Thig 9  Vaḍḍha’s Mother

Vaḍḍha’s Mother:

Vaḍḍha, don’t have any


ever, in the world, at all.

Don’t, my little son,

have a share in suffering

again & again.

For happy are sages, Vaḍḍha,

unperturbed, with doubt cut through.

Having become cool and self-controlled,

they dwell     effluent-free.

Foster the path,

pursued by seers,

for the attainment of vision,

for the ending of stress.


Undaunted, mother,

you speak this matter to me.

I suspect that now in you

no underbrush

is found.

Vaḍḍha’s Mother:

Whatever fabrications

are lowly, middling, or exalted:

No underbrush for them in me

—not a bit, not the least little bit—

is found.

All effluents are ended for me—

heedful, doing jhāna.

The three knowledges

are attained;

the Buddha’s bidding,



With what a vast goad

my mother poked me—

because of her sympathy—

verses connected to the ultimate goal.

Having heard her words—

my mother’s instruction—

Dhamma-saṁvega arose

for attaining rest from the yoke.

Resolute in exertion,

relentlessly, both day & night,

I, roused by my mother,


the highest peace.