Holding Out for a Husband ‘til the End of the Fast: Wifehood, Widowhood, and Female Renunciation in Two Jain Mahābhārata Adaptations

Abstract

Among the Dharmic religious traditions, Jainism is unique for its continuous tradition of female monastics. Jain monastic women have made up a large part of Jain communities up to this day. Naturally, their prominent position in Jain society is reflected in the countless depictions of Jain nuns (āryikā/sādhvī) in Jain narrative literature. However, despite Jain narratives sometimes extolling renunciation as an alternative, often even superior, ideal to wifehood, there remains a fundamental tension between the ideologies of normative Jain wifehood and renunciation as well as the question of widowhood. In this article, I explore how two Digambara Sanskrit texts deal with the question of premature widowhood and renunciation in their adaptation of the Mahābhārata narrative. Whereas Jinasena’s Harivaṃśapurāṇa (783 CE) stress the value of pativratā-ideology as an appropriate response for prematurely widowed young Jain women, Śubhacandra’s Pāṇḍavapurāṇa (1552 CE) adapts the exact same episodes, but introduces an explicit ambivalence towards the idea of young Jain women renouncing to become Jain nuns. By comparing these two Digambara adaptations, I wish to show how Digambara Jain narratives in Sanskrit dealt with the same tension between Jain wifehood and renunciation hitherto mostly discussed with reference to Jain narratives in the vernacular.

1. Introduction

For over two millennia, Jainism has stood out among the religious traditions on the Indian subcontinent for its large number of female ascetics. While female ascetics are certainly not unheard of in Hindu traditions, female renouncers in Hindu traditions have been far and few between, often portrayed as transgressive figures, whereas Buddhist nuns have virtually disappeared in India itself. By contrast, Jainism has enjoyed an uninterrupted tradition of women forsaking worldly life to join the monastic ranks up to the present day. There is even reason to believe that female Jain ascetics have often outnumbered male Jain ascetics. The Kalpasūtra, a text held in high regard in Śvetāmbara Jainism, states that the Jain monastic community at the time of Mahāvīra’s passing consisted of 36,000 female monastics and only 14,000 male monastics.1 Modern demographic censuses clearly illustrate how female monastics significantly outnumber male monastics in the Śvetāmbara branch.2 However, the considerable presence of Jain female ascetics among monastic ranks has not always translated into a privileged position and institutional power. Many of the Śvetāmbara canonical texts and their later commentaries have often explicitly stated that a male renouncer is to be regarded as senior to a female renouncer, regardless of their actual monastic seniority in years.3

Ideas regarding the superiority of male ascetics even lie at the very heart of the historical split of Jainism into its two major branches, Śvetāmbara Jainism and Digambara Jainism. Whereas the former tradition came to regard the nudity that the twenty-four tīrthaṅkaras practiced as an obsolete practice in this current age, Digambara Jainism insisted upon the nakedness for male monastics.4 Deeming nakedness an unacceptable practice for women, Digambara Jainism categorically denied the possibility of women attaining liberation in their current birth. As the late Padmanabh Jaini put it in Gender and Salvation, a seminal work that traced the history of Jain philosophical debate about whether women can or cannot attain mokṣa:

This injunction [that women were not to practice nudity] effectively barred women from ever renouncing all “possessions” and, accordingly, from attaining mokṣa in that life. Female mendicants, although called noble or venerable ladies (āryikās or sādhvī), were technically not considered mendicants at all but simply celibate, albeit spiritually advanced, laywomen (utkṛṣṭa-śrāvikā).

(Jaini 1992, p. 3)

Besides the monastics, male and female, Jain communities are, of course, made up of lay people as well. Naturally, female lay people play an important role in Jain communities, and over the centuries, a normative ideal of Jain wifehood has emerged. In Heroic Wives: rituals, stories and the virtues of Jain wifehood, Whitney Kelting has explored the various ways present-day Śvetāmbara Jain women negotiate the fundamental tension between wifehood and the path of renunciation (mokṣamārga) in their personal life through ritual and narrative.

While many of the Jain satī-narratives that circulate in present-day Śvetāmbara communities, Kelting notes, more often than not end with their female protagonists renouncing the world, most of these satī-narratives—which usually derive from early canonical scriptures in Prakrit and have been later retold in various languages by male scholar-monks in North India over the last millennium—have mostly promoted an ideal of wifely fidelity rather than renunciation. In this article, I wish to show how the tension between wifehood and the path of renunciation (mokṣamārga), which Kelting discusses with reference to satī-narratives as told by and to Śvetāmbara Jain women, is handled in two Digambara Jain adaptations of the Mahābhārata-narrative in Sanskrit. In doing so, I wish to touch on a relatively underexplored aspect of Digambara texts: the portrayal of female renouncers5 in Digambara narratives in Sanskrit.

Through a comparative reading, I will show how Jinasena Punnāṭa and Śubhacandra, both Digambara Jain monastic authors, deal with the contrasting Jain ideologies of virtuous wifehood and renunciation over three consecutive episodes, episodes unique to the tradition of Digambara Jain Mahābhārata adaptations. In the Harivaṃśapurāṇa (783 CE), Jinasena Punnāṭa narrates how the eldest Pāṇḍava Yudhiṣṭhira encounters several young women before he eventually marries them. Several of these young women mistakenly believe themselves widowed and respond in different ways to their premature widowhood. By contrast, in the Pāṇḍavapurāṇa (1552 CE) by Śubhacandra6, we find the same episodes from Jinasena’s Harivaṃśapurāṇa, but these episodes are imbued with a tangible ambivalence towards the idea of young women actively renouncing and portray marriage as the more preferable path.

First, I will examine some of the ideologies underpinning Jain womanhood outlined by Whitney Kelting in Heroic Wives, as they directly pertain to the episodes mentioned above and provide a framework to understand them. I will then explore the three consecutive episodes in Jinasena Punnāṭa’s Harivaṃśapurāṇa, all of which appear to be creative inventions of Jinasena, before moving on to Śubhacandra’s Pāṇḍavapurāṇa.

2. Ideologies of Jain Womanhood: Pativratā, Saubhāgya, Satī, and Mokṣamārga

In her 2009 monograph, Heroic Wives: rituals, stories and the virtues of Jain wifehood, Whitney Kelting explores the rituals practiced by modern-day Jain lay women as well as the stories retold over the centuries to circumscribe the ideal behaviour of Jain lay women. Kelting distinguishes between three overlapping concepts underlying Jain wifehood: pativratā, saubhāgya, and satī (Kelting 2009, pp. 16–26). Although none of these three concepts are unique to Jain ideologies of wifehood and are more commonly associated with Hindu traditions, the third concept of satī has a distinct meaning in Jain discursive contexts. The first concept is pativratā, which literally means ‘a woman sworn to the husband’ or ‘faithful wife’, and refers to an ideology of absolute devotion and conjugal faithfulness a wife owes her husband. This fidelity entails an absolute chastity before marriage as well as sexual fidelity that extends beyond the death of one’s husband.7 The second concept, saubhāgya, is closely related to pativratā and refers to the good fortune (saubhāgya) a married wife enjoys on account on having a living husband. She is possessed of good fortune and is hence a saubhāgyavatī. Conversely, a woman who does not have a living husband cannot be considered saubhāgyavatī. Hence, widowhood is understood as a loss of this auspicious good fortune. As per Kelting, “the ideologies of pativratā and saubhāgya create a crisis for those wives who are widowed, which can be resolved either through austerity, or rarely (and prohibited for Jains), one’s death […] (Kelting 2009, p. 19).

This bring us to the last concept, satī, infamously conflated with the practice of widow immolation by British colonial writers, even though Brahminical texts almost exclusively refer to the actual practice of widow burning with the following Sanskrit terms: anugamana (going after), sahagamana (going with), anumaraṇa (dying after) and anvārohaṇa (mounting after).8

The actual concept of satī—the word itself means ‘virtuous woman’ in Sanskrit—refers to an exemplary woman of firm moral fibre. While in some parts of Hindu traditions, women have been praised and labelled satī for ascending the funeral pyre upon their husband’s death, Jains have generally rejected the practice of sahagamana because of the violence involved in the act. Unlike the more widespread and, for the lack of a better word, Hindu conception of satī, satīs in the Jain context are not necessarily married wives. In Śvetāmbara Jainism, a tradition of set of telling the stories of sixteen satīs emerged, likely sometime before the fifteenth century of the common era.9 Among these sixteen satīs, we find famous pan-Indian characters such as Sīta, Draupadī, and Damayantī, all three famously married. some of the satīs unique to Jain narrative, like Candanabālā and Rājīmatī, never marry and take initiation (dīkṣā) to become Jain nuns at a young age. As a result, these Jain satīs, who are praised in popular hymns and appear over and over in narratives, embody two distinct and mutually exclusive paths available to Jain women: marriage, with all its reproductive duties, as well as total renunciation as a nun. Although married Jain satīs eventually renounce and take initiation, this is presented as act undertaken at towards the very end of one’s life (See Kelting 2006, pp. 183–85). There is a tension between the ideal of wifehood and the soteriological goal of striving towards liberation (mokṣamārga), but the narratives ultimately present this tension as resolvable, since married Jain women can always renounce towards the very end of their lives.

Taking an anthropological approach, Kelting explores how pativratā and saubhāgya ideologies underlie the fasting practices of Jain laywomen, which, even though similar in practice to the fasting undertaken by Jain monastics, also serve the this-worldly purposes of securing a good husband or protecting their husband. Kelting looks at vernacular satī-narratives and how modern-day Jain women in Śvetāmbara communities retell these stories. Interestingly, pativratā and saubhāgya ideologies as well as their tension with mokṣamārga ideology are also operative in Digambara narratives in Sanskrit written centuries earlier.

In comparing three consecutive episodes from Jinasena’s Harivaṃśapurāṇa (783 CE) with Śubhacandra’s adaptation of these episodes in the Pāṇḍavapurāṇa (1552 CE), I will show how the aforementioned Jain ideologies of virtuous womanhood manifest with their tension of pativratā and saubhāgya on one end, and mokṣamārga on the other end, in these Digambara Jain Sanskrit narratives. Yet even in this limited selection of the same basic narrative, there are significant differences.

3. Kusumakomalā, Vasantasundarī, and the Eleven Young Women in Jinasena’s Harivaṃśapurāṇa

Jinasena Punnāṭa was arguably the first Jain author to compose a Sanskrit work belonging to the genre Western scholars have often called Jain Universal Histories.10 As huge, sprawling literary compositions written in Sanskrit or Prakrit, Jain Universal Histories narrate the Jain conception of history through the biographies of 63 exemplary individuals, among whom we find the twenty-four tīrthaṅkaras.11 With his Harivaṃśapurāṇa, Jinasena Punnāṭa, a native of Saurāṣṭra-peninsula, wrote a voluminous work of over 9000 verses which, in addition to giving a rundown of Jain history from the very ancestors of the first tīrthaṅkara, Ṛṣabha, up to Mahāvīra’s attainment of mokṣa, is remarkable for being the first Jain Sanskrit work to include an entire Mahābhārata narrative. Since Jains claim that the famous Kṛṣṇa and the five Pāṇḍavas from the Mahābhārata are cousins of the twenty-second tīrthaṅkara, Nemi, Jinasena included a subnarrative describing the famous conflict between the Pāṇḍavas supported by Kṛṣṇa against the Kauravas within the biography of Nemi. The struggle between the two rival sets of cousins over the throne of Hastināpura occupies only a small part in Jinasena’s Harivaṃśapurāṇa, being utterly dwarfed by the Mahābhārata of Vyāsa.12 In his version of the Mahābhārata-narrative, Jinasena often reimagines parts of narrative and its characters in accordance with Jain values.13

While the Sanskrit epic of the Mahābhārata is known for its vast size, numerous embedded narratives, and countless narrative digressions, the main narrative throughline of the Mahābhārata is the succession struggle between the five Pāṇḍava brothers and their cousins, the Kauravas. Who will rule the kingdom of the Kurus: the righteous eldest Pāṇḍava, Yudhiṣṭhira, or the power-hungry, conniving eldest Kaurava, Duryodhana? Over and over in the Mahābhārata, Duryodhana tries to eliminate his Pāṇḍava cousins through treacherous means. One of Duryodhana’s first attempts to killthe Pāṇḍavas—a scheme that took place before the more well-known game of dice that resulted in the Pāṇḍavas’ thirteen-year exile—is the House of Lacquer (Lākṣagṛha or jātugṛha). Duryodhana had a palace made out of highly combustible materials built, and invited the Pāṇḍavas and their mother, Kuntī, to stay there, intending to set the palace on fire one night when the unsuspecting Pāṇḍavas and Kuntī were asleep. Fortunately, the Pāṇḍavas caught wind of Duryodhana’s scheme and planned an escape; they pretended to be unaware of the plot and dug an underground tunnel during their stay in the House of Lacquer. The very night Duryodhana had the palace set on fire, the Pāṇḍavas and Kuntī escaped through the tunnel.14 After this assassination attempt, the Pāṇḍavas travelled incognito, letting the outside world believe that they perished in the fire so as to avoid any further assassination attempts in the near future.

It is Jinasena’s adaptation of the Pāṇḍavas’ travels after they escape the House of Lacquer I am concerned with here. In the 45th sarga of his Harivaṃśapurāṇa, Jinasena introduces several episodes of his own invention after the Pāṇḍavas’ escape. All of the episodes I will discuss follow a similar narrative pattern: the Pāṇḍavas visit a certain town incognito where they are met with a warm welcome, and Yudhiṣṭhira interacts with one or more young women of marriageable age. Each episode highlights Yudhiṣṭhira’s eligibility as a potential groom, dangling the possibility of his marrying the young women but ultimately deferring the marriage until a later point.

The first episode describes how the Pāṇḍavas, after having escaped the Lacquer house and having changed their clothes, head eastwards until they arrive in the city of Kauśika, ruled by King Varṇa and Queen Prabhāvatī. Their daughter, princess Kusumakomalā, hears of their arrival and goes out to see the Pāṇḍavas:

At the sight of prince Yudhiṣṭhira, the moon incarnate, the virtuous and beautiful lady blossomed like a pool of night-lotuses. She thought to herself, “this one will have a beautiful wife; may this excellent groom have me in this birth!” Recognising her intentions, he [Yudhiṣṭhira] was seized by love. He showed his hope to marry her by a signal and left. Looking forward to meeting him again, she spent her time with pastimes befitting unmarried young women [kanyā].15

Here, Yudhiṣṭhira shows his intention to marry her, but the marriage is deferred until some unspecified future moment. Note the use of the Sanskrit word kanyā used to describe the unspecified pastimes Kusumakomalā pursues after Yudhiṣṭhira has left; it clearly shows the marriage is yet to take place.

In this next episode about Yudhiṣṭhira’s encounter with a young woman, the Pāṇḍavas and Kuntī, having disguised themselves in ascetic garb (tāpasaveṣeṇa HVP 45.69), arrive in an āśrama in the Śleśmāntaka forest. The narrator then mentions how a certain princess Vasantasundarī, daughter of King Vindhyasena and Queen Narmadā, practices asceticism among the ascetics of the āśrama. Interestingly, Jinasena’s narrative here describes the ascetics and their āśrama in rather generic and, for the lack of a better word, non-denominational terms; the Sanskrit term used to refer to these ascetics is tāpasa, literally “practiser of tapas”, a term whose etymology and significance I will elaborate on later. Moreover, this episode neither uses the terms most commonly used in Jain narrative literature to refer to Jain monastics, such muni or sādhu, nor does this episode describe the young Vasantasundarī as a Jain nun. Rather, Vasantasundarī is described as a highly attractive young woman, in spite of her ascetic efforts:

Wearing a gown of dukūla cloth and matted hair, she looked noble, beautiful, and lovely, like a branch of a banyan tree granting soft shade. That female ascetic [tāpasī] stole one’s heart with her moon-like face, her lips, her wide eyes that reached up to her ears, and her full hips and breasts.16

In fact, Jinasena’s narrative even describes the reason for Vasantasundarī’s unusual choice to practice austerities before giving her physical description:

Formerly she had been chosen by her elders to be given to Yudhiṣṭhira. When she heard the news about the fire [the burning of the Lacquer House], she blamed herself for her past actions [in a former birth]. Wishing to see that husband in the next birth, she began to practice asceticism in that āśrama full of ascetics.17

Being a good hostess, Vasantasundarī receives the Pāṇḍavas and Kuntī in the āśrama. Intrigued by the young woman’s decision to become an ascetic at such a young age, Kuntī asks Vasantasundarī why she pursues asceticism. Repeating what had already been established by the narrator, Vasantasundarī explains that her relatives had intended to marry her to Yudhiṣṭhira, but after she had heard that Yudhiṣṭhira had perished together with his brothers in the Lacquer House, she decided to renounce the world:

Due to my inauspicious merit, I heard from people about his [having perished] along with his brothers and mother, rumours which I cannot even bear to call to mind. It is proper to follow that husband who burned to his death in the very same way, but unable to do so, I practice austerities.18

Here, Vasantasundarī invokes the infamous practice of widows following their deceased husband on the funeral pyre, and which has mistakenly been called satī. Here, in the Harivaṃśapurāṇa, Vasantasundarī chooses to practice ‘austerities’ after considering but ultimately deciding against self-immolation. The exact Sanskrit term Vasantasundarī uses to describe her austerities is significant: tāpasye, a causative verbal form derived from the Sanskrit verbal root √tap, the very root from which the term tāpas (asceticism) is derived. The literal and original meaning of this root is “to give out heat, to be hot”, which in later language came to signify ascetic practices in a general sense. Cultivating an inner heat, an inner fire is the underlying metaphor for tapas and ascetic practices in general. Hence, Vasantasundarī’s statement tāpasye alludes to this metaphor; instead of immolating herself in the literal sense, she figuratively immolates herself by practicing asceticism. After Vasantasundarī has explained herself, Kuntī, mother of Yudhiṣṭhira, congratulates the young woman:

Upon hearing those words, that kind woman [Kuntī] said to her future daughter-in-law, “You have done well to preserve your life, my dear […]. Keep living for the sake of good fortune, fortunate girl, for as I tell you, you will meet with good things in your life even though you practice austerities”.19

The fact that it is Kuntī who congratulate Vasantasundarī here is significant. In Hindu traditions as well as in Jain tradition, Kuntī enjoys an exalted position as an especially virtuous wife. She is often listed among the pañcakanyā, five women revered for their fidelity.20 Similarly, Śvetāmbara Jains came to include Kuntī as one of satīs when this set of sixteen satīs crystallised and began to circulate in their hymns (Kelting 2006, pp. 181–90). In the Mahābhārata of Vyāsa, Kuntī is known as the senior wife of Pāṇḍu who, even though initially she volunteered to do so, did not join Pāṇḍu on the funeral pyre after his death. Instead, it is Mādrī, Pāṇḍu’s junior wife, who followed her husband on the funeral pyre.21 Admittedly, Jinasena changes the passing of Pāṇḍu and Mādrī in his Harivaṃśapurāṇa: the Jain author mentions how they went to heaven in accordance with the teachings of Jainism, probably implying that Pāṇḍu and Mādrī both died by fasting until death in the Jain practice of sallekhanā.22 Nevertheless, readers (or listeners), whether they were Jain or not, probably would have been aware of Kuntī being the woman who ultimately did not ascend her husband’s funeral pyre; at any rate, Jinasena certainly would have known. As such, to have Kuntī be the one to praise Vasantasundarī for not immolating herself can be taken as an intertextual comment on how Vasantasundarī made the sensible choice. The very fact that Kuntī does not speak or meaningfully interact with Kusumakomalā in the previous episode, nor with the eleven young women in the next episode I will discuss, is telling.

After Kuntī’s praise, the disguised Yudhiṣṭhira chimes in to explain about Jain doctrine to the young woman. Yudhiṣṭhira lecturing Vasantasundarī about Jain lay vows such as aṇuvratas, śīlavratas, and guṇavratas23 seems to suggest that Vasantasundarī pursues “generic” asceticism, the asceticism various characters ranging from human beings to supernatural creatures pursue in pursuit of a boon throughout Indic narratives, rather than actually having become an initiated Jain female mendicant. After all, the aṇuvratas, literally ‘minor vows’, are explicitly conceived of as lesser versions of the five mahāvratas undertaken by mendicants. Surely, if Vasantasundarī had been pursuing the path of a Jain mendicant, a path by its very nature stricter than that of the lay person, this would not be new knowledge to be imparted to her by a lay Jain person such as Yudhiṣṭhira is in this narrative.

Before the episode of Vasantasundarī concludes, Vasantasundarī begins to wonder to herself whether the men lecturing her on Jain lay ethics could be Yudhiṣṭhira:

“Could this compassionate man marked with signs of royalty, accompanied by his mother, who is instructing me be Yudhiṣṭhira? May that husband, who is ever truthful and diligent, live here [iha] unharmed through my considerable merit and asceticism”. When they [the Pāṇḍavas] wanted to depart, they were honoured with the appropriate goodbye “may we meet again”. They left and she [Vasantasundarī] stayed behind, full of hope.24

The above verses are interesting for two reasons. First and foremost, Vasantasundarī shifts the intention behind her ascetic practices. Initially, she turned to asceticism to attain the same husband in the next birth. This initial motivation, while rooted in pativratā-ideology, i.e., wifely fidelity to one’s husband beyond the husband’s life, more or less agrees with, or at least does not stray too far from the “official” Jain doctrinal understanding of karma that “actions of one person can[not] affect the karmic status of another”. Vasantasundarī hopes that her asceticism will affect her next rebirth; her soul will shed and/or acquire the karma that could cause her soul to reborn as the future wife of her formerly betrothed. However, upon learning that Yudhiṣṭhira might very well still be alive, Vasantasundarī hopes that her asceticism will affect her husband, another person, “here”, i.e., in this lifetime, as the Sanskrit word iha suggests; she hopes he will live free from harm (jīvyād anāhatir). Here, we appear to find an instance of the paradox John Cort pointed out, the paradox he described as “the paradox of the simultaneous existence in Jainism of a doctrine that denies the possibility of merit transfer, and practices that assume just such a transfer” (Cort 2003, p. 145). John Cort noted how donative inscriptions, mortuary rituals, narrative literature, and interviews with modern-day Jains regularly contradicted the “the truism of Jain scholarship [..] that the Jains do not believe that the actions of one person can affect the karmic status of another” (Cort 2003, pp. 130–42). In a similar vein, Kelting explored in Heroic Wives how contemporary Śvetāmbara lay women undertake saubhāgya-fasts not just for mokṣa-oriented purposes but also for the benefit of their husbands.25 Here, in Jinasena’s Harivaṃśapurāṇa, an eighth-century Digambara narrative in Sanskrit, we are met with another instance of the idea that asceticism can also transfer merit unto another person.

The second reason why I bring up the concluding verses of the Vasantasundarī episode is because of the episode ending on positive note; Vasantasundarī remains hopeful. By contrast, Śubhacandra’s adaptation of the same episode, which I will discuss later, ends on a much less positive note with some notable implications.

The next episode of Jinasena’s Harivaṃśapurāṇa I will discuss takes places after the Pāṇḍavas have defeated this a man-eating demon called Bhṛṅga. Disguised as Brahmins, they arrive in the city of Triśṛṅga. This city’s ruler, Pracaṇḍavāhana, has ten beautiful and accomplished daughters called Guṇaprabhā, Suprabhā, Hrī, Śrī, Rati, Padmā, Indīvara, Viśvā, Caryā, and Aśokā. Just like Vasantasundarī earlier, these ten young women were to marry Yudhiṣṭhira:

All of them were formerly promised to Yudhiṣṭhira, but upon receiving the news about him, they remained firm in [practising] the aṇuvratas.26

Besides these ten princesses, another young woman called Nayanasundarī, daughter of the prominent merchant Priyamitra, was also supposed to marry Yudhisṭḥira until she heard about his fiery demise. When the Pāṇḍavas are given a warm welcome in Triśṛṅga, King Pracaṇḍavāhana and the merchant Priyamitra, though they do not recognise Yudhiṣṭhira, take special notice of him:

The king and his wife, as well as the rich man, all able to recognise a great man, wished to give their daughters to the eldest son of Kuntī. They [the daughters], however, due to their firm mental resolve, still considered him [Yudhiṣṭhira] as their husband even though he had gone to the next world, and did not want that Brahmin.27

Steadfast in their fidelity to the man whom they never even got to marry, the eleven young women refuse Yudhiṣṭhira, whom they fail to recognise. In the immediate next verse, the Pāṇḍavas travel to Campapurī. Dangling the possibility of these young women eventually marrying Yudhiṣṭhira, the narrative leaves this thread unresolved for more than forty verses.

First, Jinasena describes how the second eldest Pāṇḍava Bhīma marries two young women during their travels and how the middle Pāṇḍava Arjuna wins the hand of Draupadī in marriage by performing an archery feat impossible for other suitors.28 It is not until the Pāṇḍavas, having revealed themselves, receive one half of the kingdom, divided between them and the Kauravas, that Jinasena picks up this narrative thread:

Bhīmasena, busy with marriage tasks, brought back the young maidens from before, and made them marry the eldest [Yudhiṣṭhira], making those women, eligible by their very nature, happy.29

What to make of these three consecutive episodes about Yudhiṣṭhira meeting several young women whom he eventually marries? The two last episodes of Vasantasundarī and the eleven young women, clearly foreground the virtue of the pativratā, the faithful wife whose fidelity extends even beyond her husband’s death.

Taking all three episodes as whole, however, I argue that Jinasena is making an additional, more subtle point beyond just extolling pativratā-ideology. These three consecutive episodes circumscribe a range of acceptable roles for young Jain women according to their societal status, but “place a premium on” wifehood, so to speak.

In the first episode, Kusumakomalā is implied to be younger than the women of the two other episodes. Unlike the other young women, Kusumakomalā is not yet promised to any future groom. There seems to be no family expectation of her marrying anyone at this point of her life. Moreover, the narrative neither mentions the burning of the Lacquer House nor the question of Yudhiṣṭhira’s identity here; Kusumakomalī is not presented as a prematurely bereaved widow. Hence, there is no tangible reason for her to practice asceticism like Vasantasundarī does. After Yudhiṣṭhira has made his unspoken agreement, not communicated to anyone but Kusumakomalī, to marry her at some point in the future and has left the city of Kauśika, Kusumakomalī is described as spending her time with pastime (vinoda) befitting young unmarried women. She is not yet burdened with the societal expectations of Jain wifehood, but is rewarded with marriage in the end anyway.

By contrast, in the second episode, Vasantasundarī was already promised to Yudhiṣṭhira. There is a family expectation, made explicit in the narrative, to marry and take up the societal role of wife. However, when Vasantasundarī hears about the burning of the Lacquer House, she believes herself a widow. In accordance with general Jain doctrine, the narrative presents asceticism as an option preferable to sahamaraṇa, i.e., following one’s husband on the funeral pyre. Vasantasundarī’s choice to pursue asceticism instead of sahamaraṇa as well as her fidelity to her deceased husband eventually yield reward in the shape of marriage.

Similarly, the eleven young women were also promised to Yudhiṣṭhira and believe themselves widows upon hearing about the Lacquer House. Instead of turning to the strict asceticism practiced by Vasantasundarī, the eleven young women remain lay people who practice the lesser vows (aṇuvrata). Even when given societal sanction to remarry, even when their parents want them to marry the Brahmin, who is Yudhiṣṭhira in disguise, the eleven young women refuse, insisting upon remaining faithful to their dead husband. For their adherence to Jain lay ideals and posthumous faithfulness, the eleven young women, too, are rewarded with marriage with their chosen husband in the end.

To conclude, Jinasena contrasts Kusumakomalī, who has yet to take up the role of wife in the eyes of society, with Vasantasundarī and the eleven young women, who have, to some extent, already crossed a societal threshold, no longer considering themselves ‘not-wives’. The Jain author presents sahamaraṇa as a choice to be rejected, and Vasantasundarī and the eleven young women ‘perform’ widowhood by turning to asceticism or by explicitly rejecting a second suitor respectively. So much for Jinasena’s Harivaṃśapurāṇa.

4. Kamalā, Vasantasenā, and the Eleven Young Women in Śubhacandra’s Pāṇḍavapurāṇa

In this section, I turn to Śubhacandra’s Pāṇḍavapurāṇa (1552 CE) and his adaptation of the three episodes about the same young women Yudhiṣṭhira encounters after escaping the Lacquer House30. Śubhacandra was a Digambara author active in Vāgaḍa region, a region that comprises parts of the modern-day state of Rājasthān as well as parts of modern-day Gujarāt. He is notable for being a bhaṭṭāraka, a type of a clothed Digambara monastic, and would have interacted a great deal with the lay community as a consequence.31 Besides his monastic occupation, Śubhacandra was also known for his prolific literary output, composing both in Sanskrit as well as in Old Hindi.

Over twenty works have been attributed to him.32 His most influential work, or at least the work that has attracted the most scholarly scrutiny up to this day, is arguably the Pāṇḍavapurāṇa (1552 CE). True to its title, the Pāṇḍavapurāṇa is an adaptation of the Mahābhārata-narrative. Unlike Jinasena’s Harivaṃśapurāṇa, in which the Mahābhārata-narrative is but a small subnarrative, Śubhacandra’s Pāṇḍavapurāṇa devotes over two thirds of its 5301 ślokas to the exploits of the Pāṇḍavas. In 20th-century scholarship, the work has mostly been discussed with respect to its polemical frame narrative. Following a commonly used trope specific to Jain literature, the Pāṇḍavapurāṇa’s frame narrative starts with Mahāvīra, the twenty-fourth jina, giving a sermon and thereupon being questioned by king Śreṇika about the far-fetched and scandalous aspects found in the Sanskrit epics and purāṇas as told by Hindu communities. After listening to these ‘false’ accounts replete with sordid details that are intended to cast a bad light on the people who tell these versions, Mahāvīra then asks his pupil Indrabhūti Gautama to tell the real, i.e., the Jain version of these stories to Śreṇika.33 Leaving aside the polemical frame narrative, I will now turn to Śubhacandra’s adaptation of the three episodes from Jinasena’s Harivaṃśapurāṇa.

After the twelfth parvan of Śubhacandra’s Pāṇḍavapurāṇa, which features the episodes of the House of Lacquer and the Pāṇḍavas’ escape, the thirteenth parvan is entirely devoted to Śubhacandra’s adaptation of the three episodes invented by Jinasena Punnāṭa. Although some of the character names differ slightly from those found in Jinasena’s Harivaṃśapurāṇa, they are essentially still the same characters. What is different in Śubhacandra’s Pāṇḍavapurāṇa is his inclusion of a clear ambivalence towards young women taking initiation as Jain nuns (dīkṣā). As I will discuss, several of the young women express the explicit desire to renounce the world to become Jain nuns in Śubhacandra’s Paṇḍavapurāṇa. In this narrative, however, unlike most Jain narratives, in which the decision to renounce is usually portrayed as highly commendable, several characters try to dissuade the Vasantasenā and the eleven young women from renouncing.

The thirteenth parvan begins with the Pāṇḍavas and Kuntī disguising themselves as Brahmins before travelling to the city of Kauśika. Just like in Jinasena’s Harivaṃśapurāṇa, we are introduced to the rulers of Kauśika: King Varṇa and his wife, named Prabhākarī here instead of Prabhāvatī. Their daughter also bears a different name in the Pāṇḍavapurāṇa; she is called Kamalā instead of Kusumakomalā. The changes do not just stop there: Śubhacandra frames the encounter between Kamalā and Yudhiṣṭhira somewhat differently and also infuses the entire episode with śṛṅgāra-adjacent literary tropes. One day, during an excursion with friends through a pleasure garden, Kamalā sees a Jain temple34 devoted to the Jina Candraprabha and is suddenly struck by the urge to visit the temple by herself.

As it so happens, the Pāṇḍavas are nearby and enter the temple before Kamalā does:

When she felt the desire to go there to worship the Jinas, the Pāṇḍavas reached the Jain temple. Upon seeing the temple of Candraprabha, they bathed themselves with strained water [i.e., water that is made free of any possible living beings]. They then entered the temple, uttering the words “nissahi”.35

Śubhacandra then not only describes Kamalā’s beauty as she enters the temple but her piety in worshipping the Jinas as well:

The girdle slipped from her full hips as she entered the temple, walking slowly with a gait that surpassed the Elephant’s Gait. She venerated the deities represented by effigies according to the proper rites. […] Then she adorned the lotus feet of the jina with mandāra, mallikā, kamra, ketakī, kundara, lotus and campaka flowers. After she had worshipped the Jina with enough incense to cover the whole world and numerous fruits, she went out. There, she saw the pure and supreme Pāṇḍavas.36

Upon seeing Yudhiṣṭhira, Kamalā is instantly smitten and wonders whether this man is a deity rather than a human mortal. The young woman is so besotted that she is frozen on the spot, unable to go home by herself!

Her friends managed to carry her back to her house with great effort. There, she pined away as she neither ate, spoke nor laughed for even a moment. One moment she was pondering, another moment she cried, feeling dejected. Then, she slept, got up, and after standing up, fell down laughing; When her mother saw her beautiful daughter in such state, close to death, she asked her daughter and learned what the problem was.37

After this brief description of Kamalā’s viraha, Queen Prabhākarī promptly informs her husband, King Varṇa, who then has the Pāṇḍavas summoned to his palace. After receiving them with honours, King Varṇa asks Yudhiṣṭhira to marry his daughter:

Then he [the king] asked the son of Dharma about marriage. He gladly gave his pure daughter Kamalā to him [in marriage]. He [Yudhiṣṭhira] then enjoyed the excellent pleasures of love with her. So did he spend some days there along with Kuntī and his brothers.38

Unlike in Jinasena’s Harivaṃśapurāṇa, there is no private understanding between Yudhiṣṭhira and Kamalā of eventually marrying in the future. Instead, the marriage, fully sanctioned by Kamalā’s parents, takes place with no delay; even its consummation is made explicit. In fact, king Varṇa does not even know who his son-in-law truly is, for he only asks Yudhiṣṭhira about his identity well after the marriage:

One day Varṇa asked Dharma’s son, “Listen now sir, who are you? Who is she [Kuntī]? From where have they [the four other Pāṇḍavas] come?” The king [Yudhiṣṭhira] replied, “Varṇa, listen to our curious tale. We are the sons of Pāṇḍu whom the Kauravas burnt. We escaped from the house”.39

After explaining his familial ties to the future tīrthaṅkara Nemi, Kṛṣṇa and Balarāma, Yudhiṣṭhira states his intention to visit them in Dvāravatī and departs from Kauśika together with his brothers and mother, leaving his newly-wed wife Kamalā behind. Eventually, the Pāṇḍavas and Kuntī arrive in the Puṇyadruma forest. There, they visit all the Jain temples they encounter and listen to a lecture by a Jain muni.

It is here that we find Śubhacandra’s version of the Vasantasundarī-episode. After the muni’s lecture, the Pāṇḍavas encounter a Jain nun. While her sons are busy paying their respects to the nun, Kuntī notices a young woman nearby engaged in ‘studying letters’ (śikṣamāṇā_akṣarāṇi; PP 13.63), i.e., the graphemic symbols that make up the basis of the Indic script. To Kuntī’s surprise, her body is emaciated like the body of an ascetic. Intrigued by this young woman, Kuntī asks the Jain nun about the young woman:

“Why does this maiden practice austerities as a good woman engaged in pious actions and calmly observing dharmadhyāna (pious meditation)? Indifference to the world does not happen without cause in that rough age of youth, when the body is driven by passion. Why does she, firm of mind, wear a red robe? Why does she dwell in the forest by your side without having taken dīkṣā?”40

Note how the narrative explicitly mentions that even though the young woman is practicing asceticism, she has not been initiated (dīkṣā) as a Jain nun. Before the Jain nun answers Kuntī’s questions, Yudhiṣṭhira and the young woman are making eyes at each other:

She [the girl] kept looking at Yudhiṣṭhira with innocent glances. He too noticed her and kept looking at her lotus-like face. Through furtive glances she showed her intention to the king; he, in turn, showed her his intention with a look.41

Obliging Kuntī’s request, the Jain nun then begins to tell about the young woman and the reasons behind her renunciation. The young woman turns out to be the daughter of King Vindhyasena, ruler of Kauśāmbī, and is the same character as the one in Jinasena’s Harivaṃśapurāṇa. Again, there is a name change in Śubhacandra’s Pāṇḍavapurāṇa: she is called Vasantasenā instead of Vasantasundarī. The nun goes on to describe how King Vindhyasena had intended to marry Vasantasenā to Yudhiṣṭhira. Unfortunately, when news got out that the Pāṇḍavas all perished in the lacquer house, Vasantasenā was distraught and decided that if she could not marry Yudhiṣṭhira, she would not marry at all. It is here at this point that Śubhacandra’s Pāṇḍavapurāṇa introduces noticeable differences from Jinasena’s Harivaṃśapurāṇa. Vasantasenā’s turn towards asceticism, while still partly motivated by pativratā-ideology, is much more rooted in the mokṣamārga-ideology, as these verses suggest:

Upon reflecting this for a long time, clever as she was, she came to the conclusion: “I will marry no other man but Yudhiṣṭhira. But since he was burned to death, I will practice the harshest austerities so that I do not obtain that karma which is reviled by all, birth upon birth”.42

Unlike Vasantasundarī in Jinasena’s narrative, Vasantasenā does not practice austerities with the express wish to see her husband in the next birth, but rather to shed karma. Furthermore, Vasantasenā wants to become a Jain nun, as her desire for initiation (dīkṣā) clearly shows. However, her family explicitly disapproves of her decision to take dīkṣā:

When her father and the others found out she was eager to take initiation, they were filled with grief and tried to reason with that noble-minded girl fearful of saṃsāra [saṃvega-sampannām] […] “If you wish for initiation [dīkṣā], be firm for a while and listen carefully with attentive ears in the presence of a Jain nun. Through your virtue, this obstacle will someday disappear. Such an auspicious person [like Yudhiṣṭhira] is not born to be short-lived. Be firm [sthirā] and when he turns out to be alive, you will reach him and attain marital bliss, otherwise [i.e., if Yudhiṣṭhira turns out to be dead] you should take initiation as you want”.43

Clearly, Vasantasenā’s parents prefer she marry rather than take initiation as a Jain nun. Note that the narrative describe Vasantasenā as saṃvega-saṃpannā, which I have translated as “fearful of saṃsāra” in light of how Digambara Śrāvakācāra authors have defined the term.44 Notwithstanding the initial misgivings of Vasantasenā’s parents, Vasantasenā’s efforts are positively commented upon by the Jain nun at whose side the young woman is practising asceticism:

Now, she is staying firm [sthirā], practicing bodily mortification in my presence. Striving to exercise self-control, she has given up choice food. The slender girl has practiced arduous austerities in the kāyotsarga-position. She has been well-behaved and her virtue effortlessly shines through. She has listened to the auspicious teaching to acquire the purifying siddhāntas.45

When the conversation between Kuntī and the Jain nun comes to a close, Vasantasenā takes notice of Kuntī and begins to wonder if this woman and her five sons could be Kuntī and the five Pāṇḍavas, who were supposed to have perished in the fire. She turns to Kuntī and asks who she is. Still safeguarding her identity and that of her sons, Kuntī tells Vasantasenā that they are Brahmins. Just like Vasantasenā’s relatives earlier, Kuntī then tries to convince Vasantasenā to give up on dīkṣā:

Pursue pure virtue while you live. Abandon this desire to renounce! Be steadfast in the householder’s vow! Someday they [the Pāṇḍavas] will live again because of your merit. Not even the gods are able to kill such men!46

However, her words fail to persuade Vasantasenā; the young woman remains engaged in asceticism. Unlike the parting between the Pāṇḍavas and Vasantasundarī in Jinasena’s Harivaṃśapurāṇa, the parting between the Pāṇḍavas and Vasantasenā in Śubhacandra’s narrative is not described as a happy occasion:

When the girl heard this [Kuntī’s statements], she became pale and dejected. Vindhyasena’s daughter was tormented by mournful meditation. She restrained her mind, as difficult to restrain as a ruttish elephant leader of a pack, and engaged in asceticism, scorning the karma acquired in a former birth.47

Indeed, it seems the narrative, in addition to the parental objection and Kuntī’s attempt to dissuade her, goes even one step further to suggest that Vasantasenā insistence on renunciation is ultimately misguided: she abandons the meditational practice of dharmadhyāna48 and instead lapses to ārtādhyāna. As meditational practice, ārtādhyāna is characterised by a sorrowful disposition. Out of the four types of meditations under the type of dhyāna described in Jain texts, i.e., ārtadhyāna (sorrowful meditation), raudradhyāna (wrathful meditation), dharmadhyāna (pious meditation), and śukladhyāna (blissful meditation), ārtādhyāna and raudradhyāna are regarded as inauspicious since both of them are characterised by the practitioner dwelling on negative feelings. Consequently, the practitioner lacks true detachment from the world.49

Unable to convince Vasantasenā, Kuntī follows her sons as they continue their travels. Now we turn to Śubhacandra’s adaptation of the episode of the eleven young women as the Pāṇḍavas arrive in the city of Triśṛṅga. The narrative introduces Triśṛṅga’s ruler, called Caṇḍavāhana in the Pāṇḍavapurāṇa rather than Pracaṇḍavāhana. Just like in Jinasena’s Harivaṃśapurāṇa, King Caṇḍavāhana has ten daughters: Guṇaprabhā, Suprabhā, Hrī, Śrī, Rati, Padmā, Indīvara, Viśvā, Āścaryā, and Aśokā. After consulting an astrologer about suitable husbands for his daughters, Caṇḍavāhana intends to marry them all to Yudhiṣṭhira. The merchant Priyamitra of Triśṛṅga also intends to marry his daughter Nayanasundarī to Yudhiṣṭhira. Unfortunately, the news that Yudhiṣṭhira has died in the Lacquer House reaches them not long after. Grieved by their promised husband’s passing, the young women take to fasting:

When she [Nayanasundarī] too heard of his burning to death, she became dejected. Together with them [the 10 princesses] they all began to practice dharmadhyāna, having devoted themselves to vows. […] Those sweet-voiced women remained steadfast with equanimity at all times while they practiced arduous fasting.50

The eleven young women meditate, focusing on dharmadhyāna rather than the spiritually inferior ārtadhyāna Vasantasenā turned to. One day, the young women set out for a Jain temple in the forest to practice the proṣadha-fast:

Sometime on the fourteenth [day of a fortnight] they took to staying in a Jain temple in the forest, having taken up the proṣadha fast of twice a [day of] eight watches. […] They all spent the night telling each other stories about the Jinas and the cakravartins, and at dawn they performed sāmāyika.51

Here, Śubhacandra references a particular lay ritual practice described in many śrāvakācāras, i.e., treatises on Jain lay conduct: posaha in Prakrit derived from Sanskrit upavasatha, which was later erroneously resanskritised as pauṣadha, poṣadha, or proṣadha. The former two resanskritisations are generally used interchangeably in Śvetāmbara śrāvakacāras; Digambara śrāvakācāras almost exclusively use the last term.52 Perhaps unsurprising for a Digambara author, Śubhacandra uses proṣadha here. The description of the proṣadha-fast undertaken by the eleven young women agrees with many of the fast’s features as detailed in Digambara śrāvakācāras. For instance, the fast should last for forty-eight hours, or two days, i.e., two times eight watches. The fourteenth day (caturdaśī) is one of the four days in a month on which a lay person can undertake a proṣadha, besides the aṣṭamī, pūrṇimā, and amāvasī. Similarly, the Digambara śrāvakācāra authors Pūjyapada and Cāmuṇḍarāya recommend a temple as one of the possible locations where to perform the fast. Furthermore, some śrāvakācāras even mention “that the primary aim of the p[r]oṣadhopavāsa is to enable sāmāyika-ritual” (Williams 1963, pp. 142–46).

The mention of the sāmāyika-ritual is not incidental and carries some significance here, as I will explain. The term sāmāyika is used in two different, albeit not entirely unrelated, senses: either as a single vow of restraint taken by mendicants, or as a ritual aimed undertaken by mendicants and lay persons. It is the latter sense that is of concern here. As a ritual, sāmāyika entails an effort to detach the senses from external objects and to become one with the Self in the process. While some of the details involved in the ritual differ along different Jain traditions, all agree that one renounces all harmful activity, even down to harming the tiniest life organisms, whilst meditating. In doing so, “a lay person becomes like mendicant” (Wiley 2004, pp. 184–85). Williams put even more strongly:

The aspirant [who] perform[s] the sāmāyika […], as the commentators [of śrāvakācāras] never tire of repeating, [is] temporarily assimilate[d] [..] to the status of ascetic.

(Williams 1963, p. 175)

As such, one can view a lay person who has just performed a sāmāyika as occupying this quasi-liminal position between a lay person and a mendicant. Hence, it is not a coincidence that right after the sāmāyika-ritual, the eldest princess Guṇaprabhā speaks up to announce that she and all the other young women, should keep on practicing tapas at the side of a muni after donating to him. Guṇaprabhā then launches into an extensive lament about womanhood:

What’s more, womanhood is a reprehensible stage caused by bad karma. As soon as she is born, a daughter means trouble for her father. When she is growing up, she makes her father worry about the search for a husband, When she is married, she makes him worry about her husband, taking away [his] comfort. Sometimes a husband is wicked, addicted to vices, bone idle, a liar, negligent because of his constant gambling, ill, poor, coveting other women, unjust, a slave to his anger, or extremely foolish. If a woman has such a bad husband because of her bad karma, then who knows the sorrow it could cause her?53

Guṇaprabhā does not just stop there; she also deplores the possibility of having to share a husband with another woman54, pregnancy, the pain of childbirth, and widowhood. Guṇaprabhā singles out the latter in particular:

When [her] husband has died, there is even such a thing as widowhood for women. Who is able to describe that sorrow that comes from being born a young woman? Deprived of marriage, we have become widows. Cursed be womanhood with its worldly pleasure we have enjoyed. Listen, what’s more, it is because of a husband’s kindness that women’s desires related to Law, Profit and Love are fulfilled, for everything depends on a woman’s husband.55

She then concludes by announcing her intention to strive for liberation, which requires a male rebirth according to Digambara doctrine:

“Through meditation on virtue, self-control and right belief, we will leave the confused female sex, and after we have obtained manhood, we will attain liberation!” After hearing her words, another woman spoke up praise of initiation (dīkṣā), “What you said is true, and there is more on this matter! Listen, my friend!”56

The other young woman, who remains unnamed but who is supposed to represent the collective voice of the ten other young women, continues to describe the wretched condition of widowhood:

A widowed woman never shines in society, just like an ignorant man or a lustful ascetic never does. Widows have shame applied to their eyes as kohl and they chew betel leaf. No adornment becomes her but white clothes. When her husband has died, a young woman should practice self-control or she should quickly burn the body along with the cause through tapas.57

Meanwhile, a Jain muni called Damitāri enters the Jain temple where the eleven young women are staying. They immediately go up to the muni to pay him homage. After bowing down to his feet, the young women voice their desire to renounce the world:

The maidens said to the Lord among yogis, who shone through his yoga, “Take pity and grant us initiation (pravrajyā), Pure-minded one”. They told the lord among munis about the Pāṇḍavas and what had happened to them, “Oh lord, when a husband has been burnt to death, initiation (dīkṣā) will be auspicious for us”.58

Damitāri, blessed with clairvoyance through his asceticism, bids them to wait just an instant, for the five Pāṇḍavas are about to appear! At that very moment, the five Pāṇḍavas enter the Jain temple and, after worshipping the jina images there, pay their respects to Damitāri. The eleven young women are ecstatic upon seeing Yudhiṣṭhira. As soon as king Caṇḍavāhana learns about the arrival of the Pāṇḍavas, he rushes to the Jain temple as well. There, he first worships the jina images and bows down to Damitāri before inviting the Pāṇḍavas back to his capital. It is not long until Caṇḍavāhana asks Yudhiṣṭhira to marry his daughters. The eldest Pāṇḍava agrees, and all the young women—one of whom even lamented the very idea of having to share a husband with another woman—receive their happily ever after:

Because of his merit, Yudhiṣṭhira married these modest women under the sound of auspicious music. Those maidens went up to the king [i.e., Yudhiṣṭhira] and shone next to him, as if they were the wishing creepers on the wishing tree granting every wish.59

The thirteenth parvan of the Pāṇḍavapurāṇa wraps up with Yudhiṣṭhira’s marriage. However, since the Pāṇḍavas are still trying to avoid drawing the attention of the Kauravas, they continue their travels. What about Vasantasenā? Did Śubhacandra forget about her? Not at all. In the beginning of the sixteenth parvan of the Pāṇḍavapurāṇa, when the Pāṇḍavas have come out of hiding after Arjuna’s marriage to Draupadī and have been given back their share of the kingdom, Śubhacandra reveals the fate of Vasantasenā:

All the princesses whom Yudhiṣṭhira and Bhīma had married in each town were brought back [to Indraprastha]. Yudhiṣṭhira also brought back the excellent daughter of Vindhyasena from Kauśambī and married her.60

Thus concludes the narrative thread of these episodes in Śubhacandra’s Pāṇḍavapurāṇa. While Śubhacandra’s eventual resolution of all these episodes is similar enough to Jinasena’s version in that all the young women end up marrying Yudhiṣṭhira, each episode deviates from Jinasena’s Harivaṃśapurāṇa in some way or another.

In the first episode, Kamalā of the Pāṇḍavapurāṇa is explicitly described as a pious yet passionate Jain laywoman. Her piety is illustrated by her visit to the Jain temple during her outing with her friends and extensive worship at the temple. However, her immediate reaction upon meeting Yudhiṣṭhira decidedly is not one of equanimity, the state a spiritually advanced Jain layperson should aspire to. Instead, she is consumed by passionate desire for this man. When her parents learn about her pitiable condition and the reason behind it, i.e., romantic desire for a particular man, they immediately invite Yudhiṣṭhira, a newly arrived stranger whose true identity is still unknown to them, and quickly marry Kamalā off to him. Unlike in Jinasena’s Harivaṃśapurāṇa, where the decision to marry is an unspoken but mutual understanding between Kusumakomalī and Yudhiṣṭhira, Śubhacandra introduces the explicit intervention and parental approval which make the match happen. Unlike in Jinasena’s Harivaṃśapurāṇa, where their future marriage is an unresolved plot thread left hanging for over a hundred verses, Śubhacandra resolves this episode by having Kamalā immediately marry Yudhiṣṭhira and having the couple consummate their marriage. Whereas the point in Jinasena’s version could be paraphrased as “good things come to those who wait”, Śubhacandra’s version implies that there is nothing objectionable in marrying as soon as possible, as long as the parents give their sanction.

Just like in the previous episode with Kamalā, the element of parental sanction is also present in Śubhacandra’s next episode about Vasantasenā. Or, to be more precise, the lack thereof. Unlike Vasantasundarī in Jinasena’s Harivaṃśapurāṇa, whose decision to practice tapas as this “generic ascetic” as a demonstration of her pativratā is positively commented upon by Kuntī, Vasantasenā’s explicit desire for initiation as a Jain nun (dīkṣā) is met with some disapproval. Her parents are grieved to learn about her desire to renounce and although they allow her to learn in the presence of a Jain nun, they still urge her not to take initiation to become a Jain nun just yet. Moreover, Kuntī unsuccessfully tries to dissuade Vasantasenā from taking initiation. Interestingly enough, as the only young woman to insist upon asceticism in the face of open discouragement, she is the last one to marry Yudhiṣṭhira out of all the young women. Her marriage with Yudhiṣṭhira is only described three parvans later, after hundreds upon hundreds of verses. This stands in stark contrast with Kamalā in the previous episode, to whom Śubhacandra immediately grants marriage. It is almost as if Vasantasenā’s insistence on asceticism after her parents and Kuntī have both tried to dissuade her is “punished” by having to wait the longest out of all the young women to marry Yudhiṣṭhira.

When it comes to the third episode with the eleven young women, Jinasena’s Harivaṃśapurāṇa neither mentions any desire to take initiation nor any intense despair on the part of the eleven young women. They are aggrieved, sure, but they are content to stick to the aṇuvratas of lay people. By contrast, Śubhacandra’s Pāṇḍavapurāṇa introduces their explicit desire to take dīkṣā as well as their intense anguish at their premature widowhood. Although the parents of the eleven young women do not express any disapproval61, the muni Damitāri does not grant the young women initiation, but instead asks them to wait just a moment for the Pāṇḍavas. As a symbol representing male monastic authority, Damitāri implicitly refuses what is ultimately an earnest request to pursue the ultimate soteriological goal of Jainism: liberation from rebirth. Remember, Guṇaprabhā, the eldest of the young women, openly stated earlier that she—and by extension, the other young women as well—wishes for initiation so she can attain a male rebirth, an obligatory saṃsāric stop for women according to Digambara doctrine, to then directly pursue liberation. She does not express any desire for material gain or societal status in the next life as a man; she does not even express the desire to perform pativratā by attaining a rebirth in which she marries Yudhiṣṭhira—or his future birth, for that matter. Nevertheless, Damitāri deems marriage to be the preferable option for the young women.

5. Conclusions

This comparative reading of two sets of consecutive episodes from two Digambara Jain Mahābhārata adaptations reveals some noticeable differences. Even though these two sets of episodes are ultimately resolved in a similar way, i.e., the young women all marry Yudhiṣṭhira, they carry different thematic messages. Jinasena’s Harivaṃśapurāṇa thematises how patience and faithfulness to one’s intended husband—even before the actual marriage has taken place—unexpectedly reward the young women with their desired groom. In these episodes, Jinasena is not really contrasting Jain wifehood with mokṣamārga so much as he is stressing pativratā-ideology. If a young Jain woman adheres strongly enough to pativratā, she can overcome her (perceived) loss of saubhāgya. Vasantasundarī never really pursues tapas in function of mokṣamārga-ideology; she pursues tapas in the hope of attaining her promised husband in the next birth. When she suspects Yudhiṣṭhira is still alive, the object of her tapas shifts to maintaining her saubhāgya in the form of Yudhiṣṭhira’s well-being. The eleven young women remain lay people and refuse to marry an actual suitor, even when their parents want them to marry him. Pativratā is the point.

Śubhacandra’s Pāṇḍavapurāṇa, by contrast, thematises the intense passion a young woman can feel, the despair young women feel at becoming widows, and the ambivalence authoritative people feel at their choice to seek initiation as Jain nuns. Here, due to the explicit introduction of dīkṣā, nunhood, and the prospect of liberation, Śubhacandra actually contrasts Jain wifehood and mokṣamārga, highlighting the tension between these mutually exclusive paths. Although the tension is there—at least in the two latter episodes—Śubhacandra chooses to resolve the tension by putting “a premium” on wifehood.

Unlike the more level-headed and patient Kusumakomalā who can “arrange” her future marriage all by herself with mere glances, Śubhacandra’s Kamalā is so overwhelmed by emotions that her parents have to broker the marriage on her behalf. Even though Śubhacandra’s Vasantasenā is earnest and capable in her efforts to practice asceticism in her quest for dīkṣā, the sight of a particularly excellent and attractive man, who just so happens to be Yudhiṣṭhira in disguise, can still distract her. The eleven young women manage to scrupulously perform a proṣadha-fast and a sāmāyika-ritual, yet their intention to strive for mokṣa is juxtaposed with extensive laments about the sorry lot that is womanhood and the wretched position of widows in society. In the latter two episodes, one could argue Vasantasenā’s and the eleven women’s desire for dīkṣā is to be interpreted as an overhasty dereliction of their pativratā-duties. Oh ye of little śraddhā!

What to make of Śubhacandra’s adaptational choices here? When one reads these episodes in isolation, it would not be unreasonable, indeed even easy to think that Śubhacandra’s Pāṇḍavapurāṇa portrays a woman’s desire to practice asceticism as somewhat mutually exclusive with her pativratā-duties; it would be easy to assume Śubhacandra’s Pāṇḍavapurāṇa portrays widowhood as this nigh-insurmountable obstacle for women.

However, when one looks at Śubhacandra’s portrayal of Kuntī and Mādrī, co-wives of king Pāṇḍu and arguably the two most famous widows from the Mahābhārata62, and his portrayal of Rājīmatī, the bride abandoned by the Jina Nemi, in his Pāṇḍavapurāṇa, a more complicated picture emerges. I will first discuss Madrī63 and Kuntī, whose reactions and subsequent life choices upon becoming widowed do not neatly dovetail with female asceticism being at odds with pativratā, or with widowhood being a social death, respectively.

In the ninth parvan of Śubhacandra’s Pāṇḍavapurāṇa, Pāṇḍu sets out together with Madrī on a pleasure trip. As Indian kings in Sanskrit narrative are wont to do, Pāṇḍu, contrary to the Jain vow of ahiṃsā, goes out hunting and kills a deer with his bow and arrow. That very instant, a divine voice chastises Pāṇḍu for killing an innocent deer, reminding of his kingly duty to protect all living creatures. This event brings about a profound feeling of vairāgya in Pāṇḍu. After listening to the lecture of muni called Suvrata, Pāṇḍu announces his desire to renounce from the world, leaving the kingdom in the hands of the next generation. Eventually, after successfully performing sallekhanā, Pāṇḍu becomes a god in Saudharma heaven (PP 9.27–155).

Interestingly, Madrī’s reaction to Pāṇḍu’s decision to fast to death is to follow him in his endeavour. The narrative is not entirely clear whether she is pursuing sallekhanā alongside Pāṇḍu or whether she is practicing sallekhanā after Pāṇḍu’s death. Śubhacandra’s Pāṇḍavapurāṇa first describes Pāṇḍu’s retreat into forest, his practicing of sallekhanā, and attainment of godhood upon his death in quite some detail before the narrative even turns to Madrī’s reaction. What is more relevant is that Madrī’s decision to pursue sallekhanā is explicitly framed as inspired by love for her husband as well as by genuine vairāgya:

Out of love for her husband and out of indifference to worldly pleasures, good-minded Madrī set her mind on saṃnyāsa along with her husband. She then entrusted both of her sons and the burdens of the house to Kuntī. Even though people tried to stop her, she set out, her heart set on samṇyāsa. She sat down on the banks of the Gaṅgā, having given up food and drink. There, she practiced worship, tapas, Right Belief, Right Knowledge, and Right Behaviour. […] Her body, with all its senses stilled, withered away. Her breaths went together with her pure-souled husband. Through her virtuous actions, she attained the first heaven. For when piety is about to yield result, is it any surprise that one finds heaven?64

Granted, Madrī’s pursuit of sallekhanā is clearly not an instance of taking dīkṣā and becoming a Jain nun; the term saṃnyāsa, which generally denotes the fourth stage of closely associated with the fourth stage of the Hindu āśrama system, suggests as much. Nevertheless, Madrī’s practice is very much Jain in its philosophical underpinnings, for she practices asceticism based on the Jain ratnatraya of Right Belief, Right Knowledge, and Right Behaviour.

Kuntī, on the other hand, is the widow who remains behind with the children. Her initial reaction is indeed one of intense grief and her long laments echo those of the eleven young women in some respects:

Upon learning of her husband’s death, Kuntī was overwhelmed by grief and went there [to the bank of the Gaṅgā], weeping and giving voice to her sorrow. She began to pull out her own hairs and tore off the golden necklace beset with jewels and pearls from her bosom. Pained by grief and completely at loss what to do, she broke off one bracelet from her wrist with her hand, and began to lament, “ […] Without you [Pāṇḍu], the palace is empty all around and does not shine. I am at loss what to do. Without you, I am stunned by grief. […] Without you, husband, people will not value me, withered as I am, just like they do not value a pond that is dried up. Without a husband, a good woman finds no joy anywhere, for she is just like a necklace without its major gem, oh lord!”65

However, despite her intense sorrow at becoming a widow, Kuntī does not consider taking up dīkṣā until the very end of the Pāṇḍavapurāṇa. She takes care of her sons and accompanies them during their first exile. Furthermore, the narrative does not portray her as lesser for remaining in the world as a widow. It is only after the battle of Kurukṣetra, after the Pāṇḍavas have entrusted the kingdom to Parīkṣit and have dīksā themselves, that Kuntī takes dīkṣā:

After pulling out her hair, Kuntī, along with Subhadrā and Draupadī, took up the ultimate self-control in the presence of āryikā Rājīmatī66

This brings us to Śubhacandra’s portrayal of Rājīmatī, whom the Digambara author seems to be completely uninterested in as a character, only mentioning her in a handful of verses.67 Śubhacandra does not describe Rājīmatī’s emotional response at being abandoned by Nemi at all. Even though she ends up taking dīksā and becoming an āryikā, this is narratively presented as a fait accompli; the reader, or listener for that matter, is not privy to her emotional journey from abandoned bride to a Jain nun. Kelting describes how some of the portrayals of Rājīmatī and her own feeling towards being left at the proverbial altar vary from being a “vomited bride” in the Śvetāmbara Uttarādhayayana Sūtra to being the devoted lover found in medieval vernacular poetry of the bārahmāsa and phāgu genres (2009, pp. 113–19). Neither of these portrayals of Rājīmatī quite seem to fit this 16th-century Digambara author’s portrayal of Rājīmatī in his Sanskrit composition. In fact, in nearly half of the verses that mention Rājīmatī, Śubhacandra only mentions Rājīmatī in order to describe Nemi in quasi-stavans.68

When one considers the portrayal of the more well-known female characters like Kuntī, Madrī, and Rājīmatī and their responses to widowhood or their decision to take dīkṣā in Śubhacandra’s Pāṇḍavapurāṇa, the Digambara author seems to suggest that practicing asceticism or striving for dīkṣā with mokṣamārga-intent should not be the go-to response for young women who find themselves widowed. In Śubhacandra’s Pāṇḍavapurāṇa, it seems women should be at least partly motivated by pativratā when they want to practice asceticism or strive for dīkṣā: Madrī and Rājīmatī follow their husband—would-be husband in the latter’s case—into sallekhanā and dīkṣā, respectively. It would be interesting to see if other Digambara narratives thematise and differentiate between female desire to renounce with mokṣamārga-intent and female desire to renounce with pativratā-intent, regardless of whether these works were composed in Sanskrit, Prakrit, Apabhraṃśa, Braj, Kannaḍa, etc.