, blood, a healthy
fertile womb, and a transmigrating being.89 In a repeated stock passage from
the avad ana literature that describes the plight of infertile couples, this quasi-
naturalistic explanation is preferred while the idea of interfering spirit deities
is dismissed as superstition:
[Despite] making love, no son or daughter was born to [the householder]. With his
head in his hands, he brooded: “My household is endowed with many blessings. But I
have no son, no daughter. After my death, saying ‘He is childless,’ they will take
everything from me and it will become the king’s property.” He is told by ascetics
and priests, and friendly, well-meaning relatives: “Make a request to the deity. It is
believed by many that when one propitiates [the deity], sons and daughters are born.”
It is not so. If it were so, everyone would have one thousand sons, and they all would
be like cakravartin kings. Moreover, daughters and sons are born when three factors
come together. Which three? The fluids of the mother and father have fallen simulta-
neously, the mother is in a fertile period, and a transmigrating being has approached.
Sons and daughters are born if these three factors come together.90
The dismissive tone of this passage indicates that the quasi-naturalistic expla-
nation of conception is the more intellectually prestigious one in Buddhist
monastic culture, however popular magical explanations or appeals to the
supernatural might be. Though this passage does not occur in any of the
pledging stories cited above, it occurs in other stories from the collections in
which the pledging stories occur, and so share with them the same narrative
space.
A passage from the Abhidharma-Mah avibhaṣ
a, one of the foundational
abhidharma compendiums of the Sarvastivadan school, does, however, link
healthy pregnancies and births with the magical qualities of Buddhist initia-
89
For instance, the Mah ataṇh
asankhaya Sutta from the Majjhima-nik aya and the Mah anid
ana
Sutta from the Dı¯gha-nik aya. The Garbh avakr
antisutra, found in the Kṣudrakavastu and the
Ratnak uṭa collection, also contains this explanation of conception.
90
Vaidya, Avad
ana-Sataka, 299. Vaidya compiled this and other common stock passages in an
appendix (labeled punaḥ punaḥ prayukt anaṃ kathaṃsan
aṃ sucı¯) to his addition of the Avad
ana-
ataka, although he doesn’t give citations to specific avad anas. Among the places in his edition
where something close to this passage can be found are Avad ana sataka 3, 7, lines 10–12, and
Avad anasataka 21, 56, lines 20–30. Another of this type of statement can be can be found in
Divy avadana 1, Koṭikarṇavad ana. See Cowell and Neil, Divy avadana, a Collection, 1.
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History of Religions 365
tion. The topic of precommitting unborn children or infants is raised within
the context of a discussion of whether one must produce the vocal act oneself
in order legitimately to take refuge. When the mother accepts “refuge and dis-
cipline” on behalf of a child “not yet born or too small,” this is an example of
one person producing the vocal act of refuge for another. Is it valid? No,
according to this text: “He [i.e., the child] obtains neither refuge nor disci-
pline, not being equipped with thought.” However this practice is still recom-
mended for several reasons. One reason involves its effect on the world of
gods and spirits: “If the mother or other people take refuge and discipline for
the infant, it is also the case that the gods and spirits protect the child, so that
since he has taken refuge, the gods and spirits who respect the [Three] Jewels
would protect the baby and see to it that he doesn’t die or become sick.”91
According to the Abhidharma-Mah avibhaṣ
a, then, monks are able to create a
barrier through the ritual acts of refuge and initiation, protecting the infant
from certain “gods and spirits” (the ones, like Harı¯tı¯, who can be made to
respect the Buddha, dharma, and sangha). Still, even this Mah avibhaṣa pas-
sage supplements its argument that taking refuge and discipline protects a
fetus from child-snatching deities and spirits with the more orthodox assertion
that the fetus’s good deeds in past lives protect it in utero and lead to its benefi-
cial and fortunate relationship with the Three Jewels. It also suggests that,
from a practical standpoint, child initiation is beneficial because it provides
parents moral leverage when children misbehave later in life.92
These various moves to interpret through the lens of Buddhist doctrine (and
thereby legitimize) rituals related to fetal and child protection that might other-
wise be interpreted as monastic meddling in domestic matters indirectly sug-
gests that commentators and storytellers wished to justify, or apologize for the
practice of child pledging. In one instance, an avad ana account actually
expresses subtle monastic discomfort with child pledging more directly in the
form of a multivalent and acerbic comment by the crusty S ariputra during
negotiations for his pa sc
acchramaṇa, Sa_ngharakṣita, found at Divy avadana
23. When the devout householder Buddharakṣita expresses surprise that
ariputra has come to his house alone, with no monastic attendant trailing
S
behind (a deliberate choice on the part of Sariputra, of course), the elder retorts,
“Householder, do you think our monastic attendants (pa scacchramaṇa) come
from spreading k asa grass or ku
sa grass? The monastic attendants we have we
get from people like you.”93
91
Translated from the French of Louis de la Vallee Poussin, “Documents d’Abhidharma, Part
2,” Me langes Chinois de Bouddhiques 1 (1932): 83–84.
92
Ibid., 83.
93
“gṛhapate, kimasmakaṃ kasadhanadva kusadhanadva pascacchramaṇa bhavanti? api tu ye
bhavadvidhanaṃ sakasallabhyante, asmakaṃ te pascacchramaṇa bhavant”; Cowell and Neil,
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366 Pregnant Words
This quip can be read in at least two ways. On the one hand, S ariputra
seems to be alluding to the sorts of rituals laypeople perform prior to, during,
and after the birth of a child. Many of these involve spreading ku sa grass
around the ritual area. We monks don’t do these sorts of things, Sariputra says,
because we are not in the business of having children. But Sariputra could also
be referring to spreading grass on the seat of meditation or instruction. Boris
Oguibenine points out that references to arranging a seat (typically of grass)
for a new disciple connotes his imminent initiation and instruction.94 In this
reading, Sariputra’s comment would mean something like “What, stupid, do
you think children come from understanding and practicing the Buddhist
teachings?” Either of the two possibilities would indicate S ariputra’s uncom-
fortable awareness of the sangha’s dependence on the reproductive capacities
of the laity.95 Verbally skilled, Sariputra lets slip a peevish comment that
expresses his impatience with this unsuitable yet necessary foray into the
householder’s business of reproduction.
ariputra’s impatience appears to be justified. While pious, the house-
S
holders depicted in Buddhist pledging stories are of dubious understanding.
Narrators portray a situation in which it is unclear whether householders initiate
their sons out of an earnest faith in the monastic ethical worldview, or because
they regarded Buddhist elders as providers of protective charms and powerful
rituals. John Strong trenchantly observes that, in some of these stories, parents
“could give birth to a live son, ironically, only by giving him up to the Sangha
and thereby tapping the powers of the monks, and through them the powers of
benevolent deities.”96 Aniruddha’s warning to Sumanas’s father to “remember
his promise” is suggestive of his awareness that parents might renege or vacil-
late when the time for handing over the child actually arrives. The merchant,
Gupta reneges on his agreement with the elder S aṇakavasin several times
before finally relinquishing his third-born son, Upagupta.97 In other such narra-
tives, parents sometimes actually terminate the arrangement altogether. After
Divy avadana, a Collection, 330. I would like to acknowledge James Fitzgerald’s invaluable assis-
tance in puzzling out this passage.
94
Boris Oguibenine, “From a Vedic Ritual to the Buddhist Practice of Initiation into the Doc-
trine,” in Buddhist Studies Ancient and Modern, ed. Phillip Denwood and Alexander Piatigorsky
(London: Curzon, 1983), 107–23.
95
Both seat arranging and the first time instruction of a new disciple are designated by causa-
tive forms of the Sanskrit verb prajn˜a (“to instruct”). Note also the punning, with the words
kasadh ana in the first line echoed in reverse in the second, vidh
an asat, which seems to pho-
am sak
nologically link householder “types” with all that useless busyness about grass. On the other hand,
Alex Hsua has pointed out that the two interpretations I offer here can be deployed together. If both
are kept in mind simultaneously, S ariputra’s comment came be paraphrased as “When you guys
spread the grass, you get babies; when we spread the grass, we get understanding” (personal com-
munication, November 21, 2012).
96
Strong, Legend and Cult of Upagupta, 59.
97
Ibid.
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History of Religions 367
being collected at the required time by Aniruddha and taken to the monastery,
for instance, little P
urṇa works so hard at his duties that he becomes exhausted
and falls ill. With Aniruddha’s permission, the parents collect their sick boy
and bring him home to be nursed. He is said to recover, convert his family to
Buddhism, and become an arhat, but his parents do not return him to monastic
life. Instead, shortly thereafter, he enters nirvaṇa, here a seemingly euphemistic
reference to death.98
The accounts of child pledging found in Buddhist avad ana literature
describe what appear to be rituals of fetal and child protection based on a cen-
trally important Buddhist monastic ritual, namely initiation. The benefits and
efficacy of this ritual are explained in this literature according to the logic of
moral causality (karman). Buddhist elders and the unborn encounter one
another in the dharma because past actions make it inevitable. Buddhist initia-
tion provides protection only insofar as it cleanses the child’s mind of poisons.
Textual references to persistent lay belief in supernatural beings and their
power to disrupt pregnancies indicate, however, that Buddhist storytellers
were aware of disparities in lay and monastic accounts of these ritual inter-
changes. Narrative references to parental ambivalence around losing sons to
the monastery are also indicative of these disparities between lay and monas-
tic perspectives on prenatal pledging. The occasional note of distaste or con-
descension in reference to monks’ involvement in such matters adds further
complexity to these stories. In all of these ways, Buddhist avadanists har-
nessed their narrative powers to the task of conceptually reframing in order to
apologize for fertility and child protection rituals performed in a Buddhist
idiom.
conclusion: pregnant words
Many normative Indian Buddhist writings from the period in question voice a
critique of the biologically defined family as the basis of social life, an abhor-
rence of sexuality, and a distaste for childbearing. Beautiful young women are
foul sacks of dung. The home is cramped and squalid. The wife is best viewed
as a demoness. The womb is filthy. The child is a fetter. The Buddhist ascetic
is, therefore, homeless. Vinaya scholars like Gregory Schopen and Shayne
Clarke, on the other hand, have documented Indian monks’ and nuns’ ongo-
ing involvement with natal family. Robert DeCaroli, Richard Cohen, and
others have argued that Buddhist monks were enmeshed in local cults, which
often sought to promote the fertility of the land and the fecundity of wives and
livestock. None of these scholars have asserted that involvement in family obli-
gations and local religion implies a simultaneous abandonment of sramaṇa atti-
98
Karma
sataka 3; Feer, “Le Karma-c¸ataka,” 65.
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368 Pregnant Words
tudes toward sexuality and reproduction. On the contrary, some have suggested
that the Buddhist sangha’s prosperity, popularity, and social relevance spurred
the retrenchment of ascetic rigor that many scholars now see as characteristic
of the early Mahayana period.99 The narrative strategies discussed here, in par-
ticular distancing and apology, can be seen as symptomatic of emerging fault
lines within the monastic milieu during the middle period of Indian Buddhism,
areas of tension between the renunciatory values that inspired its ascetic wing,
and the wellfleshed, full-blooded religious culture that ensured its continued
prosperity.
Buddhist literature and material remains testify to the fact that during, the
last few centuries of the last era and the first three or four centuries of the pre-
sent one, Indian monastic Buddhists put down deep roots in the communities in
which they lived and established consistent and diverse sources of patronage.
But for a group whose most authoritative values were ascetic, securing the
cooperation and loyalty of lay patrons committed to generating wealth, garner-
ing political power, and producing children required a massive creative out-
pouring. Here, I have suggested that Indian Buddhist institutions straddled the
ideal of renunciation and the fecundist social ethic of the laity in part by encour-
aging storytellers to explain, excuse, make fun of, and reinterpret what men
and women actually did in their homes, monasteries, and places of worship. In
particular, it would have been very difficult, without the help of the bards, for a
monastic community with ascetic roots and core values to make room for the
lushly symbolic and celebratory ritualism surrounding matters of sexuality,
childbirth, child protection, and childhood in Vedic and village Hinduism. Bud-
dhist storytellers, however, were able to put the piquant details of childbearing
and its attendant ritual practices to excellent use. Their sarcastic humor and
sense of irony apologized for Buddhists’ meddling in matters of sexuality and
childbearing while keeping open the option of doing it again. Their feats of
conceptual reframing and subtle expressions of disapproval neutralized the
taint of sexuality and childbearing without calling for a disadvantageous mora-
torium on monastic involvement in vital lay concerns around fertility and infant
survival. Their complex characterizations (the maternal infantophage, the mur-
derous midwife, the generative monk) allowed Buddhist monks and Buddhist
laypeople to imagine how the concerns of celibate ascetic and householder
might dovetail in mutually advantageous ways.
Middle period Indian Buddhist monks’ struggle to define themselves against
female fecundity while also involving themselves in female fecundity has its
parallels in many other religious traditions. Male monastic communities and
male institutional elites are never as sequestered from the concerns of the laity
99
See, e.g., Gregory Schopen, “Mahayana,” in Encyclopedia of Buddhism, ed. Robert Buswell
(New York: Macmillan Reference USA–Thomson Gale, 2004).
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History of Religions 369
and reproduction as they sometimes purport to be. Their attempts to reconcile
themselves to this inevitable entanglement in matters related to lay reproductiv-
ity are often most persuasively articulated by the tellers of religious stories.
Deft at imagining complex characters, ironic situations, and new ways of
understanding old rituals, Buddhist monastic storytellers employed strategies
like distancing and apology to include without condoning the unorthoprax,
affirming the centrality of monasticism while simultaneously accommodating
and marginalizing the fecundist rites of the laity.
Auburn University
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