Courting Hindustan Madhur Gupta: Free Read | Chapter 1
The Consuming Passions of Iconic Women Performers in India
…Black was my hair
—the color of bees—
& curled at the tips;
with age, it looked like coarse hemp.
The truth of the Truth-speaker’s words
doesn’t change.
Like a sheet of gold, well-burnished,
my body was splendid.
Now it’s covered with very fine wrinkles.
The truth of the Truth-speaker’s words
doesn’t change.
Such was this physical heap,
now:
A house with its plaster all fallen off.
The truth of the Truth-speaker’s words doesn’t change…
What is this ‘truth of the Truth-speaker’? Who is the ‘Truth-speaker’? What were the speaker’s words? Initially, the mind dwells on plenty such musings but then the cloud of mysticism clears and one focusses on the golden aura of this poetess who sojourns these mystical plains, talking of lost beauty, wealth and passions. Such is the story of Amrapali, a courtesan par excellence who once had kings and kingdoms at her feet but gave it all up to seek the ultimate truth. In Therigatha, a Buddhist text—the ninth book of the Khuddaka Nikaya, consisting of 73 poems, 522 stanzas in all— early nuns (bhikkhunis) have recounted their struggles and accomplishments along the road to arahantship and spoken of the courtesan, Amrapali, with heartbreaking honesty and beauty. The book reveals the deeply human side of this extraordinary woman who was so enticing in her charms that she could be called the daughter of the tempting Mara who tried to seduce Prince Siddhartha (Gautama Buddha) with visions of beautiful women. This story serves as an inspiring reminder of our own potential to follow in the footsteps of enlightenment. Buddha’s Ambapalika Sutta, too speaks of Ambapali—better known as Amrapali—who, at the pinnacle of her reign as a nagarvadhu, decided to give up her luxurious life and follow the Buddha.
Amrapali wasn’t always the captivating goddess of beauty, the superlative dancer or the exalted courtesan of Vesali that she went on to become. Born to unknown parentage around 600–500 bce, she was found by a gardener at the foot of a mango tree. Thus etymologically, the name Amrapali— amra being the Prakrit and Sanskrit term for mango and pali stemming from the word pallawa and corresponding to sprouting of tender leaves—came to be.
Amrapali’s hometown, Vesali (or Vaishali) was located in present-day Bihar and was the capital city of the Vajjian Confederacy or Vrijji Mahajanapada. A prime example of one of the first republics around the globe, Vesali was also the cradle for the warrior clan of Licchavis—with whom Amrapali competed, in her later days, to gain the attention of Buddha.
Although Amrapali’s early childhood remains clouded in mystery, some oral retellings mention that she was brought up by a natyachar and his dancer wife. Her adoptive father never wanted her to learn dance, let alone present a full-fledged concert. Several folktales insinuate that the child prodigy learnt and mastered her art by sheer osmosis of what her parents practised and taught to other ganikas. Amrapali grew up to be a charming, talented and graceful maiden, gaining mastery over the Chatushashti Kalas, the 64 kinds of arts described in detail in the Kamasutra by Rishi Vatsyayana. It is believed that her beauty swelled with such intensity as she reached adolescence that a feudal lord by the name of Mahanaman, enchanted to no end by the young Amrapali, abandoned his kingdom and moved to Ambara village, a small hamlet in Vesali to be close to her. Her acumen was not just restricted to her talents. Exceptionally ahead of her times in feminist sensibilities, with a fierce outlook towards life, Amrapali could be one of the first women’s rights activist, as she negated gender inequalities and stigmas in many ways. One cannot help but agree that living the life of a pioneer is a wearisome path to tread, especially with the demanding task of breaking regressive social norms, trudging a clearer path for the future generations.
Amrapali was also a victim of her own talents. A young girl, full of dreams for her future, the adolescent was deeply in love with Pushpkumar, her childhood beau, wishing to marry him soon. But she had no inkling of the storm that was about to ravage her peaceful life.
Away from the realm of Amrapali’s existence, high-level political movements were unfolding at the centre of Vrijji Mahajanapada. Manudev elected by an electoral college consisting of princes and nobles from the Kshatriya clans, including the Licchavis, was coronated as king. He was known for his insatiable carnal desires and was constantly on the lookout for young and petite damsels. As per the Jatak Kathas, Manudev once caught a fleeting glimpse of Amrapali at a dance recital. He was so overpowered by the desire to possess her that he ordered the assassination of Pushpkumar on the day of their wedding. According to Therigatha (verses 206–7), Amrapali in her last birth was supposedly born in the time of Sikhī Buddha and had entered the Order of the Buddha. The same verses also elaborate on how she accompanied the other bhikkhunis on a pilgrimage to pay tribute to a shrine, despite the fact that she was a novice. It was during this cortège that an arahant Theri spit in the stupa’s courtyard. Amrapali, on seeing the dribbling, called the person who did this a ‘harlot’, not knowing who had made the blunder. It is said that she had to experience such tragedies in this reincarnation as a result of this comment. Many young princes and noblemen vied to have Amrapali’s hand, sometimes the conflicts even led to mortal feuds.
King Manudev, advancing his malicious plot to possess her, ordained in an official declaration in the Court of Elders that Amrapali be declared a nagarvadhu to avoid these growing hostilities among the noble gentry. Ever the champion of women liberation, Amrapali fought tooth and nail to break free of this regressive custom which deprived young women of the right to have a family, only to be forced into the murky realm of erotic pleasures. It must be noted that it was unheard of in the ancient Indian society for anyone, let alone a woman, to oppose the canons of political and religious establishments. Amrapali’s opposition caused colossal panic in the male-dominated Court of Elders and the ancient society of Vesali at large. The hue and cry of a woman refuting the decision taken by the head of state and the council portrayed them as weak. The issue escalated to an anarchic level and threatened the very existence of political stability in the state. Shattered by the death of Pushpkumar and enraged that she was unable to save her love, Amrapali reluctantly consented with the court’s decision to maintain the harmony of her people and to avert any further massacre on her account. But the reservoir of melancholic bitterness and hatred that Amrapali now amassed in her broken heart would rupture against the Licchavis (ruled by its sovereign, Manudev), in the future and would bring forth much shame for this brutal clan. Amrapali had accepted the council’s decision under the condition that they fulfilled her five demands: she would be provided with a house in the best locality; only one patron would be allowed inside her premises at a time; her fee would be 50 karshapanas; if there were a general search for an enemy or a culprit her house would be inspected only by the seventh day; and no watch would be kept on persons entering and leaving her house. The council accepted her terms and thus Amrapali was anointed as the mistress of Vesali. As the rajanartiki of Vesali, Amrapali entertained several nobles.
She was no ordinary woman of pleasure. Mistress of almost the entire kingdom, she had the right to choose her lovers, but could not be committed to any one man. Bestowed with several titles—including that of Janpad Kalyani, given to the most beautiful and talented girl of the kingdom for a period of seven years—Amrapali’s price was high and her treasury grew much larger than that of some kings. Her bedchamber, it is said, was known as swapna kakshikha, or the chamber of dreams, and it truly was so for many men who wanted to satiate their erotic desires. For Amrapali, however, it was equivalent to a golden cage. She was like a lotus in a muddy pond, her physical being was surrounded by uncultivated desires but her spiritual self remained untouched from any impurities. Along with being one of the most gorgeous women in Vesali and a dancer par excellence, her magnanimity and interventions towards uplifting the socially downtrodden were undisputed and carried on even as she reigned the courts of the monarchs. Unlucky in love, Amrapali had to submit to the desires of a patriarchal society where she was treated no more than an extremely valuable object of luxury. However, soon the flickering flame of her amorous desires was reignited when Bimbisara entered her life.
King Bimbisara, also addressed as Seniya or Shrenika in several Jain texts, was the king of Magadha. He lived from 543–491 bce and belonged to the Haryanka dynasty. Known for his cultural achievements, Bimbisara was a great friend and protector of the Buddha. According to Hiuen Tsang (the famous Chinese Buddhist monk, scholar, traveller and translator), Bimbisara built the city of Rajgir (Rajagriha), famous in Buddhist writings. A culturally evolved being, Bimbisara was an excellent musician and valued the importance of art and culture. He showcased a much culturally advanced society of ancient India. Bimbisara’s reign finds mention in Mahavagga, which also narrates the hostility between Magadha and the republic of Vesali. Bimbisara, who was a keen administrator, wanted to learn the intricacies of governing a democratic establishment like Vesali. In oral historical traditions, one can find two accounts of how Bimbisara and Amrapali found themselves in each other’s presence. The first retelling of this mythical legend states that the tales of Amrapali’s beauty and talent soon reached far and wide, across the mahajanapadas. Bimbisara was enamoured by these stories and wished to see her. He attacked Vesali and then took refuge in Amrapali’s residence itself. As a musician par excellence he would often sing to her. In due course, the two fell deeply in love with each other.
It was but a few weeks later that Amrapali got to learn of Bimbisara’s true identity. Angered, she asked him to call off the war and leave immediately. Totally smitten by Amrapali, Bimbisara readily agreed to her wishes. He did not care that it made him seem like a coward in the eyes of the residents of Vesali. In the coming months, Amrapali bore Bimbisara a son, who she named Vimala Kondanna.
The second retelling of the meeting between the king and the courtesan in oral mythology mentions that on hearing about the beauty and charms of Amrapali, Bimbisara sought to get a courtesan of such calibre for his own city of Rajgir. Bimbisara, in disguise, entered the limits of Vesali and approached Amrapali’s residence as a patron. The succeeding plot remains largely similar to the first retelling, where the courtesan was deeply impressed by the disguised king’s musical talents and having fallen in love with him, bore him a son. This son later, joined the Buddhist Sangha and attained arhantship. When Bimbisara revealed his true identity to Amrapali, feeling cheated by the monarch of an enemy state, she asked the imposter to leave her city immediately. A broken Bimbisara returned to Magadha but gave due public recognition to his son and his significant other. In retrospect, this recognition caused backlash for Amrapali as the people of Vesali were not too happy about this relationship. According to Mahāvaṃsa, an epic poem written in the Pali language around fifth century ce, Ajatashatru, son of King Bimbisara forcefully took over the kingdom of Magadha from his father and imprisoned him. Both 3 It is said that it was a sermon preached by Vimala later in life that helped Amrapali develop insight and gain arahantship as per Therigatha, verse 207.
Jain and Buddhist traditions offer a slight variation on the details of Bimbisara’s decline and ultimate demise. According to the Jain tradition, once Ajatashatru asked his mother, Queen Chellana, whether she had ever seen a father as loving and caring as Bimbisara. In response to this, his mother narrated the story of Bimbisara looking after young Ajatashatru when he had fallen sick as a newborn. Moved by this tale, Ajatashatru then grabbed up a hatchet and rushed to the dungeon to release his father by smashing all the iron shackles himself. However, when Bimbisara noticed him entering with a hatchet in his grasp, he mistook Ajatashatru for an assassin and decided that it would be better if he ended his life with his own hands. At once, Bimbisara removed the talaputa poison from his ring, closed his eyes and chanted ‘Kevli pannato Dhammam saranam pavajyami (I seek refuge in the dharma taught by the kevlins or omniscient),’ and swallowed the poison, thus ending his life.
Buddhist scriptures differ slightly from this account, saying that Ajatashatru wanted to starve King Bimbisara to death. The Queen kept averting the inevitable by secretly carrying packets of food for the imprisoned king. Ajatashatru forbade the queen from contacting the former ruler after she was caught. Bimbisara’s health deteriorated, but he found solace in gazing at the mountaintop where Buddha and his followers stayed. Ajatashatru then ordered that the windows in his cell be covered so that King Bimbisara could never again find peace in gazing at that mountain. One fated day, when Buddha had come to town, Bimbisara is said to have seen Gautam Buddha and his followers through the cracks in his door. He found peace and ended up living just because he saw Buddha as well as his followers. When Ajatashatru learned of this incident, he ordered the soles of Bimbisara’s feet to be skinned.
King Bimbisara couldn’t even move after such severe bodily torment, so he sat in bed, growing weaker. Once Ajatashatru realized the monarch was still alive, he hired a barber to puncture the king’s thighs with a dagger and pour salt, fire (made from khaira wood) and boiling oil on top of the cut. According to Buddhist scriptures, the great monarch’s life ended in this vicious patricide. On hearing the news of Bimbisara’s demise, Amrapali was absolutely crushed. But cruel fate was not done tormenting this heavenly courtesan. It is believed that soon, Ajatashatru, the murderer of her paramour, was about to sneak into her life as yet another patron. The irony was such that Amrapali did not have a clue that this man was the son and assassin of Bimbisara. W Digha Nikaya (a revered Buddhist scripture) has Samaññaphala Sutta as the second discourse which reveals the story of King Ajatashatru. He is said to have followed policies of conquest and expansion. The story goes that he invaded Vesali and it so happened that when he was injured during a battle, he was treated by Amrapali and that he then fell in love with the courtesan. But when the people of Vesali became aware of the affair, they had Amrapali imprisoned.
On realizing who Ajatashatru was, a dejected Amrapali gladly accepted the imprisonment as a way to punish herself for foolishly falling in love with the killer of Bimbisara. Ajatashatru was so infatuated with her that in the process of securing her freedom, he ravaged the city of Vesali. Furiously angered by the havoc that Ajatashatru caused to her people, Amrapali rebuked and rejected the barbarous king. From a sociopolitical viewpoint, it is truly remarkable that during the ancient and classical era, women in the Indian subcontinent had a say in choosing or rejecting their partners—a trend that faced a steep decline as the historical periods advanced.
A series of emotional blows had gouged Amrapali’s soul inside out. Deeply troubled by her tumultuous personal tragedies, she was like a fish out of water. Disillusioned by the fickle nature of mundane living, she was yearning for the higher truth of life and that is when Gautam Buddha arrived in her life.
The Mahaparinibbana Sutta brilliantly chronicles Gautam Buddha’s final trip into Paranirvana. This scripture also contains a very engaging story—Buddha’s meeting with the courtesan Amrapali. Gautam Buddha spent almost 40 years wandering over the gangetic plains of the Indian subcontinent with his congregation of bhikkhus after attaining enlightenment underneath the Bodhi tree. His excursions are chronicled in a slew of suttas that aren’t in any particular chronological sequence until one reaches the commencement of the Mahaparinibbana Sutta. The encounter of Amrapali and Buddha happens in the second section of this sutta—when Buddha journeys to Vesali—and is one of the few suttas before Buddha’s terminal sickness and subsequent events. Amrapali is believed to have found her way to Buddha as soon as she learnt he had arrived in Vesali and even asked him and the bhikkhus to join her for lunch the following day. When the Licchavis learned that Gautam Buddha had come, they prepared a great number of fine carriages and drove out to meet him. This is when the battle between Licchavis and Amrapali for Buddha’s attention begins. It ends with the Licchavis finally realizing in despair that Amrapali beat them, when Buddha reveals to them that the lunch had already been committed to Amrapali. A woman taking on a Kshatriya clan, is unheard of even in the contemporary scenario. This episode put forth this celestial courtesan in categories of those whom the world should never forget. Buddha equates the Licchavis to ‘thirty-three gods’, who are presented as follows by the legendary Master Yajnavalkya: ‘eight Vasus, eleven Rudras, twelve Adityas, constitute one and thirty; Indra and Prajapati, create three and thirty.’
Ahead of their lunch with Amrapali, Buddha warns the bhikkhus to remain aware, lest they lose their minds over her. Amrapali herself attended on the community of bhikkhus headed by the Buddha and served them with choice food, both hard and soft. The hard and soft food represents the apple from the Garden of Eden (signifying the knowledge of both good and evil) which, when consumed, enlightens the partaker. The bhikkhus consumed the meal without losing their heads—that is, without becoming attached to or deluded by the experience). Amrapali then donated her grove called Ambapali Vana to Buddha and his Sangha, wherein he preached the famous Ambapalika Sutta. Although the most famous, Amrapali was not the only courtesan who was moved by Buddha’s preaching of the impermanent nature of life. Therigatha also mentions the courtesan, Addhkasi, who wrote a poem revealing how ageing had eroded every trace of her youthful beauty. The poem is an exquisite portrayal of the effects of ageing where only the truth does not change: All of the Kāsi countryside: My fee was equal to that. Having made that my price, the town set me as priceless in price. But then I became disenchanted with my body, and—disenchanted—dispassionate: ‘May I not run again & again through birth & the wandering-on.’ The three knowledges have been realized. The Buddha’s bidding done.
Vimala, who was a former courtesan also found peace in Buddha’s teachings: Intoxicated with my complexion figure, beauty, & fame; haughty with youth, I despised other women. Adorning this body embellished to delude foolish men, I stood at the door to the brothel: a hunter with snare laid out. I showed off my ornaments, and revealed many a private part. I worked my manifold magic, laughing out loud at the crowd. Today, wrapped in a double cloak, my head shaven, having wandered for alms, I sit at the foot of a tree and attain the state of no-thought. All ties—human & divine—have been cut. Having cast off all effluents, cooled am I, unbound.
The narrative of Amrapali is essential to understand society’s current attitude regarding courtesans. Despite her reputation as a gifted artist, she was chastised by the aristocratic princes of Vesali, who referred to her as a ganika. Unlike the princes, Buddha, had no bias towards Amrapali. He dined at her home and acknowledged her grove as a donation to the Buddhist Sangha. This incident is sometimes cited as proof of his fair behaviour towards women. Nonetheless, with the progression of time and the compilation of the Therigatha, such prejudices against women of art seeped into the Buddhist fold as well. The stories of Amrapali’s passionate and conjugal relationship with Bimbisara have survived mostly through oral tradition and haven’t even made it into the Pali canon of Buddhism. This may be because Bimbisara was a major royal supporter of Buddhism and his ties with Amrapali, a courtesan, may have tainted his reputation. Her canonical mention also concentrates only on the last years of her life, when she turned to Buddhism. Nonetheless, Amrapali’s early life and association with Bimbisara are mentioned in various chronicles of Chinese travellers who journeyed to India in pursuit of Buddhist texts. Amrapali’s association with Bimbisara may also be referenced in the Buddhist Tripitaka’s original Chinese manuscript. Whatever little information exists of the story of Bimbisara and Amrapali is from the Mahayana tradition, which did not have the requirement of portraying Bimbisara in a favourable light. The Gilgit Manuscripts are a collection of texts from Kashmir’s Gilgit area that allude to Amrapali’s narrative in great detail. These are the Mulasarvastivada school of Buddhism’s Tibetan–Sanskrit texts, which refreshingly consider her in high respect.
However, the negative connotation of being a courtesan is still present in several portions of this text as well. This negative cultural memory, since time immemorial, highlights a complex pattern, varying across time and place. But the irony is that Amrapali who was treated with hypocrisy during her lifetime has remained enshrined in the hearts and minds of mankind for centuries. During her lifetime she defied all existing norms; contested for equal women rights in an era when women were treated like no more than child bearers; and also stayed true to her art and admirers, getting the title of Janpad Kalayani. Amrapali will always remain the epitome of the perfect combination of art and beauty.