Verses of the Nuns

Verses of the Senior Nuns
Bhikkhu Sujato
VERSES OF THE
SENIOR NUNS
A friendly translation of the Therīgāthā
translated and introduced by

Bhikkhu Sujato
Thig
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Sleep softly, little nun,
wrapped in the cloth you sewed yourself;
for your desire has been quelled,
like vegetables boiled dry in a pot.
Verse for an Unnamed Nun
Therīgāthā 1.1
Contents
The SuttaCentral Editions Series xiii
Preface to the Therīgāthā xiv
Verses of the Senior Nuns: a reflective life xvi
Acknowledgements xliii
Verses of the Senior Nuns

The Book of the Ones
Thig 1.1 An Unnamed Nun (1st) (Aññatarātherīgāthā) 2
Thig 1.2 Muttā (1st) (Muttātherīgāthā) 2
Thig 1.3 Puṇṇā (Puṇṇātherīgāthā) 3
Thig 1.4 Tissā (Tissātherīgāthā) 3
Thig 1.5 Another Tissā (Aññatarātissātherīgāthā) 3
Thig 1.6 Dhīrā (Dhīrātherīgāthā) 4
Thig 1.7 Vīrā (Vīrātherīgāthā) 4
Thig 1.8 Mittā (1st) (Mittātherīgāthā) 4
Thig 1.9 Bhadrā (Bhadrātherīgāthā) 4
Thig 1.10 Upasamā (Upasamātherīgāthā) 5
Thig 1.11 Muttā (2nd) (Muttātherīgāthā) 5
Thig 1.12 Dhammadinnā (Dhammadinnātherīgāthā) 6
Thig 1.13 Visākhā (Visākhātherīgāthā) 6
Thig 1.14 Sumanā (Sumanātherīgāthā) 6
Thig 1.15 Uttarā (1st) (Uttarātherīgāthā) 6
Thig 1.16 Sumanā, Who Went Forth Late in Life
(Vuḍḍhapabbajitasumanātherīgāthā) 7
Thig 1.17 Dhammā (Dhammātherīgāthā) 7
Thig 1.18 Saṅghā (Saṁghātherīgāthā) 7
The Book of the Twos
Thig 2.1 Abhirūpanandā (Abhirūpanandātherīgāthā) 9
Thig 2.2 Jentā (Jentātherīgāthā) 10
Thig 2.3 Sumaṅgala’s Mother
(Sumaṅgalamātātherīgāthā) 10
Thig 2.4 Aḍḍhakāsi (Aḍḍhakāsitherīgāthā) 11
Thig 2.5 Cittā (Cittātherīgāthā) 11
Thig 2.6 Mettikā (Mettikātherīgāthā) 12
Thig 2.7 Mittā (2nd) (Mittātherīgāthā) 12
Thig 2.8 To Abhayā’s Mother From Her Daughter
(Abhayamātutherīgāthā) 13
Thig 2.9 Abhayā (Abhayātherīgāthā) 13
Thig 2.10 Sāmā (Sāmātherīgāthā) 14
The Book of the Threes
Thig 3.1 Another Sāmā (Aparāsāmātherīgāthā) 15
Thig 3.2 Uttamā (Uttamātherīgāthā) 16
Thig 3.3 Another Uttamā (Aparāuttamātherīgāthā) 16
Thig 3.4 Dantikā (Dantikātherīgāthā) 17
Thig 3.5 Ubbirī (Ubbiritherīgāthā) 17
Thig 3.6 Sukkā (Sukkātherīgāthā) 18
Thig 3.7 Selā (Selātherīgāthā) 19
Thig 3.8 Somā (Somātherīgāthā) 19
The Book of the Fours
Thig 4.1 Bhaddā Daughter of Kapila
(Bhaddākāpilānītherīgāthā) 21
The Book of the Fives
Thig 5.1 An Unnamed Nun (2nd) (Aññataratherīgāthā) 23
Thig 5.2 Vimalā, the Former Courtesan
(Vimalātherīgāthā) 24
Thig 5.3 Sīhā (Sīhātherīgāthā) 25
Thig 5.4 Sundarīnandā (Sundarīnandātherīgāthā) 25
Thig 5.5 Nanduttarā (Nanduttarātherīgāthā) 26
Thig 5.6 Mittākāḷī (Mittākāḷītherīgāthā) 27
Thig 5.7 Sakulā (Sakulātherīgāthā) 28
Thig 5.8 Soṇā (Soṇātherīgāthā) 29
Thig 5.9 Bhaddā of the Curly Hair
(Bhaddākuṇḍalakesātherīgāthā) 30
Thig 5.10 Paṭācārā (Paṭācārātherīgāthā) 31
Thig 5.11 Thirty Nuns (Tiṁsamattātherīgāthā) 32
Thig 5.12 Candā (Candātherīgāthā) 33
The Book of the Sixes
Thig 6.1 Paṭācārā, Who Had a Following of Five
Hundred (Pañcasatamattātherīgāthā) 34
Thig 6.2 Vāseṭṭhī (Vāseṭṭhītherīgāthā) 35
Thig 6.3 Khemā (Khemātherīgāthā) 36
Thig 6.4 Sujātā (Sujātātherīgāthā) 37
Thig 6.5 Anopamā (Anopamātherīgāthā) 38
Thig 6.6 Mahāpajāpati Gotamī
(Mahāpajāpatigotamītherīgāthā) 39
Thig 6.7 Guttā (Guttātherīgāthā) 40
Thig 6.8 Vijayā (Vijayātherīgāthā) 41
The Book of the Sevens
Thig 7.1 Uttarā (2nd) (Uttarātherīgāthā) 43
Thig 7.2 Cālā (Cālātherīgāthā) 44
Thig 7.3 Upacālā (Upacālātherīgāthā) 45
The Book of the Eights
Thig 8.1 Sīsūpacālā (Sīsūpacālātherīgāthā) 47
The Book of the Nines
Thig 9.1 Vaḍḍha’s Mother (Vaḍḍhamātutherīgāthā) 49
The Book of the Elevens
Thig 10.1 Kisāgotamī (Kisāgotamītherīgāthā) 51
The Book of the Twelves
Thig 11.1 Uppalavaṇṇā (Uppalavaṇṇātherīgāthā) 54
The Book of the Sixteens
Thig 12.1 Puṇṇikā (Puṇṇātherīgāthā) 57
The Book of the Twenties
Thig 13.1 Ambapālī (Ambapālītherīgāthā) 60
Thig 13.2 Rohinī (Rohinītherīgāthā) 63
Thig 13.3 Cāpā (Cāpātherīgāthā) 66
Thig 13.4 Sundarī (Sundarītherīgāthā) 69
Thig 13.5 Subhā, the Smith’s Daughter
(Subhākammāradhītutherīgāthā) 74
The Book of the Thirties
Thig 14.1 Subhā of Jīvaka’s Mango Grove
(Subhājīvakambavanikātherīgāthā) 79
The Book of the Forties
Thig 15.1 Isidāsī (Isidāsītherīgāthā) 85
The Great Book
Thig 16.1 Sumedhā (Sumedhātherīgāthā) 93
Colophon 105
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Preface to the Therīgāthā
While writing the introduction for this book, I found myself re-
flecting on my approach to the analysis of texts. I find myself in-
creasingly put off by heavily theoretical approaches, or by analyses
that invent a scheme of categorization into which the texts must
fall. When teaching the Suttas, my approach is pretty much the
same as it is when reading them: open the book and start reading.
Listen to what it is actually saying.
The key is empathy and critical discernment. I never assume that
I am in a position of moral authority from which to judge people
of another time and place. I’m here to learn, not to condemn. And
the further people are away from me, the more I have to learn from
them.
To me, a genuine inquiry begins with the willingness to question
my values and assumptions. But over the years, I have picked up
one or two things that might be useful for others. So if, as a writer
and a teacher, I can clarify some facts, smooth the path, and set an
example of an honest inquiry, I’ll be happy.
When teaching Suttas, I’ve noticed two biasses that obscure
vision. For some folks, the process of reading is an entirely passive
venture, in which their only concern is to find the single, correct,
and authoritative meaning. For others, their subjective feelings or
theories about the text are paramount, and they feel good when
they succeed in squeezing an ancient sacred text into their precon-
ceptions.
preface to the therīgāthā
Both approaches are lazy and far from wisdom. Understanding

arises when you see the hidden connections between distant things.
It’s not about passing a test or proving your ideological purity. It’s
about that moment when you see. You can’t control it or predict it.
Getting your facts straight is important. It takes discipline and
years of hard work to learn how to sift out one’s views and to listen
with clarity and empathy. It’s crucial to do the work to ground
opinions on the facts, for uninformed opinions are worth less than
nothing.
But this is just the beginning. The meaning of those facts is
something else entirely. And in a sacred text, meaning is never
exhausted. May it deepen and grow with you on your journey.
xv
Verses of the Senior Nuns: a
reflective life
Bhikkhu Sujato, 2022
The Therīgāthā or “Verses of the Senior Nuns” is the ninth book

in the Khuddhaka Nikāya of the Pali Canon or Tipiṭaka. It is a
collection of 522 verses associated with seventy-three senior nuns,
most of whom were alive in the Buddha’s time.
These verses celebrate the bliss of freedom and the life of medita-
tion, full of proud and joyous proclamations of their spiritual attain-
ments and their gratitude to other nuns as guides and teachers. The
verses express the Dhamma through images that are immediate
and personal. They speak of the fading of the hair’s luster rather
than of impermanence; of the trembling of failing limbs rather
than of old age; of “searing and sizzling” greed and hate rather than
abandoning them.
The Therīgāthā is one of the oldest spiritual texts that record
primarily women’s voices. It stems from the same general period
as the Hebraic Books of Ruth and Esther, and like those books, it
is a natural touchstone for those who wish to reflect on women’s
roles in ancient religion.
It is a pair with the Theragāthā, the “Verses of the Senior Monks”.
Together these collections constitute one of the oldest and largest
records of the voices of contemplatives.
The verses mostly stem from the time of the Buddha or a little
later. Some have tried to argue that these collections were generally
verses of the senior nuns: a reflective life
somewhat late. But it should be noted that in the Introduction to

his 1971 translation, K.R. Norman, with his unparalleled historical
and linguistic expertise, dismissed most of the arguments for late-
ness. He accepted that most of the nuns were alive during or soon
after the Buddha’s time, and identified archaic Magadhī features in
some verses. He concluded that the text was probably composed
over a three-hundred-year period from the late 6th century to the
late 3rd century.
However, this appears to rely on the so-called “long chronology”
of the Buddha’s life, which puts his death around 480 BCE. Un-
der the “median chronology” which is accepted by many scholars
currently, the Buddha’s death was closer to 400 BCE. Adjusting
for this, and noting that Norman rejects the argument that any of
the texts must be post-Ashokan, we should probably round the
period of composition closer to two centuries, from the mid-5th
century to the mid-3rd century. Most of the verses stem from the
early period, with only a few, readily identifiable, texts being added
in the later stages.
In my introduction to the Theragāthā, I gave a general back-
ground. Most of those remarks apply equally here, so in this essay,
I will focus on those things that are specific to the Therīgāthā and
refer you to the Theragāthā for the basics.
The Complex Question of Authorship

It’s unfortunate that, even within the limited scope of the The-
rīgāthā, one of the shorter verse collections in the canon, many of
the verses are not, in fact, by the nuns themselves. It’s difficult to
count the number exactly, as attribution is not always clear, but
roughly 100 of the 524 verses are not actually by the bhikkhunīs.
Rather, they were spoken to them by the Buddha or another in-
terlocutor, or about them by a third party or narrator. In a few
cases (noted below) the commentary says verses were added by
the redactors at the Council.
xvii
In other cases, even where the bhikkhunīs are speaking, the

verses echo or paraphrase teachings from elsewhere in the canon.
There is also some confusion about to whom certain verses belong.
Some of the nuns share the same name; in other cases the name
is unknown. Certain verses are sometimes said to be spoken by
certain bhikkhunīs—in the Therīgāthā, the Bhikkhunī Saṁyutta,
the Apadāna, or the commentary—yet they do not appear under
those names in the Therīgāthā itself.
Some of the bhikkhunīs appear both in the Therīgāthā and the
Bhikkhunī Saṁyutta (SN 5). The selected verses there are framed
as a series of encounters between ten of the nuns and Māra in
the Dark Forest near Sāvatthī. The verses are mostly similar to
the corresponding portions of the Therīgāthā. But some of them
appear in a slightly different form, while in other cases, especially
the “Cālā” sisters (Cālā, Upacālā, and Sīsūpacālā), the verses are
assigned to different nuns.
There was no copyright in the Buddha’s day, and everyone, in-
cluding the Buddha, freely repeated the sayings of others. The
nuns were no different. What are we to draw from this? On the
one hand, we would love to hear more about the lives and personal
experiences of the nuns, making the few cases where they do speak
of these things even more precious. On the other hand, it shows
that for the nuns, what mattered was the Dhamma, not their own
lives. If we over-personalize and over-dramatize their lives, making
that the centerpiece, we are not listening to what they are trying to
tell us.
In most cases, we know little about the nuns apart from the
verses themselves. In some cases, the nuns are known from else-
where in the Suttas or Vinaya, and in addition, some information,
albeit legendary, is added by the commentary. All this must be
handled with care.
xviii
The Therīgāthā as a Women’s Text

The Therīgāthā is feminist in the sense of foregrounding women’s
voices and experiences, and on occasion pointing to the specific
ways that the suffering of women is due to gendered discrimination.
The overall tenor of the Therīgāthā is vibrant, proud, and celebra-
tory. At the same time, though, these are the voices of women in a
very different time and place whose words do not exist to serve our
agendas. There’s nothing feminist about eliding, paraphrasing, or
interpreting away the voices of women because they’re not saying
what we want them to say.
The Therīgāthā remains our primary source of information
about ancient nuns, along with the Vinaya, the code of monastic
discipline. The Therīgāthā presents women generally in a positive
light and in their own voices, whereas the Vinaya is by its nature
concerned with bad behavior. In addition, the Vinaya has been
passed down through the monks’ community and bears the signs
of their editorial hand, but this is not the case in the Therīgāthā.
Let’s look at an example of how the monks’ editorial hand re-
veals itself in the Vinaya. The Vinaya retains a terminology around
women’s ordination that is quite distinct from that of the monks.
Where the monks call their preceptor an upajjhāya, the nuns have
pavattinī. Where the monks’ student is a saddhivihārī, for the nuns
it is sahajīvinī. And while the monks call ordination upasampadā,
the nuns call it vuṭṭhāpana.
How are these terms related? To understand this we need to
know that the Vinaya texts are historically layered. The most clear-
cut example of this is the distinction between the monastic rules
(pātimokkha) and the analysis of those rules (vibhaṅga), which
evolved after the rules were laid down. This was established by
scholars in the 19th century, and the evidence that has come to light
since then—such as comparative studies of different Vinayas—
has confirmed the validity of the original insight. It is based on
multiple independent grounds and is one of the firmest and most
widely accepted consensus opinions in Buddhist studies.
xix
Now, what we find when we look at these different layers is

that in the portions that are earlier, such as the list of rules (pā-
timokkha), the nuns’ special terms are used. In the portions we
know are later, such as the analysis of the rules (vibhaṅga), the
nuns’ special terms are explained as being equivalent to the monks’
terms. In other words, the monk editors explained the unfamiliar
bhikkhunī vocabulary in terms that they understood. What they
didn’t do, however, was go back and change the pātimokkha itself,
even though it would have been a simple and perhaps justifiable
standardization. In some schools, this may have happened, but in
the Pali, it didn’t: the Theravāda school was particularly scrupulous
about such things.
It is the term for ordination that is most significant here. What
matters is not the meaning of the word, but its contextual usage.
When the nuns’ word vuṭṭhāpana is used, only nuns are mentioned
as performing ordination. When the monks’ word upasampadā
is used, nuns’ ordination must be performed by both nuns and
monks. In other words, a procedure that was originally done by
nuns for themselves was usurped by the monks, who made them-
selves the gatekeepers for the ordination of nuns, and hence con-
trolled who can be a nun and who cannot. Since ordination is the
only way that a celibate community can “reproduce”, this is a vital
issue of reproductive rights for the nuns’ community.
So when the monks made changes to the bhikkhunī Vinaya texts,
they left traces. We have reasonably firm grounds for identifying
such changes, and when we do, they pertain to the later layers of the
text. And we have no similar grounds for saying that the editorial
hand of the monks is visible in the Therīgāthā; for example, there
is no mention of monks ordaining nuns. For this reason, if we want
to understand the life of the bhikkhunīs, the Therīgāthā must be
our primary source, not the Vinaya.
The Therīgāthā offers a clear and inspiring call to the spiritual life,
one that belongs firmly to women. In modern times, it has become
a key text in developing feminist perspectives on early Buddhism
xx
as history, and on modern Buddhism as potential. These voices

have foregrounded the Therīgāthā in new ways, opening a new
chapter in Buddhism, one that better represents the full spectrum
of Buddhist practitioners both in ancient times and the present.
Yet academic feminist studies are hampered by a lack of familiarity
with the source material, which leaves them riddled with factual
errors and mistaken assumptions. On such shaky ground, they read
theory into the text, all too often eliding the voices of the women
instead of hearing them. These theory-laden readings become
rapidly outdated as the preoccupations of gender studies shift, with
the only constant factor being that the lives, voices, and beliefs of
the ancient bhikkhunīs are subject to judgment and scrutiny by
modern theorists, while modern theory is never subject to scrutiny
in light of the words of the ancient bhikkhunīs.
One systematic problem that dogs studies of gender in the The-
rīgāthā is credulous reliance on the commentary by Dhammapāla.
The commentary stems from a millennium later, in a different coun-
try thousands of kilometers away. Yet it is too often treated as a
reliable record of information about the nuns’ lives. It isn’t. Un-
less a story has independent corroboration in other sources—and
few of them do—the stories depicted in the commentary should
be regarded only as the stories told about the bhikkhunīs in the
Theravāda community. They tell us not about the bhikkhunīs, but
about how the commentators, who of course were male, responded
to the lives and teachings of the ancient nuns of legend.
The very first verse of the Therīgāthā illustrates this well (Thig
1.1. A similar verse at Thig 1.16 is spoken to an elder nun.) The
text attributes it only to a certain unnamed nun, identifying neither
the speaker nor the nun spoken to.
Sleep softly, little nun,

xxi
The words record a tender and personal moment between two

women with a rare warmth and intimacy. The kitchen metaphor
speaks to a shared experience, an assumed closeness. The speaker
is a woman who is drawing from her life and who does not need a
man’s authority to express words of gentle comfort. Her friend is
lying down to sleep; perhaps the sleepy nun is unwell, or perhaps
she is weary after a long journey or hard work. The verse has a
tenderness that belies the confidence of what she is saying. She
addresses the sleepy nun with the unique diminutive therike (“little
nun”), but she employs this familiar form to affirm her friend’s
enlightenment. It is at once bold and quiet, understated and mo-
mentous.
We know so little about these women that even to know that her
name was unknown is a significant detail. But the commentary,
relentlessly backfilling the spaces in the text, says she was actually
named Therikā even before ordaining, due to her sturdy body (the
root can carry the sense of either seniority or solidity). The com-
mentary is not consistent on this point, as it sometimes also refers
to her as an unnamed nun. This indicates that there were multiple
commentarial sources whose viewpoints are not fully resolved in
Dhammapāla’s edition.
The commentary goes on to identify her with the so-called “Ma-
ṇḍapadāyikā” of the Therīpadāna (Thi Ap 3). But the name Maṇḍa-
padāyikā is artificial: it just means “giver of a pavilion”. Late texts
like the Apadānas often invent names to frame a pious story of mak-
ing merit. Since there never was anyone called Maṇḍapadāyikā,
the name is conveniently available for identification with our un-
known nun of the Therīgāthā. Once that is done, the commentary
can trace her spiritual path to an act of merit in a far distant age of a
past Buddha: a woman’s journey must begin with an act of service
to a man.
The commentary then tells us that in this, her final life, she was
married to a husband who would not agree to her desire to go
forth, until a conflagration in the kitchen caused her to deepen
xxii
her insight into Dhamma and reject sensual desires. After this,
seeing that normal home life was now impossible, her husband
allowed her to go forth. She cannot decide for herself but must
rely on a man’s choice. Now, of course, there is a long history of
women being subject to the choices of their husbands. But there is
an equally long history of men compiling texts that frame women’s
compliance as a sacred duty. The verse itself says nothing of a
husband, so the commentary must reframe her story to fit the
moralizing expectations of the male commentators.
Remember, this is the first text in the Therīgāthā. The commen-
tary is not just explaining this verse: it is setting expectations for the
whole collection and by implication, the whole bhikkhunī order.
The permission of the husband is one of the criteria for women’s
ordination that was added to the Vinaya at some point, just as the
requirement that ordination is certified by monks was added. The
commentator is deliberately importing this despite its irrelevance
to the text, making us read the Therīgāthā through the lens of the
Vinaya, reminding students that compliance with male authority is
required before a woman may take ordination and seek freedom. It
has to do this because nowhere in the Therīgāthā is there anything
about getting permission from a husband.
Indeed, husbands make an appearance in only a few poems: as a
loved one tragically lost (Thig 10.1), as a lazy ingrate (Thig 15.1), or
as an object of disgust (Thig 1.11, Thig 2.3). Sometimes a husband
is not mentioned even when we might expect it, as in the verses of
the nuns Saṅghā (Thig 1.18), Sakulā (Thig 5.7), and Guttā (Thig
6.7), which speak of leaving behind all that they find dear—home,
children, and wealth. Or else take the poem of Bhaddā Kāpilānī,
where she begins by praising the spectacular attainments of her
former husband, Kassapa, only to boldly claim to have realized the
same attainments (Thig 4.1). She’s not speaking of her need to get
his permission, but of the fact of her spiritual equality. In other
poems, it is the husband who is set on his path by the wife (Thig
13.4).
xxiii
Returning to the commentarial account of our sleepy nun, it

says that after her ordination, she was brought to the Buddha, who
spoke the verse. This is highly incongruous: why is the Buddha
talking to her about sleeping? There’s nothing in the backstory to
justify it. The verse sounds like the voice of a friend to a friend, not
like the address of a teacher to a student. But for the commentary,
the verse belongs to a man.
To sum up: the verse records the fond words of one woman to
another. The commentary, ignoring this, claims that she started her
path with an offering to a man, invents a husband whose permission
she needed to go forth, and attributes her verse to a man.
This doesn’t mean that we have nothing to learn from the com-
mentary. But it does mean that the voices of the bhikkhunīs in
the Therīgāthā and the voices of the commentators are two quite
different things. The commentary should be critically assessed as a
male response to the Therīgāthā, not as an essential framing for it.
When the bhikkhunī Vimalā recalled her former days as a sex
worker, she positioned herself, not as the victim of a man, but as
the agent of her life (Thig 5.2:3). She had a toxic relationship with
other women, despising those less beautiful and famous. And she
used her beauty to entice men, laughing at them as she manipulated
them to get what she wanted.
akāsiṁ vividhaṃ māyaṁ

I created an intricate illusion
It was through her work, her agency, that she did her job of
enticing men. This is no mere sophistic detail, as it speaks to the
heart of Buddhism, that we are agents who form our own world,
and do not merely passively occupy it. She was the one who choose
to create a world of illusion that ensnares, and she was the one who
decided to use her wisdom to find the truth that frees.
In the case of the bhikkhunī Khemā, the sensual temptation by a
“man” came after she was ordained. The young man—who turned
out to be none other than Māra—harassed her, as he did so many
xxiv
of the nuns, playing the nice guy who wants to take her to see a
band (Thig 6.3). Khemā objects, pointing out that her body is
“rotting, ailing, and frail” and saying that she is “repelled” by it and
has given up sensual desires. Māra the “terminator” (antakāra) is
summarily vanquished by Khemā’s power. What Khemā sees and
Māra does not is that, even while she is still young and beautiful,
the body already has the nature of impermanence and decay. She’s
not seeing it with the physical eye, but with the eye of insight, while
Māra is still trapped in the realm of the senses.
Māra features as the fall guy in several other poems that serve to
illustrate the fearlessness of the nuns. They always see through his
disguise but rarely does he get taken down as hard as when he tried
to gaslight Somā with his sexist putdowns. He tells her that women
are too weak to attain the state realized by the sages. Many men
have tried this one since, but it doesn’t work when you’re speaking
to a woman who has already attained that goal herself.
What difference does womanhood make

when the mind is serene,
and knowledge is present
as you rightly discern the Dhamma.
The theme of leaving behind womanhood also features in the

verses of Mahāpajāpati Gotamī, the Buddha’s aunt and stepmother
(Thig 6.6). Later generations have seen her as either an icon of
womanhood, the founding leader of the female Saṅgha or else as
a morality fable for why women should not be ordained. In the
Vinaya, she features at the very start of the bhikkhunī community.
And she re-appears throughout the Vinaya as an active force of
leadership, a crucial mediator between the nuns and the Buddha.
It is a curious thing, then, that not a single one of the bhikkhunīs
mentions her at all. They speak with gratitude and love of the
women who have taught them the Dhamma, yet Mahāpajāpati
somehow never comes up. I believe that this is because she was
not, in fact, the founder of the bhikkhunī Saṅgha. I think that
xxv
she joined the Saṅgha when she was already elderly; that she was
conceited about her status as the Buddha’s mother; and that, as
was the case for several of the Buddha’s relatives, special rules were
laid down to ensure she fitted in properly.
And I think she was raised as an icon following the Buddha’s
death—specifically, around the time of the Second Council—as
interest in the Buddha’s teachings waned and interest in his life
grew. Her story became the lens through which the story of all the
bhikkhunīs was seen, as it still is today. Some monks at the time,
seeking greater control over the bhikkhunī community, took the
rules imposed on her for good reasons, extended them, and applied
them to all bhikkhunīs for no good reason. These rules dominate
patriarchal discourse about bhikkhunīs to this day, yet once again,
no bhikkhunī in the Therīgāthā sees fit to mention them. The bitter
pill was wrapped in a human interest story of drama and pathos.
And a spectacular story of Mahāpajāpati’s death was invented for
the Apadāna in the hope that people would be distracted by shiny
things.
The entire Therīgāthā, including the verses of Mahāpajāpati her-
self, stands completely outside this discourse. Mahāpajāpati says
nothing of her role in founding the bhikkhunī Saṅgha, nor does
she acknowledge any of her supposed bhikkhunī students. She
doesn’t position herself as a female leader or role model. Instead,
her own words send a rather different message.
Previously I was a mother, a son,

a father, a brother, and a grandmother.
Failing to grasp the true nature of things,
I transmigrated without reward.
Since I have seen the Blessed One,

this bag of bones is my last.
Transmigration through births is finished,
now there’ll be no more future lives.
xxvi
She echoes the famous lines of her son immediately after his
awakening when he recalled his long “journey without reward”. It
is in not the state of womanhood or any other that freedom is to
be found, but only when all such limitations have been left behind.
A Celebration of Freedom
The Therīgāthā is a proud celebration of free women, unembar-
rassed and unashamed. We have already discussed at some length
the first verse of the collection. Here I’d like to highlight some
further verses.
The second verse (Thig 1.2) shifts register but keeps the focus
on freedom. Here the nun is being addressed and exhorted to
find freedom. It’s a simple verse, which doesn’t aim to convey
doctrine but to encourage. The rubric (a special tag in prose that
follows the verses) identifies the speaker as the Buddha and the
nun as a “trainee” (sikkhamānā). This was special ordination status
established primarily for girls of eighteen, rather than the usual
twenty years for bhikkhunī ordination. Older women are some-
times said to have also undertaken this stage (Thig 5.8). This is to
be expected. As Buddhist ordination procedures evolved, require-
ments introduced for a limited purpose rapidly became applied
universally. And I think that is the case here. Certainly not all did,
for Bhaddā Kuṇḍalakesā was called to full ordination directly by
the Buddha (Thig 5.9).
Only this verse and Thig 2.1 explicitly say that the nun was not
the speaker, and in both cases they were trainees. It suggests that
the Buddha himself took the time to give heart to these women
who were new on the path, to assure them without hesitation or
qualification that they could attain the same freedom that he had
found.
The nature of the speaker also affects the reading of the third
verse (Thig 1.3). Here, a nun called Puṇṇā is addressed with a sim-
ilarly bold and encouraging call to destroy ignorance. The tagline
xxvii
that identifies the speaker, however, says that “Puṇṇā” spoke these
verses. The commentary, contradicting the rubric, says it was the
Buddha speaking. The next series of verses, up to Thig 1.10, are
also addressed to the nuns, and according to the commentary, the
speaker in all cases was the Buddha. These verses all lack the inti-
mate touch of the opening verse; they rely on standard imagery,
and where they are personalized, they merely pun on the women’s
names. This is just the kind of thing a teacher would do to person-
alize teaching if they knew little about them but their name. I do it
all the time.
Thig 1.11 brings us the first poem in first person, and a return
to the personal voice; a poem, it seems, by a nun for nuns. Rather
than the tender comfort of the opening verse, however, here we
have what seems to be a winking adaptation of a verse by the monk
Sumaṅgala at Thag 1.43. Sumaṅgala celebrates his release from
three crooked things—sickles, plows, and hoes. It’s pretty straight-
forward, which is why I think Muttā adapted her verse from there,
rather than the other way around. She similarly celebrates her re-
lease from three crooked things, one of them being her husband.
But that’s only the start of the innuendo. The other “crooked” things
are the mortar and pestle. On the surface, it’s an allusion to kitchen
drudgery; but inescapably, it’s also about sex. It’s a mortar and
pestle.
The line is constructed knowingly, with sly humor; the reader is
led to expect a threefold listing of kitchen appliances, then along
comes the husband, suddenly recontextualizing what came before.
It’s the classic rule of three employed so often when telling jokes.
An odd problem with the line opens up a further layer of innu-
endo. When the monk describes three crooked things, the tools
he mentions are, in fact, crooked. But a mortar and pestle are not
crooked; the PTS edition of Rhys Davids’ translation even includes
a photo of a distinctly uncrooked mortar and pestle (plate facing
page 14). The commentary seems to be aware of this, and it allows
that khujja can mean something that is crooked or something that
xxviii
makes you crooked. (Commentary to Thag 1.43: khujjasabhāvehi

khujjakērehi vā; commentary to Thig 1.11: khujjakaraṇahetutāya
tadubhayaṁ “khujja”nti vuttaṁ.) The commentary explains that
the husband was a hunchback and hence is crooked, whereas the
kitchen tools make you crooked due to long hours bent over them.
If the dual sense proposed by the commentary is to be accepted—
and I believe the context demands it—then it’s problematic to
translate it as “three crooked things” per Norman and most other
translators, for it leaves us with a line that doesn’t quite make sense.
Now, given that the three items in the line work as a whole, and
that they aim to set up a punchline about the husband, it makes
more sense to me if all three items are things that make you crooked,
rather than assuming that the third item, the husband, is crooked. It
rather sours the verse if she ends up just making a dig at a disabled
husband. I think the point of the verse is more sly: the drudgery
of the kitchen bends you over no less than the drudgery in the
bedroom.
Most of the poems are much more straightforward. Jentā an-
nounces that she has developed all the factors of awakening and
will not be reborn (Thig 2.2). An Uttamā makes the same claim,
and in addition, claims to be the rightful daughter of the Buddha.
Dhammā (Thig 1.17), Cittā (Thig 2.5), and Mettikā (Thig 2.6)
speak of the triumph of their insight despite the failing of their
bodies. Selā (Thig 3.7) is just one of many nuns who proclaims her
triumph over delusion.
Some nuns found peace only after traveling through the depths
of despair (Thig 2.10, Thig 3.1, Thig 3.1, Thig 5.1, Thig 5.3, Thig
6.8). Ubbirī is distraught in lamenting her daughter (Thig 3.5),
Paṭācārā and Vāseṭṭhī in lamenting a son (Thig 6.1, Thig 6.2), while
Sundarī has overcome the grief even at losing many children (Thig
13.4). Candā was a homeless widow who endured seven years of
hardship on the streets before meeting a nun to inspire her (Thig
5.12).
xxix
This should not be over-interpreted. The women speak of these

things to show how they triumphed over them, not to romanticize
them or encourage others to follow such a path. Most of the nuns
do not have such dramatic stories to tell. For Dantikā, insight came
when seeing an elephant at a ford (Thig 3.4); for Paṭācārā, when she
saw a lamp going out (Thig 5.10). The experience of suffering as a
woman is something that the early Buddhism texts acknowledge
with compassion since it is the reality of those women’s lives. It
acted as a spur to practice, or simply to contrast the freedom that
they now experience. It doesn’t mean that anyone, especially a
woman, has to undergo such extremes of suffering.
The long poem of Subhā does not speak of any existential de-
spair. Rather, as a young woman she immediately understood
the Dhamma as soon as she heard it (Thig 13.5). Sometimes all
it takes is a single teaching. Coming from a wealthy family, she
speaks eloquently of the trap of money and how it breeds conflict
and corruption. She declares that she will cross over on the same
path traveled by the great sages. The poem finishes with verses in
her praise. The final verse, which according to the commentary was
added by redactors at the Council, attributes the verses of praise
to no less a figure than Sakka, the lord of gods.
Not all the verses focus on the personal journey of the women.
The verses of Sukkā, for example, record an unnamed third party
complaining that too many of the folk of Rājagaha are as if drunk on
mead, not paying attention properly to her teaching, which is like
nectar of cool water (Thig 3.6). The verses of Bhaddā Kuṇḍalakesā
include praise for a layperson who made much merit by offering a
robe to one as holy as her (Thig 5.9).
Puṇṇikā’s poem is not about her path, but about how she gave
a lesson to a deluded brahmin (Thig 12.1). The framing of the
verses is not quite clear. According to the commentary, the opening
verses—where Puṇṇikā tells the brahmin how as a water carrier
she feared her mistresses and proceeds to ask him what he’s afraid
of—were spoken by Puṇṇikā before she was ordained as a nun. But
xxx
the only clear indication of tense is the use of the aorist in the past
tense, which suggests, rather, that she is already a nun and is telling
an anecdote of her past. This would explain why she speaks with
such boldness, and also why the brahmin addresses her with the
respectful bhoti. Even though the very basis of his religious beliefs is
being challenged, the brahmin listens and responds well. Puṇṇikā’s
verses include the classic rebuttal to the efficacy of bathing for
purity:
Would not they all go to heaven, then:

all the frogs and the turtles,
gharials, crocodiles,
and other water-dwellers too?
Closely related to this is the poem of Rohinī (Thig 13.2). In

this case, the recalcitrant brahmin is her father, who objects to
his daughter’s devotion to the “ascetics”, arguing that they are lazy
good-for-nothings. In this case, Rohinī must not yet be ordained,
because her father observes that she says “ascetics” even when
falling asleep and waking up. The assumption is that she would
later go on to ordain; and while the text itself does not confirm
this, her father hints at it when he says she “will become an ascetic”.
She responds, not as an obsequious and obedient daughter, but by
extolling the virtues of ascetics at length.
The verses of Cāpā give a unique twist to this scenario (Thig
13.3). Here we are thrown in the middle of an argument between a
man and his wife, who are torn between their desire for each other
and their aspirations for a spiritual life. The fight gets so vicious
they even threaten their child. Yet ultimately Kāḷa, the husband, is
set on his path and Cāpā conveys her blessings. The poem doesn’t
say that she ordained.
In yet another case of a man being redeemed through his en-
counter with a woman, the brahmin Sujāta marvels at how Sundarī
can respond with such equanimity even when she has lost seven
children. She attributes her calm to the teaching of the Buddha,
xxxi
upon which the brahmin went forth, and she later followed suit
(Thig 13.4).
Sometimes the path of the nuns has not been from domestic
or emotional travail, but from one religious practice to another.
Such was the case of Nanduttarā, who recalls both her devotion to
meaningless worship and mortification, as well as her infatuation
with her appearance: the two extremes (Thig 5.5; see also Mittā
at Thig 2.7). Khemā also reports a fruitless former practice of
worshipping stars and serving the sacred flame (Thig 6.3). For
Mittākāḷī, genuine insight only came long after ordaining for the
wrong reasons (Thig 5.6).
In addition to the notable scarcity of husbands, there are few
references to monks. When acknowledging teachers, the nuns
mention either the Buddha or another nun: Paṭācārā (Thig 5.11,
Thig 5.12, Thig 7.1), Uppalavaṇṇā (Thig 13.5), Jinadattā (Thig
15.1), or else an unnamed nun (Thig 3.2, Thig 5.1, Thig 5.8, Thig
6.8, Thig 13.4). Typically these nuns are said to have conveyed the
central teachings of Buddhism such as the four noble truths, the
aggregates, elements, and so on. These are the central topics of the
Saṁyutta Nikāya, and we can therefore conclude that this, or its
ancestor, was carefully studied by the nuns.
Only Sakulā reports learning the Dhamma from a monk, and
that was when she was still a laywoman (Thig 5.7). This is especially
noteworthy given that, according to the Vinaya, the monks were
supposed to be teaching the nuns every fortnight. Yet somehow
these regular sessions are never mentioned by the nuns, just as the
procedure of ordination by monks is never mentioned.
The Dramatic Verses

Since the poems of the Therīgāthā are arranged from short to long,
and since there is a general tendency for texts in Buddhism to grow
over time, it’s fair to assume that the final poems of the collection
are somewhat later than most. This applies especially to the final
xxxii
three poems, each of which develops a complex dramatic scenario.

These dramatic elements appear in earlier poems also, but not to
the same extent.
These literary compositions distinguish the Therīgāthā from the
Theragāthā. There, most of the long poems are produced by simply
compiling several shorter passages of verse, which often have no
relation to each other. The Therīgāthā has only one, rather modest,
poem in this style, that of Uppalavaṇṇā (Thig 11.1).
Of course, in describing these verses as “dramatic” I am not sug-
gesting that they were used for actual stage performances. There’s
no evidence for theatrical presentations in the Saṅgha at such an
early date. Nor is it historically meaningful to analyze how such
texts were shaped by “Indian aesthetic theories” since there is no
evidence of any such thing until at least half a millennium later, and
even then, no evidence that the theories ever influenced Buddhist
literature. Nonetheless, anyone who has ever given a Dhamma talk
has, in some sense, made a dramatic presentation of the Dhamma,
and knows how important it is to hold an audience’s attention
through the narrative fundamentals of emotion, engagement, con-
flict, and humor.
The most dramatic confrontation of all is that between a rogue
and the young nun Subhā (Thig 14.1; this is not the same Subhā
we have met before at Thig 13.5). The lateness of the poem is
suggested by the setting verse, an unusual feature for poetry, which
was ascribed by the commentary to the redactors. The rogue blocks
her path, and despite her strong objections tries to seduce her.
But she is having none of it, even with his lengthy and admittedly
eloquent evocation of the sensual joys they will find together. He
lavishes special praise on the beauty of her eyes, probably thinking
he is being romantic. But he is not prepared for what she does next.
The long poem by Isidāsi sets the scene with a private con-
versation between two nuns. The conversation is rather unusually
given a location, which is in Pāṭaliputta. This immediately sets the
dialogue at a date considerably after the death of the Buddha, as
xxxiii
in his time Pāṭaliputta was just a small village. In confirmation,

the commentary states that the narrative verses were added by the
redactors at a Council. It doesn’t say which one, but it must be the
Second or Third. As Norman points out, this only tells us when
the narrative frame was added to the poem, which must have been
composed earlier.
The poem builds an extended narrative, which is unusual in the
early texts, discussing the specific results of past kamma over many
lifetimes, which again is something we don’t see often. It mentions
three nuns—Isidāsī, Bodhī, and Jinadattā—none of whom are met
elsewhere in the canon. All this means that while we can safely say
that this poem is later than most in the collection, we cannot fix
the date with any confidence.
The poem has Isidāsī pleading her case to go forth with her
father. She uses a rather specific phrasing (Thig 15.1:32.4):
Kammaṁ taṁ nijjaressāmi

I shall wear that bad deed away.
Rhys Davids says her aspirations are “Jainistic” (Psalms of the

Sisters, xxii) and Norman concurs (Elders’ Verses II, 176). And it
is indeed true that the wearing away of past kamma is regarded as
a core teaching of the Jains. But what makes a practice truly Jain
is that this wearing away is done by self-mortification, of which
there is no hint here. In fact, in a dialogue with a Jain, the Buddha,
always apt to adapt and respond to the language used by other
religions, reframed the idea of “wearing away kamma”. Instead
of wearing away by self-mortification, it can be done by letting
go of the defilements that underlie the creation of kamma (AN
4.195:6.3). Such passages don’t show any hidden influence of
Jainism. Rather, they show how the Buddhists were very conscious
and deliberate in how they responded to the language and ideas of
others.
Nonetheless, it remains the case that such language is more char-
acteristic of Jainism. It’s an unusual choice of words. Since it was
xxxiv
put in the mouth of the young Isidāsī before she went forth, maybe
she was just using words she had picked up about kamma without
a clear understanding of the differences between the schools. After
all, modern Buddhists do this all the time. Perhaps; but it seems
like an unnecessarily complex linguistic conceit.
Isidāsī’s long take of woe recounts how before ordaining as a
nun, she had been married, but despite being the perfect wife, her
husband just couldn’t stand her. She was kicked out and handed
from husband to husband, each one a less appealing catch than
the last. Finally, they were reduced to tempting a homeless ascetic
into discarding his vows for her, but even after that he still couldn’t
stand to be with her. She swore to her father that she had done
nothing to deserve such treatment. It’s as if there is something
wrong with her inside, something that she cannot see, and that
no amount of effort on her part can overcome. But then the nun
Jinadattā came to her house for alms. She was so inspired she took
ordination herself.
She became enlightened and could recollect the seven lives that
had led her to this point, including the one that started it all. Long
ago, she had been born as a man and had sex with another man’s
wife. This was the root bad kamma that drove her to a series of
distressing rebirths. Repeatedly she was born as a male animal who
suffered castration, then as a slave who had neither male nor female
genitals. Eventually, she was born as a girl subject to violence and
abandonment.
The depiction of kamma and its effects here is subtly different
from the normal presentation in the early texts. Normally the idea
is that if you do a bad deed, you will experience bad results because
of that. For example, you might be born in a lower realm, or if you
are born in the human realm—which is always the result of good
kamma—you might still have the bad kamma to be born suffering
a chronic illness.
There are two fallacies to be wary of here.
xxxv
First, the fact that kamma creates some results does not mean
that all results were created by kamma. In other words, if A then B
does not imply if B then A. The Buddha listed multiple causes for
illness, for example, only one of which was kamma. Unless we are
like Isidāsī and have the psychic ability to recollect past lives, we
do not know. What we do know, however, is that transmigration
is long. And in that long journey, all of us have done many good
things and many bad things.
This is important in the current case because it is one of the
few examples in the early texts that might be used to argue that
being born as a woman is a result of bad kamma, a belief that is
commonly held in Buddhist cultures today. This might also be held
to apply to intersex people since in one birth she is biologically
neither male nor female. But in such delicate cases, it is crucial
to not overinterpret the text. Looking at the lives described in
the text, in each case it is not the mere fact of biological sex that is
painful. She was reborn in a life of suffering, and in her case, sex
characteristics were part of that.
The very next poem, discussed below, appears as a counterpoint,
perhaps deliberately, to this fallacy. Sumedhā is repeatedly reborn
into a happy life as a woman because of her good kamma as a
woman. The entire framing of Isidāsī’s text shows how as a woman
she triumphed over her circumstances and found freedom from
all this. She must have performed good kamma in the past to be
born as a human with the capacity to understand and practice the
Dhamma. And so have we. The real question facing us is, what are
we choosing to do about it?
The second fallacy is to think that kamma determines the choices
of others. No: kamma determines what you experience, not what
others do. Yet in Isidāsī’s telling, her bad deed in the past de-
termines how others treat her in her many past lives. When she was
born as a monkey, she did not have any unusual sex characteristics.
It was the monkey chief who castrated her at seven days of age.
How is that her kamma forced the monkey chief to do that? Is he
xxxvi
not responsible for his own deeds? The same pattern plays out in
life after life. She is badly mistreated, mostly at the hands of males.
Yet in each case, their kamma is their kamma and is not forced upon
them by her misdeeds.
This misunderstanding of kamma is very prevalent in the Bud-
dhist community today. We hear, for example, that Moggallāna
died being set upon by bandits due to his past kamma which he
could not escape. But this story from the commentaries never ad-
dresses the problem: how did Moggallāna’s misdeeds cause others
to commit murder?
So we can add doctrinal evolution to the list of reasons for con-
cluding that this text is late. Of course, this does not mean it is
worthless. It means it is a record of a teaching by women from the
period after the Buddha, which is even rarer than teachings from
the Buddha’s life. The question of authorship is a complex one: is
the teaching by Isidāsī? Or is it related by her friend Bodhī with
whom she shared her story? Who was it that cast the story in verse?
My intuition is that the text was composed within the women’s
community to reconcile women’s circumstances and struggles with
the more deterministic understanding of kamma that was already
evolving a century or two after the Buddha.
In this light, the casual reference to the “wearing away” of
kamma, while not formally contradicting Buddhist doctrine, takes
on a new light. A deterministic reading of kamma is not present in
the early texts, yet it became common in schools such as Theravāda.
Why? Was it purely a result of internal doctrinal developments? Or
was it influenced by encounters with followers of other religions,
such as the Jains? The distinctions made by the Buddha in the
early texts are often subtle and debated even among scholars, not
to speak of regular Buddhists. By itself, this one passage cannot be
decisive, but it does belong in a broader discussion of such issues.
The final poem, attributed to Sumedhā, is also late, but as with
the poem of Isidāsī, it is not possible to date with any precision.
The poem quotes liberally from the prose Suttas, including not
xxxvii
just general doctrines such as we find commonly in the Therīgāthā,

but multiple detailed specific references to particular passages.
She urges her folks to “remember” these, implying that they were
commonly known teachings. But this doesn’t tell us much, as such
teachings may have been well known even in the Buddha’s life; the
Suttas are full of such cross-references.
The nations and the kings don’t help with dating, as they seem to
be otherwise unattested. Certainly, they are not part of the normal
roster of places and people familiar from the early texts. Sumedhā is
the daughter of King Koñca of the city of Mantāvatī, about which
I can find no information. Her betrothed is King Anīkaratta of
Vāraṇavatī. A Varaṇāvatī is mentioned in the Atharvaveda, but it is
unclear what it is; perhaps a river. The Mahābhārata mentions a
Vāraṇāvata, but this does not help us much. If it is the same city,
we only know that, according to the Monier-Williams dictionary,
it is about an eight-day journey from Hastināpura. Hastināpura
is located on the Ganges in modern Uttar Pradesh, about 100km
northeast of Delhi. Eight days journey is around 300km, so even
if this identification were correct, it would only tell us that we are
in northwest India, not far from the scope of the early Buddhist
region. So the most we can say is that this story may have been set
in a region into which Buddhism had expanded a century or two
after the Buddha’s death. Such tales often serve as the “conversion
story” for a country.
The story is a variation on the universal folk tale of the young
woman betrothed against her will. It is constructed with melodra-
matic flair: the hapless parents, the brilliant and wilful daughter,
the handsome king, and the mysterious kingdom. She is probably
a teenager at this point, and while the sympathies of the story lie
with her, I can’t help feeling sorry for the poor parents, subject to
relentless haranguing by a girl convinced that she knows it all.
The climax of the story builds tension by splitting into two nar-
rative frames: the relentless approach of the royal suitor and Sume-
dhā’s equally relentless ascent to jhāna and insight. It’s a brilliant
xxxviii
narrative device. The king begs for her hand through the door, but
she just delivers another scathing takedown of the futility of the
world’s delights. She opens the door, only to see the lot of them
sitting on the floor and weeping in despair. But she’s still not done.
She tells them that this is nothing; they’ve cried much more than
that in the long journey of rebirth. She gathers up the hardest of
the hard-core teachings from the Suttas and launches them in salvo
after salvo at her dear and beloved as they huddle on the floor in
tears.
It worked: the handsome king got up and begged the parents
on Sumedhā’s behalf to let her go forth. She did so and rapidly
attained Nibbāna.
Years later, on her deathbed, she revealed her past lives. She
and Isidāsī are the only two to speak of details of their past lives in
the Therīgāthā, although many nuns say they can recollect them.
Unlike Isidāsī, here she is not speaking of any bad kamma. On
the contrary, she tells of how in the far distant age of the Buddha
Koṇāgamana she made merit together with two female friends.
They offered no less than a new monastery, regarded as the greatest
of material offerings. As women, they had access to considerable
wealth, which they used to benefit others. As a result, they all
experienced many good rebirths before realizing enlightenment
in this final life. This kind of narrative appears very rarely in early
texts but became the standard template for the Apadānas, so it is
yet another sign that this is a late poem.
In the story of Isidāsī, she committed bad kamma as a man, and
consequently experienced suffering in many lives as a woman sub-
ject to the brutality of men. Here, Sumedhā does good kamma
as a woman, together with her female friends, and consequently
experiences happiness in many good lives as a woman. There is
no single, simple narrative around kamma, sex, and gender, and
early Buddhist texts do not try to construct one. The only narrative
they are concerned with is that doing good leads to good results.
In this way, the Therīgāthā finishes on a high note, a lavish and ex-
xxxix
ultant celebration of the determination, intelligence, and spiritual

capacity of an extraordinary human being who happens to have
been a woman.
A Brief Textual History

The Therīgāthā was published in 1883 by the Pali Text Society, as
edited by Richard Pischel, one of the greats of 19th century German
Indology. He made use of four manuscripts, two in Burmese script
and two in Sinhala, as well as a manuscript of the commentary,
which embeds the full text within it.
He notes that all these sources share serious blunders and that
they must all stem from a single source. This is not unexpected, as
we know that the Sri Lankan texts were re-introduced back from
Burma. He found that one of the manuscripts, part of the Phayre
collection in London, is in all respects superior to the rest. The
textual corruption goes back a long way, as he notes there are several
places where even the commentator of 500 CE had before him a
corrupt text. As a result, his footnotes contain a profusion of variant
readings, even though he Germanically avers that he only included
those that seemed “really important”. So difficult was the task that
he said, “without the commentary, I should hardly have ventured
to publish this text at all.”
The second edition of this text was published in 1966 (reprinted
1990) with two new Appendices: additional variant readings sup-
plied by K.R. Norman, and metrical analysis by L. Alsdorf.
The Therīgāthā has since attracted a substantial body of trans-
lation and study. The first English translation was by C.A.F. Rhys
Davids as Psalms of the Early Buddhists, I: Psalms of the Sisters in
1909 with the Pali Text Society. Her translation was enthusiastic
and informed by a serious study of Pali. Much of her commentary,
however, is inevitably dated, and her flowery translation style was
deliberately archaic even when it was made. And her decision to
embed the translations within what she described as the “legends
xl
of legends” of the commentarial stories was, I think, unfortunate.

Better to let the verses stand for themselves, and keep the commen-
tary for a separate work.
In 1971 K.R. Norman published his translation Elders’ Verses
II: Therīgāthā with the PTS. This was part of his extraordinary
series of editions of Pali verses. It included a detailed analysis of
metrical, textual, and linguistic issues to accompany his admittedly
dry translation style. His analysis brings together a huge amount of
relevant data which is an invaluable point of reference. His analysis
of composition, dating, attribution, and the role of the commentary
are essential backgrounds for any serious study.
In his preface he acknowledges the advances in understanding
the Therīgāthā since Pischel’s text, especially noting the improve-
ments from “oriental editions” which appeared in the last “sixty
years” (i.e. between 1910 and 1970). Most of these are the various
editions that emerged from the Sixth Council, in Burmese (3rd edi-
tion, 1961), Cambodian (1958), and Devanāgarī (1959), as well
as the Thai edition of 1926–8 and the Hemaviratne edition of the
commentary in Sinhalese characters (1918). While acknowledg-
ing the “many excellences” of the Burmese Sixth Council edition,
he cautions that it “gives the impression of having been subjected
to a considerable amount of normalization, which naturally greatly
reduces its value”. My translation is based on the Mahāsaṅgīti edi-
tion, which is a digital version of this text.
The balance between readability and accuracy that is sorely lack-
ing in the PTS editions was finally realized in 2015, with Charles
Hallisey’s Therīgāthā: Poems of the First Buddhist Women, published
by the Harvard University Press as part of the Murty Classical Li-
brary of India series. This is an elegant and mature translation,
which includes a useful introduction as well as the Pali text.
A further full translation by Anāgārika Mahendra under the title
Therīgāthāpāḷi: Book of Verses of Elder Bhikkhunīs was published in
2017 through Dhamma Publishers. This edition includes Pali text
with translation and notes.
xli
Readers should beware of a literary fraud masquerading as a

translation. The First Free Women: Poems of the Early Buddhist Nuns
by Matty Weingast was published by Shambhala Publications in
2020. It is a work of original poetry, apparently made in the belief
that channeling inspiration from the ancient bhikkhunīs was a valid
translation approach. The resulting work was ecstatically received
by many Buddhist teachers who praised the uplifting of an ancient
scripture of distinctively female voices, unaware or uncaring that
it was composed in 2019 by a man in California. The publisher
revised their fraudulent marketing somewhat after public pressure,
but as of May 2022, their webpage for the book is still full of claims
that it is a translation.
There have also been some partial translations. The best known
is Susan Murcott’s First Buddhist Women: Poems and Stories of Awak-
ening, published through Parallax Press in 1991. She translated
most of the poems and presented them together with her reflec-
tions as well as paraphrases of the Pali commentary. As a feminist
reading, it highlights the problematic status of women in ancient
India as reflected in the Therīgāthā. But its analysis is inevitably
blunted by its closeness to the commentary, which frames the lens
through which the texts are seen. For example, the first verse draws
from the commentary for its title “An Unknown Wife”, whereas the
verse itself says nothing about her being married.
Thirty-two of the poems were translated by Ṭhānissaro Bhikkhu
in his Poems of the Elders, An Anthology from the Theragatha and
Therigatha of 2005.
A 2009 translation of fourteen poems by Francis Booth, Songs
of the Elder Sisters, offers some of the most delightful passages in a
refreshingly simple and unburdened form.
xlii
Acknowledgements
I remember with gratitude all those from whom I have learned the
Dhamma, especially Ajahn Brahm and Bhikkhu Bodhi, the two
monks who more than anyone else showed me the depth, meaning,
and practical value of the Suttas.
Special thanks to Dustin and Keiko Cheah and family, who
sponsored my stay in Qi Mei while I made this translation.
Thanks also for Blake Walshe, who provided essential software
support for my translation work.
Throughout the process of translation, I have frequently sought
feedback and suggestions from the SuttaCentral community on our
forum, “Discuss and Discover”. I want to thank all those who have
made suggestions and contributed to my understanding, as well
as to the moderators who have made the forum possible. These
translations were significantly improved due to the careful work of
my proofreaders: Ayyā Pāsādā, John and Lynn Kelly, and Derek
Sola. Special thanks are due to Sabbamittā, a true friend of all, who
has tirelessly and precisely checked my work.
Finally my everlasting thanks to all those people, far too many to
mention, who have supported SuttaCentral, and those who have
supported my life as a monastic. None of this would be possible
without you.
Verses of the Senior
Nuns
The Book of the Ones
Thig 1.1
An Unnamed Nun (1st)
Aññatarātherīgāthā
Homage to that Blessed One, the per-

fected one, the fully awakened Buddha!
1.1 Sleep softly, little nun,

That is how this verse was recited by a certain unnamed nun.
Thig 1.2
Muttā (1st)
Muttātherīgāthā
1.1 Muttā, be released from your yokes,

like the moon released from the eclipse.
When your mind is released,
enjoy your alms free of debt.
That is how the Buddha regularly advised

the trainee nun Muttā with these verses.
puṇṇā
Thig 1.3
Puṇṇā
Puṇṇātherīgāthā
Puṇṇā, be filled with good qualities, 1.1

like the moon on the fifteenth day.
When your wisdom is full,
shatter the mass of darkness.
That is how this verse was recited by the senior nun Puṇṇā.
Thig 1.4
Tissā
Tissātherīgāthā
Tissā, train in the trainings— 1.1

don’t let your yokes overcome you.
Unyoked from all yokes,
live in the world free of defilements.
Thig 1.5
Another Tissā
Aññatarātissātherīgāthā
Tissā, apply yourself to good qualities— 1.1

don’t let the moment pass you by.
For if you miss your moment,
you’ll grieve when sent to hell.
3 Thig 1.5
dhīrātherīgāthā
Thig 1.6
Dhīrā
Dhīrātherīgāthā
1.1 Dhīrā, touch cessation,

the blissful stilling of perception.
Win extinguishment,
the supreme sanctuary from the yoke.
Thig 1.7
Vīrā
Vīrātherīgāthā
1.1 She’s known as Vīrā because of her heroic qualities,

a nun with faculties developed.
She bears her final body,
having vanquished Māra and his mount.
Thig 1.8
Mittā (1st)
Mittātherīgāthā
1.1 Having gone forth in faith,

appreciate your spiritual friends, Mittā.
Develop skillful qualities
for the sake of sanctuary from the yoke.
Thig 1.9
Bhadrā
Bhadrātherīgāthā
1.1 Having gone forth in faith,
Thig 1.9 4
upasamā
appreciate your blessings, Bhadrā.

Develop skillful qualities
for the sake of the supreme sanctuary from the yoke.
Thig 1.10
Upasamā
Upasamātherīgāthā
Upasamā, cross the flood, 1.1

Death’s domain so hard to pass.
When you have vanquished Māra and his mount,
bear your final body.
Thig 1.11
Muttā (2nd)
Muttātherīgāthā
I’m well freed, so very well freed,1 1.1

freed from the three things that humped me:2
the mortar, the pestle,3
and my humpbacked husband.
I’m freed from birth and death;
the conduit to rebirth is eradicated.
1. Compare with Thig 2.3 and Thag 1.43.

2. The commentary explains that the first two things make you crooked:
(khujjakaraṇahetutāya tadubhayaṁ “khujja”nti vuttaṁ), while the husband is
crooked (a hunchback). This may be so, but I think it is a double entendre.
3. The mortar and pestle feature prominently in the sexual imagery of Rig
Veda 1.29, where the kitchen implements are analogized with the pressing of
soma on the altar. Both musala and “pestle” derive from roots “to pound”.
5 Thig 1.11
dhammadinnātherīgāthā
Thig 1.12
Dhammadinnā
Dhammadinnātherīgāthā
1.1 One who is eager and determined

would be filled with awareness.
Their mind not bound to pleasures of sense,
they’re said to be heading upstream.
Thig 1.13
Visākhā
Visākhātherīgāthā
1.1 Do the Buddha’s bidding,

you won’t regret it.
Having quickly washed your feet,
sit in a discreet place to meditate.
Thig 1.14
Sumanā
Sumanātherīgāthā
1.1 Having seen the elements as suffering,

don’t get reborn again.
When you’ve discarded desire for rebirth,
you will live at peace.
Thig 1.15
Uttarā (1st)
Uttarātherīgāthā
1.1 I was restrained
Thig 1.15 6
sumanā, who went forth late in life
in body, speech, and mind.

Having plucked out craving, root and all,
I’m cooled and quenched.
Thig 1.16
Sumanā, Who Went Forth Late in Life
Vuḍḍhapabbajitasumanātherīgāthā
Sleep softly, old lady, 1.1

you’re cooled and quenched.
Thig 1.17
Dhammā
Dhammātherīgāthā
I wandered for alms 1.1

though feeble, leaning on a staff.
My limbs wobbled
and I fell to the ground right there.
Seeing the danger of the body,
my mind was freed.
Thig 1.18
Saṅghā
Saṁghātherīgāthā
I gave up my home, my child, my cattle, 1.1

and all that I love, and went forth.
And now that I’ve given up desire and hate,
dispelled ignorance,
7 Thig 1.18
saṁghātherīgāthā
and plucked out craving, root and all,

I’m at peace, I’m quenched.
Thig 1.18 8
The Book of the Twos
Thig 2.1
Abhirūpanandā
Abhirūpanandātherīgāthā
Nandā, see this bag of bones as 1.1

diseased, filthy, and rotten.
With mind unified and serene,
meditate on the ugly aspects of the body.
Meditate on the signless, 2.1

give up the underlying tendency to conceit;
and when you comprehend conceit,
That is how the Buddha regularly advised

the trainee nun Nandā with these verses.4
4. The MS edition is apparently alone in taking the nun as a bhikkhunī and

as the speaker of the verses. It’s odd that no variants are recorded, especially
given that even the parent edition (VRI) says she is a sikkhamānā. Perhaps
this is a rare instance of a simple oversight in MS.
jentātherīgāthā
Thig 2.2
Jentā
Jentātherīgāthā
1.1 Of the seven awakening factors,

the path for attaining extinguishment,
I have developed them all,
just as the Buddha taught.
2.1 For I have seen the Blessed One,

and this bag of bones is my last.
That is how these verses were recited by the senior nun Jentā.
Thig 2.3
Sumaṅgala’s Mother
Sumaṅgalamātātherīgāthā
1.1 I’m well freed, well freed,5

so very well freed from the pestle!
My shameless husband popped up like a mushroom,
my mortar wafted like eels.
2.1 Greed and hate sizzle and hiss

as I squelch them.
Having gone to the root of a tree,
I meditate happily, thinking, “Oh, what bliss!”
5. This verse is problematic and any translation is conjectural. I think that,

like Thig 1.11, it hinges on double entendres of kitchen drudgery and sex.
The nun here is presumably the mother of the Sumaṅgala at Thag 1.43, whose
verses are similar.
Thig 2.3 10
aḍḍhakāsi
Thig 2.4
Aḍḍhakāsi
Aḍḍhakāsitherīgāthā
The price for my services 1.1

amounted to the nation of Kāsi.
By setting that price,
the townsfolk made me priceless.
Then, growing disillusioned with my form, 2.1

I became dispassionate.
Don’t journey on and on,
transmigrating through rebirths!
I’ve realized the three knowledges,
and fulfilled the Buddha’s instructions.
Thig 2.5
Cittā
Cittātherīgāthā
Though I’m skinny, 1.1

sick, and very feeble,
I climb the mountain,
leaning on a staff.
Having laid down my outer robe, 2.1

and overturned my bowl,
propping myself against a rock,
I shattered the mass of darkness.
11 Thig 2.5
mettikātherīgāthā
Thig 2.6
Mettikā
Mettikātherīgāthā
1.1 Though in pain,

feeble, my youth long gone,
I climb the mountain,
leaning on a staff.
2.1 Having laid down my outer robe

and overturned my bowl,
sitting on a rock,
my mind was freed.
I’ve attained the three knowledges,
Thig 2.7
Mittā (2nd)
Mittātherīgāthā
1.1 I rejoiced in the host of gods,

having observed the sabbath
complete in all eight factors,
on the fourteenth and the fifteenth days,
2.1 and the eighth day of the fortnight,

as well as on the fortnightly special displays.
Today I eat just once a day,
my head is shaven, I wear the outer robe.
I don’t long for the host of gods,
for stress has been removed from my heart.
Thig 2.7 12
to abhayā’s mother from her daughter
Thig 2.8
To Abhayā’s Mother From Her Daughter
Abhayamātutherīgāthā
My dear mother, examine this body,6 1.1

up from the soles of the feet,
and down from the tips of the hairs,
so impure and foul-smelling.
Meditating like this,7 2.1

all my lust is eradicated.
The fever of passion is cut off,
I’m cooled and quenched.8
Thig 2.9
Abhayā
Abhayātherīgāthā
Abhayā, the body is fragile,9 1.1

yet ordinary people are attached to it.
I’ll lay down the body,
aware and mindful.
Though subject to so many painful things, 2.1

I have, through my love of diligence,
reached the ending of craving,
6. Authorship is unclear in these verses. The first verse is addressed to the

mother. The commentary says it was by her son Abhaya, but I think it is more
likely by her daughter Abhayā who features in the next poem.
7. The feminine declension of the last words show that this verse is spoken
by a woman. The commentary says it was by the mother, who has quoted her
son’s words and adds her own. I read both verses as spoken by the daughter.
8. It is only from the feminine declension of the last words that we can be
sure it is the daughter Abhayā speaking.
9. The commentary says that Abhayā is exhorting herself here.
13 Thig 2.9
sāmātherīgāthā
Thig 2.10
Sāmā
Sāmātherīgāthā
1.1 Four or five times

I left my dwelling.
I had failed to find peace of heart,
or any control over my mind.
Now it is the eighth night
since craving was eradicated.
2.1 Though subject to so many painful things,

Thig 2.10 14
The Book of the Threes
Thig 3.1
Another Sāmā
Aparāsāmātherīgāthā
In the twenty-five years 1.1

since I went forth,
I don’t know that I had ever found
serenity in my mind.
I had failed to find peace of heart, 2.1

When I remembered the victor’s instructions,
I was struck with a sense of urgency.
Though subject to so many painful things, 3.1

This is the seventh day
since my craving dried up.
uttamātherīgāthā
Thig 3.2
Uttamā
Uttamātherīgāthā
1.1 Four or five times

I left my dwelling.
2.1 I approached a nun

in whom I had faith.
She taught me the Dhamma:
the aggregates, sense fields, and elements.
3.1 When I had heard her teaching,

in accordance with her instructions,
I sat cross-legged for seven days without moving,
given over to rapture and bliss.
On the eighth day I stretched out my feet,
having shattered the mass of darkness.
Thig 3.3
Another Uttamā
Aparāuttamātherīgāthā
1.1 Of the seven awakening factors,

the path for attaining extinguishment,
I have developed them all,
just as the Buddha taught.
2.1 I attain the meditations on emptiness

and signlessness whenever I want.
I am the Buddha’s rightful daughter,
always delighting in extinguishment.
Thig 3.3 16
dantikā
All sensual pleasures are cut off, 3.1

whether human or heavenly.
Thig 3.4
Dantikā
Dantikātherīgāthā
Leaving my day’s meditation 1.1

on Vulture’s Peak Mountain,
I saw an elephant on the riverbank
having just come up from his bath.
A man, taking a pole with a hook, 2.1

asked the elephant, “Give me your foot.”
The elephant presented his foot,
and the man mounted him.
Seeing a wild beast so tamed, 3.1

submitting to human control,
my mind became serene:
that is why I’ve gone to the forest!
Thig 3.5
Ubbirī
Ubbiritherīgāthā
“You cry ‘Live, my dear mother!’ in the forest.10 1.1

Ubbirī, get a hold of yourself!
10. In her distress, Ubbirī addresses her daughter as “mother”. The speaker
of this verse, who is trying to help the distressed Ubbirī, is not named in the
text, but the commentary identifies it as the Buddha.
17 Thig 3.5
sukkātherīgāthā
Eighty-four thousand people,

all named ‘Live’,
have been burnt in this funeral ground:
which one do you grieve for?”
2.1 “Oh! For you have plucked the arrow from me,
so hard to see, stuck in the heart.
You’ve swept away the grief for my daughter
in which I once was mired.
3.1 Today I’ve plucked the arrow,

I’m hungerless, quenched.
I go for refuge to that sage, the Buddha,
to his teaching, and to the Sangha.”
Thig 3.6
Sukkā
Sukkātherīgāthā
1.1 “What’s up with these people in Rājagaha?

They sprawl like they’ve been drinking mead!
They don’t attend on Sukkā
as she teaches the Buddha’s instructions.
2.1 But the wise—

it’s as if they drink it up,
so irresistible, delicious, and nutritious,
like travelers enjoying a cool cloud.”
3.1 “She’s known as Sukkā because of her bright qualities,

free of greed, serene.
having vanquished Māra and his mount.”
Thig 3.6 18
selā
Thig 3.7
Selā
Selātherīgāthā
“There’s no escape in the world, 1.1

so what will seclusion do for you?
Enjoy erotic delights;
don’t regret it later.”
“Sensual pleasures are like swords and spears 2.1

the aggregates are their chopping block.
What you call erotic delight
is now no delight for me.
Relishing is destroyed in every respect, 3.1

and the mass of darkness is shattered.
So know this, Wicked One:
you’re beaten, terminator!”
Thig 3.8
Somā
Somātherīgāthā
“That state’s very challenging; 1.1

it’s for the sages to attain.
It’s not possible for a woman,
with her two-fingered wisdom.”
“What difference does womanhood make 2.1

when the mind is serene,
and knowledge is present
as you rightly discern the Dhamma.
19 Thig 3.8
somātherīgāthā

Thig 3.8 20
The Book of the Fours
Thig 4.1
Bhaddā Daughter of Kapila
Bhaddākāpilānītherīgāthā
Kassapa is the son and heir of the Buddha, 1.1

whose mind is immersed in samādhi.
He who knows his past lives,
sees heaven and places of loss,
and has attained the end of rebirth: 2.1

is a sage of perfect insight.
It’s because of these three knowledges
that the brahmin is a master of the three knowledges.
In exactly the same way, Bhaddā daughter of Kapila 3.1

is master of the three knowledges,
conqueror of death.11
having vanquished Māra and his mount.
Seeing the danger of the world, 4.1

both of us went forth.
11. Maccuhāyi is glossed by the commentaries as either “abandoner” (Maccu-

hāyinanti maraṇapariccāginaṁ) or “conqueror” (maraṇābhibhū maccuhāyī).
The phrase seems to be used in martial contexts where it carries a similar force
to jetvā māraṁ just below.
bhaddākāpilānītherīgāthā
Now we are tamed, our defilements have ended;

we’ve become cooled and quenched.
Thig 4.1 22
The Book of the Fives
Thig 5.1
An Unnamed Nun (2nd)
Aññataratherīgāthā
In the twenty-five years 1.1

since I went forth
I have not found peace of mind,
even for as long as a finger-snap.
Failing to find peace of heart, 2.1

festering with sensual desire,
I cried with flailing arms
as I entered a dwelling.
I approached a nun 3.1

in whom I had faith.
When I heard her teaching, 4.1

I retired to a discreet place.
I know my past lives;
my clairvoyance is purified;
I comprehend the minds of others; 5.1

my clairaudience is purified;
vimalātherīgāthā
I’ve realized the psychic powers,

and attained the ending of defilements.
I have realized the six kinds of direct knowledge,
Thig 5.2
Vimalā, the Former Courtesan
Vimalātherīgāthā
1.1 Intoxicated by my appearance,

my figure, my beauty, my fame,
and owing to my youth,
I looked down on others.
2.1 I adorned this body

all pretty, lamented by fools,
and stood at the brothel door,
like a hunter laying a snare.
3.1 I stripped for them,

revealing my many hidden treasures.
Creating an intricate illusion,
I laughed, teasing those men.
4.1 Today, having wandered for alms,

my head shaven, wearing the outer robe,
I sat at the root of a tree to meditate;
I’ve gained freedom from thought.
5.1 All yokes are severed,

both human and heavenly.
Having wiped out all defilements,
I have become cooled and quenched.
Thig 5.2 24
sīhā
Thig 5.3
Sīhā
Sīhātherīgāthā
Due to irrational application of mind, 1.1

I was racked by desire for pleasures of the senses.
I was restless in the past,
lacking control over my mind.
Overcome by corruptions, 2.1

pursuing perceptions of the beautiful,
I gained no peace of mind.
Under the sway of lustful thoughts,
thin, pale, and wan, 3.1

for seven years I wandered,
full of pain,
finding no happiness by day or night.
Taking a rope 4.1

I entered deep into the forest, thinking:
“It’s better that I hang myself
than I return to a lesser life.”
I made a strong noose 5.1

and tied it to the branch of a tree.
Casting it round my neck,
my mind was freed.
Thig 5.4
Sundarīnandā
Sundarīnandātherīgāthā
“Nandā, see this bag of bones as 1.1
25 Thig 5.4
nanduttarātherīgāthā
diseased, filthy, and rotten.

With mind unified and serene,
meditate on the ugly aspects of the body:
2.1 as this is, so is that,

as that is, so is this.
A foul stink wafts from it,
it is the fools’ delight.”
3.1 Reflecting in such a way,

tireless all day and night,
having broken through
with my own wisdom, I saw.
4.1 Being diligent,

rationally investigating,
I truly saw this body
both inside and out.
5.1 Then, growing disillusioned with the body,

I became dispassionate within.
Diligent, detached,
I’m quenched and at peace.
Thig 5.5
Nanduttarā
Nanduttarātherīgāthā
1.1 In the past I worshiped the sacred flame,

the moon, the sun, and the gods.
Having gone to a river ford,
I plunged into the water.
2.1 Undertaking many vows,

I shaved half my head.
Thig 5.5 26
mittākāḷī
Preparing a bed on the ground,

I ate no food at night.
I loved my ornaments and decorations; 3.1

and with baths and oil-massages,
I pandered to this body,
racked by desire for pleasures of the senses.
But then I gained faith, 4.1

and went forth to homelessness.
Truly seeing the body,
desire for sensual pleasure is eradicated.
All rebirths are cut off, 5.1

wishes and aspirations too.
I’ve found peace of mind.
Thig 5.6
Mittākāḷī
Mittākāḷītherīgāthā
Having gone forth in faith 1.1

from the lay life to homelessness,
I wandered here and there,
jealous of possessions and honors.
Neglecting the highest goal, 2.1

I pursued the lowest.
Under the sway of corruptions,
I never knew the goal of the ascetic life.
I was struck with a sense of urgency 3.1

as I was sitting in my hut:
“I’m walking the wrong path,
27 Thig 5.6
sakulātherīgāthā
under the sway of craving.
4.1 My life is short,

trampled by old age and sickness.
Before this body breaks apart,
there is no time for me to be careless.”
5.1 I examined in line with the truth

the rise and fall of the aggregates.
I stood up with mind liberated,
having fulfilled the Buddha’s instructions.
Thig 5.7
Sakulā
Sakulātherīgāthā
1.1 While staying at home

I heard the teaching from a monk.
I saw the stainless Dhamma,
extinguishment, the state that does not pass.
2.1 Leaving behind my son and my daughter,

my riches and my grain,
I had my hair cut off,
and went forth to homelessness.
3.1 As a trainee nun,

I developed the direct path.
I gave up greed and hate,
along with associated defilements.
4.1 When I was fully ordained as a nun,

I recollected my past lives,
and purified my clairvoyance,
immaculate and fully developed.
Thig 5.7 28
soṇā
Conditions are born of causes, crumbling; 5.1

having seen them as other,
I gave up all defilements,
I’m cooled and quenched.
Thig 5.8
Soṇā
Soṇātherīgāthā
I gave birth to ten sons 1.1

in this form, this bag of bones.
Then, when feeble and old,
I approached a nun.
She taught me the Dhamma: 2.1

When I heard her teaching,
I shaved off my hair and went forth.
When I was a trainee nun, 3.1

my clairvoyance was clarified,
and I knew my past lives,
the places I used to live.
I meditate on the signless, 4.1

my mind unified and serene.
I achieved the immediate liberation,
quenched by not grasping.
The five aggregates are fully understood; 5.1

they remain, but their root is cut.
Curse you, wretched old age!
29 Thig 5.8
bhaddākuṇḍalakesātherīgāthā
Thig 5.9
Bhaddā of the Curly Hair
Bhaddākuṇḍalakesātherīgāthā
1.1 My hair mown off, covered in mud,

I used to wander wearing just one robe.
I saw fault where there was none,
and was blind to the actual fault.
2.1 Leaving my day’s meditation

on Vulture’s Peak Mountain,
I saw the stainless Buddha
at the fore of the mendicant Saṅgha.
3.1 I bent my knee and bowed,

and in his presence raised my joined palms.
“Come Bhaddā,” he said;12
that was my ordination.
4.1 “I’ve wandered among the Aṅgans and Magadhans,

the Vajjis, Kāsis, and Kosalans.
I have eaten the almsfood of the nations
free of debt for fifty years.”
5.1 “O! He has made so much merit!

That lay follower is so very wise.
He gave a robe to Bhaddā,
who is released from all ties.”
12. This echoes the very first ordinations, where the Buddha merely said,
“Come monk” (Kd 1:6.32.3). The use of ehi for “come” is a sign of respect
(Śatapatha Brāhmaṇa 1.1.4.12).
Thig 5.9 30
paṭācārā
Thig 5.10
Paṭācārā
Paṭācārātherīgāthā
Plowing the fields, 1.1

sowing seeds in the ground,
providing for partners and children,
young men acquire wealth.
I am accomplished in ethics, 2.1

and I do the Teacher’s bidding,
being neither lazy nor restless—
why then do I not achieve quenching?
Having washed my feet, 3.1

I took note of the water,
seeing the foot-washing water
flowing from high ground to low.
My mind became serene, 4.1

like a fine thoroughbred steed.
Then, taking a lamp,
I entered my dwelling,
inspected the bed,
and sat on my cot.
Then, grabbing the pin, 5.1

I drew out the wick.
The liberation of my heart
was like the quenching of the lamp.
31 Thig 5.10
tiṁsamattātherīgāthā
Thig 5.11
Thirty Nuns
Tiṁsamattātherīgāthā
1.1 “Taking a pestle,

young men pound grain.
Providing for partners and children,
2.1 Do the Buddha’s bidding,

Devoted to serenity of heart,
do the Buddha’s bidding.”
3.1 After hearing her words,

the instructions of Paṭācārā,
they washed their feet
and retired to a discreet place.
Devoted to serenity of heart,
they did the Buddha’s bidding.
4.1 In the first watch of the night,

they recollected their past lives.
In the middle watch of the night,
they purified their clairvoyance.
In the last watch of the night,
they shattered the mass of darkness.
5.1 They rose and paid homage at her feet:

“We have done your bidding;
we shall abide honoring you,
as the thirty gods honor Indra,
undefeated in battle.
Thig 5.11 32
candā
Masters of the three knowledges,

we are free of defilements.”
That is how thirty senior nuns declared their

enlightenment in the presence of Paṭācārā.
Thig 5.12
Candā
Candātherīgāthā
I used to be in a sorry state. 1.1

As a childless widow,
bereft of friends or relatives,
I got neither food nor clothes.
I took a bowl and a staff 2.1

and went begging from family to family.
For seven years I wandered,
burned by heat and cold.
Then I saw a nun 3.1

receiving food and drink.
Approaching her, I said:
“Send me forth to homelessness.”
Out of sympathy for me, 4.1

Paṭācārā gave me the going forth.
Then, having advised me,
she urged me on to the ultimate goal.
After hearing her words, 5.1

I did her bidding.
The lady’s advice was not in vain:
master of the three knowledges,
I am free of defilements.
33 Thig 5.12
The Book of the Sixes
Thig 6.1
Paṭācārā, Who Had a Following of Five
Hundred
Pañcasatamattātherīgāthā
1.1 “One whose path you do not know,

not whence they came nor where they went;
though they came from who knows where,
you mourn that being, crying, ‘Oh my son!’
2.1 But one whose path you do know,

whence they came or where they went;
that one you do not lament—
such is the nature of living creatures.
3.1 Unasked he came,

he left without leave.
He must have come from somewhere,
and stayed who knows how many days.
He left from here by one road,
he will go from there by another.
4.1 Departing with the form of a human,

he will go on transmigrating.
As he came, so he went:
vāseṭṭhī
why cry over that?”
“Oh! For you have plucked the arrow from me, 5.1
so hard to see, stuck in the heart.
You’ve swept away the grief for my son,
in which I once was mired.
Today I’ve plucked the arrow, 6.1

I’m hungerless, quenched.
I go for refuge to that sage, the Buddha,
to his teaching, and to the Sangha.”
That is how Paṭācārā, who had a following

of five hundred, declared her enlightenment.
Thig 6.2
Vāseṭṭhī
Vāseṭṭhītherīgāthā
Struck down with grief for my son, 1.1

deranged, out of my mind,
naked, my hair flying,
I wandered here and there.
I lived on rubbish heaps, 2.1

in cemeteries and highways.
For three years I wandered,
stricken by hunger and thirst.
Then I saw the Holy One 3.1

back at the city of Mithilā.
Tamer of the untamed,
the Awakened One fears nothing from any quarter.
Regaining my mind, 4.1

I paid homage and sat down.
35 Thig 6.2
khemātherīgāthā
Out of compassion
Gotama taught me the Dhamma.
5.1 After hearing his teaching,

I went forth to homelessness.
Applying myself to the Teacher’s words,
I realized the state of grace.
6.1 All sorrows are cut off,

given up, they end here.
I’ve fully understood the basis
from which grief comes to be.
Thig 6.3
Khemā
Khemātherīgāthā
1.1 “You’re so young and beautiful!

I too am young, just a youth.
Come, Khemā, let us enjoy
the music of a five-piece band.”
2.1 “This body is rotting,

ailing and frail,
I’m horrified and repelled by it,
and I’ve eradicated sensual craving.
3.1 Sensual pleasures are like swords and spears;

4.1 Relishing is destroyed in every respect,

Thig 6.3 36
sujātā
“Worshiping the stars, 5.1

serving the sacred flame in a grove;
failing to grasp the true nature of things,
foolish me, I thought this was purity.
But now I worship the Awakened One, 6.1

supreme among men.
Doing the teacher’s bidding,
I am released from all suffering.”
Thig 6.4
Sujātā
Sujātātherīgāthā
I was adorned with jewelry and all dressed up, 1.1

with garlands, and sandalwood makeup piled on,
all covered over with decorations,
and surrounded by my maids.
Taking food and drink, 2.1

staples and dainties in no small amount,
I left my house
and took myself to the park.
I enjoyed myself there and played about, 3.1

and then, returning to my own house,
I saw a monastic dwelling,
and so I entered the Añjana grove at Sāketa.
Seeing the light of the world, 4.1

I paid homage and sat down.
Out of compassion
the Clear-eyed One taught me the Dhamma.
37 Thig 6.4
anopamātherīgāthā
5.1 When I heard the great seer,

I penetrated the truth.
Right there I found the stainless Dhamma,
the state free of death.
6.1 Then, having understood the true teaching,

I’ve attained the three knowledges;
the Buddha’s bidding was not in vain.
Thig 6.5
Anopamā
Anopamātherīgāthā
1.1 I was born into an eminent family,

affluent and wealthy,
endowed with a beautiful complexion and figure;
Majjha’s true-born daughter.
2.1 I was sought by princes,

coveted by sons of the wealthy.
One sent a messenger to my father:
“Give me Anopamā!
3.1 However much your daughter

Anopamā weighs,
I’ll give you eight times that
in gold coin and gems.”
4.1 When I saw the Awakened One,

the world’s Elder, unsurpassed,
I paid homage at his feet,
and withdrew to one side.
5.1 Out of compassion,
Thig 6.5 38
mahāpajāpati gotamī
Gotama taught me the Dhamma.

While sitting in that seat,
I realized the third fruit.
Then, having shaved off my hair, 6.1

This is the seventh day
since my craving dried up.
Thig 6.6
Mahāpajāpati Gotamī
Mahāpajāpatigotamītherīgāthā
Oh Buddha, my hero: homage to you! 1.1

Supreme among all beings,
who released me from suffering,
and many other beings as well.
All suffering is fully understood; 2.1

craving—its cause—is dried up;
the eightfold path has been developed;
and cessation has been realized by me.
Previously I was a mother, a son, 3.1

a father, a brother, and a grandmother.
Failing to grasp the true nature of things,
I transmigrated without reward.
Since I have seen the Blessed One, 4.1

this bag of bones is my last.
I see the disciples in harmony, 5.1

energetic and resolute,
39 Thig 6.6
guttātherīgāthā
always staunchly vigorous—

this is homage to the Buddhas!
6.1 It was truly for the benefit of many

that Māyā gave birth to Gotama.
He swept away the mass of suffering
for those stricken by sickness and death.
Thig 6.7
Guttā
Guttātherīgāthā
1.1 Guttā, you have given up your child,

your wealth, and all that you love.
Foster the goal for which you went forth;
do not fall under the mind’s control.
2.1 Beings deceived by the mind,

playing in Māra’s domain,
ignorant, they journey on,
transmigrating through countless rebirths.
3.1 Sensual desire and ill will,

and substantialist view;
misapprehension of precepts and observances,
and doubt as the fifth.
4.1 O nun, when you have given up

these lower fetters,
you won’t come back
to this world again.
5.1 And when you’re rid of desire,13
13. This is an allusion to rūparāgaṁ arūparāgaṁ, “Desire for rebirth in the

realm of luminous form, desire for rebirth in the formless realm”.
Thig 6.7 40
vijayā
conceit, ignorance, and restlessness,

having cut the fetters,
you’ll make an end to suffering.
Having wiped out transmigration, 6.1

and fully understood rebirth,
hungerless in this very life,
Thig 6.8
Vijayā
Vijayātherīgāthā
Four or five times 1.1

I left my dwelling;
I approached a nun 2.1

and politely questioned her.
the elements and sense fields,
the four noble truths, 3.1

the faculties and the powers,
the awakening factors, and the eightfold path
for the attainment of the highest goal.
After hearing her words, 4.1

I did her bidding.
In the first watch of the night,
I recollected my past lives.
In the middle watch of the night, 5.1

I purified my clairvoyance.
41 Thig 6.8
vijayātherīgāthā
In the last watch of the night,

6.1 I then meditated pervading my body

with rapture and bliss.
On the seventh day I stretched out my feet,
having shattered the mass of darkness.
Thig 6.8 42
The Book of the Sevens
Thig 7.1
Uttarā (2nd)
Uttarātherīgāthā
“Taking a pestle, 1.1

young men pound grain.
Providing for partners and children,
Work at the Buddha’s bidding, 2.1

Establish the mind, 3.1

unified and serene.
Examine conditions
as other, not as self.”
“After hearing her words, 4.1

the instructions of Paṭācārā,
I washed my feet
and retired to a discreet place.
In the first watch of the night, 5.1

I recollected my past lives.
cālātherīgāthā
In the middle watch of the night,

I purified my clairvoyance.
6.1 In the last watch of the night,

I rose up master of the three knowledges:
your bidding has been done.
7.1 I shall abide honoring you

as the thirty gods honor Sakka,
undefeated in battle.
Master of the three knowledges,
I am free of defilements.”
Thig 7.2
Cālā
Cālātherīgāthā
1.1 “As a nun with developed faculties,

having established mindfulness,
I penetrated that peaceful state,
the blissful stilling of conditions.”
2.1 “In whose name did you shave your head?

You look like an ascetic,
but you don’t believe in any creed.
Why do you live as if lost?”
3.1 “Followers of other creeds

rely on their views.
They don’t understand the Dhamma,
for they’re no experts in the Dhamma.
4.1 But there is one born in the Sakyan clan,

the unrivaled Buddha;
Thig 7.2 44
upacālā
he taught me the Dhamma

for going beyond views.
Suffering, suffering’s origin, 5.1

suffering’s transcendence,
and the noble eightfold path
that leads to the stilling of suffering.
After hearing his words, 6.1

I happily did his bidding.
I’ve attained the three knowledges

Thig 7.3
Upacālā
Upacālātherīgāthā
“A nun with faculties developed, 1.1

mindful, seeing clearly,
I penetrated that peaceful state,
which sinners do not cultivate.”
“Why don’t you approve of rebirth? 2.1

When you’re born, you get to enjoy sensual pleasures.
Enjoy erotic delights;
don’t regret it later.”
“Death comes to those who are born; 3.1

and when born they fall into suffering:
the chopping off of hands and feet,
45 Thig 7.3
upacālātherīgāthā
killing, caging, misery.
4.1 But there is one born in the Sakyan clan,

an awakened champion.
He taught me the Dhamma
for passing beyond rebirth:
5.1 suffering, suffering’s origin,

6.1 After hearing his words,


Thig 7.3 46
The Book of the Eights
Thig 8.1
Sīsūpacālā
Sīsūpacālātherīgāthā
“A nun accomplished in ethics, 1.1

her sense faculties well-restrained,
would realize the peaceful state,
so delicious and nutritious.”
“There are the gods of the thirty-three, 2.1

and those of Yama;
also the Joyful Deities,
the gods who love to imagine,
and the gods who control what is imagined by others.
Set your heart on such places,
where you used to live.”
“The gods of the thirty-three, 3.1

and those of Yama;
also the Joyful Deities,
the gods who love to imagine,
and the gods who control what is imagined by oth-
ers—
time after time, life after life, 4.1

are governed by substantial reality.
sīsūpacālātherīgāthā
They haven’t transcended substantial reality,

those who transmigrate through birth and death.
5.1 All the world is on fire,

all the world is alight,
all the world is ablaze,
all the world is rocking.
6.1 The Buddha taught me the Dhamma,

unshakable, incomparable,
not frequented by ordinary people;
my mind adores that place.
7.1 After hearing his words,


Thig 8.1 48
The Book of the Nines
Thig 9.1
Vaḍḍha’s Mother
Vaḍḍhamātutherīgāthā
“Vaḍḍha, please never ever 1.1

get entangled in the world.
My child, do not partake
in suffering again and again.
For happy dwell the sages, Vaḍḍha, 2.1

unstirred, their doubts cut off,
cooled and tamed,
and free of defilements.
Vaḍḍha, foster the path 3.1

that the seers have walked,
for the attainment of vision,
and for making an end of suffering.”
“Mother, you speak with such assurance 4.1

to me on this matter.
My dear mom, I can’t help thinking
that no entanglements are found in you.”
“Vaḍḍha, not a jot or a skerrick 5.1

of entanglement is found in me
vaḍḍhamātutherīgāthā
for any conditions at all,

whether low, high, or middling.
6.1 All defilements are ended for me,

meditating and diligent.
and fulfilled the Buddha’s instructions.”
7.1 “Oh so excellent was the goad

my mother spurred me with!
Owing to her compassion, she spoke
verses on the ultimate goal.
8.1 On hearing her words,

advised by my mother,
I was struck with righteous urgency
for the sake of sanctuary from the yoke.
9.1 Striving, resolute,

tireless all day and night,
urged on by my mother,
I realized supreme peace.14
14. These verses continue in Thag 5.5, so I leave off the close quote.
Thig 9.1 50
The Book of the Elevens
Thig 10.1
Kisāgotamī
Kisāgotamītherīgāthā
“Pointing out how the world works, 1.1

the sages have praised good friendship.
Associating with good friends,
even a fool becomes astute.
Associate with true persons, 2.1

for that is how wisdom grows.
Should you associate with true persons,
you would be freed from all suffering.
And you would understand suffering, 3.1

its origin and cessation,
the eightfold path,
and so the four noble truths.”
“‘A woman’s life is painful,’ 4.1

explained the Buddha,
guide for those who wish to train,15
‘and for a co-wife it’s especially so.
After giving birth just once,
15. Here, it seems, Kisāgotamī is quoting or paraphrasing the Buddha.

kisāgotamītherīgāthā
5.1 some women even cut their own throat,

while refined ladies take poison.
Being guilty of killing a person,16
they both undergo ruin.’ ”17
6.1 “I was on the road and about to give birth.,

when I saw my husband dead.
I gave birth there on the road
before I’d reached my own house.
7.1 My two children have died,

and on the road my husband lies dead—
oh woe is me!
Mother, father, and brother
all burning up on the same pyre.”
8.1 “Oh woe is you whose family is lost,

the suffering you have undergone has no measure;
you have been shedding tears
for many thousands of lives.”
9.1 “While staying in the charnel ground,

I saw my son’s flesh being eaten.
With my family destroyed, condemned by all,
and my husband dead, I realized freedom from death.
10.1 I’ve developed the noble eightfold path

leading to freedom from death.
I’ve realized extinguishment,
as seen in the mirror of the Dhamma.
11.1 I’ve plucked out the dart,
16. Read janamāraka’m’ajjhagatā.

17. Ubho here refers to “both” kinds of women who kill themselves. It seems
the verse is about post-partum depression.
Thig 10.1 52
kisāgotamī
laid down the burden,

and done what needed to be done.”
The senior nun Kisāgotamī,
her mind released, said this.
53 Thig 10.1
The Book of the Twelves
Thig 11.1
Uppalavaṇṇā
Uppalavaṇṇātherīgāthā
1.1 “The two of us were co-wives,

though we were mother and daughter.
I was struck with a sense of urgency,
so astonishing and hair-raising!
2.1 Curse those filthy sensual pleasures,

so nasty and thorny,
where we, both mother and daughter,
had to be co-wives together.
3.1 Seeing the danger in sensual pleasures,

seeing renunciation as sanctuary,
I went forth in Rājagaha
from the lay life to homelessness.
4.1 I know my past lives;

my clairvoyance is clarified;
I comprehend the minds of others;
my clairaudience is purified;
5.1 I’ve realized the psychic powers,

and attained the ending of defilements.
uppalavaṇṇā
I’ve realized the six kinds of direct knowledge,

I created a four-horsed chariot 6.1

using my psychic powers.
Then I bowed at the feet of the Buddha,
the glorious protector of the world.”
“You’ve come to this sal tree all crowned with flowers, 7.1
and stand at its root all alone.
But you have no companion with you,
silly girl, aren’t you afraid of rascals?”
“Even if 100,000 rascals like this 8.1

were to gang up,
I’d stir not a hair nor tremble.
What could you do to me all alone, Māra?
I’ll vanish, 9.1

or I’ll enter your belly;
I could stand between your eyebrows
and you still wouldn’t see me.
I’m the master of my own mind, 10.1

I’ve developed the bases of psychic power well.
I’ve realized the six kinds of direct knowledge,
Sensual pleasures are like swords and spears; 11.1


55 Thig 11.1
uppalavaṇṇātherīgāthā
Thig 11.1 56
The Book of the Sixteens
Thig 12.1
Puṇṇikā
Puṇṇātherīgāthā
“I used to be a water-carrier. Even when it was cold, 1.1

I would always plunge into the water,18
afraid of my masters’ beatings,19
harassed by fear of abuse and anger.
Brahmin, what are you afraid of, 2.1

that you always plunge into the water,
your limbs trembling
in the freezing cold?”
“Oh, but you already know, 3.1

Madam Puṇṇikā, when you ask me:
I am doing good deeds,
to ward off the wickedness I have done.
Whosoever young or old 4.1
18. Norman and Ṭhānissaro, evidently under the influence of the commen-
tary, translate in present tense, but udakamotariṁ is an aorist in past tense, as
is rendered by Mahendra. If the commentary is correct, she is telling a story
from before she ordained. But both the brahmin’s respectful form of addresses
(bhoti) and the boldness of her teachings suggest she was already a nun.
19. Ayyānaṁ is ambiguous; it could be either male or female.
puṇṇātherīgāthā
performs a wicked deed,

by ablution in water they are
released from their wicked deed.”
5.1 “Who on earth told you this,

one ignoramus to another:
‘Actually, by ablution in water one is
released from a wicked deed.’
6.1 Would not they all go to heaven, then:

all the frogs and the turtles,
serpents, crocodiles,
and other water-dwellers too?
7.1 Butchers of sheep and pigs,

fishermen, animal trappers,
bandits, executioners,
and others of evil deeds:
by ablution in water they too would be
released from their wicked deeds.
8.1 If these rivers had carried away

your bad deeds in the past,
they would also carry away your good deeds,
from which you’d be prevented.
9.1 Brahmin, the thing that you are afraid of,

when you always plunge into the water,
do not do that very thing,
don’t let the cold harm your skin.”
10.1 “I have been on the wrong path,

and you’ve guided me to the noble path.
Madam, I give to you
this ablution cloth.”
Thig 12.1 58
puṇṇikā
“Keep the cloth for yourself, 11.1

I do not want it.
If you fear suffering,
if you don’t like suffering,
then don’t do bad deeds 12.1

either openly or in secret.
If you should do a bad deed,
or you’re doing one now,
you won’t be freed from suffering, 13.1

though you fly away and flee.
If you fear suffering,
go for refuge to the Buddha, the unaffected, 14.1

to his teaching and to the Sangha.
Undertake the precepts,
that will be good for you.”
“I go for refuge to the Buddha, the unaffected, 15.1

I undertake the precepts,
that will be good for me.
I used to be brahmin by kin, 16.1

today I truly am a brahmin!
Master of the three knowledges,
accomplished in wisdom,
I’m a scholar, a bathed initiate.”
59 Thig 12.1
The Book of the Twenties
Thig 13.1
Ambapālī
Ambapālītherīgāthā
1.1 My hair was as black as bees,

graced with curly tips;
now old, it has become like hemp bark—
the word of the truthful one is confirmed.
2.1 Crowned with flowers,

my head was as fragrant as a perfume box;
now old, it smells like dog fur—
3.1 My hair was as thick as a well-planted forest,

it shone, parted with brush and pins;
now old, it’s patchy and sparse—
4.1 With plaits of black and ribbons of gold,

it was so pretty, adorned with braids;
now old, my head’s gone bald—
5.1 My eyebrows used to look so nice,

like crescents painted by an artist;
ambapālī
now old, they droop with wrinkles—

My eyes shone brilliant as gems, 6.1

wide and indigo;
ruined by age, they shine no more—
My nose was like a perfect peak, 7.1

lovely in my bloom of youth;
now old, it’s shriveled like a pepper;
My ear-lobes were so pretty, 8.1

like lovingly crafted bracelets;
now old, they droop with wrinkles—
My teeth used to be so pretty, 9.1

bright as a jasmine flower;
now old, they’re broken and yellow—
My singing was sweet as a cuckoo 10.1

wandering in the forest groves;
now old, it’s patchy and croaking—
My neck used to be so pretty, 11.1

like a polished shell of conch;
now old, it’s bowed and bent—
My arms used to be so pretty, 12.1

like rounded cross-bars;
61 Thig 13.1
ambapālītherīgāthā
with age, they wrinkle and sag as a patala tree—20

13.1 My hands used to be so pretty,

adorned with lovely golden rings;
now old, they’re like red radishes—
14.1 My breasts used to be so pretty,

swelling, round, close, and high;
now they droop like water bags—
15.1 My body used to be so pretty,

like a polished slab of lustrous gold;
now it’s covered with fine wrinkles—
16.1 Both my thighs used to be so pretty,

like an elephant’s trunk;
now old, they’re like bamboo—
17.1 My calves used to be so pretty,

adorned with cute golden anklets;
now old, they’re like sesame sticks—
18.1 Both my feet used to be so pretty,

plump as if with cotton-wool;
now old, they’re cracked and wrinkly—
19.1 This bag of bones once was such,
20. The patala has a characteristic bulging and wrinkly growth beneath the
branches.
Thig 13.1 62
rohinī
but now it’s withered, home to so much pain;

like a house in decay with plaster crumbling—
Thig 13.2
Rohinī
Rohinītherīgāthā
“You fell asleep saying ‘ascetics’; 1.1

you woke up saying ‘ascetics’;
you only praise ascetics, madam—
surely you’ll become an ascetic.
You provide ascetics 2.1

with abundant food and drink.
I ask you now, Rohiṇī:
why do you like ascetics?
They don’t like to work, they’re lazy, 3.1

they live on charity;
always on the lookout, greedy for sweets—
so why do you like ascetics?”
“Dad, for a long time now 4.1

you’ve questioned me about ascetics.
I shall extol for you
their wisdom, ethics, and vigor.
They like to work, they’re not lazy; 5.1

by giving up greed and hate,
they do the best kind of work—
that’s why I like ascetics.
As for the three roots of evil, 6.1

by pure deeds they shake them off.
63 Thig 13.2
rohinītherīgāthā
They have given up all wickedness—

7.1 Their bodily actions are pure;

their actions of speech likewise;
their actions of mind are pure—
8.1 Immaculate as a conch-shell,

they’re pure inside and out,
full of bright qualities—
9.1 They’re learned and memorize the teaching,

noble, living righteously,
teaching the text and its meaning:
10.1 They’re learned and memorize the teaching,

noble, living righteously,
unified in mind, and mindful—
11.1 Traveling afar, and mindful,

thoughtful in counsel, not restless,
they understand the end of suffering—
12.1 When they leave a village,

they don’t look back with longing,
but proceed without concern—
13.1 They hoard no goods in storerooms,

nor in pots or baskets.
Thig 13.2 64
rohinī
They seek food prepared by others—21

They don’t receive gold coins, 14.1

or gold or silver;
feeding on whatever comes that day,
They have gone forth from different families, 15.1

even different countries,
and yet they all love one another—
that’s why I like ascetics.”
“Dear Rohinī, it was truly for our benefit 16.1

that you were born in our family!
You have faith and such keen respect
for the Buddha, his teaching, and the Sangha.
For you understand this 17.1

supreme field of merit.
These ascetics will henceforth
receive our religious donation, too.
For there we will place our sacrifice, 18.1

and it shall be abundant.”
“If you fear suffering,
go for refuge to the Buddha, the unaffected, 19.1

Undertake the precepts,
that will be good for you.”
21. “Prepared by others” is pariniṭṭhita. The same phrase is at Thig 13.2:13.3,

where it is spelled para- (“other”), which I assume is correct. Mendicants do
not cook, but rely on what is cooked by others.
65 Thig 13.2
cāpātherīgāthā
20.1 “I go for refuge to the Buddha, the unaffected,

I undertake the precepts,
that will be good for me.
21.1 I used to be brahmin by kin,

now I genuinely am a brahmin.
Master of the three knowledges, I’m a scholar,
a knowledge master, a bathed initiate.”
Thig 13.3
Cāpā
Cāpātherīgāthā
1.1 “Once I carried a hermit’s staff,

but these days I hunt deer.
My desires have made me unable to cross
from the awful marsh to the far shore.
2.1 Thinking me so in love with her,

Cāpā kept our son happy.
Having cut Cāpā’s bond,
I’ll go forth once again.”
3.1 “Don’t be mad at me, great hero!

Don’t be mad at me, great sage!
If you’re mired in anger you can’t stay pure,
let alone be fervent.”
4.1 “I’m going to leave Nālā!

For who’d stay here at Nālā!
With their figures, the women trap
ascetics who live righteously.”
5.1 “Please, Kāḷa, come back to me.
Thig 13.3 66
cāpā
Enjoy pleasures like you did before.

I’ll be under your control,
along with any relatives I have.”
“Cāpā, if even a quarter 6.1

of what you say were true,
it would be a splendid thing
for a man in love with you!”
“Kāḷa, I am like a sprouting iris 7.1

flowering on a mountain top,
like a blossoming pomegranate,
like a patala tree on an isle;
my limbs are anointed with yellow sandalwood, 8.1

and I wear the finest Kāsi cloth:
when I am so very beautiful,
how can you abandon me and leave?”
“You’re like a fowler 9.1

who wants to catch a bird;
but you won’t trap me
with your captivating form.”
“But this child, my fruit, 10.1

was begotten by you, Kāḷa.
When I have this child,
how can you abandon me and leave?”
“The wise give up 11.1

children, family, and wealth.
Great heroes go forth
like elephants breaking their bonds.”
“Now, this son of yours: 12.1

I’ll strike him to the ground right here,
67 Thig 13.3
cāpātherīgāthā
with a stick or with a knife!

Grieving your son, you will not leave.”
13.1 “Even if you feed our son

to jackals and dogs,
I’d never return again, you bitch,
not even for the child’s sake.”
14.1 “Well then, sir, tell me,

where will you go, Kāḷa?
To what village or town,
city or capital?”
15.1 “Last time we had followers,

we weren’t ascetics, we just thought we were.
We wandered from village to village,
to cities and capitals.
16.1 But now the Blessed One, the Buddha,

back on the bank of the Nerañjara River,
teaches the Dhamma so that living creatures
may abandon all suffering.
I shall go to his presence,
he shall be my Teacher.”
17.1 “Now please convey my respects

to the supreme protector of the world.
Circling him to your right,
dedicate my religious donation.”
18.1 “This is the proper thing to do,

just as you have said to me.
I’ll convey your respects
to the supreme protector of the world.
Circling him to my right,
I’ll dedicate your religious donation.”
Thig 13.3 68
sundarī
Then Kāḷa set out 19.1

back to the bank of the Nerañjara River.
He saw the Awakened One
teaching the state free of death:
suffering, suffering’s origin, 20.1

He paid homage at his feet, 21.1

circling him to his right,
and conveyed Cāpā’s dedication;
then he went forth to homelessness.
He attained the three knowledges,
Thig 13.4
Sundarī
Sundarītherīgāthā
“Before, good lady, when feeding 1.1

your departed children,22
you’d be racked with despair
all day and all night.
Today, brahmin lady, you have fed 2.1

all seven children.
Vāseṭṭhī, what is the reason why
you’re not so filled with despair?”
“Many hundreds of children, 3.1
22. Read khādamānā as causative per Norman. But for context, see the funeral
rites in Śatapatha Brāhmaṇa 8.8.1.1, where the first duty is to make sure the
departed are fed for their journey in the next life.
69 Thig 13.4
sundarītherīgāthā
hundreds of family circles,

both mine and yours, brahmin,
have been fed in the past.
4.1 Having known the escape

from rebirth and death
I neither grieve nor lament,
nor do I despair.”
5.1 “Wow, Vaseṭṭhī, the words you speak

really are amazing!
Whose teaching did you understand
that you say these things?”
6.1 “Brahmin, the Awakened One

back at the city of Mithilā,
teaches the Dhamma so that living creatures
may abandon all suffering.
7.1 After hearing the perfected one’s teaching,

brahmin, which is free of all attachments,
having understood the true teaching there,
I’ve swept away grief for children.”
8.1 “I too shall go

to the city of Mithilā.
Hopefully the Buddha may release me
from all suffering.”
9.1 The brahmin saw the Buddha,

liberated, free of attachments.
He taught him the Dhamma,
the sage gone beyond suffering:
10.1 suffering, suffering’s origin,

Thig 13.4 70
sundarī

Having understood the true teaching there, 11.1

he chose to go forth.
Three days later
Sujāta realized the three knowledges.
“Please, charioteer, go; 12.1

take back this carriage.
Bidding my brahmin lady good health, say:
‘The brahmin has now gone forth.
After three days,
Sujāta realized the three knowledges.’ ”
Then taking the carriage, 13.1

along with a thousand coins, the charioteer
bade the brahmin lady good health, and said:
“The brahmin has now gone forth.
After three days,
Sujāta realized the three knowledges.”
Hearing that the brahmin had the three knowledges, 14.1

the lady replied:
“I present to you this horse and carriage,
O charioteer, along with 1000 coins,
and a full bowl as a gift.”
“Keep the horse and carriage, lady, 15.1

along with the thousand coins.
I too shall go forth in his presence,
the one of such splendid wisdom.”
“Elephants, cattle, jeweled earrings, 16.1

such opulent domestic wealth:
having given it up, your father went forth,
71 Thig 13.4
sundarītherīgāthā
enjoy these riches Sundarī,

you are the family heir.”
17.1 “Elephants, cattle, jeweled earrings,

such delightful domestic wealth:
having given it up, my father went forth,
racked by grief for his son.
I too shall go forth,
racked by grief for my brother.”
18.1 “Sundarī, may the wish you desire

come true.
Leftovers as gleanings,
and cast-off rags as robes—
make do with these,
free of defilements regarding the next life.”
19.1 “Ma’am, while I am still a trainee nun,

my clairvoyance is clarified;
I know my past lives,
the places I used to live.
20.1 Relying on a fine lady like you,

a senior nun who beautifies the Sangha,
21.1 Give me permission ma’am,

I wish to go to Sāvatthī,
where I shall roar my lion’s roar
before the best of Buddhas.”
22.1 “Sundarī, see the Teacher!
Thig 13.4 72
sundarī
Snow gold in tint,

with sun-golden skin;23
tamer of the untamed,
the Awakened One who fears nothing
from any quarter.”
“See Sundarī coming, 23.1

liberated, free of attachments.
desireless, detached,
her task completed, without defilements.”
“Having set forth from Varanasi 24.1

and come to your presence, great hero,
your disciple Sundarī
bows at your feet.
You are the Buddha, you are the Teacher, 25.1

I am your rightful daughter, brahmin,
born of your mouth.
I’ve completed the task
and am free of defilements.”
“Then welcome, good lady, 26.1

you’re by no means unwelcome.
For this is how the tamed come
bowing at the Teacher’s feet;
desireless, detached,
the task completed, without defilements.”
23. Hema (“snow gold”) evokes the golden radiance of a snowy mountain in
the dawn light, a blessing of the gods that, it may easily be imagined, leaves
its traces in the gold found in abundance in its streams. | Gold is also called
harita (“yellow” or “sun”) at Thag 2.22:2.2 and Atharvaveda 11.2.12a.
73 Thig 13.4
subhākammāradhītutherīgāthā
Thig 13.5
Subhā, the Smith’s Daughter
Subhākammāradhītutherīgāthā
1.1 “I was so young, my clothes so fresh,

at that time I heard the teaching.
Being diligent,
I comprehended the truth;
2.1 and then I became profoundly dispassionate

towards all sensual pleasures.
Seeing fear in substantial reality,
I longed for renunciation.
3.1 Giving up my family circle,

bonded servants and workers,
and my flourishing village fields,
so delightful and pleasant,
4.1 I went forth;

all that is no small wealth.
Now that I’ve gone forth in faith like this,
in the true teaching so well proclaimed,
5.1 since I desire to have nothing,

it would not be appropriate
to take back gold and currency,
having already got rid of them.
6.1 Currency or gold

doesn’t lead to peace and awakening.
It doesn’t befit an ascetic;
it’s not the wealth of the noble ones;
7.1 it’s greed and vanity,

confusion and growing decadence,
Thig 13.5 74
subhā, the smith’s daughter
dubious and troublesome—

there is nothing lasting there.
Depraved and heedless, 8.1

unenlightened folk, their hearts corrupt,
fight each other,
creating conflict.
Killing, caging, misery, 9.1

loss, grief, and lamentation;
those sunk in sensual pleasures
see many disastrous things.
My family, why do you urge me on 10.1

to pleasures, as if you were my enemies?
You know I’ve gone forth,
seeing fear in sensual pleasures.
It’s not due to gold, coined or uncoined, 11.1

that defilements come to an end.
Sensual pleasures are enemies and murderers,
hostile forces that bind you to thorns.
My family, why do you urge me on 12.1

to pleasures, as if you were my enemies?
You know I’ve gone forth,
shaven, wrapped in my outer robe.
Leftovers as gleanings, 13.1

and cast-off rags as robes—
that’s what’s fitting for me,
the essentials of the homeless life.
Great seers expel sensual pleasures, 14.1

both human and heavenly.
Safe in their sanctuary, they are freed,
75 Thig 13.5
having found unshakable happiness.
15.1 May I not encounter sensual pleasures,

for no shelter is found in them.
Sensual pleasures are enemies and murderers,
as painful as a mass of fire.
16.1 This is a roadblock, a threat,

full of distress and thorns;
it is a blind spot, uneven,24
a great gateway to confusion.
17.1 Hazardous and terrifying,

sensual pleasures are like a snake’s head,
where fools delight,
the blind ordinary folk.
18.1 Stuck in the swamp of sensuality,

there are so many ignorant in the world.
They know nothing of the end
of rebirth and death.
19.1 Because of sensual pleasures,

people jump right on to the path
that goes to a bad place.
So many walk the path
that brings disease onto themselves.
20.1 That’s how sensual pleasures create enemies;

they are so tormenting, so corrupting,
trapping beings with worldly pleasures of the flesh,
they are nothing less than the bonds of death.
24. The imagery of a wild road connects gedha with AN 3.50:2.2, where it is
to be traced to Sanskrit gudh or guṇṭh in the sense “enclosure, hiding place,
blind spot”.
Thig 13.5 76
subhā, the smith’s daughter
Maddening, enticing, 21.1

sensual pleasures derange the mind.
They’re a snare laid by Māra
for the corruption of beings.
Sensual pleasures are infinitely dangerous, 22.1

they’re full of suffering, a terrible poison;
offering little gratification, they’re makers of strife,
withering bright qualities away.
Since I’ve created so much ruination 23.1

because of sensual pleasures,
I will not relapse to them again,
but will always delight in extinguishment.
Having once made strife 24.1

for the sake of sensual pleasures,
now I am longing for that cool state.
I shall meditate diligently
for the ending of all fetters.
Sorrowless, stainless, secure: 25.1

I follow that path,
the straight noble eightfold way
by which the seers have crossed over.”
“Look at this: Subhā the smith’s daughter, 26.1

standing firm in the teaching.
She has entered the imperturbable state,
meditating at the root of a tree.
It’s just eight days since she went forth, 27.1

full of faith in the beautiful teaching.
Guided by Uppalavaṇṇā,
she is master of the three knowledges,
conqueror of death.
77 Thig 13.5
28.1 This one is freed from slavery and debt,

a nun with faculties developed.
she has completed the task
and is free of defilements.”
29.1 Thus did Sakka, lord of all creatures,

along with a host of gods,
having come by their psychic powers,
honor Subhā, the smith’s daughter.
Thig 13.5 78
The Book of the Thirties
Thig 14.1
Subhā of Jīvaka’s Mango Grove
Subhājīvakambavanikātherīgāthā
Going to the lovely mango grove 1.1

of Jīvaka, the nun Subhā
was held up by a rascal.
Subhā said this to him:
“What harm have I done to you, 2.1

that you stand in my way?
Sir, it’s not proper that a man
should touch a woman gone forth.
This training was taught by the Holy One, 3.1

it is a serious matter in my teacher’s instructions.
I am pure and rid of blemishes,
so why do you stand in my way?
One whose mind is sullied against one unsullied; 4.1

one who is lustful against one free of lust;
unblemished, my heart is freed in every respect,
so why do you stand in my way?”
“You’re young and flawless— 5.1

what will going-forth do for you?
subhājīvakambavanikātherīgāthā
Throw away the ocher robe,

come and play in the blossom grove.
6.1 Everywhere, the scent of pollen wafts sweet,

born of the flowering woods.
The start of spring is a happy time—
come and play in the blossom grove.
7.1 And trees crested with flowers

cry out, as it were, in the gale.
But what kind of fun will you have
if you plunge into the woods all alone?
8.1 Frequented by packs of predators,

and cow elephants aroused by rutting bulls;
you wish to go without a friend
to the deserted, awe-inspiring forest.
9.1 Like a doll made of glittering gold,25

like a nymph wandering in a park of colorful vines,
your matchless beauty will shine
in graceful clothes of exquisite muslin.
10.1 I’ll be under your sway,

if we are to stay in the forest.
I love no creature more than you,
O pixie with such captivating eyes.26
25. Arthaśastra 2.13.51 describes how to alloy the tapanīya (“glittering gold”)
that is ready to be worked.
26. “Pixie” is kinnarī, this marking the only appearance of these charming wood-
land sprites in early Pali; but see the synonymous kiṁpurisa at AN 2.60:1.1.
They share with the gandhabba the attributes of being divine musicians, some-
times half-horse (or later, half-bird), and being sensual lovers; but where the
gandhabba is associated with licentiousness, the kinnara and kinnarī live to-
gether as a perfect dyad of lovers, ever entranced with one another. They are
spirits of nature, hidden in the mountains, and threatened by human encroach-
ment (Ja 485). Occasionally, however, a human tribe in the mountains of
Thig 14.1 80
subhā of jīvaka’s mango grove
Were you to take up my invitation— 11.1

‘Come, be happy, and live in a house’—
you’ll stay in a longhouse sheltered from wind;
let the ladies look to your needs.
Dressed in exquisite muslin, 12.1

put on your garlands and your cosmetics.
I’ll make all sorts of adornments for you,
of lustrous gold and gems and pearls.
Climb onto a costly bed, 13.1

its coverlet so clean and nice,
with a new woolen mattress,
so fragrant, sprinkled with sandalwood.
As a blue lily risen from the water 14.1

remains untouched by men,
so too, O chaste and holy lady,
your limbs grow old unshared.”
“This carcass is full of putrefaction, it swells 15.1

the charnel ground, for its nature is to fall apart.
What do you think is so essential in it
that you stare at me so crazily?”
“Your eyes are like those of a doe, 16.1

or a pixie in the mountains;
seeing them, erotic delight
swells in me all the more.
Your eyes are like a blue lily’s bud 17.1
Kashmir is called Kinnara (= Kinnaur district of Himachal Pradesh?). | The

beauty of the pixie’s eyes are praised at Ja 458:1.3, while the phrase “captivating
eyes” (mandalocana) is used of a divine maiden at DN 21:1.5.26.
81 Thig 14.1
in your flawless face

shining like coruscant gold.27
Seeing them, sensual excitement
swells in me all the more.
18.1 Though you may wander far, I’ll still think of you,
with your lashes so long, and your vision so clear.28
I love no eyes more than yours,
O pixie with such bashful eyes.”
19.1 “You’re setting out on the wrong road!

You’re looking to take the moon for your toy!
You’re trying to leap over Mount Meru!
You, who are hunting a child of the Buddha!
20.1 For in this world with all its gods,

there will be no more lust anywhere in me.
I don’t even know what kind it could be,
it’s been smashed root and all by the path.
21.1 Cast out like sparks from fiery coals,

it’s worth no more than a bowl of poison.
I don’t even see what kind it could be,
it’s been smashed root and all by the path.
22.1 Well may you try to seduce the type of lady

who has not reflected on these things,
or who has never attended the Teacher:
but this is a lady who knows—now you’re in trouble!
23.1 No matter if I am reviled or praised,
27. For “coruscant” (hāṭaka) gold, see AN 3.70:38.4.

28. The dassane (plural) are seen by him, so they must be the “eyes”. | In this
poem, the English word “eye” must serve for five Pali words: cakkhu, locana,
akkhi, and dassana are all from roots of “seeing”, while nayana is from the root
sense “leading”.
Thig 14.1 82
subhā of jīvaka’s mango grove
or feel pleasure or pain: I stay mindful.

Knowing that conditions are ugly,
my mind clings to nothing.
I am a disciple of the Holy One, 24.1

riding in the carriage of the eightfold path.
The dart pulled out, free of defilements,
I’m happy to have reached an empty place.
I’ve seen brightly painted 25.1

dolls and wooden puppets,
tied to sticks and strings,
and made to dance in many ways.
But when the sticks and strings are taken off— 26.1
loosed, disassembled, dismantled,
irrecoverable, stripped to parts—
on what could the mind be fixed?
That’s what my body is really like, 27.1

without those things it can’t go on.
This being so,
on what could the mind be fixed?
It’s like when you saw a mural made 28.1

by painting yellow on a wall,
and your eye was deceived by that—
the perception “human” is pointless.
Though it’s as worthless as a magic trick, 29.1

or a golden tree seen in a dream,
you blindly chase what is hollow,
like a puppet show among the people.
An eye is just a ball in a socket, 30.1

with a pupil in the middle, and tears,
83 Thig 14.1
and mucus comes from there as well,

and so different eye-parts are lumped all together.”
31.1 The pretty lady ripped out her eye.29

With no attachment in her mind at all, she said:30
“Come now, take this eye,”
and gave it to the man right then.
32.1 And at that moment he lost his lust,

and asked for her forgiveness:
“May you be well, O chaste and holy lady;
such a thing will not happen again.
33.1 Attacking a person such as this

is like holding on to a blazing fire,
or grabbing a deadly viper!
May you be well, please forgive me.”
34.1 When that nun was released

she went to the presence of the excellent Buddha.
Seeing the one with excellent marks of merit,
her eye became just as it was before.
29. For cārudassanā, compare Sanskrit cārulocanā, “she whose eyes are fair”.
Thig 14.1:18.2 above has already established the sense “eye” for dassana.
30. For pajjittha, compare Sanskrit apādi, “fall into ruin”.
Thig 14.1 84
The Book of the Forties
Thig 15.1
Isidāsī
Isidāsītherīgāthā
In Pāṭaliputta, the cream of the world, 1.1

the city named for a flower,
there were two nuns from the Sakyan clan,
both of them ladies of quality.
One was named Isidāsī, the second Bodhī. 2.1

They both were accomplished in ethics,
lovers of meditation and chanting,
learned, crushing corruptions.
They wandered for alms and had their meal. 3.1

When they had washed their bowls,
they sat happily in a private place
and started a conversation.
“You’re so lovely, Mistress Isidāsī, 4.1

your youth has not yet faded.
What problem did you see that made you
dedicate your life to renunciation?”
Being pressed like this in private, 5.1

Isidāsī, skilled in teaching Dhamma,
isidāsītherīgāthā
voiced the following words.

“Bodhī, hear how I went forth.
6.1 In the fine town of Ujjenī,

my father was a financier, a good and moral man.
I was his only daughter,
dear, beloved, and cherished.
7.1 Then some suitors came for me

from the top family of Sāketa.
They were sent by a financier abounding in wealth,
to whom my father then gave me as daughter-in-law.
8.1 Come morning and come night,

I bowed with my head to the feet
of my father and mother-in-law,
just as I had been told.
9.1 Whenever I saw my husband’s sisters,

his brothers, his servants,
or even he, my one and only,
I nervously gave them a seat.
10.1 Whatever they wanted—food and drink,

treats, or whatever was in the cupboard—
I brought out and offered to them,
ensuring each got what was fitting.
11.1 Having risen bright and early,

I approached the main house,
washed my hands and feet,
and went to my husband with joined palms.
12.1 Taking a comb, adornments,

eyeshadow, and a mirror,
I myself did the makeup for my husband,
Thig 15.1 86
isidāsī
as if I were his beautician.
I myself cooked the rice; 13.1

I myself washed the pots.
I looked after my husband
like a mother her only child.
Thus I showed my devotion to him,31 14.1

a loyal, virtuous, and humble servant,
getting up early, and working tirelessly:
yet still my husband did me wrong.
He said to his mother and father: 15.1

‘I’ll take my leave and go,
I can’t stand to live together with Isidāsī
staying in the same house.’
‘Son, don’t speak like this! 16.1

Isidāsī is astute and competent,
she gets up early and works tirelessly,
son, why doesn’t she please you?’
‘She hasn’t done anything to hurt me, 17.1

but I just can’t stand to live with her.
As far as I’m concerned, she’s just horrible.
I’ve had enough, I’ll take my leave and go.’
When they heard his words, 18.1

my father-in-law and mother-in-law asked me:
‘What did you do wrong?
Tell us honestly, have no fear.’
‘I’ve done nothing wrong, 19.1
31. Bhatti “devotion” in this line is followed by anuratta (“loyal”) in the next.
The persistence of senses of these words is shown by their occurrence together
in the much later Haribhaktikalpalatikā 1.10 (bhaktānuraktaṁ).
87 Thig 15.1
I haven’t hurt him, or said anything bad.

What can I possibly do,
when my husband finds me so hateful?’
20.1 They led me back to my father’s home,

distraught, overcome with suffering, and said:
‘By caring for our son,
we’ve lost her, so lovely and lucky!’
21.1 Next my dad gave me to the household

of a second wealthy family-man.
For this he got half the bride-price
of that which the financier paid.
22.1 In his house I also lived a month,

before he too wanted me gone;
though I served him like a slave,
virtuous and doing no wrong.
23.1 My father then spoke to a beggar for alms,

a tamer of others and of himself:
‘Be my son-in-law;
set aside your patchwork robes and bowl.’
24.1 He stayed a fortnight before he said to my dad:

‘Give me back my patchwork robes,
my pot and my mug—32
I’ll wander begging for alms again.’
25.1 So then my mum and my dad

and my whole group of relatives said:
‘What has not been done for you here?
Quickly, tell us what we can do for you!’
32. The words here are not the normal terms for a mendicant’s possessions.
Perhaps these were terms used in a non-Buddhist tradition, or else the author
is aiming at poetic effect.
Thig 15.1 88
isidāsī
When they spoke to him like this he said, 26.1

‘If I can make do for myself, that is enough.
I can’t stand to live together with Isidāsī
staying in the same house.’
Released, he left. 27.1

But I sat all alone contemplating:
‘Having taken my leave, I’ll go,
either to die or to go forth.’
But then Mistress Jinadattā, 28.1

learned and virtuous,
who had memorized the monastic law,
came to my dad’s house in search of alms.
When I saw her, 29.1

I got up from my seat and prepared it for her.
When she had taken her seat,
I honored her feet and offered her a meal,
satisfying her with food and drink, 30.1

treats, or whatever was in the cupboard.
Then I said:
‘Ma’am, I wish to go forth!’
But my dad said to me: 31.1

‘Child, practice Dhamma right here!
With food and drink
satisfy ascetics and the twice-born.’33
Then I said to my dad, 32.1

crying, my joined palms raised to him:
‘I’ve done bad things in the past;
33. “Twice-born” (dvijātī) is an epithet of brahmins, referring to material and

spiritual births. It is normally found only in later literature, and this might be
the first recorded usage of the idiom.
89 Thig 15.1
I shall wear that bad deed away.’
33.1 And my dad said to me:

‘May you attain awakening, the highest state,
and may you find the extinguishment
that was realized by the best of men!’
34.1 I bowed down to my mother and father,

and my whole group of relatives;
and then, seven days after going forth,
I realized the three knowledges.
35.1 I know my last seven lives;

I shall relate to you the deeds
of which this life is the fruit and result:
focus your whole mind on that.
36.1 In the city of Erakacca

I was a goldsmith with lots of money.
Drunk on the pride of youth,
I had sex with someone else’s wife.
37.1 Having passed away from there,

I burned in hell for a long time.
Rising up from there
I was conceived in a monkey’s womb.
38.1 When I was only seven days old,

I was castrated by the monkey chief.
This was the fruit of that deed,
because of adultery with another’s wife.
39.1 Having passed away from there,

passing away in Sindhava grove,
I was conceived in the womb
of a lame, one-eyed she-goat.
Thig 15.1 90
isidāsī
I carried children on my back for twelve years, 40.1

and all the while I was castrated,
worm-eaten, and tail-less,
Having passed away from there, 41.1

I was reborn in a cow
owned by a cattle merchant.
A red calf, castrated, for twelve months
I drew a big plow. 42.1

I shouldered a cart,
blind, tail-less, feeble,
Having passed away from there, 43.1

I was born of a slave in the street,
with neither male nor female parts,34
I died at thirty years of age, 44.1

and was reborn as a girl in a carter’s family.
We were poor, of little wealth,
greatly oppressed by creditors.
Because of the huge interest we owed, 45.1

I was dragged away screaming,
taken by force from the family home
by a caravan leader.
When I was sixteen years old, 46.1
34. The text is literally “neither woman nor man”. The preceding verses speak
repeatedly of castration, making it clear that this means having no genitals,
rather than simply being a person who is non-binary.
91 Thig 15.1
seeing I was a girl of marriageable age,35

his son confined me as his wife—36
Giridāsa was his name.
47.1 He also had another wife,

a virtuous and well-known lady of quality,
loyal to her husband;
yet I stirred up resentment in her.
48.1 As the fruit of that deed,

they abandoned me and left,
though I served them like a slave.
Now I’ve made an end to this as well.”
35. For pattayobbanaṁ as “come of age”, i.e. old enough to have sex, see Ja
532:80.4.
36. Like an ox in a pen (AN 6.60:3.1).
Thig 15.1 92
The Great Book
Thig 16.1
Sumedhā
Sumedhātherīgāthā
In Mantāvatī city, Sumedhā, 1.1

the daughter of King Koñca’s chief queen,
was converted by those
who practice the Buddha’s teaching.
She was virtuous, a brilliant speaker, 2.1

learned, and trained in the Buddha’s instructions.
She went up to her mother and father and said:
“Pay heed, both of you!
I delight in extinguishment! 3.1

No life is eternal, not even that of the gods;
what then of sensual pleasures, so hollow,
offering little gratification and much distress.
Sensual pleasures are bitter as the venom of a snake, 4.1

yet fools are infatuated by them.
Sent to hell for a very long time,
they are beaten and tortured.
Those who grow in wickedness 5.1

sumedhātherīgāthā
always sorrow in the underworld

due to their own bad deeds.
They’re fools, unrestrained in body,
mind, and speech.
6.1 Those witless, senseless fools,

trapped by the origin of suffering,
are ignorant, not understanding the noble truths
when they are being taught.
7.1 Most people, mum, ignorant of the truths

taught by the excellent Buddha,
look forward to the next life,
longing for rebirth among the gods.
8.1 Yet even rebirth among the gods

in an impermanent state is not eternal.
But fools are not scared
of being reborn time and again.
9.1 Four lower realms and two other realms

may be gained somehow or other.
But for those who end up in a lower realm,
there is no way to go forth in the hells.
10.1 May you both grant me permission to go forth

in the dispensation of him of the ten powers.
Living at ease, I shall apply myself
to giving up rebirth and death.
11.1 What’s the point in hope, in a new life,

in this useless, hollow body?
Grant me permission, I shall go forth
to make an end of craving for a new life.
12.1 A Buddha has arisen, the time has come,
Thig 16.1 94
sumedhā
the unlucky moment has passed.

As long as I live I’ll never betray
my ethical precepts or my celibate path.”
Then Sumedhā said to her parents: 13.1

“So long as I remain a lay person,
I’ll refuse to eat any food,
until I’ve fallen under the sway of death.”
Upset, her mother burst into tears, 14.1

while her father, though grieved,
tried his best to persuade her
as she lay collapsed on the upper floor of the long-
house.
“Get up child, why do you grieve so? 15.1

You’re already betrothed to be married!
King Anīkaratta the handsome
is in Vāraṇavatī: he is your betrothed.
You shall be the chief queen, 16.1

wife of King Anīkaratta.
Ethical precepts, the celibate path—
going forth is hard to do, my child.
As a royal there is command, wealth, authority, 17.1

and the happiness of possessions.
Enjoy sensual pleasures while you’re still young!
Let your wedding take place, my child!”
Then Sumedhā said to him: 18.1

“Let this not come to pass! Existence is hollow!
I shall either go forth or die,
but I shall never marry.
Why cling to this rotting body so foul, 19.1
95 Thig 16.1
stinking of fluids,
a horrifying water-bag carcass,
always oozing, full of filth?
20.1 Knowing it like I do, what’s the point?

A carcass is vile, smeared with flesh and blood,
food for birds and swarms of worms—
why have we been given it?
21.1 Before long the body, bereft of consciousness,

is carried out to the charnel ground,
to be tossed aside like an old log
by relatives in disgust.
22.1 When they’ve tossed it away in the charnel ground,

to be eaten by others, your own parents
bathe themselves, disgusted;
what then of people at large?
23.1 They’re attached to this hollow carcass,

this mass of sinews and bone;
this rotting body
full of saliva, tears, feces, and pus.
24.1 If anyone were to dissect it,

turning it inside out,
the unbearable stench
would disgust even their own mother.
25.1 Rationally examining

the aggregates, elements, and sense fields
as conditioned, rooted in birth, suffering—
why would I wish for marriage?
26.1 Let three hundred sharp swords

fall on my body everyday!
Thig 16.1 96
sumedhā
Even if the slaughter lasted 100 years

it’d be worth it if it led to the end of suffering.
One who understands the Teacher’s words 27.1

would put up with this slaughter:
‘Long for you is transmigration
being killed time and time again.’
Among gods and humans, 28.1

in the realm of animals or that of titans,
among the ghosts or in the hells,
endless killings are seen.
The hells are full of killing, 29.1

for the corrupt who have fallen to the underworld.
Even among the gods there is no shelter,
for no happiness excels extinguishment.
Those who are committed to the dispensation 30.1

of him of the ten powers attain extinguishment.
Living at ease, they apply themselves
to giving up rebirth and death.
On this very day, dad, I shall renounce: 31.1

what’s to enjoy in hollow riches?
I’m disillusioned with sensual pleasures,
they’re like vomit, made like a palm stump.”
As she spoke thus to her father, 32.1

Anīkaratta, to whom she was betrothed,
approached from Vāraṇavatī
at the time appointed for the marriage.
Then Sumedhā took up a knife, 33.1

and cut off her hair, so black, thick, and soft.
Shutting herself in the longhouse,
97 Thig 16.1
she entered the first absorption.
34.1 And as she entered it there,

Anīkaratta arrived at the city.
Then in the longhouse, Sumedhā
well developed the perception of impermanence.
35.1 As she investigated in meditation,

Anīkaratta quickly climbed the stairs.
His limbs adorned with gems
and honey-yellow gold,
he begged Sumedhā with joined palms:
36.1 “As a royal there is command, wealth, authority,

and the happiness of possessions.
Enjoy sensual pleasures while you’re still young!
Sensual pleasures are hard to find in the world!
37.1 I’ve handed royalty to you—

enjoy riches, give gifts!
Don’t be sad;
your parents are upset.”
38.1 Sumedhā, having no use for sensual pleasures,

and having done away with delusion,
spoke right back:
“Do not take pleasure in sensuality!
See the danger in sensual pleasures!
39.1 Mandhātā, king of four continents,

foremost in enjoying sensual pleasures,
died unsated,
his desires unfulfilled.
40.1 Were the seven jewels to rain from the sky

all over the ten directions,
Thig 16.1 98
sumedhā
there would be no sating of sensual pleasures:

people die insatiable.
Like a butcher’s knife and chopping board, 41.1

sensual pleasures are like a snake’s head.
They burn like a fire-brand,
they resemble a skeleton.
Sensual pleasures are impermanent and unstable, 42.1

they’re full of suffering, a terrible poison;
like a hot iron ball,
the root of misery, their fruit is pain.
Sensual pleasures are like fruits of a tree, 43.1

like scraps of meat, painful,
they trick you like a dream;
sensual pleasures are like borrowed goods.
Sensual pleasures are like swords and spears; 44.1

a disease, a boil, misery and trouble.
Like a pit of glowing coals,
the root of misery, fear and slaughter.
Thus sensual pleasures have been explained 45.1

to be obstructions, so full of suffering.
Please leave! As for me,
I have no trust in a new life.
What can someone else do for me 46.1

when their own head is burning?
When stalked by old age and death,
you should strive to destroy them.”
She opened the door 47.1

and saw her parents with Anīkaratta,
sitting crying on the floor.
99 Thig 16.1
And so she said this:
48.1 “Transmigration is long for fools,

crying again and again
at that with no known beginning—
the death of a father,
the killing of a brother or of themselves.
49.1 Remember the ocean of tears, of milk, of blood—

transmigration with no known beginning.
Remember the bones piled up
by beings transmigrating.
50.1 Remember the four oceans

compared with tears, milk, and blood.
Remember bones piled up high as Mount Vipula
in the course of a single eon.
51.1 Transmigration with no known beginning

is compared to this broad Black Plum Tree Land;
if divided into lumps the size of jujube seeds,
they’d still be fewer than his mother’s mothers.
52.1 Remember the grass, sticks, and leaves,

compare that with no known beginning:
if split into pieces four inches in size,
they’d still be fewer than his father’s fathers.
53.1 Remember the one-eyed turtle

and the yoke with a hole
blown in the ocean from east to west—
sticking the head in the hole
is a metaphor for gaining a human birth.
54.1 Remember the form of this unlucky body,

insubstantial as a lump of foam.
Thig 16.1 100

sumedhā
See the aggregates as impermanent,

remember the hells so full of distress.
Remember those swelling the charnel grounds 55.1

again and again in life after life.
Remember the danger of gharials!37
Remember the four truths!
When freedom from death is there to be found, 56.1

why would you drink the five bitter poisons?
For all erotic delights
are so much more bitter than them.
When freedom from death is there to be found, 57.1

why would you burn for sensual pleasures?
For all erotic delights
are burning, boiling, bubbling, seething.
When there is freedom from enmity, 58.1

why would you want your enemy, sensual pleasures?
Like kings, fire, robbers, flood,
and people you dislike,
sensual pleasures are very much your enemy.
When liberation is there to be found, 59.1

what good are sensual pleasures that kill and bind?
For though unwilling,
when sensual pleasures are there,
they are subject to the pain of killing and binding.
As a blazing grass torch 60.1

burns one who grasps it without letting go,
sensual pleasures are like a grass torch,
burning those who do not let go.
37. A reference to the metaphor for gluttony at MN 67:17.1 and AN 4.122:3.1.
101 Thig 16.1

61.1 Don’t give up abundant happiness

for the trivial joys of sensual pleasure.
Don’t fret later,
like a catfish on a hook.
62.1 Deliberately control yourself

among sensual pleasures!
You’re like a dog fixed to a chain:
sensual pleasures will surely devour you
as hungry corpse-workers would a dog.
63.1 Harnessed to sensual pleasure,

you undergo endless pain,
along with much mental anguish:
relinquish sensual pleasures, they don’t last!
64.1 When the unaging is there to be found,

what good are sensual pleasures in which is old age?
All rebirths everywhere
are bonded to death and sickness.
65.1 This is freedom from old age, freedom from death!

This is freedom from old age and death, the sor-
rowless state!
Free of enmity, unconstricted,
faultless, fearless, without tribulations.
66.1 This freedom from death has been realized by many;

even today it can be obtained
by those who rationally apply themselves;
but it’s impossible if you don’t try.”
67.1 So said Sumedhā,

lacking delight in conditioned things.
Soothing Anīkaratta,
Sumedhā cast her hair on the ground.
Thig 16.1 102

sumedhā
Standing up, Anīkaratta 68.1

raised his joined palms to her father and begged:
“Let go of Sumedhā, so that she may go forth!
She will see the truth of liberation.”
Released by her mother and father, 69.1

she went forth, afraid of grief and fear.
While still a trainee nun
she realized the six direct knowledges,
along with the highest fruit.
The extinguishment of the princess 70.1

was incredible and amazing;
on her deathbed, she declared
her several past lives.
“In the time of the Buddha Koṇāgamana, 71.1

we three friends gave the gift
of a newly-built dwelling
in the Saṅgha’s monastery.
Ten times, a hundred times, 72.1

a thousand times, ten thousand times,
we were reborn among the gods,
let alone among humans.
We were mighty among the gods, 73.1

let alone among humans!
I was queen to a king with the seven treasures—
I was the treasure of a wife.
That was the cause, that the origin, that the root, 74.1
that was the acceptance of the dispensation;
that first meeting culminated in extinguishment
for one delighting in the teaching.
103 Thig 16.1

75.1 So say those who have faith in the words
of the one unrivaled in wisdom.
They’re disillusioned with being reborn,
and being disillusioned they become dispassionate.”
That is how these verses were recited by the senior nun Sumedhā.
THE VERSES OF THE SENIOR NUNS ARE FINISHED.
104
Colophon
The Translator
Bhikkhu Sujato was born as Anthony Aidan Best on 4/11/1966 in
Perth, Western Australia. He grew up in the pleasant suburbs of Mt
Lawley and Attadale alongside his sister Nicola, who was the good
child. His mother, Margaret Lorraine Huntsman née Pinder, said
“he’ll either be a priest or a poet”, while his father, Anthony Thomas
Best, advised him to “never do anything for money”. He attended
Aquinas College, a Catholic school, where he decided to become
an atheist. At the University of WA he studied philosophy, aiming
to learn what he wanted to do with his life. Finding that what he
wanted to do was play guitar, he dropped out. His main band was
named Martha’s Vineyard, which achieved modest success in the
indie circuit.
A seemingly random encounter with a roadside joey took him
to Thailand, where he entered his first meditation retreat at Wat
Ram Poeng, Chieng Mai in 1992. Feeling the call to the Buddha’s
path, he took full ordination in Wat Pa Nanachat in 1994, where
his teachers were Ajahn Pasanno and Ajahn Jayasaro. In 1997
he returned to Perth to study with Ajahn Brahm at Bodhinyana
Monastery.
He spent several years practicing in seclusion in Malaysia
and Thailand before establishing Santi Forest Monastery in Bun-
danoon, NSW, in 2003. There he was instrumental in supporting
the establishment of the Theravada bhikkhuni order in Australia
and advocating for women’s rights. He continues to teach in Aus-
tralia and globally, with a special concern for the moral implications
of climate change and other forms of environmental destruction.
He has published a series of books of original and groundbreaking
research on early Buddhism.
In 2005 he founded SuttaCentral together with Rod Bucknell
and John Kelly. In 2015, seeing the need for a complete, accurate,
plain English translation of the Pali texts, he undertook the task,
spending nearly three years in isolation on the isle of Qi Mei off
the coast of the nation of Taiwan. He completed the four main
Nikāyas in 2018, and the early books of the Khuddaka Nikāya were
complete by 2021. All this work is dedicated to the public domain
and is entirely free of copyright encumbrance.
In 2019 he returned to Sydney where he established Lokanta
Vihara (The Monastery at the End of the World).
Creation Process
Primary source was the digital Mahāsaṅgīti edition of the Pali Ti-
piṭaka. Translated from the Pali, with reference to several English
translations, especially those of K.R. Norman.
The Translation
This translation aims to make a clear, readable, and accurate render-
ing of the Therīgāthā. The initial draft was by Jessica Walton, and it
was revised and finished by Bhikkhu Sujato in 2019. The terminol-
ogy has been brought in line with Bhikkhu Sujato’s translation of
the four Nikāyas.
About SuttaCentral
SuttaCentral publishes early Buddhist texts. Since 2005 we have
provided root texts in Pali, Chinese, Sanskrit, Tibetan, and other
106
languages, parallels between these texts, and translations in many
modern languages. Building on the work of generations of scholars,
we offer our contribution freely.
SuttaCentral is driven by volunteer contributions, and in addi-
tion we employ professional developers. We offer a sponsorship
program for high quality translations from the original languages.
Financial support for SuttaCentral is handled by the SuttaCentral
Development Trust, a charitable trust registered in Australia.
About Bilara
“Bilara” means “cat” in Pali, and it is the name of our Computer
Assisted Translation (CAT) software. Bilara is a web app that
enables translators to translate early Buddhist texts into their own
language. These translations are published on SuttaCentral with
the root text and translation side by side.
About SuttaCentral Editions

The SuttaCentral Editions project makes high quality books from
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You are welcome to print any of our Editions.
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Verses of the Senior Nuns

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Web publication date 2019

Verse for an Unnamed Nun

Verses of the Senior Nuns

Both approaches are lazy and far from wisdom. Understanding

The Therīgāthā or “Verses of the Senior Nuns” is the ninth book

somewhat late. But it should be noted that in the Introduction to

The Complex Question of Authorship

In other cases, even where the bhikkhunīs are speaking, the

The Therīgāthā as a Women’s Text

Now, what we find when we look at these different layers is

as history, and on modern Buddhism as potential. These voices

Sleep softly, little nun,

The words record a tender and personal moment between two

Returning to the commentarial account of our sleepy nun, it

akāsiṁ vividhaṃ māyaṁ

What difference does womanhood make

The theme of leaving behind womanhood also features in the

Previously I was a mother, a son,

Since I have seen the Blessed One,

makes you crooked. (Commentary to Thag 1.43: khujjasabhāvehi

This should not be over-interpreted. The women speak of these

Would not they all go to heaven, then:

Closely related to this is the poem of Rohinī (Thig 13.2). In

The Dramatic Verses

three poems, each of which develops a complex dramatic scenario.

in his time Pāṭaliputta was just a small village. In confirmation,

Kammaṁ taṁ nijjaressāmi

Rhys Davids says her aspirations are “Jainistic” (Psalms of the

just general doctrines such as we find commonly in the Therīgāthā,

ultant celebration of the determination, intelligence, and spiritual

A Brief Textual History

of legends” of the commentarial stories was, I think, unfortunate.

Readers should beware of a literary fraud masquerading as a

Homage to that Blessed One, the per-

1.1 Sleep softly, little nun,

That is how this verse was recited by a certain unnamed nun.

1.1 Muttā, be released from your yokes,

That is how the Buddha regularly advised

Puṇṇā, be filled with good qualities, 1.1

Tissā, train in the trainings— 1.1

Tissā, apply yourself to good qualities— 1.1

1.1 Dhīrā, touch cessation,

1.1 She’s known as Vīrā because of her heroic qualities,

1.1 Having gone forth in faith,

1.1 Having gone forth in faith,

appreciate your blessings, Bhadrā.

Upasamā, cross the flood, 1.1

I’m well freed, so very well freed,1 1.1

1. Compare with Thig 2.3 and Thag 1.43.

1.1 One who is eager and determined

1.1 Do the Buddha’s bidding,

1.1 Having seen the elements as suffering,

1.1 I was restrained

in body, speech, and mind.

Sleep softly, old lady, 1.1

I wandered for alms 1.1

I gave up my home, my child, my cattle, 1.1

and plucked out craving, root and all,