part 11

Sumati was bewildered upon hearing the news. She thought, If all four wedding processions arrive at the door, the town will mock us, and a dreadful bloodshed will follow. She considered running away but wondered, Where would I go? Even if she fled, her family's destruction was inevitable.

Behind the house, a pavilion was set up where the wedding procession was to be welcomed, and the marriage ceremony was to take place. Behind the wedding canopy, a furnace had been prepared for making sweets and other dishes for the feast. Sumati made up her mind—her death was the only solution to this problem. Without hesitation, she stepped into the burning fire of the furnace.

All four wedding processions arrived at the bride's doorstep, followed by a curious crowd eager to see which groom would marry the bride.

At the door, the bride's father, with folded hands, sorrowfully said, "Our family is devastated. My daughter has immolated herself in the fire."

The four kings, the grooms, refused to believe him and said, "We do not believe you. You must have hidden the bride somewhere. Show us the place where Sumati sacrificed her life. There must be some evidence there."

When the four grooms reached the spot, they trembled at the sight of Sumati's burnt, grotesque body. Each groom reacted differently to the tragedy.

The first groom, deeply emotional by nature, leaped into the fire and ended his life alongside his beloved.

The second groom, grieving, decided to collect Sumati's ashes and immerse them in the sacred Ganges, praying for her salvation.

The third groom thought, Seeking happiness in this transient world is as futile as extracting oil from sand. He renounced worldly life and became an ascetic, wandering across the land.

The fourth groom built a hut near the site of Sumati's death. Every day, he would go begging in the town, return to light incense at her death site, offer food to her spirit, weep in sorrow, and only then eat. This became his daily routine.

The third groom, who had turned into an ascetic, wandered continuously, visiting religious sites, performing rituals, and sustaining himself through alms. However, he was not a true ascetic—his goal was not liberation, nor did he dedicate himself to spiritual discipline. Sumati's death had shaken his very consciousness, and life without her beauty felt like a burden. No pilgrimage site could bring him peace. He wandered aimlessly, lost in despair.

One day, during his travels, he reached a city and stayed at an inn. The inn was managed by a beautiful but extremely short-tempered woman. Every day, the ascetic would beg for flour in the city, and the innkeeper would prepare food for both of them. The alms he collected were enough for both to eat.

One day, the ascetic returned with alms and said to the innkeeper, "Here, Mother, take this flour and prepare food quickly. I don't know why, but I am extremely hungry today." A fire was burning nearby for cooking. The innkeeper replied, "I will prepare food immediately. You can perform your prayers in the meantime if you wish."

Just then, the innkeeper's young son arrived and pleaded, "Mother, take me to the market! I want sweets!"

The innkeeper replied, "I have to cook food first, then serve the travelers. Only after finishing my work will I take you to the market."

But the boy was stubborn and refused to listen. Enraged, the innkeeper threw him into the burning fire. The ascetic was shocked beyond belief—How could a mother be so cruel?

"You wretched woman! You burned your own son alive!" he cried.

Still furious, the innkeeper snapped, "What is it to you? He was my son, and I killed him. You don't need to interfere. You're hungry, right? I'll make your bread now!"

The ascetic, seething with anger, declared, "A true ascetic follows a code of conduct. Your hearth has turned into a cremation ground. How can I eat food cooked on a funeral pyre?"

The innkeeper coldly replied, "Then starve to death! Don't eat if you don't want to."

The ascetic, now furious, retorted, "Not only have you murdered your own child, but you also dare to speak insolently to a monk. You will suffer the consequences! However, I will not go to the king. Instead, I will use my spiritual power to curse you!"

At this, the innkeeper quickly folded her hands and pleaded, "Wait! Do not curse me! Listen to me first. No mother is so heartless that she would throw her own child into the fire. I have done this many times before in my anger. Just wait and see!"

Before the ascetic could say anything, the innkeeper went inside a room and returned with a small vial. She took a few drops of the liquid and sprinkled them over the charred remains of her son, which she retrieved from the fire with tongs.

Instantly, the child stood up, smiling.

—

To be continued...