Canto 4: bhāryā-yācitakaḥ
A Wife’s Appeal

Introduction

Bhāryā, the feminine of bhārya, from the root √bhṛ, to bear, literally means a woman to be borne or supported or cherished or nourished or maintained; hence, a wife. Yācitaka, which as an adjective means borrowed and as a noun means something borrowed, is from the root √yāc, which means to ask or beg.

When we examine the content of the Canto so as to understand the meaning of bhāryā-yācitaka in context, we find the scent of sensuality thick in the air, until Nanda sets out, hesitantly, to catch up with the Buddha on the road. In order to make this transition – in order to be released from his wife’s loving embrace – Nanda makes a bargain with his wife Sundarī that he will be back before her make-up is dried. Hence, in EH Johnston’s translation, bhāryā-yācitakaḥ is “The Wife’s Bargain.” Reflecting the original meaning of √yāc, Linda Covill translates bhāryā-yācitakaḥ “His Wife’s Request,” taking Sundarī to be the subject who begs Nanda to come back. In verse 32, however, it is rather Nanda who begs Sundarī to allow him to go and see the Buddha – as if he were asking to borrow some time away, a leave of absence. In this context, the inelegant “What He Begged His Wife for” would fit.

As in many other canto titles, then, the noun-verb combination of this Canto title is open to numerous readings. What is not in doubt, in the overall context of the epic tale of Handsome Nanda, is that Nanda’s wife was very beautiful, and that the love between Nanda and Sundarī was not only platonic but was also conspicuously sensual. Thus the memory of Sundarī continued to exert a strong pull on Nanda’s body and mind long after he had left home to take to the wandering life. If we ever thought that a celibate life in the modern world has become a harder path to follow than it would have been in a more innocent antiquity, then the descriptions of love in the present Canto vividly challenge that view.

 

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munau bruvāṇe ’pi tu tatra dharmaṁ dharmaṁ prati jñātiṣu cādṛteṣu /
prāsāda-saṁstho madanaika-kāryaḥ priyā-sahāyo vijahāra nandaḥ // 4.1 //

But even when the Sage was there speaking the dharma, and even though other family members heeded the dharma, / Nanda passed the time in the company of his wife, staying in the palace penthouse, solely occupied with love. // 4.1 //

sa cakravākyeva hi cakravākas tayā sametaḥ priyayā priyārhaḥ /
nācintayad vaiśramaṇaṁ na śakraṁ tat-sthāna-hetoḥ kuta eva dharmam // 4.2 //

For joined with his wife like a greylag gander with a greylag goose, Male and female greylag geese feature prominently in Sanskrit romantic literature. Their Sanskrit name, cakravāka, arises from the way they call to each other, the male gently honking, the female responding, the male replying, and so on; a cycle or ‘wheel’ (cakra) of song. Their gentle, musical ‘aang aang aang’ is said to be one of the most enchanting calls in the natural world.01 and fitted for love, / He turned his thoughts neither to Vaiśravaṇa nor to Śakra: how much less, in that state, did he think about dharma? // 4.2 //

lakṣmyā ca rūpeṇa ca sundarīti stambhena garveṇa ca māninīti /
dīptyā ca mānena ca bhāminīti yāto babhāṣe trividhena nāmnā // 4.3 //

For her grace and beauty, she was called Lovely Sundarī; for her headstrong pride, Sulky Māninī; / And for her sparkle and spirit, Beautiful Bhāminī. So that she was called by three names. // 4.3 //

sā hāsa-haṁsā nayana-dvirephā pīna-stanātyunnata-padma-kośā /
bhūyo babhāse sva-kuloditena strī-padminī nanda-divākareṇa // 4.4 //

She of smiles like the bars of a bar-headed-goose, of eyes like black bees, and swelling breasts like the upward jutting buds of a lotus, / Shimmered all the more, a lotus-pool in female form, with the rising of a kindred luminary, the sun-like Nanda. “Sun-like Nanda” alludes to Nanda’s heritage as a descendant of Ikṣvāku, founder of the solar dynasty (see SN1.18).02// 4.4 //

rūpeṇa cātyanta-manohareṇa rūpānurūpeṇa ca ceṣṭitena /
manuṣya-loke hi tadā babhūva sā sundarī strīṣu nareṣu nandaḥ // 4.5 //

For, with inordinately good looks, and moves to match those heart-stealing looks, / There was in the human world at that time, among women, [only] Sundarī, and among men, Nanda. // 4.5 //

sā devatā nandana-cāriṇīva kulasya nandī-jananaś ca nandaḥ /
atītya martyān anupetya devān sṛṣṭāv abhūtām iva bhūta-dhātrā // 4.6 //

She, like a goddess wandering in Indra’s Gardens of Gladness, Nandana, lit. “Gladdening” is the name of Indra’s paradise. This is the setting for Canto 10, where the Buddha introduces the gob-smacked Nanda to the all-surpassing beauty of the celestial nymphs, the apsarases. 03 and Nanda, the bringer of joy to his kin, / Seemed, having gone beyond mortals, and yet not become gods, to be a Creator’s creation in progress. // 4.6 //

tāṁ sundarīṁ cen na labheta nandaḥ sā vā niṣeveta na taṁ nata-bhrūḥ /
dvandvaṁ dhruvaṁ tad vikalaṁ na śobhetānyonya-hīnāv iva rātri-candrau // 4.7 //

If Nanda had not won Sundarī, or if she of the arched eyebrows had not gone to him, / Then, deprived of each other, the two would surely have seemed impaired, like the night and the moon. In Sanskrit the night (ratrī) is feminine and the moon (candra) is masculine.04 // 4.7 //

kandarpa-ratyor iva lakṣya-bhūtaṁ pramoda-nāndyor iva nīḍa-bhūtam /
praharṣa-tuṣṭyor iva pātra-bhūtaṁ dvandvaṁ sahāraṁsta tad andha-bhūtam // 4.8 //

As though a target The paper manuscript has lakṣma (= deva-lakṣma, “divine characteristic”) rather than lakṣya (“target”); in a note to his English translation EHJ thought perhaps the former reading should be retained. Either reading fits with a four-phased interpretation of the verse along the lines of (1) something divine/spiritual/romantic/idealized, or a target, (2) a concrete place of refuge free from pursuit of targets, (3) a practical utensil like a bhikṣu’s bowl, having both spiritual meaning and actual substance, and (4) a meeting of subject and object. 05 of the god of Love and his mistress Pleasure; as though a nest of Ecstasy and Joy; / As though a bowl of Excitement and Contentment; blindly the couple took their pleasure together. Each of the three dual compounds is a masculine-feminine combination: kandarpa (Love) is masculine, rati (Pleasure) is feminine; pramoda (Ecstasy) is masculine, nāndī (Joy) is feminine. praharṣa (Excitement) is masculine, tuṣṭi (Contentment) is feminine. 06// 4.8 //

parasparodvīkṣaṇa-tat-parākṣaṁ paraspara-vyāhṛta-sakta-cittam /
parasparāśleṣa-hṛtāṅgarāgaṁ parasparaṁ tan-mithunaṁ jahāra // 4.9 //

Having eyes only for each other’s eyes, minds hanging on each other’s words, / Mutual embraces rubbing away the pigments that scented their bodies, the couple carried each other away. // 4.9 //

bhāvānuraktau giri-nirjhara-sthau tau kiṁnarī-kiṁpuruṣāv ivobhau /
cikrīḍatuś cābhivirejatuś ca rūpa-śriyānyonyam ivākṣipantau // 4.10 //

Like a kiṁnara meeting a kiṁnarī by a cascading mountain torrent, in love with love, / The two of them flirted and shone, as if vying to outdo one another in alluring radiance. // 4.10 //

anyonya-saṁrāga-vivardhanena tad-dvandvam anyonyam arīramac ca /
klamāntare ’nyonya-vinodanena salīlam anyonyam amīmadac ca // 4.11 //

By building up each other’s passion, the pair gave each other sexual satisfaction; / And by playfully teasing each other during languid intervals, they gladdened each other again. // 4.11 //

vibhūṣayām āsa tataḥ priyāṁ sa siṣeviṣus tāṁ na mṛjāvahārtham /
svenaiva rūpeṇa vibhūṣitā hi vibhūṣaṇānām api bhūṣaṇaṁ sā // 4.12 //

Wishing to cherish his beloved, he bedecked her there in finery, but not with the aim of making her beautiful – / For she was so graced already by her own loveliness that she was rather the adorner of her adornments. LC: “for she was so adorned by her own beauty that it was she who lent loveliness to her jewels.”07 // 4.12 //

dattvātha sā darpaṇam asya haste mamāgrato dhāraya tāvad enam /
viśeṣakaṁ yāvad ahaṁ karomīty uvāca kāntaṁ sa ca taṁ babhāra // 4.13 //

She put a mirror in his hand; “Just hold this in front of me / While I do my face,” she said to her lover, and up he held it. // 4.13 //

bhartus tataḥ śmaśru nirīkṣamāṇā viśeṣakaṁ sāpi cakāra tādṛk /
niśvāsa-vātena ca darpaṇasya cikitsayitvā nijaghāna nandaḥ // 4.14 //

Then, beholding her husband’s stubble she began to paint her face just like it, / But, with a breath on the mirror, Nanda soon took care of that. // 4.14 //

sā tena ceṣṭā-lalitena bhartuḥ śāṭhyena cāntar-manasā jahāsa /
bhavec ca ruṣṭā kila nāma tasmai lalāṭa-jihmāṁ bhru-kuṭiṁ cakāra // 4.15 //

At this wanton gesture of her husband, and at his wickedness, she inwardly laughed; / But, pretending to be furious with him, she cocked her eyebrows and frowned. // 4.15 //

cikṣepa karṇotpalam asya cāṁse kareṇa savyena madālasena /
pattrāṅguliṁ cārdha-nimīlitākṣe vaktre ’sya tām eva vinirdudhāva // 4.16 //

With a left hand made languid by love, she took a flower from behind her ear and threw it at his shoulder; / Again, as he kept his eyes half-shut, she sprinkled over his face the scented make-up she had been using to powder herself. “The scented make-up she had been using to powder herself” represents pattrāṅgulim, given in the MW dictionary as “a decoration consisting in lines or streaks drawn on the face and body with musk and other fragrant substances.” Aṅguli means finger. And pattra, leaf, would seem to allude to tamāla-pattra (see verse 20 below) which means 1. a leaf of the tamāla plant (Xanthochymus pictorius), and hence 2. a mark on the forehead made with the juice of this plant. 08 // 4.16 //

tataś calan nūpura-yoktritābhyām nakha-prabhodbhāsitarāṅgulibhyām /
padbhyāṁ priyāyā nalinopamābhyām mūrdhnā bhayān nāma nanāma nandaḥ // 4.17 //

Then, at his wife’s lotus like feet, which were girt in trembling ankle bracelets, / Their toes sparkling with nail gloss, Nanda bowed his head, in mock terror. Note the euphony, totally lost in translation, of nāma nanāma nandaḥ.09 // 4.17 //

sa mukta-puṣponmiṣitena mūrdhnā tataḥ priyāyāḥ priya-kṛd babhāse /
suvarṇa-vedyām anilāvabhagnaḥ puṣpātibhārād iva nāga-vṛkṣaḥ // 4.18 //

As his head emerged from beneath the discarded flower, he made as if to regain his lover’s affections; / He looked like an ornamental nāga tree, overburdened with blossoms, that had toppled in the wind onto its golden pedestal. // 4.18 //

sā taṁ stanodvartita-hāra-yaṣṭir utthāpayām āsa nipīḍya dorbhyām /
kathaṁ kṛto ’sīti jahāsa coccair mukhena sācī-kṛta-kuṇḍalena // 4.19 //

Pressing him so close in her arms that her pearls lifted off from her swelling breasts, she raised him up; / “What are you doing!?” she cried laughingly, as her earrings dangled across her face. // 4.19 //

patyus tato darpaṇa-sakta-pāṇer muhur-muhur vaktram avekṣamāṇā /
tamāla-pattrārdra-tale kapole samāpayām āsa viśeṣakaṁ tat // 4.20 //

Then, looking repeatedly at the face of her husband, whose hand had clung to the mirror, / She completed her face-painting, so that the surface of her cheeks was wet with tamāla juice. Lit. “She finished face-painting on the cheek with its surface wet with tamāla leaf.” 10 // 4.20 //

tasyā mukhaṁ tat sa-tamāla-pattraṁ tāmrādharauṣṭhaṁ cikurāyatākṣam /
raktādhikāgraṁ patita-dvirephaṁ sa-śaivalaṁ padmam ivābabhāse // 4.21 //

Framed by the tamāla smudges, her face with its cherry red lips, and wide eyes extending to her hair, / Seemed like a lotus framed by duck-weed, with crimson tips, and two big bees settled on it. // 4.21 //

nandas tato darpaṇam ādareṇa bibhrat tadā maṇḍana-sākṣi-bhūtaṁ /
viśeṣakāvekṣaṇa-kekarākṣo laḍat-priyāyā vadanaṁ dadarśa // 4.22 //

Attentively now, Nanda held the mirror, which was bearing witness to a work of beauty. / Squinting to see the flecks she had painted, he beheld the face of his impish lover. // 4.22 //

tat-kuṇḍalādaṣṭa-viśeṣakāntaṁ kāraṇḍava-kliṣṭam ivāravindam /
nandaḥ priyāyā mukham īkṣamāṇo bhūyaḥ priyānanda-karo babhūva // 4.23 //

The make-up was nibbled away at its edges by her earrings so that her face was like a lotus that had suffered the attentions of a kāraṇḍava duck. / Nanda, by gazing upon that face, became all the more the cause of his wife’s happiness. // 4.23 //

vimāna-kalpe sa vimāna-garbhe tatas tathā caiva nananda nandaḥ /
tathāgataś cāgata-bhaikṣa-kālo bhaikṣāya tasya praviveśa veśma // 4.24 //

While Nanda, inside the palace, in what almost amounted to a dishonour, This can be read as a play on the word vimāna, which means 1. disrespect, dishonour, and 2. palace. 11 was thus enjoying himself, / The Tathāgata, the One Thus Come, come begging time, had entered the palace, for the purpose of begging. // 4.24 //

avāṅmukho niṣpraṇayaś ca tasthau bhrātur gṛhe ’nyasya gṛhe yathaiva /
tasmād atho preṣya-jana-pramādād bhikṣām alabdhvaiva punar jagāma // 4.25 //

With face turned down, he stood, in his brother’s house as in any other house, not expecting anything; / And then, since due to the servants’ oversight, he received no alms, he went again on his way. // 4.25 //

kā-cit pipeṣānuvilepanaṁ hi vāso ’ṅganā kā-cid avāsayac ca /
ayojayat snāna-vidhiṁ tathānyā jagranthur anyāḥ surabhīḥ srajaś ca // 4.26 //

For one woman was grinding fragrant body oils; another was perfuming clothes; / Another, likewise, was preparing a bath; while other women strung together sweet-smelling garlands. // 4.26 //

tasmin gṛhe bhartur ataś carantyaḥ krīḍānurūpaṁ lalitaṁ niyogam /
kāś-cin na buddhaṁ dadṛśur yuvatyo buddhasya vaiṣā niyataṁ manīṣā // 4.27 //

The girls in that house were thus so busy doing work to promote their master’s romantic play / That none of them had seen the Buddha – or so the Buddha inevitably concluded. // 4.27 //

kā-cit sthitā tatra tu harmya-pṛṣṭhe gavākṣa-pakṣe praṇidhāya cakṣuḥ /
viniṣpatantaṁ sugataṁ dadarśa payoda-garbhād iva dīptam arkam // 4.28 //

One woman there, however, on glancing through a round side-window on the upper storey of the palace, / Had seen the Sugata, the One Gone Well, going away – like the blazing sun emerging from a cloud. // 4.28 //

sā gauravaṁ tatra vicārya bhartuḥ svayā ca bhaktyārhatayārhataś ca /
nandasya tasthau purato vivakṣus tad-ājñayā ceti tadā cacakṣe // 4.29 //

Thinking in that moment of the importance of the Worthy One to the master of the house, and through her own devotion to the Worthy One, / She stood before Nanda, intending to speak. And then, with his permission, Ājñā here means permission or consent. Elsewhere in Saundara-nanda ājñā means deep or liberating knowledge. Its use in the title of the final canto may be a final instance of deliberate ambiguity. 12 up she spoke: // 4.29 //

anugrahāyāsya janasya śaṅke gurur gṛhaṁ no bhagavān praviṣṭaḥ /
bhikṣām alabdhvā giram āsanaṁ vā śūnyād araṇyād iva yāti bhūyaḥ // 4.30 //

“To show favour to us, I suppose, the Glorious One, the Guru, came into our house; / Having received neither alms, nor welcoming words, nor a place to sit, he is going away, as if from an empty forest.” // 4.30 //

śrutvā maharṣeḥ sa gṛha-praveśaṁ satkāra-hīnaṁ ca punaḥ prayāṇam /
cacāla citrābharaṇāmbara-srak kalpa-drumo dhūta ivānilena // 4.31 //

When he heard that the great Seer had entered his house and departed again without receiving a welcome, / [Nanda] in his brightly-coloured gems and garments and garlands, flinched, like a tree in Indra’s paradise shaken by a gust of wind. // 4.31 //

kṛtvāñjaliṁ mūrdhani padma-kalpaṁ tataḥ sa kāntāṁ gamanaṁ yayāce /
kartuṁ gamiṣyāmi gurau praṇāmaṁ mām abhyanujñātum ihārhasīti // 4.32 //

He brought to his forehead hands joined in the shape of a lotus bud, and then he begged Yayāce, “he begged,” like the yācita of the Canto title, is from the root √yāc. 13 his beloved to be allowed to go: / “I would like to go and pay my respects to the Guru. Please permit me, this once.” // 4.32 //

sā vepamānā parisasvaje taṁ śālaṁ latā vāta-samīriteva /
dadarśa cāśru-pluta-lola-netrā dīrghaṁ ca niśvasya vaco ’bhyuvāca // 4.33 //

Shivering, she twined herself around him, like a wind-stirred creeper around a teak tree; / She looked at him through unsteady tear-filled eyes, took a deep breath, and told him: // 4.33 //

nāhaṁ yiyāsor guru-darśanārtham arhāmi kartum tava dharma-pīḍām /
gacchārya-putraihi ca śīghram eva viśeṣako yāvad ayaṁ na śuṣkaḥ // 4.34 //

“Since you wish to go and see the Guru, I shall not stand in the way of your dharma-duty. / Go, noble husband! But come quickly back, before this paint on my face is dry. // 4.34 //

saced bhaves tvaṁ khalu dīrgha-sūtro daṇḍaṁ mahāntaṁ tvayi pātayeyam /
muhur-muhus tvāṁ śayitaṁ kucābhyāṁ vibodhayeyaṁ ca na cālapeyam // 4.35 //

If you dawdle, I will punish you severely: / As you sleep I shall with my breasts, repeatedly wake you, and then not respond. // 4.35 //

athāpy anāśyāna-viśeṣakāyāṁ mayyeṣyasi tvaṁ tvaritaṁ tatas tvām /
nipīḍayiṣyāmi bhuja-dvayena nirbhūṣaṇenārdra-vilepanena // 4.36 //

But if you hurry back to me before my face-paint is dry, / Then I will hold you close in my arms with nothing on except fragrant oils.” // 4.36 //

ity evam uktaś ca nipīḍitaś ca tayāsavarṇa-svanayā jagāda /
evaṁ kariṣyāmi vimuñca caṇḍe yāvad gurur dūra-gato na me saḥ // 4.37 //

Thus implored, and squeezed, by a dissonant-sounding [Sundarī], [Nanda] said: / “I will, my little vixen. Now let me go, before the Guru has gone too far.” // 4.37 //

tataḥ stanodvartitata-candanābhyāṁ mukto bhujābhyāṁ na tu mānasena /
vihāya veṣaṁ madanānurūpaṁ tat-kārya-yogyam sa vapur babhāra // 4.38 //

And so, with arms made fragrant by her swollen sandal-scented breasts, she let him go – but not with her heart. / He took off clothes that were suited to love and took on a form that befitted his task. // 4.38 //

sā taṁ prayāntaṁ ramaṇaṁ pradadhyau pradhyāna-śūnya-sthita-niścalākṣī /
sthitocca-karṇā vyapaviddha-śaṣpā bhrāntaṁ mṛgaṁ bhrānta-mukhī mṛgīva // 4.39 //

She contemplated her lover leaving with brooding, empty, unmoving eyes, / Like a doe standing with ears pricked up as she lets grass drop down; and as, with a perplexed expression, she contemplates the stag wandering away. // 4.39 //

didṛkṣayākṣīpta-manā munes tu nandaḥ prayāṇaṁ prati tatvare ca /
vivṛtta-dṛṣṭiś ca śanair yayau tāṁ karīva paśyan sa laḍat-kareṇum // 4.40 //

With his mind gripped by desire to set eyes upon the Sage, Nanda hurried his exit; / But then he went ponderously, and with backward glances – like an elephant looking back at a playful she-elephant. // 4.40 //

chātodarīṁ pīna-payodharoruṁ sa sundarīṁ rukma-darīm ivādreḥ /
kākṣeṇa paśyan na tatarpa nandaḥ pibann ivaikena jalaṁ kareṇa // 4.41 //

Between her swelling cloud-like breasts Payo-dhara, “containing water or milk,” means 1. a cloud, and 2. a woman’s breast. 14 and [the buttresses] of her full thighs, Sundarī’s lean abdomen was like a golden fissure in a rock formation: / Looking at her could satisfy Nanda no better than drinking water out of one hand. // 4.41 //

taṁ gauravaṁ buddha-gataṁ cakarṣa bhāryānurāgaḥ punar ācakarṣa /
so ’niścayān nāpi yayau na tasthau turaṁs taraṅgeṣv iva rāja-haṁsaḥ // 4.42 //

Reverence for the Buddha drew him on; love for his wife drew him back: / Irresolute, he neither stayed nor went, like a king-goose pushing forwards against the waves. // 4.42 //

adarśanaṁ tūpagataś ca tasyā harmyāt tataś cāvatatāra tūrṇam /
śrutvā tato nūpura-nisvanaṁ sa punar lalambe hṛdaye gṛhītaḥ // 4.43 //

Once she was out of sight, he descended from the palace quickly – / Then he heard the sound of ankle bracelets, and back he hung, gripped in his heart again. // 4.43 //

sa kāma-rāgeṇa nigṛhyamāṇo dharmānurāgeṇa ca kṛśyamāṇaḥ /
jagāma duḥkhena vivartyamānaḥ plavaḥ pratisrota ivāpagāyāḥ // 4.44 //

Held back by his love of love, and drawn forward by his love for dharma, / He struggled on, being turned about Gawronski suggested amendment to nivartyamāmaḥ (“being turned back”), as opposed to vivartyamāmaḥ (“being turned round”). For his Sanskrit text, EH Johnston retained vivartyamāmaḥ and in a note to his English translation several years later EHJ asserted “I still think my explanation correct; for it is based on the way a boat behaves when propelled against the stream.” Subsequently, a fragment of manuscript was found in Central Asia by Friedrich Weller, showing vivartyamāmaḥ and thus tending to confirm that EHJ’s intuition had indeed been correct. 15 like a boat on a river going against the stream. // 4.44 //

tataḥ kramair dīrghatamaiḥ pracakrame kathaṁ nu yāto na gurur bhaved iti /
svajeya tāṁ caiva viśeṣaka-priyāṁ kathaṁ priyām ārdra-viśeṣakām iti // 4.45 //

Then his strides became longer, as he thought to himself, “Maybe the Guru is no longer there!” / “Might I after all embrace my love, who is so especially loveable, while her face-paint is still wet?” // 4.45 //

atha sa pathi dadarśa mukta-mānaṁ pitṛ-nagare ’pi tathā gatābhimānam /
daśa-balam abhito vilambamānaṁ dhvajam anuyāna ivaindram arcyamānam // 4.46 //

And so on the road [Nanda] saw the One in Whom Absence Was Thus, the Tathāgata, Tathāgata is not explicitly used here as an epipthet of the Buddha, but the description of the Buddha as being “similarly free” of haughtiness is a play on the meaning of the words tathā (similarly) and gata (gone, absent). When combined in the epithet tathāgata, these words tathā and gata (or tathā and āgata) can mean the Thus-Come, or the One Who Arrived Like This, or the One Who Arrived at Reality, or the Realised One. These are translations that suggest in the Buddha the presence of something ineffable. The use of tathāgata in today’s verse, on the contrary, seems to point not to the presence of something but rather to the absence of something – the One in Whom Absence Was Like This. 16 devoid of pride and – even in his father’s city – haughtiness thus absent; / Seeing the Possessor of Ten Powers stopping and being honoured on all sides, [Nanda] felt as if he were following Indra’s flag. Weller’s fragment has parts of an additional closing verse, numbered 45. So the Nepalese manuscripts had two earlier verses which Weller’s Central Asian manuscript lacked, and the Central Asian manuscript had a final verse which the Nepalese manuscript lacked. 17 // 4.46 //

// saudaranande mahā-kāvye bhāryā-yācitako nāma caturthaḥ sargaḥ //4//
The 4th canto in the epic poem Handsome Nanda, titled “A Wife’s Appeal.”