Summary
The poem "Sujata" from the epic *Amriteya Buddha* revolves
around Sujata, a humble and devoted woman who offers rice pudding (kheer) to
the Buddha, mistaking him for a tree deity. The poem reflects her deep faith,
simplicity, and selfless devotion.
Sujata, overwhelmed by a divine vision at the banyan tree, believes that the deity has appeared to bless her. She prepares rice pudding with utmost reverence, believing it will fulfill her heart's desire. As she approaches the tree and the Buddha sitting beneath it, she offers the dish with humility, asking him to accept it. The Buddha, recognizing her sincerity, accepts the offering, performs a symbolic ritual by consuming forty-nine morsels, and then throws the golden dish into the river. This act signifies the beginning of his final journey toward enlightenment.
The Poem
For the attainment of
knowledge, in accordance with the Vedas,
An offering of milk—
In blazing worship and sacred rituals,
Worthy of all praise— the ocean of milk, ultimate peace.
Vishnu, void of form, untouched by the world,
Pure consciousness, eternal bliss.
Milk—
Its radiance, wisdom, purity, impermanence,
A direct reflection of the soul,
An unblemished light.
Rice grains, bubbles of life,
Creation, creativity, continuity, beauty, and grace.
Kheer—a mere symbol,
The meeting of the finite and the infinite.
Seeker of truth,
Impatient yet discerning, separating water from milk.
Single-minded, steadfast, immovable yogi.
In the fire of knowledge, he casts aside all illusion,
With the ladle of faith, offers the wind as libation.
Thus,
Sujata’s fragrant, saffron-infused, dried fruits mixed,
Waterless milk-rice pudding,
Holds a profound secret within—
Because,
The cow, the harbinger of knowledge, walks her path,
A center of attraction,
She, the thread-holder of all,
In the cow, all deities reside.
This is the wish-fulfilling cow,
Fulfilling every righteous desire.
Today, this holy kheer,
Will tear apart all darkness.
Sujata,
The unparalleled beauty of Senani village in Gaya,
Her golden complexion radiant, glowing on every limb.
Her hair, thick curls of silk, like restless black bees.
From head to toe, she gleamed with a luminous grace,
Her serene, pearl-like face, her lotus-petal eyes,
Sujata, daughter of Sujata, thus addressed.
Slowly,
This maiden blossomed into a slender young woman,
In the garden of her mind, once dormant, now awakening,
Curiosity, wonder, and desires stirred,
A hundred rays stretched and smiled.
Long, kohl-lined eyes, lowered in shyness,
The fragrant sighs of intoxicating dreams.
On the blue horizon of her gaze,
Clouds of deep emotions, soft, sensuous,
Her eyes, moist with the nectar of youth.
Her body rippled with youthful energy,
Each leaf of life, tinged with a crimson glow.
In those eyes,
A seven-colored rainbow of intoxicating dreams arose,
In the shadow of that light,
Hundreds of hues scattered in its radiance,
A garden of desires swayed,
In the tender moonlight of grace and beauty,
Her mind,
Bathe in joy, smiled deeply.
One day,
Standing by the shores of the Niranjana river,
Under the sprawling, dense Banyan tree,
Shaded by its vast, dark-green foliage,
Amidst the swaying blades of grass,
She lit the lamps for her worship,
Adorning them with turmeric, sandalwood, saffron, and rice,
Bowing in reverence at the feet of the Banyan god.
With folded hands, she prayed in her heart,
“O Banyan deity!
If I receive a son after marriage,
Surely, I will offer kheer every year,
And come to worship at your feet.”
All went well,
With the birth of her first son,
Her body, mind, and soul bloomed with cool joy.
Sujata,
An extraordinary young woman,
Was pure, noble, and immensely tender.
She recalled
Her prayer.
She sent a thousand cows to graze in the forest,
The milk of these cows fed five hundred others,
And so,
The process of milking continued,
Until it stopped at eight cows.
From their milk, she prepared fragrant kheer,
Mixed with dried fruits,
With utmost purity after bathing and meditating.
She sent her maid, Purna, to the riverbank of Niranjana,
Near the grand tree,
“Purna! Go!
Clean everything,
Prepare the place for worship.
Remove all the dry twigs and vessels,
Uproot and clear away the wild grass at the base of the tree,
Wash the area with cool water,
And make it beautiful, clean, and pure.
I, adorned in fine golden robes,
And decked with golden ornaments,
Shall soon come to decorate the offering,
And join you in worship.”
As commanded, Purna went near the Banyan tree.
She stood, astonished,
Like a rooted statue,
Her voice abruptly silenced.
She had witnessed prayers, worship, and rituals,
Offerings made to deities, trees, and stars.
But never before,
Had she seen a god face-to-face.
In the shade of the Banyan tree,
Resided the Banyan deity,
Wrapped in its mystical illusion.
Like leaves trembling in the wind, her body and soul quivered.
The entire tree was aglow,
The full moon beamed brightly,
An unparalleled form—
No deity,
No Yaksha or Kinnara
Could stand before it with pride.
Divinity infinite. Beauty boundless.
And man—
How small, how humble.
A boundless ocean of grace swayed before her,
That wave, tossing and turning,
Like a tiny helpless fish,
Searching for the shore.
This,
A sky-touching, calm, pure ocean of gems.
Purna,
Was like a blade of grass, battered by the wind’s gust.
She stood rooted,
Her feet unmoved,
Her words unspoken.
When consciousness returned,
She, like a wounded bird,
Trembled, helpless, and fallen.
She whispered in her heart,
A human—only a human—
Can offer respect, honor, and welcome.
Bound within limits,
How can one compete with the infinite?
Or offer salutations?
This great fortune,
As a human, I have today,
Seen a god, face-to-face.
Surely, Devi Sujata is the most blessed and pure.
Her bright deeds have risen.
The boon, embodied, awakened, established here.
I must go quickly and tell her,
“Devi! You are extraordinary and auspicious.
Never before has anyone
So directly
Earned such divine merit.
You are truly fortunate, Devi,
Like the sacred Ganga,
Like Lakshmi herself, Arya, you are.
With your own eyes, you will see,
You will surely please the Banyan deity.
The way humans worship idols of gods—
This is not the same.
Earthly efforts stumble,
And subtlety, crossing all barriers of the material,
Becomes boundless.
The vastness spreads all around,
How can a human attempt to capture
Such an immense light
In their cupped hands?
This—
A deep realization.
Arya! Surely, something unexpected
Is coming, believe me.
Today Devi will know,
How limited our boundaries are,
And how the limitless is deeply capable.
The deity—omnipresent—
His power has neither beginning nor end.
And today,
He sits in silent meditation, calm, serene, beyond all.”
“Devi!
This extraordinary sight, so captivating,
So overwhelming, it is unbearable to describe.
Walk with me, Arya, and witness it yourself.
I will go at once to tell her,
But how will I even begin to weave words
To capture what I’ve seen?
How feeble these words are,
So powerless to express
Such deep, profound experiences,
Bound by their limits.
How will I describe them?
In the dense tangles of emotions,
In the turmoil of my mind,
All the carefully arranged words have disappeared.
Like flashes of lightning writing nature’s beauty
On dark stormy skies,
And yet, never fully covering the sky
In a blanket of words—
This form is just as infinite.
My capacity, limited.
Whatever she saw,
She went and conveyed exactly, without omission.
Upon hearing everything,
Sujata’s heart filled with immense joy.
As she cooled the kheer in the kitchen,
She spoke cheerfully, delighted,
“Purna! My dearest Purna!
Today, I release you from servitude.
My heart is overflowing,
With such deep affection for you.
Never before has any mistress received
Such a blessed, joyous message from her servant.
Never before has anyone’s merit
Manifested so visibly and tangibly.
I am preparing for the worship,
From today, I consider you my daughter.
You will wear the same garments I wear.”
Bestowing her with fine, precious attire,
Neelvala, too, prepared a delicate, ornamented blue dress for
herself.
Opening the jewelry box after box,
She spoke in a soft, joyful voice,
“Daughter Purna, you do not know,
This forest!
It is the pride of our culture, our heritage.
Even householders here reap the fruits of their wishes,
And ascetics kindle their sacred fires here.
These trees, like divine wish-fulfilling trees,
Give exactly the fruit that is desired.
This vast, majestic Banyan tree, in ancient times,
Granted eternal union to Savitri.
Even now, on that date,
The Vata-Savitri puja is performed.
These trees fulfill heartfelt wishes.
Deities reside invisibly within them.
Thus, the Ashvattha, the banana, the coconut,
The mango, and the Bilva tree,
Are all auspicious and bestow boons.
The Tulsi plant is revered,
A symbol of well-being and good fortune.
Even these trees possess sensitivity, sympathy, and reaction.
When given water,
They sway their leaves in joy.
At their chosen times,
They summon us with signals from their leaves.
When someone tries to cut them,
They sense it beforehand,
Fading, wilting before their fate.
Within them, too, run intricate networks of responsive fibers,
Conveying signals of mutual understanding.
They have their own language.
Not only with each other, but also with the geography, the stars,
They are connected,
Through electromagnetic currents and gravitational threads.
Some of them resonate with cosmic waves,
Exchanging subtle, whispered dialogues.
This is an ancient, supremely glorious,
Incomparable land—
A sanctuary of fifty-five thousand plants,
And five thousand medicinal herbs—
The very essence of nectar.
It is said,
That on the silent, pitch-dark night of Amavasya,
Auspicious Lakshmi, the giver of blessings,
Enters homes quietly, with soft, silent steps.”
These herbs,
Clothed in human language,
Revealing their unique medicinal qualities.
In their roots, stems, flowers, and leaves,
Specific deities reside.
Worship, incantations for protection or destruction,
And spells of attraction or banishment,
Depend on the devotion shown to them—
They become wish-fulfilling trees and cows,
Granting blessings to those who offer them
Affection, closeness, respect, and care.
If you establish a bond with them,
You will hesitate to step even on a blade of grass,
Fearing you might harm it.
I have lived among these immortal beings,
In the wild forests,
Feeling their presence always.
Thus, bowing before the auspicious Banyan tree deity,
I revealed my deepest desires to it.
Today, they have manifested here, in person.
This is no ordinary event.
Come, come quickly,
Lest they disappear.
Neelvala, beautifully adorned,
Poured fragrant, sweet, pure water
Into a golden vessel.
She placed the kheer, prepared with love,
Into a new turmeric-dyed cloth
And carried the golden vessel on her head,
Overwhelmed with anticipation, she called—
"Purna! Purna!
Bring the offerings—lights and sweets!"
When they reached the Banyan tree,
Two blue lamps, like sapphire jewels,
Glowed in the lotus-like eyes of the Lord.
The radiance spread,
Like a clear, washed blue sky,
Like the pure, unstained, milk-white light of the full moon.
Silent, serene, simple, and joyful,
Neelvala bowed her head,
Touched the golden kheer vessel to her forehead,
Then looked upon the meditative Lord.
Indeed, beneath the shade of the dense, dark tree,
The tree deity was present.
In the rapture of her heart, Sujata trembled.
Her innermost petals, layer by layer, bloomed,
Smiling and swaying with joy.
In awe and astonishment,
She gazed at the Lord,
Placed the golden plate on the green, soft grass,
Lit incense and lamps.
With both hands, she spread her veil,
Bowed her head to the ground, and respectfully offered her prayer.
She took the golden vessel
And approached the Lord.
The Lord saw,
An unparalleled, new form of devotion—
The embodiment of purity,
A radiant beauty, filled with divine grace.
She washed the Lord’s hands,
Then, humbly bowing at His feet,
She spoke—"O tree deity!
How much compassion you have!
My heart's wish has been fulfilled,
Thanks to your mercy.
Today, I have brought kheer, Lord,
And I stand before your sacred feet.
It is said that trees do not listen,
That even the temple deities remain silent,
That speaking to them is like crying into the wilderness,
Merely the turmoil of the heart, self-consuming.
But, O Lord!
It is not just the forest,
But the spirit behind it,
That listens—
The very essence that creates these woods.”
"They,
Pour rain upon the sun-scorched, thirsty earth.
And you, you are the living proof—
How could I remain unaware?
Lord,
Accept this humble offering of kheer.
Bless this helpless one.
Whatever I could gather,
I have brought to serve you.
This is the rice of Sudama,
The single grain left by the daughter of Drupad,
A forest-dweller.
Thus, with courage, I have come.
O merciful Lord,
Surely, you will honor this.
I had heard that idols can be filled with life.
Now, I believe—
How much love the gods have for their devotees!
That is why, Lord,
You have appeared in person.
The dawn of my good fortune—
Which deity listens to a call like this?
This is the tender, pure love of the Lord."
She saw—
Sujata’s innocence and simplicity,
Her natural affection,
And the Lord's radiant face lit up,
Beaming with gentle joy.
In her profound, unadorned faith,
There was no room for argument or doubt.
Yet, how could the Lord leave her in the dark?
How could He let a falsehood grow
In her heart’s purity?
Smiling, He spoke—
"Devi, do not be surprised.
I am not who you think I am.
I am not the tree deity.
I am human, just like you.
In pursuit of the path,
Searching for a new, simple way to liberation."
Sujata was speechless,
Unable to respond to the Lord,
A luminous, divine being.
For a moment, she stood silent,
Suppressing the surge of emotions in her heart.
With utmost composure,
In a soft, humble tone,
She folded her hands and spoke slowly—
"Lord, I know that deities do not reveal themselves.
They remain invisible,
Or do not acknowledge their presence.
And even if they do, to whom?
Man is too wretched, too insignificant.
He relies entirely on the Lord’s mercy.
I am one of them.
The Lord himself looks upon me at his feet.
Why would divinity take notice of humanity's miserable downfall,
When it has ascended beyond the chain of desire
And stands exalted?
Why would it look back?
It roams freely, without attachment,
While man is trapped in the web of longing,
Bound, struggling, and in pain.
There is a vast difference, Lord.
I have no desire to understand
Who you truly are.
Your presence before me—
That alone is my fulfillment.
Whoever you may be,
To me, you are what I have known you to be.
This deep faith of my heart—
A lotus unfolding, blooming ever-new,
Filled with joy.
This devotion—
An unwavering, sacred trust.
If you are not a deity,
Then you are beyond even that,
Something rarer, even to the gods.
You are unique, wondrous.
This is not blind faith,
But a pure, maternal devotion.
Reason, logic, knowledge, science—
All play under the cool, loving shade of this affection."
Why should I search, or reason why?
When the radiant sun blazes before my eyes.
You are no Yaksha, Kinnara, or Gandharva,
But a divine being beyond them all.
Once more, I humbly plead at your feet—
Please, O Lord, accept this humble offering of rice pudding.
The Bodhisattva rose from His seat,
And spoke— "O blessed one!
Your rice pudding aids the quest for truth,
Surely the swan of the mind
Shall separate water from milk."
Sujaata stood humbly aside,
Lost in thought, hoping the Lord
Would fulfill her heart's desire.
The Lord circled the banyan tree,
Holding the golden dish,
He walked to the Niranjana River's edge,
Placed the dish on the sandy shore,
Bathed in the flowing waters,
And then sat, facing eastward.
He consumed forty-nine morsels,
Then cleansed His face,
And cast the golden bowl into the stream,
As if it were a leaf drifting away.
That meal was enough for forty-nine days.
But Sujaata, overcome with joy,
Her eyes filled with tears,
Walked away, thinking only—
The Lord accepted the offering,
He sheltered me with His grace.
How blessed! How fulfilled!
In her heart, she bowed countless times,
Yet she could not calm her mind—
Could He be someone else?
He is no tree god!
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