Kubera, Lord of Wealth

On the glass shelf of a small grocery shop, between bottles of fish sauce and boxes of cookies, a god is smiling.

A round belly. A rosy face. A bar of gold in his hand. In front of him sit a plate of mandarins, a glass of water, and a stick of incense still trailing smoke in the early morning.

A small child tugs at their father's hand and asks who he is.

The father bends down and looks at his child, then up at the smiling god. "That's a long story, little one."

That story begins very far away, at the foot of the Himalayas, with a capital city that was stolen, and with a god who had the biggest belly in all the heavens.

His name is Kubera.

In Hindu scripture, Kubera is the lord of the north. He is one of the eight gods who guard the directions of heaven and earth, known together as the Ashtadikpalas. He rules over wealth: gold and silver, precious stones, the treasure under the ground. He is also the king of the Yakshas, nature spirits who live in deep forests and rock caves and guard treasures that ordinary people never see.

Kubera looks quite unlike any other god. His body is plump. His big round belly stands for abundance. He is short, and his cheerful look is impossible to mistake.

In one hand he holds a money bag, and in the other a small mongoose spitting pearls from its mouth.

That mongoose may be the strangest and loveliest detail in his whole image. The mongoose is the natural enemy of the snake. And snakes, in the old stories, guard the treasure deep under the earth. When Kubera's mongoose spits out jewels, it is a sign that he can win every source of wealth, even the deepest treasures that no one else can reach.

Kubera is the keeper of the nine Nidhi, the nine sacred treasures of the universe. Each one has a name, the way a living being does: Padma, Mahapadma, Shankha, Makara, Kachchhapa, Mukunda, Kunda, Nila, Kharva. They are nine streams of wealth. No one can steal them, because they are rivers, not piles of gold stacked in a vault.

One day, Kubera would need that.

He once had a city: Lanka, on the jewel island often identified today with Sri Lanka. It had a splendid palace and treasure piled high. And it had the most wondrous flying chariot ever made, the Pushpaka Vimana. It could fly anywhere in heaven and earth, and it could grow as large as its owner wished, without end.

Then Ravana came.

Ravana was Kubera's half-brother. They had the same father, the sage Vishrava, but Ravana chose a different path. He practiced harsh austerities and gathered power, then came to take what he wanted by force.

Kubera lost Lanka. He lost the Pushpaka Vimana. He had to leave.

But the nine Nidhi were still there. A river cannot be stolen.

He lost his home, his chariot, even his whole city, but he did not lose his treasures.

Kubera's story did not stop in India.

As Buddhist thought spread over the centuries, Kubera stepped into a new chapter. Mahayana Buddhism took him in as Vaisravana. In Vietnamese he is called Tỳ Sa Môn Thiên Vương. He is still the lord of the north. He is still a protector. But in the pagodas of Vietnam, his appearance changed completely.

The round belly disappeared. The mongoose disappeared.

Today, in many Mahayana pagodas in Vietnam, a general stands still. He wears armor painted red and gold, and his eyes look straight out through the door. One hand lifts a small pagoda, a sign of the sacred treasure he guards. The other holds a weapon. This is Tỳ Sa Môn Thiên Vương, one of the Four Heavenly Kings who guard the four quarters of the world and protect the Buddha's teaching. He traveled here from the foot of the Himalayas, carrying everything with him, and changed only his clothes.

Then, from inside the pagoda, he stepped out once more.

Many people believe that the image of Ông Thần Tài, the god of wealth seen today on the glass shelves of grocery shops, is a blend of several streams. From Hinduism comes Kubera, with his round belly and endless riches. From Buddhism comes Vaisravana, who guards and shelters. From Chinese tradition comes Caishen, the Chinese god of wealth, with his bright smile and robes of red and gold. Those three streams met on Vietnamese soil, through centuries of trade and faith, and became the familiar Ông Thần Tài of today.

None of the people who light incense in the early morning need to know any of this to show their devotion. But behind that smile lies a long road. It runs from the foot of the Himalayas to the Mahayana pagodas, and from a heavenly general's armor to a kindly round belly.

Every morning, millions of people in Vietnam light incense for a smiling, big-bellied god. Few of them imagine that long, long ago, one of his roots may have had a name, and that name was Kubera.