In a brothel at the foot of the Himalayas, the sinister madam Kankali begins her young apprentice, the beautiful Kalavati, in the sacred precepts of the world's oldest trade: charm the best customers, leave them without five and throw them subtly. After swearing to honor the teachings of his "mother for convenience" (samayamatrka), Kalavati set out to sacrifice his first victim at the courtesan altar. The chosen one is Panka, the naive son of a greedy merchant. With a retahly of ardides, the artful women fulfill their task by asserting their profane wisdom: prey to desire, men live under the forces of illusion. The illusion itself contains the secret to getting the only thing worthwhile: money.
This fun story written in Sanskrit by Ksemendra, author of the eleventh century, presents a little-known face of India: neither solar gods nor pristine hermits nor heroic princes or maiden castes, but false ascetics, corrupt bureaucrats, hedonists, pariahs, celestines and prostitutes. With this hilarious parade of figures, Ksemendra seeks to exhibit the vices of society of his time, especially religious hypocrisy. However, its scathing feather possesses a greater range, unexpectedly universal and current. Mother for convenience is, ultimately, a sarcastically profound reflection on the human condition.