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The story of Bhikkhuni Patacara was heart-wrenching. She was the only daughter of a wealthy family in Savatthi. Her parents were
overly protective of her and never allowed her to leave the house. All day long she was required to stay inside. Thus, she never had a
chance to meet many people. When she reached an age suitable for marriage, she fell in love, without her parents’ knowledge, with a young
servant in their household. When her parents arranged for her to marry the son of another wealthy family, Patacara urged her secret lover to
run away with her. Early on the morning she was to be married, she disguised herself as a servant girl and pretended to go outside to fetch
water. As soon as she was outside, she met her lover and they fled to a distant village where they were married.
Three years later Patacara became pregnant. When she neared her time, she asked her husband to take her to her parents’ house to give
birth there, as was the custom. Her husband was reluctant but because she insisted, he agreed. But halfway there, Patacara went into labor
and delivered a son. As there was no longer any need to return to her parents’ home, they went back to their own village.
Two years later, Patacara was again with child. Again she insisted her husband take her to her parents’ house. This time they met with
tragedy. Along the way, a storm broke, just as she was going into labor. Her husband asked her to wait by the side of the road while he
entered the forest to cut some branches to make a shelter. Patacara waited for a long time, but her husband did not return. In the middle of
the night, surrounded by rain and wind, she gave birth to a second son. At dawn, she lifted her newborn son in one arm and held her other
son’s hand, and entered the forest to look for her husband. She found him dead from a poisonous snake bite. She wept bitterly for a long
time. Then she stood up and headed with her two sons towards her old home in Savatthi. At last she reached the river. The waters were
swollen from the rain, making the water too deep for her first son to wade across. She told him to wait on the bank while she carried the
baby safely to the other side first. She held the infant over her head as she walked through the deep waters. When she was halfway across,
a mighty eagle swept down and grabbed the baby in its talons. She screamed at the bird to release her child, but it flew away. When her
other son heard her cries, he thought she was calling him to join her. When Patacara turned around, she saw him stepping into the rushing
waters. She shouted at him to wait, but it was too late. The strong currents swept him away, and she was unable to save him.
At last, Patacara crossed to the other shore, and collapsed on the banks. When she came to, she stood up and walked for several days
until she reached Savatthi. When she finally arrived, she learned that her parents’ home had been destroyed in the storm and both her
parents killed when a wall collapsed on them. Patacara had returned on the same day her parents’ bodies were being cremated.
Patacara collapsed by the side of the road. She no longer wanted to live. Some people took pity on her and took her to see the Buddha.
He listened to her tell her story, and he told her in a gentle voice, “Patacara, you have suffered terribly. But life is not only suffering and
misfortune. Be brave! Practice the Way of Enlightenment, and one day you will be able to smile even at your most painful sufferings. You
will learn how to create new peace and joy in the present and for the future.”
Patacara bowed and asked to take the refuges. The Buddha entrusted her to Sister Mahapajapati’s care. Soon afterwards Patacara was
ordained as a bhikkhuni. She was deeply loved by Sister Mahapajapati and the other bhikkhunis. After several years of practice, she
learned to smile again. One day, while washing her feet, she watched the streams of water disappear back into the earth, and she had
sudden insight into the nature of impermanence. She held that image in her mind during her meditation for several days and nights, and one
dawn, she broke through the problem of birth and death. Spontaneously, she wrote a poem:
The other day, while washing my feet,
I watched the streams of water flow
back into the heart of the earth.
I asked, “To where does the water return?”
Contemplating in serene silence,
mind and body held in mindfulness,
I looked into the nature of the six sense objects
with the spirit of a strong, quick horse.
Staring at the oil lamp wick,
I concentrated my mind.
Time passed quickly.
The oil lamp still shone.
I took a needle
and pushed the wick down.