A Queen's Grief, and a Prayer Toward Vulture Peak
The narrative's register shifts. Where the last six parts followed a son's political calculation and two ministers' legal argument, this part turns entirely inward, to a single imprisoned woman's own grief — and to the small, deliberate act of humility, choosing Maudgalyāyana over the Buddha himself, that will set in motion everything the rest of this sūtra actually teaches.
Three Reasons for a Deeper Grief
四、就厭苦緣中，即有其四。
一、從時韋提希下，至憔悴已來，正明夫人為子幽禁。此明夫人雖勉死難，更閉在深宮，守當極牢無由得出。唯有念念懷憂，自然憔悴。傷歎曰：禍哉今日苦，遇值闍王喚，利刃中間結，復置深宮難。
問曰：「夫人既得勉死入宮，宜應訝樂，何因反更愁憂也？」
答曰：「即有三義不同。一明夫人既自被閉，更無人進食與王，王又聞我在難，轉更愁憂。今既無食加憂者，王之身命定應不久。二明夫人既被囚難，何時更見如來之面及諸弟子。三明夫人奉教禁在深宮，內官守當水泄不通，旦夕之間唯愁死路。有斯三義切逼身心，得無憔悴也。」
Fourth, within the condition of weariness with suffering, there are four points.
First, from "at that time Vaidehī" down through "grew haggard and worn," this makes plain the queen's own imprisonment by her son. This makes plain that the queen, though she had escaped death, was now confined even deeper within the palace, guarded so tightly that there was no possibility of ever leaving at all. With nothing left but thought after thought of grief, she naturally grew haggard and worn. She lamented, saying: "What calamity, what suffering has come upon me today — meeting my own son's summons, a sharp blade held between us, and now this further ordeal of deep confinement."
Question: "The queen, having escaped death and entered the palace, ought by rights to feel some measure of relief and joy — why, then, does she instead grow all the more sorrowful and grief-stricken?"
Answer: "This resolves into three distinct points. First, the queen, now confined herself, could no longer bring any food to the king at all — and the king, hearing that she too was in danger, would grow all the more anxious and grieved in turn. With no food now reaching him, and his own anxiety compounding it, the king's own life could surely not continue much longer. Second, the queen, now herself confined in this ordeal, had no idea when she might ever again behold the Tathāgata's own face, or that of any of his disciples. Third, the queen, confined by decree deep within the palace, guarded by the palace officials so tightly that not even water could seep through, had nothing left, morning and evening alike, but to dread her own approaching death. With these three concerns pressing so urgently upon both her body and her mind, how could she fail to grow haggard and worn?"
Shandao's threefold breakdown of Vaidehī's own grief is worth noticing for what it does not include: nowhere does he name fear of death, or even her own son's betrayal, as her primary concern. Her first thought is for her husband's own survival, now that she can no longer feed him; her second is spiritual, the loss of access to the Buddha and his disciples; only her third names her own mortal danger directly, and even this is framed as one item among three rather than the obvious center of her distress. The queen who spent an entire earlier section engineering an elaborate feeding scheme at real risk to herself continues, in captivity, to grieve first for others — a consistency of character Shandao lets the structure of his own commentary make plain without ever stating it outright.
A Prayer From a Distance, and a Deliberate Humility
二、從遙向耆闍崛山下，至未舉頭頃已來，正明夫人因禁請佛，意有所陳。此明夫人既在囚禁，自身無由得到佛邊。唯有單心面向耆闍，遙禮世尊，願佛慈悲，表知弟子愁憂之意。言如來在昔之時已下，此有二義。一明父王未被禁時，或可王及我身親到佛邊，或可如來及諸弟子親受王請。然我及王身俱在囚禁，因緣斷絕，彼此情乖。二明父王在禁已來，數蒙世尊遣阿難來慰問我。云何慰問？以見父王囚禁，佛恐夫人憂惱，以是因緣故遣慰問也。言世尊威重無由得見者。此明夫人內自卑謙歸尊於佛弟子，穢質女身福因尠薄，佛德威高，無由輕觸，願遣目連等與我相見。
問曰：「如來即是化主，應不失時宜。夫人何以不三加致請乃喚目連等，有何意也？」
答曰：「佛德尊嚴，小緣不敢輒請。但見阿難，欲傳語往白世尊。
佛知我意，復使阿難傳佛之語指授於我，以斯義故願見阿難。」
言作是語已者，總說前意竟也。言悲泣雨淚者，此明夫人自唯罪重，請佛加哀，致敬情深悲淚滿目。但以渴仰靈儀，復加遙禮，叩頂跱䟻，須臾未舉。
Second, from "from afar, toward Vulture Peak" down through "before she had even raised her head," this makes plain that the queen, on account of her own imprisonment, made her own request of the Buddha, with something particular to express. This makes plain that the queen, now imprisoned, had no way at all to reach the Buddha's own presence in person. With nothing left but a single-minded devotion, she turned to face Vulture Peak, and, from that distance, paid homage to the World-Honored One, praying that his own compassion might come to know his disciple's own grief and sorrow. As for "in earlier times, the Tathāgata," this carries two meanings. First, this makes plain that, before the king was imprisoned, either the king or she herself might have gone in person to the Buddha's own presence, or else the Tathāgata and his disciples might have received the king's own invitation in person. But now both she and the king were imprisoned, this connection entirely cut off, each estranged from the other in their own separate grief. Second, this makes plain that, ever since the king's own imprisonment began, she had repeatedly received the World-Honored One's own comfort, sent through Ānanda, to console her. What is meant by this consolation? Seeing the king imprisoned, the Buddha, fearing that the queen might fall into grief and vexation, sent Ānanda for this very reason, to bring her comfort. As for "the World-Honored One's own majesty is too weighty for me to behold in person": this makes plain that the queen, humbling herself inwardly, deferred instead to the Buddha's own disciples, reckoning her own defiled, womanly form and her own thin store of merit as unworthy — the Buddha's own majestic virtue being so lofty that she had no way to approach him even lightly — and so she wished instead that Maudgalyāyana and the others might be sent to see her.
Question: "The Tathāgata is himself the very teaching-lord — he ought never to fail in his own sense of timing and propriety. Why, then, did the queen not entreat him directly, three times over, instead of calling for Maudgalyāyana and the others? What is the reason for this?"
Answer: "The Buddha's own virtue is so revered and majestic that she dared not presume to request his presence over so small a matter. She wished only to see Ānanda, that she might send word through him to the World-Honored One, saying: 'The Buddha, knowing my own intent, might then send Ānanda back to convey his own instruction to me directly — it was for this very reason that she wished to see Ānanda.'"
As for "having spoken these words": this concludes, in summary, everything she had expressed above. As for "weeping, tears falling like rain": this makes plain that the queen, reckoning her own offenses to be so heavy, begged the Buddha's own pity, her devotion so deep that her tears filled her own eyes. Yet, still yearning for a sight of his sacred form, she bowed her head to the ground once more, from that distance, remaining prostrate a long while, unable to raise her own head even for a moment.
Shandao makes an explicit point of the queen's own restraint here — she does not request the Buddha's own presence "three times over," the formal repetition that would signal a truly urgent claim on his attention, but asks only for Ānanda, and would in fact receive Maudgalyāyana and Mahāmaudgalyāyana in what follows. This is not diffidence for its own sake: Shandao reads it as the queen's own accurate self-assessment, "her own defiled, womanly form and her own thin store of merit," measured honestly against "the Buddha's own majestic virtue." What makes this moment consequential is what happens next, entirely outside her own request: the Buddha, unbidden, comes to her directly and in person anyway — a response that exceeds what she asked for precisely because she never presumed to ask for it. Her own tears, prostrate before a mountain she cannot even see from her own prison, are the last thing the text records before this unrequested visitation begins.
Part 17 Complete
This closes Part 17: Vaidehī's own grief in confinement, and her prayer toward Vulture Peak, offered with a deliberate humility that asks for far less than what she will actually receive. Part 18 continues "the condition of weariness with suffering" with the Buddha's own direct response — appearing before her in person, unbidden — and the queen's own outburst of grief once she finally sees him, demanding to know what she has done to deserve a son like this.
Continue to Part 18 — The Buddha Appears, and a Mother's Question →