Last week, I traveled to Red Wing, Minnesota, to attend the wedding of my brother’s oldest daughter. I took along “Yasodhara: A Novel About the Buddha’s Wife,” which has been gathering dust on my to-be-read pile of books. It was only later that I realized this was not a random decision.

The publisher, Speaking Tiger Books, offers this summary:

A long time ago, in a far-off kingdom, a boy and a girl, born on the same day, were destined to be together–and then painfully wrenched apart. The boy was Siddhattha, heir to the Sakya kingdom and the future Buddha; the girl was the beautiful and precocious Yasodhara, his friend who became his loving wife.

In this exquisitely crafted narrative, we encounter Yasodhara as a fiercely independent, passionate and resilient individual. We witness her joys and sorrows, her expectations and frustrations, her fairy-tale wedding, and her overwhelming devastation at the departure of her beloved.

It is through her eyes that we witness Siddhattha’s slow transformation, from a sheltered prince to a deeply sensitive young man. On the way, we see how the gods watch over the future Buddha from the clouds, how the king and his ministers try to keep the suffering of the world from him and how he eventually renounces the throne, his wife and newly-born son to seek enlightenment.

Resurrecting a forgotten woman from the origin stories of the Buddha, Vanessa R. Sasson combines the spirit of fiction and the fabulism of Indian mythology with impeccable scholarship, to tell the evocative and deeply moving story of an extraordinary life.

The author, Vanessa R. Sasson, is a professor of Religious Studies in the Liberal and Creative Arts and Humanities Department at Marianopolis College, Quebec. She is also a Research Fellow for the International Institute for Studies in Race, Reconciliation and Social Justice at the University of the Free State in South Africa, as well as Adjunct Professor at the Faculty of Religious Studies of McGill University, Montreal.

In the author’s introduction, she explains the book in this way:

Yasodhara, the Buddha’s wife, is not the focus of most early Buddhist hagiographies. The literature preserves fragments of her life, but the focus is (unsurprisingly) usually on her husband. In this book, I have tried to bring together some of these early fragments into the shape of a modern novel, to tell her story from her perspective (as I imagine it). As the writing process unfolded, however, I came to appreciate how much information we are missing. The literature is genuinely scant where she is concerned— particularly regarding her youth. She is a key player during a few moments in the Buddha’s life, but otherwise, we know little about her. We know she produced their one and only son, that she was left behind when he made his Great Departure, and that when he returned to the palace seven years later, he took his son back to the forest with him. The Jatakas (past-life stories) refer to her in a number of accounts, suggesting that Yasodhara and the Buddha had been connected for lifetimes, but we do not know much more than that. Indeed, Yasodhara is so marginalized in some cases that she does not even receive a name. She is known simply as Rahulamata—Rahula’s mother. …

The story I have told here is, therefore, a story inspired by later hagiographies. It is not historical fiction, but perhaps what can be more appropriately labelled “hagiographical fiction” (if such a label existed). This book is my attempt at recreating a hagiography, inspired by hagiographies that belong to an earlier time.

The novel stands alone well by itself, “a story inspired by later hagiographies.” But for me the joy was reading each chapter with the notes that detail the sources of her inspiration.

Returning to the topic of my trip, it wasn’t until near the end of the book that I realized why I was drawn to this tale. It was at the point in the story when Siddhattha, now the Buddha, returns to the Sakya palace. Yasodhara, who has felt abandoned by her husband and wears widow’s clothes, must now confront the loss of her 7-year-old son Rahula.

My parents divorced in 1960 when I was 9 years old and my brother 7. My mother threatened to kill herself if my father followed through with his attempt to gain custody. My brother and I lived with my mother and rarely saw our father once he moved away with his new wife. My mother never remarried. Later in life, I blind-sided my first wife with a divorce request because I was, as an acquaintance described it, “feeling my generations” – the male equivalent of the ticking biological clock. I could really relate to the tale of Yasodhara.

This weekend I watched as a lovely young couple married. They lived together for 10 years before exchanging vows. That’s longer than my parents’ marriage and longer than my first marriage. May they have a long and happy life as husband and wife.