The Tragedy of Patacara and the Verse on Solitude at Death

That season, torrential rains fell upon a barren land. The river swelled into a churning, muddy torrent, its waves crashing against the banks with a heart-wrenching roar. Patacara held her youngest child in her arms while dragging the older one by the hand. The water rose to her chest, making each breath a struggle. She shuddered as she saw tigers lurking on the far bank, knowing the current would sweep away anything it touched. "How can I cross this river to visit my parents?" she cried out, her nails digging into her child’s skin in fear that he might slip from her grasp.

Patacara had been born into wealth, raised in luxury. Yet, blinded by infatuation for a servant, she fled her family to follow him, bearing children in poverty. As years passed, longing for her aging parents compelled her to lead her husband and children back home. But tragedy struck on the journey: her husband was bitten by a venomous snake and died instantly by the riverbank. Left a widow in the wild, she still tried to carry her two children toward their ancestral home.

Standing between the banks, torn apart, she thought, "I have lost my husband; if I lose my children too, how can I live?" She told her eldest, "Be quiet, Mother will cross and return for you." Carrying the infant, she waded through the rushing water, falling many times. When she reached the other side and looked back, she saw the tiger carrying her older son away. "No! Where is my child!" she screamed, her heart tearing in two. She rushed back to save the baby, but the waves swept him from her hands. She thrashed and cried, "Save my child! Save me!" but no one answered.

She dragged herself to her parents’ house, clothes torn, mind shattered. Upon arrival, she froze. Their home had collapsed into rubble, and her parents lay dead among the debris. Stunned, she seemed to lose her sanity completely. She ran naked into the street, devoid of shame. People recoiled from her as she wailed, "Who will save me? Is anyone alive?" Her cries merged with the howling wind.

Madly, she ran to the monastery, hair matted with blood, body exposed. The Buddha sat calmly, offering no reproach. He spoke gently, "Come, dear woman, sit down." She stammered, "World-Honored One, my husband and children are dead, my parents are gone. What do I have left?" The Buddha replied, "When death arrives, we depart alone. No parents or children can protect us. Knowing this truth, the wise strive diligently in keeping precepts on the path to nirvana, the state of perfect peace." Hearing this, it struck her like lightning. She realized the nakedness of her physical form and the ultimate solitude of existence. Monks wrapped a robe around her, and suddenly awakened, she bowed her head. "Please allow me to renounce the world," she asked.

She practiced with great diligence, facing her pain through meditative concentration. Near enlightenment, the Buddha recited: "Better than living a hundred years without seeing the arising and passing away of phenomena is living just one day with such insight." Patacara attained Arhatship, liberated from the tragedies of her life.

From then on, she lived as an enlightened bhikkhuni, dwelling peacefully within the Sangha, no longer shedding tears over parting in death. The lesson of solitude at the moment of death transformed her from a madwoman into a saint.

The Meaning of the Story

No matter how many relatives we have in life, when we die, we remain utterly alone. Therefore, let us keep our precepts and practice diligently rather than clinging to fleeting attachments, directing our hearts toward nirvana.

Compiled from a dharma talk by Venerable Thich Chan Quang