The Ramayana Summary as retold by Sri C Rajagopalachari
19 ) ALONE BY THEMSELVES :
The citizens who had slept on the bank of the Tamasa woke up in the morning and looked round. They were surprised to see that Rama and the chariot had disappeared. They followed the track of the chariot-wheels but were disappointed to find that it was lost in the main road to the capital.
They returned home to their own houses and sought satisfaction in reviling Kaikeyi. Without Rama, the city was bereft of beauty and wrapt in gloom.
Sumantra and the princes had crossed the Tamasa long before dawn and travelled far into the forest. Crossing several streams, they approached the southern boundary of the Kosala country. As they journeyed on, Rama said to
Sumantra: "I wonder when I shall hunt again in the forest of Sarayu. Is hunting good for princes? Perhaps, it is, in moderation."
Thus conversing on many matters, they went forward. When they reached the southern boundary of the kingdom, Rama stopped the chariot and facing north towards Ayodhya, bent his head in a prayer, saying: "O, jewel among cities! O ancient capital of the Ikshwakus! Shall I finishing my penance in the forest, live to see my father and mother and you? Grant me that supreme joy."
The chariot reached the bank of the Ganga. They proceeded along the bank, admiring the beauty of the river. Finding a spot of surpassing charm, Rama said: "We shall spend the night here."
Untying the horses, they sat under a tree. Guha, the chief of the region, having learnt already from his men that Rama would be coming there, came forward with his retinue to greet Rama and Lakshmana.
He had unbounded love for the royal family and for Rama. Being the chieftain of the tribes who dwelt on the banks of Ganga, he was a man of great prestige and power. Rama and Lakshmana rose to greet Guha, even while the latter was still at some distance from them. Guha welcomed them with a hearty embrace, saying: "Regard this land as your own. This place is as much yours as is Ayodhya. Who can hope to have a guest like you? It is indeed my good fortune."
Guha had prepared a lavish entertainment. He said, "Feel perfectly at home and happy in my kingdom. You may spend all the fourteen years with us here. You will not lack anything I assure you. Looking after you will be a pleasure and privilege to me. Be gracious enough to accept my hospitality."
Warmly embracing Guha again, Rama said: "Brother, I know how deep is your love for me. Your wish is itself as good as hospitality rendered. I am bound by my vows and must refuse anything more. I have come to dwell in the forest and not to enjoy life as a chieftain's guest. These horses are my dear father's favorites. Pray feed them well. We shall be content with simple food and rest for the night."
They lay under the tree for the night. Guha and Lakshmana kept awake, conversing with Sumantra.
Said Guha to Lakshmana: "Brother, do go and rest. There is a bed made ready for you. My men will keep careful watch. None dare do anything in the forest unknown to me. Have no anxiety regarding Rama. Do sleep."
Lakshmana replied: "How can I find sleep, Guha? Here, lying on the bare ground, is Sita, daughter of the great Janaka and daughter-in-law of the great Dasaratha. The great Purushottama himself who could subdue the three worlds lies stretched on the grass. How can I sleep who sees this? I wonder how Ayodhya is bearing it. He queens' apartments must be loud with wailing. I even doubt if at this moment Kausalya and my mother are alive. My father indeed found strength somehow to say to Rama, 'Go to the forest,' but I doubt if he has strength enough left to survive Rama's actual departure. And if he has passed away, our mothers too will have given up their lives. And here we are, deprived even of the privilege of doing the last offices to the dead. In any case it is hardly possible that our father and mothers will be alive to greet us, when we return to Ayodhya after our term in the forest."
Thus spoke Lakshmana in sorrow. Guha was in tears. The night was spent in such sad conversation.
Early next morning, Rama told Lakshmana: "We must now cross the river. Ask Guha to make ready a boat big enough for crossing this broad river." Guha ordered his men to get this done and informed Rama.
Sumantra bowed low and stood before Rama seeking his further commands.
Rama understood Sumantra's unuttered grief and, laying his hand on Sumantra's shoulders, said: "Sumantra, return to Ayodhya with all speed and be at the side of the King. Your duty is now to look after him."
"O Rama," exclaimed Sumantra, "rectitude, learning and culture seem to be of no value. You and your brother and Vaidehi are going to live in the forest. What is going to be our lot? How are we going to fare under Kaikeyi's rule?" He now wept like a child.
Wiping the tears from Sumantra's eyes, Rama said: "Our family has known no nobler friend than you. It will be your task to console my father. His heart is river by grief. Whatever his commands carry them out dutifully. Do not ask yourself whether he wants a thing for himself or with a view to pleasing Kaikeyi. Avoid giving him any pain of mind. Have no anxiety about us. You should say this on my behalf to my aged father who is stricken with a grief he never knew before. Clasp his feet as you have seen me do, and assure him from me that none of us, not I nor Lakshmana, nor Sita, feel injured or sorry at having been sent away from Ayodhya. We look forward to fourteen years of forest life which will speed on happy wings, and then surely we shall return to his feet for blessings. Give our love to my mother Kausalya, and tell her that protected by her blessings we are well and give a like message to my stepmothers, especially to Kaikeyi, lest she should think we have parted in anger.
Tell the Maharaja that it is my earnest prayer that he should hasten with the installation of Bharata, so that he may be a comfort to him in our absence."
But Sumantra, unable to restrain his grief, burst out: "How am I to return and with what words can I give comfort?" And when he looked at the empty chariot, he wept and said: "How shall I drive this chariot that stands desolate without you?"
Once again Rama spoke words of comfort and courage to Sumantra and urged on him the duty of patience, and sent him home.
"Guha", said Rama, "I could indeed spend fourteen years in your kingdom as you desire. But would that be fulfilling my vow? I have left Ayodhya to fulfil my father's pledge. I must therefore lead the life of a tapasvi. I must not touch dishes daintily cooked and served. We have to live only on fruits, roots and permissible kinds of meat such as we offer in the sacrificial fire."
Comforting Guha thus, the brothers got their locks matted with the milk of the banyan. They helped Sita into the boat and then got into it themselves. Guha bade the boatmen to row it across.
The boatmen took them quickly across the river. At midstream Sita offered a prayer to the goddess of the river: "Devi, help us fulfil our vow and return safe to our homeland."
They talked as they went on. They reached the farther bank of Ganga. And there for the first time, the three stood alone, unattended by friends!
"Lakshmana, you are my sole armed guard now," said Rama. "You will go first. Sita will follow. And I shall walk behind you both. We must save Sita as far as possible from the hardships of forest life. Hereafter there will be none to keep us company and no fun or amusement."
Rama's thoughts went to his mother Kausalya.
"Lakshmana," he said, "should you not go back to Ayodhya and look after mother Kausalya and Sumitra Devi? I shall manage my forest stay somehow."
Lakshmana replied: "Forgive me, brother; I am not going back to Ayodhya." Rama indeed expected no other answer.
Thus now and again we shall see the human element come up and the divine prince grieve and talk as common people do. This is the fascination of the Ramayana. If Almighty God remains almighty and does everything Himself, then where is room or need for an avatar and how could the dharma of common men be established?
This is the difference between the earlier avatars and the later. In the Rama avatar, the course of human conduct and the dharma governing it come linked together. This has been made explicit by Valmiki.
On the occasion of Sita's ordeal by fire at the end of the battle, Rama says to Brahma who appeared then among others and deprecated the idea of putting Sita to proof:
"I regard myself only as Rama, son of Dasaratha, an ordinary human being. Who I am in reality, where I belong, why I took birth, are matters on which you must enlighten me, and I do not know."
While Rama was plunged in thinking of the mothers left behind, Lakshmana ministered to him with loving words of courage and hope.
They spent that night under a banyan tree and left early next morning for Bharadwaja's ashrama which they reached at sunset.
Partaking of the hospitality of the sage, they besought him to tell where they could spend the years quietly in the forest and
on his advice and with his blessings left for Chitrakuta.
They returned home to their own houses and sought satisfaction in reviling Kaikeyi. Without Rama, the city was bereft of beauty and wrapt in gloom.
Sumantra and the princes had crossed the Tamasa long before dawn and travelled far into the forest. Crossing several streams, they approached the southern boundary of the Kosala country. As they journeyed on, Rama said to
Sumantra: "I wonder when I shall hunt again in the forest of Sarayu. Is hunting good for princes? Perhaps, it is, in moderation."
Thus conversing on many matters, they went forward. When they reached the southern boundary of the kingdom, Rama stopped the chariot and facing north towards Ayodhya, bent his head in a prayer, saying: "O, jewel among cities! O ancient capital of the Ikshwakus! Shall I finishing my penance in the forest, live to see my father and mother and you? Grant me that supreme joy."
The chariot reached the bank of the Ganga. They proceeded along the bank, admiring the beauty of the river. Finding a spot of surpassing charm, Rama said: "We shall spend the night here."
Untying the horses, they sat under a tree. Guha, the chief of the region, having learnt already from his men that Rama would be coming there, came forward with his retinue to greet Rama and Lakshmana.
He had unbounded love for the royal family and for Rama. Being the chieftain of the tribes who dwelt on the banks of Ganga, he was a man of great prestige and power. Rama and Lakshmana rose to greet Guha, even while the latter was still at some distance from them. Guha welcomed them with a hearty embrace, saying: "Regard this land as your own. This place is as much yours as is Ayodhya. Who can hope to have a guest like you? It is indeed my good fortune."
Guha had prepared a lavish entertainment. He said, "Feel perfectly at home and happy in my kingdom. You may spend all the fourteen years with us here. You will not lack anything I assure you. Looking after you will be a pleasure and privilege to me. Be gracious enough to accept my hospitality."
Warmly embracing Guha again, Rama said: "Brother, I know how deep is your love for me. Your wish is itself as good as hospitality rendered. I am bound by my vows and must refuse anything more. I have come to dwell in the forest and not to enjoy life as a chieftain's guest. These horses are my dear father's favorites. Pray feed them well. We shall be content with simple food and rest for the night."
They lay under the tree for the night. Guha and Lakshmana kept awake, conversing with Sumantra.
Said Guha to Lakshmana: "Brother, do go and rest. There is a bed made ready for you. My men will keep careful watch. None dare do anything in the forest unknown to me. Have no anxiety regarding Rama. Do sleep."
Lakshmana replied: "How can I find sleep, Guha? Here, lying on the bare ground, is Sita, daughter of the great Janaka and daughter-in-law of the great Dasaratha. The great Purushottama himself who could subdue the three worlds lies stretched on the grass. How can I sleep who sees this? I wonder how Ayodhya is bearing it. He queens' apartments must be loud with wailing. I even doubt if at this moment Kausalya and my mother are alive. My father indeed found strength somehow to say to Rama, 'Go to the forest,' but I doubt if he has strength enough left to survive Rama's actual departure. And if he has passed away, our mothers too will have given up their lives. And here we are, deprived even of the privilege of doing the last offices to the dead. In any case it is hardly possible that our father and mothers will be alive to greet us, when we return to Ayodhya after our term in the forest."
Thus spoke Lakshmana in sorrow. Guha was in tears. The night was spent in such sad conversation.
Early next morning, Rama told Lakshmana: "We must now cross the river. Ask Guha to make ready a boat big enough for crossing this broad river." Guha ordered his men to get this done and informed Rama.
Sumantra bowed low and stood before Rama seeking his further commands.
Rama understood Sumantra's unuttered grief and, laying his hand on Sumantra's shoulders, said: "Sumantra, return to Ayodhya with all speed and be at the side of the King. Your duty is now to look after him."
"O Rama," exclaimed Sumantra, "rectitude, learning and culture seem to be of no value. You and your brother and Vaidehi are going to live in the forest. What is going to be our lot? How are we going to fare under Kaikeyi's rule?" He now wept like a child.
Wiping the tears from Sumantra's eyes, Rama said: "Our family has known no nobler friend than you. It will be your task to console my father. His heart is river by grief. Whatever his commands carry them out dutifully. Do not ask yourself whether he wants a thing for himself or with a view to pleasing Kaikeyi. Avoid giving him any pain of mind. Have no anxiety about us. You should say this on my behalf to my aged father who is stricken with a grief he never knew before. Clasp his feet as you have seen me do, and assure him from me that none of us, not I nor Lakshmana, nor Sita, feel injured or sorry at having been sent away from Ayodhya. We look forward to fourteen years of forest life which will speed on happy wings, and then surely we shall return to his feet for blessings. Give our love to my mother Kausalya, and tell her that protected by her blessings we are well and give a like message to my stepmothers, especially to Kaikeyi, lest she should think we have parted in anger.
Tell the Maharaja that it is my earnest prayer that he should hasten with the installation of Bharata, so that he may be a comfort to him in our absence."
But Sumantra, unable to restrain his grief, burst out: "How am I to return and with what words can I give comfort?" And when he looked at the empty chariot, he wept and said: "How shall I drive this chariot that stands desolate without you?"
Once again Rama spoke words of comfort and courage to Sumantra and urged on him the duty of patience, and sent him home.
"Guha", said Rama, "I could indeed spend fourteen years in your kingdom as you desire. But would that be fulfilling my vow? I have left Ayodhya to fulfil my father's pledge. I must therefore lead the life of a tapasvi. I must not touch dishes daintily cooked and served. We have to live only on fruits, roots and permissible kinds of meat such as we offer in the sacrificial fire."
Comforting Guha thus, the brothers got their locks matted with the milk of the banyan. They helped Sita into the boat and then got into it themselves. Guha bade the boatmen to row it across.
The boatmen took them quickly across the river. At midstream Sita offered a prayer to the goddess of the river: "Devi, help us fulfil our vow and return safe to our homeland."
They talked as they went on. They reached the farther bank of Ganga. And there for the first time, the three stood alone, unattended by friends!
"Lakshmana, you are my sole armed guard now," said Rama. "You will go first. Sita will follow. And I shall walk behind you both. We must save Sita as far as possible from the hardships of forest life. Hereafter there will be none to keep us company and no fun or amusement."
Rama's thoughts went to his mother Kausalya.
"Lakshmana," he said, "should you not go back to Ayodhya and look after mother Kausalya and Sumitra Devi? I shall manage my forest stay somehow."
Lakshmana replied: "Forgive me, brother; I am not going back to Ayodhya." Rama indeed expected no other answer.
Thus now and again we shall see the human element come up and the divine prince grieve and talk as common people do. This is the fascination of the Ramayana. If Almighty God remains almighty and does everything Himself, then where is room or need for an avatar and how could the dharma of common men be established?
This is the difference between the earlier avatars and the later. In the Rama avatar, the course of human conduct and the dharma governing it come linked together. This has been made explicit by Valmiki.
On the occasion of Sita's ordeal by fire at the end of the battle, Rama says to Brahma who appeared then among others and deprecated the idea of putting Sita to proof:
"I regard myself only as Rama, son of Dasaratha, an ordinary human being. Who I am in reality, where I belong, why I took birth, are matters on which you must enlighten me, and I do not know."
While Rama was plunged in thinking of the mothers left behind, Lakshmana ministered to him with loving words of courage and hope.
They spent that night under a banyan tree and left early next morning for Bharadwaja's ashrama which they reached at sunset.
Partaking of the hospitality of the sage, they besought him to tell where they could spend the years quietly in the forest and
on his advice and with his blessings left for Chitrakuta.
20 ) CHITRAKUTA :
Rama spent the night in Bharadwaja's ashrama. Getting up in the morning, they paid their respects to the Maharishi and, taking leave of him, set out for the Chitrakuta hill. The muni treated them affectionately as if they were his own children and sent them forth with his blessings after explaining to them the way they should take through the forest.
The three followed his topographical instructions closely and in due course came upon the river Kalindi. They constructed a raft with logs and bamboos and creepers of the forest and on it Lakshmana made a seat for Sita with little twigs and leaves on which she sat. The passage of the river was accomplished in safety.
In midstream Sita offered salutations to the river goddess and prayed that Rama might fulfil his vow and the three be enabled safely to return home.
After crossing a few more streams, they came to a big banyan tree which had been described by Bharadwaja. And under this tree Sita again offered prayers saying: "Grant, O holy tree, that my husband may complete his vow and that I may see again the queens Kausalya and Sumitra."
Rama asked Lakshmana to walk in front with Sita behind him while he himself followed in the rear. "Whatever, flower or fruit she asks for on the way," he said, "get it for her and keep her spirits up."
As Sita went she showed an eager curiosity, asking about forest trees and creepers and was lost in admiration at the many-sided beauty of forest life.
They greatly enjoyed the journey and rested for the night on the bank of a river.
Here and in other places, Valmiki describes how Rama and Lakshmana
secured food by hunting. He makes it quite plain that they had to subsist largely on meat. Some good men are troubled by this. But meat was not prohibited for Kshatriyas. Indeed, it has always been the rule in India to permit any food legitimately obtained and consecrated as a sacrifice. Rama was a Kshatriya and he lived in the forest in the Kshatriya way, though abstemiously.
The following morning Rama woke up Lakshmana and said: "Listen, the birds are singing to the morning sun. It is time for us to start."
The popular story that Lakshmana spent the whole period of forest life without food or sleep is not found in Valmiki. Sometimes, even, through fatigue Lakshmana did not get up quite early in the morning and Rama had to rouse him from slumber!
They performed their ablutions and worship and resumed their journey in the path indicated by Bharadwaja. The season was summer and the trees and plants were ablaze with multi colored flowers. The branches bowed under the weight of fruits and blossoms.
Rama pointed out the beauty of the forest to Sita from time to then, saying as they walked: "How beautiful is the forest unspoilt by human interference! Look at the beehives hanging there! Look at the ground entirely covered with fallen flowers! Listen to the birds! How beautifully they sing to one another and live in joy! Life would indeed be pleasant if we could always enjoy such sights and sounds."
Then they saw at a distance the Chitrakuta hill. They were glad and began to walk briskly towards it. "How beautiful this region is!" exclaimed Rama. "The forest here has fine edible roots and fruits. The water is clear and sweet. Rishis dwell in ashramas in this forest and we may most certainly live happily here in their holy company."
They proceeded to put up an ashrama there for themselves. Lakshmana was a clever workman. He soon constructed a strong hut, which was weather-proof and made it comfortable and convenient. Single-handed, he completed the mud hut with windows and doors all made of bamboos and jungle material.
Kamban and Valmiki vie with each other in their accounts of this episode. Kamban says that when Lakshmana had completed the structure, Rama embraced him weeping and asked him: "When and how did you learn all this?" One can imagine the scene.
Rama, his eyes filled with tears of joy, said, according to Kamban: "The flower- soft feet of the Princess of Mithila have traversed the hard forest floor. If her feet have done a wonder, why, Lakshmana, your hands too have wrought a miracle of house-building! I have seen today the gain that is in misfortune."
Here, beside the lovely Chitrakuta hill, on the bank of the river Malyavati, in that cottage the three young people lived, free from care, performing their daily devotional routine. They forgot that they were in exile and spent the time happily, like Indra in Heaven surrounded by the gods.
The happy life in Chitrakuta is a wonderful background to set off the later sufferings and sorrows of the three.
The three followed his topographical instructions closely and in due course came upon the river Kalindi. They constructed a raft with logs and bamboos and creepers of the forest and on it Lakshmana made a seat for Sita with little twigs and leaves on which she sat. The passage of the river was accomplished in safety.
In midstream Sita offered salutations to the river goddess and prayed that Rama might fulfil his vow and the three be enabled safely to return home.
After crossing a few more streams, they came to a big banyan tree which had been described by Bharadwaja. And under this tree Sita again offered prayers saying: "Grant, O holy tree, that my husband may complete his vow and that I may see again the queens Kausalya and Sumitra."
Rama asked Lakshmana to walk in front with Sita behind him while he himself followed in the rear. "Whatever, flower or fruit she asks for on the way," he said, "get it for her and keep her spirits up."
As Sita went she showed an eager curiosity, asking about forest trees and creepers and was lost in admiration at the many-sided beauty of forest life.
They greatly enjoyed the journey and rested for the night on the bank of a river.
Here and in other places, Valmiki describes how Rama and Lakshmana
secured food by hunting. He makes it quite plain that they had to subsist largely on meat. Some good men are troubled by this. But meat was not prohibited for Kshatriyas. Indeed, it has always been the rule in India to permit any food legitimately obtained and consecrated as a sacrifice. Rama was a Kshatriya and he lived in the forest in the Kshatriya way, though abstemiously.
The following morning Rama woke up Lakshmana and said: "Listen, the birds are singing to the morning sun. It is time for us to start."
The popular story that Lakshmana spent the whole period of forest life without food or sleep is not found in Valmiki. Sometimes, even, through fatigue Lakshmana did not get up quite early in the morning and Rama had to rouse him from slumber!
They performed their ablutions and worship and resumed their journey in the path indicated by Bharadwaja. The season was summer and the trees and plants were ablaze with multi colored flowers. The branches bowed under the weight of fruits and blossoms.
Rama pointed out the beauty of the forest to Sita from time to then, saying as they walked: "How beautiful is the forest unspoilt by human interference! Look at the beehives hanging there! Look at the ground entirely covered with fallen flowers! Listen to the birds! How beautifully they sing to one another and live in joy! Life would indeed be pleasant if we could always enjoy such sights and sounds."
Then they saw at a distance the Chitrakuta hill. They were glad and began to walk briskly towards it. "How beautiful this region is!" exclaimed Rama. "The forest here has fine edible roots and fruits. The water is clear and sweet. Rishis dwell in ashramas in this forest and we may most certainly live happily here in their holy company."
They proceeded to put up an ashrama there for themselves. Lakshmana was a clever workman. He soon constructed a strong hut, which was weather-proof and made it comfortable and convenient. Single-handed, he completed the mud hut with windows and doors all made of bamboos and jungle material.
Kamban and Valmiki vie with each other in their accounts of this episode. Kamban says that when Lakshmana had completed the structure, Rama embraced him weeping and asked him: "When and how did you learn all this?" One can imagine the scene.
Rama, his eyes filled with tears of joy, said, according to Kamban: "The flower- soft feet of the Princess of Mithila have traversed the hard forest floor. If her feet have done a wonder, why, Lakshmana, your hands too have wrought a miracle of house-building! I have seen today the gain that is in misfortune."
Here, beside the lovely Chitrakuta hill, on the bank of the river Malyavati, in that cottage the three young people lived, free from care, performing their daily devotional routine. They forgot that they were in exile and spent the time happily, like Indra in Heaven surrounded by the gods.
The happy life in Chitrakuta is a wonderful background to set off the later sufferings and sorrows of the three.
21) A MOTHER'S GRIEF :
Sumantra and Guha stood watching the three figures as long as they could. When they disappeared from sight, they were plunged in sorrow and went back to Guha's town. After a while Sumantra returned to Ayodhya.
As the charioteer approached the city, he found it desolate and devoid of the usual cheerful bustle of urban life. As
soon as he crossed the fortress-gate and entered the city, his chariot was surrounded by a crowd eagerly asking: "Where did you leave Rama? How was he when you left him?"
"Dear people of Ayodhya," said Sumantra, "Rama and Lakshmana have crossed the Ganga. Ordering me to return home, they entered the forest on foot."
A great cry of grief rose from the multitude and many cursed themselves and attributed the catastrophe to their own sins. On both sides of the streets, women stood as the chariot passed and cried: "Look at the car which departed with the princes and Sita and has come back empty."
Sumantra drove forward covering his face with the end of his upper garment, ashamed of himself. He stopped the chariot in front of Dasaratha's palace and alighted.
There in front of the palace a great crowd had gathered. Women were saying, "How is Sumantra going to meet Kausalya and tell her that he left her son in the forest? How will she survive the report?"
With increasing sorrow and confusion, Sumantra entered the Queen's apartment. There he saw the King more dead than alive. In low tones, he spoke of Rama's message to the King who heard it in heartbroken silence.
Then Kausalya, unable to control her wrath, addressed the King: "Here stands your minister who has returned from the forest after leaving my child to fulfil your command. Why are you silent? It was easy and pleasant to give boons to Kaikeyi. Why are you ashamed of it now? Did you not know that this would be the result of what you did? You have honored your word. You may be happy over that. But who can share my sorrow with me? I have to bear it all. My grief cannot be reduced by your pain. No convention binds you to feel or appear to be grieved for what you have deliberately done. Why are you silent? You need not refrain from giving expression to sorrow for fear of offending Kaikeyi, for she is not here. Surely you should inquire of Sumantra about Rama. Have you no humanity? Why do you try to suppress even natural feelings?"
Her grief and love for Rama blinded her to the state of her husband's body and mind. Instead of lightening, she aggravated his suffering.
Dasaratha opened his eyes and Sumantra reported duly Rama's message in his own words.
Sumantra tried his best to console Kausalya. But she went on repeating: "Take me and leave me where Rama is. Young Sita is there with him facing the hardships of the forest. I cannot bear this agony. Let me go to Dandaka and be with Sita."
Sumantra answered: "Queen, be brave. Banish this grief. Rama spends his time even more happily in the forest than he did in Ayodhya. He feels no sorrow. Lakshmana finds joy in the supreme job of dutiful service to the brother he loves. He is very happy. As for Sita, there in the forest, as here in the palace, she lives for Rama with every breath and knows neither fear nor sorrow. She spends her time as though she was a sylvan goddess and is as happy there as she was here playing in the groves and gardens of Ayodhya. The beauty of her face is still like the rising moon's. Like a forest fawn she lives there with care-free grace, spending the, golden hours with Rama by her side. Every sight and sound is a new source of joy to her and the theme of talk with Rama and Lakshmana. Walking barefoot, her feet are red like the lotus, and need no painting with henna. She walks in the forest as if she were dancing.
She only lacks the tinkling anklets to make it complete. All that I say is true. There is no need for you to grieve. The three of them are fulfilling their sacred duty and offering an object lesson to the world. They are making the King's word good. Their life will be remembered and praised forever. Why, then, should we grieve for them?"
With such talk, Kausalya would be consoled for a while. But soon she would break down again and cry: "Alas, alas, Rama, my child." Her grief seemed redoubled when she saw Sumantra come back, leaving Rama in the forest.
As the charioteer approached the city, he found it desolate and devoid of the usual cheerful bustle of urban life. As
soon as he crossed the fortress-gate and entered the city, his chariot was surrounded by a crowd eagerly asking: "Where did you leave Rama? How was he when you left him?"
"Dear people of Ayodhya," said Sumantra, "Rama and Lakshmana have crossed the Ganga. Ordering me to return home, they entered the forest on foot."
A great cry of grief rose from the multitude and many cursed themselves and attributed the catastrophe to their own sins. On both sides of the streets, women stood as the chariot passed and cried: "Look at the car which departed with the princes and Sita and has come back empty."
Sumantra drove forward covering his face with the end of his upper garment, ashamed of himself. He stopped the chariot in front of Dasaratha's palace and alighted.
There in front of the palace a great crowd had gathered. Women were saying, "How is Sumantra going to meet Kausalya and tell her that he left her son in the forest? How will she survive the report?"
With increasing sorrow and confusion, Sumantra entered the Queen's apartment. There he saw the King more dead than alive. In low tones, he spoke of Rama's message to the King who heard it in heartbroken silence.
Then Kausalya, unable to control her wrath, addressed the King: "Here stands your minister who has returned from the forest after leaving my child to fulfil your command. Why are you silent? It was easy and pleasant to give boons to Kaikeyi. Why are you ashamed of it now? Did you not know that this would be the result of what you did? You have honored your word. You may be happy over that. But who can share my sorrow with me? I have to bear it all. My grief cannot be reduced by your pain. No convention binds you to feel or appear to be grieved for what you have deliberately done. Why are you silent? You need not refrain from giving expression to sorrow for fear of offending Kaikeyi, for she is not here. Surely you should inquire of Sumantra about Rama. Have you no humanity? Why do you try to suppress even natural feelings?"
Her grief and love for Rama blinded her to the state of her husband's body and mind. Instead of lightening, she aggravated his suffering.
Dasaratha opened his eyes and Sumantra reported duly Rama's message in his own words.
Sumantra tried his best to console Kausalya. But she went on repeating: "Take me and leave me where Rama is. Young Sita is there with him facing the hardships of the forest. I cannot bear this agony. Let me go to Dandaka and be with Sita."
Sumantra answered: "Queen, be brave. Banish this grief. Rama spends his time even more happily in the forest than he did in Ayodhya. He feels no sorrow. Lakshmana finds joy in the supreme job of dutiful service to the brother he loves. He is very happy. As for Sita, there in the forest, as here in the palace, she lives for Rama with every breath and knows neither fear nor sorrow. She spends her time as though she was a sylvan goddess and is as happy there as she was here playing in the groves and gardens of Ayodhya. The beauty of her face is still like the rising moon's. Like a forest fawn she lives there with care-free grace, spending the, golden hours with Rama by her side. Every sight and sound is a new source of joy to her and the theme of talk with Rama and Lakshmana. Walking barefoot, her feet are red like the lotus, and need no painting with henna. She walks in the forest as if she were dancing.
She only lacks the tinkling anklets to make it complete. All that I say is true. There is no need for you to grieve. The three of them are fulfilling their sacred duty and offering an object lesson to the world. They are making the King's word good. Their life will be remembered and praised forever. Why, then, should we grieve for them?"
With such talk, Kausalya would be consoled for a while. But soon she would break down again and cry: "Alas, alas, Rama, my child." Her grief seemed redoubled when she saw Sumantra come back, leaving Rama in the forest.
22) IDLE SPORT AND TERRIBLE RESULT:
Dasaradha had been driven ruthlessly by circumstances to an action which not only broke his heart but made him hate himself and deprived him even of self- pity. The only way out of the dilemma of either breaking his plighted word or doing a great wrong to Rama would have been for the latter to disobey him and insist on his rights. But Rama placed his duty to his father high above all other things. And Rama was all the world to Sita and Lakshmana. So they had all gone together.
To Dasaratha, agonising on his bed of pain in desolation and remorse, Kausalya spoke reproachful words.
The stinging words in which Kausalya's sorrow found expression caused excruciating pain to Dasaratha, but she seemed to find some relief in giving vent to her feelings in this way.
"Proud of having kept your word and happy in young Kaikeyi's approval and gratification, have you any thought for others? You have been my world and my god, my joy in this world and my hope for the next and you have forsaken me. My son, the light of my life, has been wrenched away from me and banished. I live here alone, old, helpless woman, without the love of my lord or the sight of my only son. Was ever a woman left more desolate? But you, are you not delighted with what you have done? It is enough for you that Kaikeyi and Bharata are happy. You need not entertain any fear that Rama will mar that happiness, even if he returned from the forest after fourteen years. He will not touch the kingdom once ruled by Bharata. The tiger does not touch the leavings of another animal's. Like a fish, eating its offspring, you have killed your own child."
Touched to the quick, the King even in the intensity of his anguish turned to his wife with a humble prayer for forgiveness with clasped hands.
"Have pity on me, Kausalya," he moaned. "You have been kind and forgiving even to strangers. Do have some compassion on your husband who has always loved and honored you and whose heart is broken by a sorrow which knows no remedy!"
These piteous words and the sight of her husband in supplication and the memory of happier hours pierced the noble queen to the heart and she fell at his feet imploring forgiveness for unbecoming words forced out of her by grief.
As the leaden hours crept slowly on, Dasaratha remembered something that had happened long ago and it aggravated the anguish of his heart.
The King turned to Kausalya and said: "Are you still here, my dear? The fruit of one's action can never be escaped. I now endure the result of a great sin that I committed in the days that are gone. Men in their ignorance sometimes do great evils for the sake of some slight momentary pleasure. Then when the time comes, the price has to be paid. When I was young, I had the skill to use my bow against unseen targets aiming by sound only. For the pleasure of exercising this skill, I once killed an innocent man and committed a great sin. Listen, I shall relate to you that sad adventure. It was before you came to me. One night I went, out in my chariot to hunt on the banks of the Sarayu. It had been raining heavily and, from the mountainsides, the streams were running dyed with the rich colors of minerals and fresh soil. The birds were silent. The forest seemed asleep. I could take the aim by the ear and shoot, without seeing, a tiger or bear or other wild beast that might come to slake its thirst in the stream. I wanted to test this skill of mine. It was dense darkness. I waited for some wild animal to come. Then I heard a gurgling sound as of an elephant drinking. At once I aimed an arrow in the direction whence the sound came. Like a venomous serpent, swish went my dart and hit the object. But I was shocked to hear a human voice exclaim 'Alas! I am dead!' I heard the man cry again piteously, 'Who can be my enemy? Never have I done any harm to anyone. Who then could want to kill me thus as I was filling my pitcher with water? What could he gain by this? Why should anyone bear hate against one living his innocent hermit life in the forest? What is to happen to my old blind parents now, with none to look after them? O misery!' Horror-struck, I stood trembling in every limb. My bow and arrow slipped from my hands. I approached the place from where the voice came and I found a young ascetic lying on the ground with dishevelled hair, covered all over with blood and earth. Beside him lay an upturned pitcher. The look of his eyes was as fire. When he saw me, he cried, 'O Sinner that has killed me! Why did you aim your arrow at me that was taking water from the stream? My old blind parents are thirsty and are waiting for me in the ashrama, thinking that I would return with my pitcher filled. Why did you kill me? O God, my penances and my devotions have all gone to naught. My parents do not know that I lie here stricken and helpless. They will go on waiting for me and even if they knew it, what could they do, blind and helpless? Who are you? What! Are you not the King of Kosala? And so, you, the King, who should by right protect me, have slain me. Very well, O King, go yourself and tell them what you have done. Fall at their feet and beg for forgiveness. Else, their anger will reduce you to ashes. Go straight to the ashrama. Take that path there. Go at once and save yourself. But this arrow is a torture. Pull it out and relieve me of the pain before you go.' I knew that if I pulled out the arrow from his body, his pain would end indeed, but so would his life in a gush of blood. My hand refused to do the deed. For a while I stood, not knowing what to do. Then, the young ascetic said: 'Do not hesitate. Do end my pain. My mind is now clear and I have calmed myself. Boldly pull out the arrow and release my life.' Gently I pulled the arrow out. The young ascetic turned on the ground, heaved a sigh and, with his eyes fixed on me, breathed his last. It is this crime of mine that is now pursuing me. The agony of those blind parents who were deprived by me of their son has come now for me to endure."
To Dasaratha, agonising on his bed of pain in desolation and remorse, Kausalya spoke reproachful words.
The stinging words in which Kausalya's sorrow found expression caused excruciating pain to Dasaratha, but she seemed to find some relief in giving vent to her feelings in this way.
"Proud of having kept your word and happy in young Kaikeyi's approval and gratification, have you any thought for others? You have been my world and my god, my joy in this world and my hope for the next and you have forsaken me. My son, the light of my life, has been wrenched away from me and banished. I live here alone, old, helpless woman, without the love of my lord or the sight of my only son. Was ever a woman left more desolate? But you, are you not delighted with what you have done? It is enough for you that Kaikeyi and Bharata are happy. You need not entertain any fear that Rama will mar that happiness, even if he returned from the forest after fourteen years. He will not touch the kingdom once ruled by Bharata. The tiger does not touch the leavings of another animal's. Like a fish, eating its offspring, you have killed your own child."
Touched to the quick, the King even in the intensity of his anguish turned to his wife with a humble prayer for forgiveness with clasped hands.
"Have pity on me, Kausalya," he moaned. "You have been kind and forgiving even to strangers. Do have some compassion on your husband who has always loved and honored you and whose heart is broken by a sorrow which knows no remedy!"
These piteous words and the sight of her husband in supplication and the memory of happier hours pierced the noble queen to the heart and she fell at his feet imploring forgiveness for unbecoming words forced out of her by grief.
As the leaden hours crept slowly on, Dasaratha remembered something that had happened long ago and it aggravated the anguish of his heart.
The King turned to Kausalya and said: "Are you still here, my dear? The fruit of one's action can never be escaped. I now endure the result of a great sin that I committed in the days that are gone. Men in their ignorance sometimes do great evils for the sake of some slight momentary pleasure. Then when the time comes, the price has to be paid. When I was young, I had the skill to use my bow against unseen targets aiming by sound only. For the pleasure of exercising this skill, I once killed an innocent man and committed a great sin. Listen, I shall relate to you that sad adventure. It was before you came to me. One night I went, out in my chariot to hunt on the banks of the Sarayu. It had been raining heavily and, from the mountainsides, the streams were running dyed with the rich colors of minerals and fresh soil. The birds were silent. The forest seemed asleep. I could take the aim by the ear and shoot, without seeing, a tiger or bear or other wild beast that might come to slake its thirst in the stream. I wanted to test this skill of mine. It was dense darkness. I waited for some wild animal to come. Then I heard a gurgling sound as of an elephant drinking. At once I aimed an arrow in the direction whence the sound came. Like a venomous serpent, swish went my dart and hit the object. But I was shocked to hear a human voice exclaim 'Alas! I am dead!' I heard the man cry again piteously, 'Who can be my enemy? Never have I done any harm to anyone. Who then could want to kill me thus as I was filling my pitcher with water? What could he gain by this? Why should anyone bear hate against one living his innocent hermit life in the forest? What is to happen to my old blind parents now, with none to look after them? O misery!' Horror-struck, I stood trembling in every limb. My bow and arrow slipped from my hands. I approached the place from where the voice came and I found a young ascetic lying on the ground with dishevelled hair, covered all over with blood and earth. Beside him lay an upturned pitcher. The look of his eyes was as fire. When he saw me, he cried, 'O Sinner that has killed me! Why did you aim your arrow at me that was taking water from the stream? My old blind parents are thirsty and are waiting for me in the ashrama, thinking that I would return with my pitcher filled. Why did you kill me? O God, my penances and my devotions have all gone to naught. My parents do not know that I lie here stricken and helpless. They will go on waiting for me and even if they knew it, what could they do, blind and helpless? Who are you? What! Are you not the King of Kosala? And so, you, the King, who should by right protect me, have slain me. Very well, O King, go yourself and tell them what you have done. Fall at their feet and beg for forgiveness. Else, their anger will reduce you to ashes. Go straight to the ashrama. Take that path there. Go at once and save yourself. But this arrow is a torture. Pull it out and relieve me of the pain before you go.' I knew that if I pulled out the arrow from his body, his pain would end indeed, but so would his life in a gush of blood. My hand refused to do the deed. For a while I stood, not knowing what to do. Then, the young ascetic said: 'Do not hesitate. Do end my pain. My mind is now clear and I have calmed myself. Boldly pull out the arrow and release my life.' Gently I pulled the arrow out. The young ascetic turned on the ground, heaved a sigh and, with his eyes fixed on me, breathed his last. It is this crime of mine that is now pursuing me. The agony of those blind parents who were deprived by me of their son has come now for me to endure."
23) LAST MOMENTS OF DASARATHA :
Dasaratha continued: "Listen, I shall tell you what followed. Having committed a sin and seeing the young ascetic die, I stood wondering what-to do next. Finally I decided that it was my duty and my interest to do what he advised me. I cleaned the pitcher, and filling it with fresh water, took it and went along the footpath he had pointed out. I reached his cottage and there I saw the old couple waiting for the return of their son. They sat there like two birds with broken wings shrivelled in body and unable to move. Both were blind. They were speaking to each other about the long delay of their son in fetching water from the stream. I was filled with terror as I slowly approached them. The old man, hearing my footsteps, mumbled: 'Why this long delay, my son? Quickly give me some water to drink. Your mother too is athirst. Were you making your pleasure in the stream? Was this the cause of your delay, son? Why are you silent? Even if your mother or I have offended you in any manner, you should not take it to heart. You are a perfect son and our only prop. We have lost our eyesight and you serve as our eyes. Indeed you are more than our life to us. Why are you still silent? Are you still angry. I trembled in fear when I heard the toothless old man talking thus. Gathering courage I began: 'O, holy one, I am Dasaratha by name, a Kshatriya, bound to obey and serve you, though not your son. Driven by my former karma, I have committed a terrible sin and stand in abject humility before you. I went to the riverbank for sport, hoping to shoot wild beasts. I thought I heard in the darkness an elephant drinking water. I aimed my arrow, as I am a marksman that can aim by sound as well as by sight. It was my misfortune and his fate that my arrow struck your son as he was filling his pitcher, with the gurgling I had mistaken for that of an elephant drinking. Thus, without intending it, I fatally wounded your beloved son. When I went to the spot and saw him rolling in blood with my arrow stuck in his breast, I cursed myself. I was filled with horror and stood not knowing what to do. At his request I pulled the arrow out to release him from the mortal pain. He is dead. I have told you the horrible sin I have committed. I throw myself at your mercy. I await your judgment.' The miserable couples were struck dumb by my dreadful tale about their son. Tears poured from their sightless eyes, and the old man said: 'King, your sin is indeed great. But it was done in ignorance. And you have come yourself to tell me your crime. So you shall live. Now take us both to the spot. Let us touch our beloved son with our hands and send him into Yama's keeping.'
I carried them to the river bank where their son lay dead. They felt his body all over, cried and blessed his soul and performed the cremation. Then before ascending the funeral pyre and giving them selves up to the fire, they turned to me and said: 'This great grief you have brought about for us, you too, will endure in good time. You will die of grief parted from your son.' Saying this, they burnt themselves and their souls joined the gods. My sin has pursued me and I am now in its grip. My old crime is killing me now. As food prohibited by they doctors foolishly consumed by a sick man kills him, what that old father uttered in unbearable grief has now come true. I have sent my innocent son to the forest and, unable to bear the grief, I now enter Yama's abode. How else could these unnatural events occur? How else could I be thus deceived and betrayed? Even if I ordered Rama to go to forest, why should he obey my unjust command? Why should he insist on being exiled? It is the curse of that old blind couple, nothing else. Kausalya, I do not see you. My sight is gone. Death is fast approaching. Come nearer and let me feel you. All is over. The messengers of Yama are calling me. Will Rama come? Shall I see him before I die? Oh, I am dying. The oil is all consumed and my light is going out! Ah Kausalya! Oh Sumitra!"
His life slowly ebbed away and that night at some time unobserved by any, the King breathed his last.
As described by Valmiki in the early pages of the epic, Dasaratha was one who had mastered all the Vedas and Shastras, was a farsighted person, the hero of many battles, the performer of many sacrifices, follower of dharma, a far-famed king with many friends and no foes, and one who had conquered his senses. His power was like Indra's. His wealth was like Kubera's. In statesmanship, he was like Manu. Fate had ordered that such a one should exile his beloved son and die of a broken heart, with none by him in his last moments but two faithful women stricken by himself with a common sorrow.
Since the King had so often fainted and recovered, his death was not immediately noticed by Kausalya or Sumitra. They were weary, too, with grief and watching, and fell into a sleep of fatigue in a corner of the apartment. At dawn, the musicians and singers, whose duty it was to rouse the King from slumber, came to his bedchamber and played on instruments and sang the usual hymns.
But they saw no sign of the King waking. The royal servants who attended to the King's morning needs waited long and wondered why he slept till so late. Then they made bold to enter the apartment and saw him lying dead.
Soon the news spread and filled the palace with grief. The widows of the great Dasaratha cried like orphaned children, embracing one another in unavailing lamentation.
I carried them to the river bank where their son lay dead. They felt his body all over, cried and blessed his soul and performed the cremation. Then before ascending the funeral pyre and giving them selves up to the fire, they turned to me and said: 'This great grief you have brought about for us, you too, will endure in good time. You will die of grief parted from your son.' Saying this, they burnt themselves and their souls joined the gods. My sin has pursued me and I am now in its grip. My old crime is killing me now. As food prohibited by they doctors foolishly consumed by a sick man kills him, what that old father uttered in unbearable grief has now come true. I have sent my innocent son to the forest and, unable to bear the grief, I now enter Yama's abode. How else could these unnatural events occur? How else could I be thus deceived and betrayed? Even if I ordered Rama to go to forest, why should he obey my unjust command? Why should he insist on being exiled? It is the curse of that old blind couple, nothing else. Kausalya, I do not see you. My sight is gone. Death is fast approaching. Come nearer and let me feel you. All is over. The messengers of Yama are calling me. Will Rama come? Shall I see him before I die? Oh, I am dying. The oil is all consumed and my light is going out! Ah Kausalya! Oh Sumitra!"
His life slowly ebbed away and that night at some time unobserved by any, the King breathed his last.
As described by Valmiki in the early pages of the epic, Dasaratha was one who had mastered all the Vedas and Shastras, was a farsighted person, the hero of many battles, the performer of many sacrifices, follower of dharma, a far-famed king with many friends and no foes, and one who had conquered his senses. His power was like Indra's. His wealth was like Kubera's. In statesmanship, he was like Manu. Fate had ordered that such a one should exile his beloved son and die of a broken heart, with none by him in his last moments but two faithful women stricken by himself with a common sorrow.
Since the King had so often fainted and recovered, his death was not immediately noticed by Kausalya or Sumitra. They were weary, too, with grief and watching, and fell into a sleep of fatigue in a corner of the apartment. At dawn, the musicians and singers, whose duty it was to rouse the King from slumber, came to his bedchamber and played on instruments and sang the usual hymns.
But they saw no sign of the King waking. The royal servants who attended to the King's morning needs waited long and wondered why he slept till so late. Then they made bold to enter the apartment and saw him lying dead.
Soon the news spread and filled the palace with grief. The widows of the great Dasaratha cried like orphaned children, embracing one another in unavailing lamentation.
24) BHARATA ARRIVES :
Kausalya clung to the King's body and cried: "I shall go with the King to Yama's abode. How can I live without my son and without my husband?"
The elders and officers of the palace managed to separate her from the dead
King and take her away. Then they discussed about the funeral rites. They could not be performed immediately, for Rama and Lakshmana had gone to the forest and Bharata and Satrughna were far away in their uncle's place. It was decided to send for Bharata and to keep the body immersed in oil till his arrival.
The great monarch's remains were thus kept waiting for Bharata's arrival. Ayodhya, the city of splendor, was sunk in darkness and lamentation. Crowds of women met here and there and reviled Kaikeyi. There was anxiety in men's hearts. The crown prince had gone to the forest. Bharata too was far away. Anarchy was feared, for no one in those days could imagine a people going on without a king.
After the long night had passed, the ministers, officers and elders assembled in the hall in the morning. Markandeya, Vamadeva, Kashyapa, Katyayana, Gautama, Jabali and other learned men, with Sumantra and the other ministers, bowed to Vasishtha and said:
"Sir, the night we have passed was like a century. The King is no more. Rama and Lakshmana are in the forest. Bharata and Satrughna are in far off Kekaya in their grandfather's house. Someone must forthwith be asked to take up the responsibility of rule. A land without a king cannot survive. Order will disappear, son will not obey father, nor wife her husband. The rains will hold back. Thieves and robbers will range at will. There will be no mutual trust among people. Neither agriculture nor trade can flourish. Without a king, the land must lose its prosperity. The springs of charity will dry up. Festivals and services will cease to be performed in temples. There will be no expounding of Shastras or epics, nor any listeners. People will no more sleep with doors open. Culture will decline and soon disappear. Penances, vows, enjoyments, learning, all depend on the king's protection. The beauty of women will vanish. The sense of security will be lost. Men will eat one another up as, fish do. Cruelty and misery will grow apace and lay waste the land. For good to prosper and evil to be restrained, a king is essential."
Thus Valmiki describes at length the dangers of anarchy through the mouths of leaders in that assembly.
"It looks as if a great darkness has enveloped the land," they said. "Dharma is in danger. Let us forthwith secure a king."
Vasishtha sent for tried messengers and said to them: "Start at once. Go straight and swift to Kekaya. See that you wear no sign of sorrow on your face or show it in your behavior. Bharata should not know that the King is dead. Tell him simply that the family preceptor and ministers want his presence at once in Ayodhya and bring him along with you with all the speed you may. Tell him nothing about Rama and Sita going to the forest or the King's death on account of grief. To avoid all suspicion, take with you the usual gifts of jewels and precious garments for presentation to the King of Kekaya." From this we can understand the meaning of what the Shastras and Kural say about Truth. Truthfulness should be such that it needlessly hurts no being in the world. The test for right conduct including truthfulness is harmlessness. This does not mean that truth is underrated.
Soon the messengers were provisioned and equipped for the long journey and furnished with gifts of honor. Mounted on swift and sturdy horses, they sped past rivers and forests, up hill and down dale, and reached Kekaya, which was somewhere to the west of the modern Punjab, and found themselves in Rajagriha, its capital, where the Ikshvaku princes were residing in the palace of their maternal uncle. They decided to wait on the princes the next morning.
The night the messengers arrived, Bharata had evil dreams and woke up in the morning filled with anxiety as to what they might portend. His face showed the state of his mind. His companions tried to entertain him with dance and mirth to make him forget his cares, but did not succeed.
We still do not know all the secrets of nature and the telepathy of affection. Maybe, Dasaratha's mental anguish and death throes reached Bharata across space and caused him his bad dreams. He said to himself: "It seems to me that death is approaching my brother Rama or Lakshmana or myself. They say that an early morning dream does not fail to be fulfilled. And mine has been a terrible dream. I am full of fear. I know not what to do."
Just then the messengers were announced. The King of Kekaya and his son Yudhajit received the envoys with due courtesy.
They paid their respects to the King and that princes, then turned to Bharata and said:
"The priests and ministers send you their blessings and request you to return at once to Ayodhya. They want us to convey to you that the need for your presence there is most urgent. Please touch for acceptance these garments and jewels to be given to your uncle and to the King as gifts from the palace of Ayodhya."
Bharata questioned the messengers after the welfare of all at home. The manner of his inquiry suggests that he had an uneasy premonition that his mother's headstrong and ambitious nature might have had something to do with this hasty summons home. "And is my mother, the haughty and irascible Queen Kaikeyi who believes herself all-wise and must always have her way, is she in good health?"
The messengers must have been at their wits' end for an answer. The best they could make was: "O tiger among men, all are well whose welfare is dear to you. Lakshmi, the goddess of sovereignty, whose abode is the lotus, woos you. Get into your chariot without loss of time." There was an enigmatic thought in this greeting, for according to them Bharata was to be installed on the throne.
The prince took leave of his uncle and grandfather for returning home and preparations were made for his departure. The old king and Yudhajit collected rare and valuable things of their country to be sent as gifts to King Dasaratha and Prince Rama of Ayodhya. Bharata and Satrughna mounted their chariots and started with a big retinue towards Ayodhya. They travelled fast, unmindful of fatigue, and by forced marches reached Ayodhya on the morning of the eighth day.
As he approached the city, Bharata's mind was filled with misgiving. Nothing seemed to be as it was before, and the air seemed heavy with disaster. He asked the charioteer: "Why does the city wear such a strange look? I do not see the usual crowds of people going in and coming out in the gardens outside the city. One used to see young men and women with bright, cheerful faces. But now they all seem sad."
Bharata's chariot entered the city through the Victory Gate. The streets, houses and temples were bare and unadorned. The faces of the people looked drawn and famished.
"Why are the musical instruments silent?" he asked. "Why are the citizens not decked with flowers and sandal paste? These are all bad signs. I cannot repress my anxiety."
Inauspicious omens were seen everywhere. Bharata concluded that some great misfortune had overtaken the city and that was the reason why he had been so hastily sent for. He entered Dasaratha's palace. The King was not to be seen. His anxiety increased.
He then entered Kaikeyi's palace. When she saw her son after a long absence, she jumped from her golden couch to embrace him. He bent down and touched her feet. She kissed his head and welcomed him with maternal blessings.
"Did you have a good journey?" she asked. "Are your uncle and grandfather well? Tell me all about them."
He answered: "The journey took seven days. All our people at Kekaya are happy and well. Grandfather and uncle send you their love. They have sent rich gifts for you, but these will arrive later. I have come in advance. The envoys hurried me, saying there was urgent work demanding my presence here. What is all this about? I went to the King's palace to pay him my respects. He was not to be found there and here too his couch is empty. Perhaps he is with one of my senior mothers. I must go and see him and tender my respects."
When Bharata, innocent of heart and unaware of what had happened, said this, the foolish queen intoxicated with a new sense of power answered: "My child, your father had his full share of the blessings of this life. His fame was great. He performed all the sacrifices enjoined by tradition. He was a refuge for the good. He has now entered the higher world and joined the gods."
On hearing this, Bharata fell down uttering a cry, his long arms stretched out on the ground. Rising, he looked at his father's empty bed and sobbed like a destitute orphan. The mighty hero threw his god-like frame on the earth and wept like a child in uncontrolled grief.
Looking at her son, who lay on the ground like a big tree fallen to the axe, Kaikeyi said: "Arise, O King. Stand up. It is not right for a king thus to mourn and roll on the ground. Honor and glory are waiting for your acceptance. You are to uphold the dharma and perform sacrifices in the way of your royal fathers. Your intelligence shines like the noonday sun. No misfortune dare come near you. Son, strong of limb and brave-hearted, stand up."
Bharata's mind was immaculate, spotless. He did not see all that Kaikeyi had put in this her appeal!
After lamenting long, he got up and said: "When I went to my uncle's house I had hoped that Rama's installation as Yuvaraja would come off soon and that on my return I would see the great festive ceremonies. How differently have things turned out! How am I to bear this calamity? No more shall I see my father's 'face. What did he die of? How did he get the illness? And I was not by his side when he lay sick! It was given to Rama to tend him in his last moments. How affectionate the King was towards me! If some dust settled on my body, he would wipe it with his hand. And how soft and pleasing was his touch! And it was not given me to serve him in his need. But mother where is Rama? Hereafter he is both father and preceptor to me. I must see him at once and kiss his feet. He is now my sole refuge. What was my father's last message to me? I want his very words."
Kaikeyi's answer had to be consistent both with truth and her designs. She was pulled in contrary directions by her culture and her ambition. She found words which conveyed that the King did not think of Bharata in his last moments. She also wished to prepare him for the rest of the news. She said: "Your father breathed his last crying, 'Ha, Rama, Ha, Lakshmana, Ha, Janaki.' These were his last words." He died saying: "It is not given me to live to see Rama, Lakshmana and Sita return. Happy they who will see their return."
Listening to this, Bharata gathered that Rama and Lakshmana too were absent from the Kings side. His grief increased and he asked Kaikeyi: "Where were they? What business took them away from our father's side during his last moments?"
Hoping to pacify him, Kaikeyi said: "My son, Rama put on the garments of an ascetic and, taking Lakshmana and Sita with him, went to the Dandaka forest."
Bharata's amazement now knew no bounds. He asked: "I understand nothing of what you are saying. What sin did Rama commit that he should undertake such expiation? Did be rob any Brahmana or cause bodily hurt to any innocent person or desire somebody else's wife? Why did he have to go to the forest? Who laid on him this penance?"
In those days people went of their own will or were sent to the forest as a purifying punishment for such and other heinous crimes. Now Kaikeyi shaken out of silence by this tempest of questions came out with the truth foolishly hoping for the best.
"Rama committed no crime. He neither robbed nor harmed anyone. And it was not in Rama's nature to cast eyes of desire at other people's wives. What happened was that, seeing that preparations were afoot for installing him as crown prince and regent, I approached the King for your sake and secured the fulfillment of two boons he had long ago granted to me. I asked that the kingdom should go to you and that Rama should be exiled to the forest. Bound by his past promise, the King agreed. Rama has therefore gone to the forest with Sita and Lakshmana.
Unable to bear this separation, your father expired of grief. Do not waste yourself in vain lamentations now. Think now what you should do. You know dharma. Your duty is to accept the burden of kingship. I did all this for your sake and you should accept the fruit of my action in the spirit in which I acted. The city and kingdom have come into your possession without your wanting or working for it. Following the injunctions of Vasishtha and other learned men, perform duly your father's obsequies and then prepare for the coronation. You are a Kshatriya. You have inherited your father's kingdom. Attend to what has fallen to you as your duty."
The elders and officers of the palace managed to separate her from the dead
King and take her away. Then they discussed about the funeral rites. They could not be performed immediately, for Rama and Lakshmana had gone to the forest and Bharata and Satrughna were far away in their uncle's place. It was decided to send for Bharata and to keep the body immersed in oil till his arrival.
The great monarch's remains were thus kept waiting for Bharata's arrival. Ayodhya, the city of splendor, was sunk in darkness and lamentation. Crowds of women met here and there and reviled Kaikeyi. There was anxiety in men's hearts. The crown prince had gone to the forest. Bharata too was far away. Anarchy was feared, for no one in those days could imagine a people going on without a king.
After the long night had passed, the ministers, officers and elders assembled in the hall in the morning. Markandeya, Vamadeva, Kashyapa, Katyayana, Gautama, Jabali and other learned men, with Sumantra and the other ministers, bowed to Vasishtha and said:
"Sir, the night we have passed was like a century. The King is no more. Rama and Lakshmana are in the forest. Bharata and Satrughna are in far off Kekaya in their grandfather's house. Someone must forthwith be asked to take up the responsibility of rule. A land without a king cannot survive. Order will disappear, son will not obey father, nor wife her husband. The rains will hold back. Thieves and robbers will range at will. There will be no mutual trust among people. Neither agriculture nor trade can flourish. Without a king, the land must lose its prosperity. The springs of charity will dry up. Festivals and services will cease to be performed in temples. There will be no expounding of Shastras or epics, nor any listeners. People will no more sleep with doors open. Culture will decline and soon disappear. Penances, vows, enjoyments, learning, all depend on the king's protection. The beauty of women will vanish. The sense of security will be lost. Men will eat one another up as, fish do. Cruelty and misery will grow apace and lay waste the land. For good to prosper and evil to be restrained, a king is essential."
Thus Valmiki describes at length the dangers of anarchy through the mouths of leaders in that assembly.
"It looks as if a great darkness has enveloped the land," they said. "Dharma is in danger. Let us forthwith secure a king."
Vasishtha sent for tried messengers and said to them: "Start at once. Go straight and swift to Kekaya. See that you wear no sign of sorrow on your face or show it in your behavior. Bharata should not know that the King is dead. Tell him simply that the family preceptor and ministers want his presence at once in Ayodhya and bring him along with you with all the speed you may. Tell him nothing about Rama and Sita going to the forest or the King's death on account of grief. To avoid all suspicion, take with you the usual gifts of jewels and precious garments for presentation to the King of Kekaya." From this we can understand the meaning of what the Shastras and Kural say about Truth. Truthfulness should be such that it needlessly hurts no being in the world. The test for right conduct including truthfulness is harmlessness. This does not mean that truth is underrated.
Soon the messengers were provisioned and equipped for the long journey and furnished with gifts of honor. Mounted on swift and sturdy horses, they sped past rivers and forests, up hill and down dale, and reached Kekaya, which was somewhere to the west of the modern Punjab, and found themselves in Rajagriha, its capital, where the Ikshvaku princes were residing in the palace of their maternal uncle. They decided to wait on the princes the next morning.
The night the messengers arrived, Bharata had evil dreams and woke up in the morning filled with anxiety as to what they might portend. His face showed the state of his mind. His companions tried to entertain him with dance and mirth to make him forget his cares, but did not succeed.
We still do not know all the secrets of nature and the telepathy of affection. Maybe, Dasaratha's mental anguish and death throes reached Bharata across space and caused him his bad dreams. He said to himself: "It seems to me that death is approaching my brother Rama or Lakshmana or myself. They say that an early morning dream does not fail to be fulfilled. And mine has been a terrible dream. I am full of fear. I know not what to do."
Just then the messengers were announced. The King of Kekaya and his son Yudhajit received the envoys with due courtesy.
They paid their respects to the King and that princes, then turned to Bharata and said:
"The priests and ministers send you their blessings and request you to return at once to Ayodhya. They want us to convey to you that the need for your presence there is most urgent. Please touch for acceptance these garments and jewels to be given to your uncle and to the King as gifts from the palace of Ayodhya."
Bharata questioned the messengers after the welfare of all at home. The manner of his inquiry suggests that he had an uneasy premonition that his mother's headstrong and ambitious nature might have had something to do with this hasty summons home. "And is my mother, the haughty and irascible Queen Kaikeyi who believes herself all-wise and must always have her way, is she in good health?"
The messengers must have been at their wits' end for an answer. The best they could make was: "O tiger among men, all are well whose welfare is dear to you. Lakshmi, the goddess of sovereignty, whose abode is the lotus, woos you. Get into your chariot without loss of time." There was an enigmatic thought in this greeting, for according to them Bharata was to be installed on the throne.
The prince took leave of his uncle and grandfather for returning home and preparations were made for his departure. The old king and Yudhajit collected rare and valuable things of their country to be sent as gifts to King Dasaratha and Prince Rama of Ayodhya. Bharata and Satrughna mounted their chariots and started with a big retinue towards Ayodhya. They travelled fast, unmindful of fatigue, and by forced marches reached Ayodhya on the morning of the eighth day.
As he approached the city, Bharata's mind was filled with misgiving. Nothing seemed to be as it was before, and the air seemed heavy with disaster. He asked the charioteer: "Why does the city wear such a strange look? I do not see the usual crowds of people going in and coming out in the gardens outside the city. One used to see young men and women with bright, cheerful faces. But now they all seem sad."
Bharata's chariot entered the city through the Victory Gate. The streets, houses and temples were bare and unadorned. The faces of the people looked drawn and famished.
"Why are the musical instruments silent?" he asked. "Why are the citizens not decked with flowers and sandal paste? These are all bad signs. I cannot repress my anxiety."
Inauspicious omens were seen everywhere. Bharata concluded that some great misfortune had overtaken the city and that was the reason why he had been so hastily sent for. He entered Dasaratha's palace. The King was not to be seen. His anxiety increased.
He then entered Kaikeyi's palace. When she saw her son after a long absence, she jumped from her golden couch to embrace him. He bent down and touched her feet. She kissed his head and welcomed him with maternal blessings.
"Did you have a good journey?" she asked. "Are your uncle and grandfather well? Tell me all about them."
He answered: "The journey took seven days. All our people at Kekaya are happy and well. Grandfather and uncle send you their love. They have sent rich gifts for you, but these will arrive later. I have come in advance. The envoys hurried me, saying there was urgent work demanding my presence here. What is all this about? I went to the King's palace to pay him my respects. He was not to be found there and here too his couch is empty. Perhaps he is with one of my senior mothers. I must go and see him and tender my respects."
When Bharata, innocent of heart and unaware of what had happened, said this, the foolish queen intoxicated with a new sense of power answered: "My child, your father had his full share of the blessings of this life. His fame was great. He performed all the sacrifices enjoined by tradition. He was a refuge for the good. He has now entered the higher world and joined the gods."
On hearing this, Bharata fell down uttering a cry, his long arms stretched out on the ground. Rising, he looked at his father's empty bed and sobbed like a destitute orphan. The mighty hero threw his god-like frame on the earth and wept like a child in uncontrolled grief.
Looking at her son, who lay on the ground like a big tree fallen to the axe, Kaikeyi said: "Arise, O King. Stand up. It is not right for a king thus to mourn and roll on the ground. Honor and glory are waiting for your acceptance. You are to uphold the dharma and perform sacrifices in the way of your royal fathers. Your intelligence shines like the noonday sun. No misfortune dare come near you. Son, strong of limb and brave-hearted, stand up."
Bharata's mind was immaculate, spotless. He did not see all that Kaikeyi had put in this her appeal!
After lamenting long, he got up and said: "When I went to my uncle's house I had hoped that Rama's installation as Yuvaraja would come off soon and that on my return I would see the great festive ceremonies. How differently have things turned out! How am I to bear this calamity? No more shall I see my father's 'face. What did he die of? How did he get the illness? And I was not by his side when he lay sick! It was given to Rama to tend him in his last moments. How affectionate the King was towards me! If some dust settled on my body, he would wipe it with his hand. And how soft and pleasing was his touch! And it was not given me to serve him in his need. But mother where is Rama? Hereafter he is both father and preceptor to me. I must see him at once and kiss his feet. He is now my sole refuge. What was my father's last message to me? I want his very words."
Kaikeyi's answer had to be consistent both with truth and her designs. She was pulled in contrary directions by her culture and her ambition. She found words which conveyed that the King did not think of Bharata in his last moments. She also wished to prepare him for the rest of the news. She said: "Your father breathed his last crying, 'Ha, Rama, Ha, Lakshmana, Ha, Janaki.' These were his last words." He died saying: "It is not given me to live to see Rama, Lakshmana and Sita return. Happy they who will see their return."
Listening to this, Bharata gathered that Rama and Lakshmana too were absent from the Kings side. His grief increased and he asked Kaikeyi: "Where were they? What business took them away from our father's side during his last moments?"
Hoping to pacify him, Kaikeyi said: "My son, Rama put on the garments of an ascetic and, taking Lakshmana and Sita with him, went to the Dandaka forest."
Bharata's amazement now knew no bounds. He asked: "I understand nothing of what you are saying. What sin did Rama commit that he should undertake such expiation? Did be rob any Brahmana or cause bodily hurt to any innocent person or desire somebody else's wife? Why did he have to go to the forest? Who laid on him this penance?"
In those days people went of their own will or were sent to the forest as a purifying punishment for such and other heinous crimes. Now Kaikeyi shaken out of silence by this tempest of questions came out with the truth foolishly hoping for the best.
"Rama committed no crime. He neither robbed nor harmed anyone. And it was not in Rama's nature to cast eyes of desire at other people's wives. What happened was that, seeing that preparations were afoot for installing him as crown prince and regent, I approached the King for your sake and secured the fulfillment of two boons he had long ago granted to me. I asked that the kingdom should go to you and that Rama should be exiled to the forest. Bound by his past promise, the King agreed. Rama has therefore gone to the forest with Sita and Lakshmana.
Unable to bear this separation, your father expired of grief. Do not waste yourself in vain lamentations now. Think now what you should do. You know dharma. Your duty is to accept the burden of kingship. I did all this for your sake and you should accept the fruit of my action in the spirit in which I acted. The city and kingdom have come into your possession without your wanting or working for it. Following the injunctions of Vasishtha and other learned men, perform duly your father's obsequies and then prepare for the coronation. You are a Kshatriya. You have inherited your father's kingdom. Attend to what has fallen to you as your duty."
25) INTRIGUE WASTED :
Now Bharata understood everything and realised the enormity of the harm wrought by his mother.
Overwhelmed by grief and near, he could not control himself. At the thought of what she had done and the eternal infamy she had incurred, his grief grew wild and he hurled cruel words at her.
"What have you done?" he cried. "Did you ever hope to make me accept the kingdom? Deprived of such a father and such a brother, am I likely to care for power? After causing the death of the King and the banishment of Rama, you ask me to take their place and rule the land. This is like pouring oil into the fire of my grief. How unfortunate was my father to have chosen you for a wife! Kausalya and Sumitra will also die of grief. Oh, how could you bring yourself to do this to Rama who was so devoted to you? Revered mother Kausalya treated you like her own blood-sister. How could you think of plotting against her beloved son? And did you not know how much I loved Rama? Greed destroyed your understanding. How else could you so foolishly plan for my happiness? Even the great King relied on Rama and Lakshmana. How could you believe that in their absence I could rule the kingdom? And, even if I could, would I agree? Never will your wish be fulfilled through my cooperation. I can no longer regard you as my mother. I cut myself off from all relation with you and decline to regard you as my mother. How could you ever think of setting aside rule and custom and getting a younger son crowned? Would not the world revile us for all time? The general law of kings and the tradition of our family cannot be violated. I will not carry out your wish. I shall go to the forest and bring Rama back. I shall set the crown on his head and rejoice in being his loyal servant."
To understand Bharata's feelings, we should keep in mind his innate noble nature, his love for Rama, his grief for his father and the sense of guilt and shame that for his sake his mother had done this grievous wrong. We should not weigh his words in dry air and a chemical balance. In such contexts, poetry flashes fire. One sees it both in Valmiki and Kamban.
Bharata raised his voice and spoke again: "Banish Rama indeed! It is you that ought to be banished, cruel woman, who have forsaken the path of dharma. So far as you are concerned you may take it that I am dead, for I would rather be dead than be son to a murderess! Murderess of your husband! You are not the daughter of the good King Asvapati. You are a Rakshasi. To what hell should you go, you, who banished the only child of mother Kausalya? What punishment would be too great for the grief you have caused her? Kamadhenu, the cow-mother, had hundreds of thousands of children, yet she shed tears at the sight of the suffering of two bulls yoked to a plough and her tears scalded Indra on his throne in high Heaven. And Kausalya's only child you sent to the forest, hoping thus that you and I could be made happy! I shall do the obsequies and go to the forest and fall at the feet of Rama and bring him to his kingdom. And then, to cleanse myself of the sin and the shame you have brought on me, I shall lead the life of an ascetic in the Dandaka forest. What a flood of sorrow have you let loose on the earth? By what penitence, by what self- mortification, can you redeem yourself? I shall go myself at once to Rama and get rid of my guilt by restoring the kingdom to him."
Finding no relief for his anguish by angry words, sighing like a young elephant newly captured, hot tears-falling from his eyes, he felt he could bear no longer the sight of his mother and rushed to Kausalya's apartment, there to find a better place to give vent to his sorrow.
Thus did Kaikeyi's castle in the air go up in smoke. She lay down on the floor and wept. The most painful of all reflexions is that of a crime perpetrated in vain.
Among the characters in the Ramayana, Bharata is the perfect embodiment of virtue. In the villages of the North, the people celebrate an annual festival for the episode of the meeting of Rama and Bharata at Chitrakuta, which they consider the most sanctifying part of the Ramayana epic. There have been through the ages great and noble souls whose virtue shines eternally in the midst of the sordid self-seeking of a sinful world, as a beacon light to seekers of the right path, and as a token of the god in man.
Soon the news of Bharata's arrival spread throughout the palace. Kausalya, still laboring under her grief, heard this, and was glad and told Sumitra, "Come, let us go and meet Bharata." Hardly had they taken a couple of steps when they saw
Bharata himself rushing wildly towards them to plead for mercy.
Kausalya's first thought when she heard of Bharata's arrival was that he had hastened back to assume the fortune which had come to him. Had not the elders and ministers, led by Vasishtha, decided to send for Bharata so that he might perform his father's obsequies and be crowned king? Hence, seeing Bharata, Kausalya, her heart desolate with her loss of husband and son, said in a low voice: "Bharata, the kingship is waiting secured for your sake by Kaikeyi. You need not fear any let or hindrance from us. Take it, and may all happiness be yours. Only one boon I crave of you to let me join your father on the funeral pyre."
These words were like stinging poison in Bharata's ears. He fell at her feet and clung to them, unable to speak.
Kausalya said again: "Oh Bharata, at least take me where Rama is in the forest."
Unable to bear all these piteous words of Kausalya and unable to speak, Bharata fell into a swoon. After a while he sat up and said: "Mother, why do you thus torture me who am innocent? You know I was far away and knew nothing of the wicked things going on here. Do you not know the love I bear for Rama? Would I ever do such a thing to him? May all the sins of the world descend on me if I had the least notion of the evil brewing here! I had nothing to do with it. I have no desire to reap its fruit."
He raised his hands and recited all the horrible sins that one could commit and invoked on himself the punishments due to them if he had any part in the plot.
In those days as now it was hard for a son to prove that he knew nothing of a scheme carried out by his mother for his benefit. Bharata could only swear his innocence again and again. He cared nothing for kingdom or wealth or power and it was a terrible torment to him that Kausalya should think him capable of greed for them at the expense of his brother. Indeed such a thought was hardly less cruel and unjust than Rama's exile! He could never accept the crown which was his beloved brother's birthright.
His passionate sincerity convinced Kausalya of the injustice of her suspicions, and her heart went out to him. Tenderly she raised him from the ground and took his head on her lap and caressed him as though he were Rama himself.
"My dear son, my grief is doubled by seeing the pain raging in your innocent heart. What shall we do child? We are the playthings of fate. May the reward of goodness come to you in this world and the next!"
Kausalya had not believed Bharata privy to the plot, but she feared that he would condone it and yield to the temptation of its results. Now she was convinced that Bharata's heart was completely free from stain. Though her own son had gone to the forest, she was pleased that such another son had come to her in his place.
Here, Kamban beautifully sings how Kausalya shed tears of joy over Bharata and embraced him imagining that Rama himself had returned from the forest. Kausalya said amidst her sobs: "Many were your ancestors who attained fame. You have surpassed them all in glory by renouncing the kingship that has come to you. You are indeed king among kings."
The Kausalya and Bharata portrayed by Kamban embody a culture. May these heroic figures and that culture live forever in the land of Bharata!
The obsequies of the dead King were duly performed. Vasishtha and other learned men and elders offered grave shastric consolation to Bharata and Satrughna. Fourteen days after the King's demise, the ministers called the Assembly and addressed Bharata thus:
"The King has gone to the world above. Rama and Lakshmana are in the forest. The land is now without a king. It is right that you should assume the rule at our request. The preparations for the coronation are all complete. The citizens and ministers are awaiting your acceptance. This is your kingdom lawfully descended from your ancestors, It is for you to be anointed and rule righteously over us."
Bharata went with folded hands round the materials gathered for the coronation and said in grave tones to the assembled elders:
"I do not consider it proper that you should ask me thus to accept the kingdom. According to the custom of our house, the throne belongs to the eldest son. With all respect to you, I have decided to go to the forest and bring Rama back to Ayodhya with Lakshmana and see that Rama is crowned. Please get ready the men and materials for this purpose. Prepare the road for the journey. Let laborers be mobilised for it. It is my final and irrevocable decision not to accept the crown."
Listening to the prince's words, the whole assembly was beside itself with joy. They applauded Bharata's suggestion. The army and a big retinue were got ready to accompany the prince to the forest. Quickly an army of workers with their tools went forward to prepare the road.
Men who knew the forest, pioneers who could dig wells and canals, builders of rafts and boats, carpenters and engineers, worked enthusiastically, because they were engaged in getting beloved Rama back. Culverts were built, trees felled, a broad road for the prince and his retinue was soon laid. Ups and downs were levelled, marshes drained, resting-places for the army and facilities for drinking water and all other conveniences were soon made ready.
Though thus preparations were made for Bharata's journey to the forest, Vasishtha and the other ministers formally summoned the Assembly again. They did not give up their desire to get Bharata to agree to be crowned. They sent messengers to Bharata palace and invited him to the Hall. They approached him with music playing on many instruments. All this pained him.
He stopped the musicians and sent the messengers back and told Satrughna: "Why should they still persist in tormenting me when I have refused the kingdom? This is the result of our mother's intrigue. My father has gone to Heaven leaving me to bear all this alone. The land needs a king; without one it drifts like a rudderless and derelict ship. We must soon get Rama back."
The Assembly sat eagerly looking for the entrance of the blameless prince. He entered the Hall as the full moon rises in the sky He bowed to the elders and sat down.
Vasishtha said: "This kingdom has been given to you by your father and your brother Rama. Accept it and protect us according to ancient custom."
Bharata's heart was far away with Rama. Tears fell from his yes. The young prince wept aloud in the midst of the royal Assembly and in a voice struggling with tears, he addressed words of respectful reproach to the preceptors:
"How can you ask one of my race and upbringing to usurp what belongs to another far nobler and more worthy than I? Can any son of Dasaratha possibly dream of such iniquity? This kingdom and I, and all else in it belong to Rama. He is the eldest son, the noblest among us, a lover of dharma, an equal to Dilipa and Nahusha of old. He is the rightful king. He is fit to be sovereign in the three worlds. Standing here I pay my homage to Rama there in the forest. He is the King, not I."
The Assembly burst into tears of joy when they heard Bharata speak thus.
And Bharata continued: "If I am unable to persuade King Rama to agree, I shall stay there performing penance. It is your duty, O Elders, to use every means to bring Rama back. I shall do all I can to make Rama come back to Ayodhya and make him King."
He then ordered Sumantra who was standing near him to hasten the preparations for going to the forest. The city rejoiced in anticipation of Rama's return, for all felt sure that nothing could resist the force of Bharata's dutiful love.
Overwhelmed by grief and near, he could not control himself. At the thought of what she had done and the eternal infamy she had incurred, his grief grew wild and he hurled cruel words at her.
"What have you done?" he cried. "Did you ever hope to make me accept the kingdom? Deprived of such a father and such a brother, am I likely to care for power? After causing the death of the King and the banishment of Rama, you ask me to take their place and rule the land. This is like pouring oil into the fire of my grief. How unfortunate was my father to have chosen you for a wife! Kausalya and Sumitra will also die of grief. Oh, how could you bring yourself to do this to Rama who was so devoted to you? Revered mother Kausalya treated you like her own blood-sister. How could you think of plotting against her beloved son? And did you not know how much I loved Rama? Greed destroyed your understanding. How else could you so foolishly plan for my happiness? Even the great King relied on Rama and Lakshmana. How could you believe that in their absence I could rule the kingdom? And, even if I could, would I agree? Never will your wish be fulfilled through my cooperation. I can no longer regard you as my mother. I cut myself off from all relation with you and decline to regard you as my mother. How could you ever think of setting aside rule and custom and getting a younger son crowned? Would not the world revile us for all time? The general law of kings and the tradition of our family cannot be violated. I will not carry out your wish. I shall go to the forest and bring Rama back. I shall set the crown on his head and rejoice in being his loyal servant."
To understand Bharata's feelings, we should keep in mind his innate noble nature, his love for Rama, his grief for his father and the sense of guilt and shame that for his sake his mother had done this grievous wrong. We should not weigh his words in dry air and a chemical balance. In such contexts, poetry flashes fire. One sees it both in Valmiki and Kamban.
Bharata raised his voice and spoke again: "Banish Rama indeed! It is you that ought to be banished, cruel woman, who have forsaken the path of dharma. So far as you are concerned you may take it that I am dead, for I would rather be dead than be son to a murderess! Murderess of your husband! You are not the daughter of the good King Asvapati. You are a Rakshasi. To what hell should you go, you, who banished the only child of mother Kausalya? What punishment would be too great for the grief you have caused her? Kamadhenu, the cow-mother, had hundreds of thousands of children, yet she shed tears at the sight of the suffering of two bulls yoked to a plough and her tears scalded Indra on his throne in high Heaven. And Kausalya's only child you sent to the forest, hoping thus that you and I could be made happy! I shall do the obsequies and go to the forest and fall at the feet of Rama and bring him to his kingdom. And then, to cleanse myself of the sin and the shame you have brought on me, I shall lead the life of an ascetic in the Dandaka forest. What a flood of sorrow have you let loose on the earth? By what penitence, by what self- mortification, can you redeem yourself? I shall go myself at once to Rama and get rid of my guilt by restoring the kingdom to him."
Finding no relief for his anguish by angry words, sighing like a young elephant newly captured, hot tears-falling from his eyes, he felt he could bear no longer the sight of his mother and rushed to Kausalya's apartment, there to find a better place to give vent to his sorrow.
Thus did Kaikeyi's castle in the air go up in smoke. She lay down on the floor and wept. The most painful of all reflexions is that of a crime perpetrated in vain.
Among the characters in the Ramayana, Bharata is the perfect embodiment of virtue. In the villages of the North, the people celebrate an annual festival for the episode of the meeting of Rama and Bharata at Chitrakuta, which they consider the most sanctifying part of the Ramayana epic. There have been through the ages great and noble souls whose virtue shines eternally in the midst of the sordid self-seeking of a sinful world, as a beacon light to seekers of the right path, and as a token of the god in man.
Soon the news of Bharata's arrival spread throughout the palace. Kausalya, still laboring under her grief, heard this, and was glad and told Sumitra, "Come, let us go and meet Bharata." Hardly had they taken a couple of steps when they saw
Bharata himself rushing wildly towards them to plead for mercy.
Kausalya's first thought when she heard of Bharata's arrival was that he had hastened back to assume the fortune which had come to him. Had not the elders and ministers, led by Vasishtha, decided to send for Bharata so that he might perform his father's obsequies and be crowned king? Hence, seeing Bharata, Kausalya, her heart desolate with her loss of husband and son, said in a low voice: "Bharata, the kingship is waiting secured for your sake by Kaikeyi. You need not fear any let or hindrance from us. Take it, and may all happiness be yours. Only one boon I crave of you to let me join your father on the funeral pyre."
These words were like stinging poison in Bharata's ears. He fell at her feet and clung to them, unable to speak.
Kausalya said again: "Oh Bharata, at least take me where Rama is in the forest."
Unable to bear all these piteous words of Kausalya and unable to speak, Bharata fell into a swoon. After a while he sat up and said: "Mother, why do you thus torture me who am innocent? You know I was far away and knew nothing of the wicked things going on here. Do you not know the love I bear for Rama? Would I ever do such a thing to him? May all the sins of the world descend on me if I had the least notion of the evil brewing here! I had nothing to do with it. I have no desire to reap its fruit."
He raised his hands and recited all the horrible sins that one could commit and invoked on himself the punishments due to them if he had any part in the plot.
In those days as now it was hard for a son to prove that he knew nothing of a scheme carried out by his mother for his benefit. Bharata could only swear his innocence again and again. He cared nothing for kingdom or wealth or power and it was a terrible torment to him that Kausalya should think him capable of greed for them at the expense of his brother. Indeed such a thought was hardly less cruel and unjust than Rama's exile! He could never accept the crown which was his beloved brother's birthright.
His passionate sincerity convinced Kausalya of the injustice of her suspicions, and her heart went out to him. Tenderly she raised him from the ground and took his head on her lap and caressed him as though he were Rama himself.
"My dear son, my grief is doubled by seeing the pain raging in your innocent heart. What shall we do child? We are the playthings of fate. May the reward of goodness come to you in this world and the next!"
Kausalya had not believed Bharata privy to the plot, but she feared that he would condone it and yield to the temptation of its results. Now she was convinced that Bharata's heart was completely free from stain. Though her own son had gone to the forest, she was pleased that such another son had come to her in his place.
Here, Kamban beautifully sings how Kausalya shed tears of joy over Bharata and embraced him imagining that Rama himself had returned from the forest. Kausalya said amidst her sobs: "Many were your ancestors who attained fame. You have surpassed them all in glory by renouncing the kingship that has come to you. You are indeed king among kings."
The Kausalya and Bharata portrayed by Kamban embody a culture. May these heroic figures and that culture live forever in the land of Bharata!
The obsequies of the dead King were duly performed. Vasishtha and other learned men and elders offered grave shastric consolation to Bharata and Satrughna. Fourteen days after the King's demise, the ministers called the Assembly and addressed Bharata thus:
"The King has gone to the world above. Rama and Lakshmana are in the forest. The land is now without a king. It is right that you should assume the rule at our request. The preparations for the coronation are all complete. The citizens and ministers are awaiting your acceptance. This is your kingdom lawfully descended from your ancestors, It is for you to be anointed and rule righteously over us."
Bharata went with folded hands round the materials gathered for the coronation and said in grave tones to the assembled elders:
"I do not consider it proper that you should ask me thus to accept the kingdom. According to the custom of our house, the throne belongs to the eldest son. With all respect to you, I have decided to go to the forest and bring Rama back to Ayodhya with Lakshmana and see that Rama is crowned. Please get ready the men and materials for this purpose. Prepare the road for the journey. Let laborers be mobilised for it. It is my final and irrevocable decision not to accept the crown."
Listening to the prince's words, the whole assembly was beside itself with joy. They applauded Bharata's suggestion. The army and a big retinue were got ready to accompany the prince to the forest. Quickly an army of workers with their tools went forward to prepare the road.
Men who knew the forest, pioneers who could dig wells and canals, builders of rafts and boats, carpenters and engineers, worked enthusiastically, because they were engaged in getting beloved Rama back. Culverts were built, trees felled, a broad road for the prince and his retinue was soon laid. Ups and downs were levelled, marshes drained, resting-places for the army and facilities for drinking water and all other conveniences were soon made ready.
Though thus preparations were made for Bharata's journey to the forest, Vasishtha and the other ministers formally summoned the Assembly again. They did not give up their desire to get Bharata to agree to be crowned. They sent messengers to Bharata palace and invited him to the Hall. They approached him with music playing on many instruments. All this pained him.
He stopped the musicians and sent the messengers back and told Satrughna: "Why should they still persist in tormenting me when I have refused the kingdom? This is the result of our mother's intrigue. My father has gone to Heaven leaving me to bear all this alone. The land needs a king; without one it drifts like a rudderless and derelict ship. We must soon get Rama back."
The Assembly sat eagerly looking for the entrance of the blameless prince. He entered the Hall as the full moon rises in the sky He bowed to the elders and sat down.
Vasishtha said: "This kingdom has been given to you by your father and your brother Rama. Accept it and protect us according to ancient custom."
Bharata's heart was far away with Rama. Tears fell from his yes. The young prince wept aloud in the midst of the royal Assembly and in a voice struggling with tears, he addressed words of respectful reproach to the preceptors:
"How can you ask one of my race and upbringing to usurp what belongs to another far nobler and more worthy than I? Can any son of Dasaratha possibly dream of such iniquity? This kingdom and I, and all else in it belong to Rama. He is the eldest son, the noblest among us, a lover of dharma, an equal to Dilipa and Nahusha of old. He is the rightful king. He is fit to be sovereign in the three worlds. Standing here I pay my homage to Rama there in the forest. He is the King, not I."
The Assembly burst into tears of joy when they heard Bharata speak thus.
And Bharata continued: "If I am unable to persuade King Rama to agree, I shall stay there performing penance. It is your duty, O Elders, to use every means to bring Rama back. I shall do all I can to make Rama come back to Ayodhya and make him King."
He then ordered Sumantra who was standing near him to hasten the preparations for going to the forest. The city rejoiced in anticipation of Rama's return, for all felt sure that nothing could resist the force of Bharata's dutiful love.
26 ) BHARATA SUSPECTED :
GAZING across the river Ganga, Guha, the hunter-king, noticed unusual commotion on the bank opposite. A great army had encamped there. He pointed it to his kinsmen standing by his side and said:
"Who is this and why has he come here with a large army, apparently to cross the river? The flag suggests that it is Kaikeyi's son Bharata and his army. Yes, I see the flag flying on the top of the chariot and I can recognise the tree painted on it. That is the flag of the King of Ayodhya. Is not Rama's enemy, Bharata, the King of Ayodhya too? Having secured the kingdom unjustly through his mother Kaikeyi, it looks as though he has pursued Rama here to slay him. Get together our warriors and kinsmen and friends. Let them stand ready on this bank. Gather all the boats and fill them with armed men ready for battle. Let us wait and see. If the newcomers are well disposed towards Rama, we shall help them to cross the river and come over to this side. But, if their intention is hostile, we shall prevent them from crossing the Ganga."
And so having made all preparations, Guha, in accordance with rules of courtesy, took some presents, got into a boat and went to meet Bharata.
On the other bank at the same time Sumantra, was telling Bharata:
"Look! Guha, the hunter-king, devoted friend of Rama, has come with his people to welcome us. He is the ruler of this region. He and his kinsmen are well acquainted with every nook and corner of this forest. They could tell us where Rama is to found and lead us safely and swiftly to the place."
Meanwhile Guha crossed the stream and, approaching Bharata, bowed and said: "Though we have been taken by surprise by your unexpected visit, still all that is mine here you may consider as your own and command me. I consider it an honor to be able to welcome and entertain you and your army."
Bharata answered: "It is very kind of you, O friend of my brother, to offer hospitality to such a large army. I wish to proceed to the hermitage of Bharadwaja. We do not know the way, and, we also need to cross this great river."
Guha bowed before him with clasped hands and said politely: "My lord, my servants and myself are ready to go with you and act as guides. But you must excuse me for expressing a doubt which occurs to me on seeing this large army you have brought. Surely you have no intentions hostile to Rama?"
Pained by these words and from a heart clear and pure as the summer sky, Bharata said: "Alas, what greater shame can come to me than this, that men who love Rama should fear and suspect me? Have no misgivings, Guha. Rama is my father now, for he has taken the place of my lost father. I have come here to beg of him to return to Ayodhya. I swear, I have no other purpose in my mind."
Guha rejoiced to see in Bharata's face his intense love for Rama and his grief at what had happened. He said: "My Lord, who in the world can equal you in sacrifice? Who but you would renounce such wealth and power coming to him unsought? Your glory will shine forever."
The hunter-king supplied Bharata's army with all it needed. The hosts and the guests retired for the night.
The meeting with Guha only increased Bharata's sorrow. Bharata was endowed with a heart of utter innocence. He sighed and said: "AIas, that it should come to this," and rolled sleepless on the ground. His whole body burned with thoughts of the infamy that had come as a cloud over him, his father's death and the parting from Rama. Guha spoke words of comfort and tried to console him. This meeting of Bharata and Guha and the way they shared their sorrow is an episode dear to the Vaishnava Alvars and other true Bhaktas.
Bharat questioned: "What food did Rama take when he was here? Where did he sit? Where did he sleep? What did he say? And what did he do?"
Guha answered every question lovingly and pointed the spot where Rama had slept. And when he was asked, "Where did Lakshmana sleep?" He replied: "Lakshmana said, 'When Rama and Sita lie stretched on the bare earth, how can I sleep?' and he shed tears and, like me, stood on guard the whole night, bow in hand."
As Bharata pictured this scene, his grief became unendurable. He saw the spot where Rama and Sita had slept that night and showed it to the weeping queens.
Asked what Rama ate, Guha answered: "My Lord, they fasted that night.
Lakshmana brought some water and Rama drank of it and handed it back to Lakshmana to drink. The food brought was returned untasted. The following morning, they matted their locks and walked into the forest."
Bharata had found some relief from sorrow in his resolve to seek out Rama and persuade him to return, but his talk with Guha and the sights he saw brought it back in full flood.
"For my sake, Rama, you slept on the grass. I have seen the spot and still live. And they want me to wear a crown, on top of all this!" Thus he lamented inconsolably.
Then he told himself: "I shall somehow take Rama back and seat him on the throne. If he wants his vow fulfilled, I shall replace him in the forest for fourteen years. He will agree to this arrangement as it is only right and proper." Thus he calmed himself.
Early next morning, Bharata woke up Satrughna: "What are you still sleeping? The day has already dawned. The army has to cross the river. We should send quickly for Guha and arrange for the journey."
Satrughna answered: "I am not asleep, brother. Like you I spent the whole night thinking of Rama."
While they were speaking, Guha arrived and after courteous greetings announced that he had a fleet of many boats ready. All the baggage and the whole army were put on boats. The loaded vessels crossed the great river. The transport across raised a joyous clamor like some great festival.
The people did not see the sorrow in Bharata's heart for they had concluded, even when Bharata set out, that Rama would surely return. They went forward rejoicing that soon Rama would be in their
midst as crowned king and all their recent sorrows would pass like a bad dream.
Valmiki describes the scene on the bank of the Ganga in a way that recalls to one a crowded railway station during a popular festival. When the whole army had crossed the river, Bharata followed it in a boat specially fitted up for him.
They reached the ashrama of Bharadwaja.
The story of Bharata in the Ramayana portraying a character of unrivalled purity and sublime selflessness is something, more than an episode, and stands out by itself even in that noble epic, as holy shrines do on the banks of the Ganga.
It uplifts the heart, and gives one a glimpse of the heights to which human nature can rise when cleansed by love and devotion. Whether Rama and Bharata were incarnations of the Deity or merely supreme creations of a nation's imagination this episode is among the masterpieces of the world's literature.
Jnana and bhakti will automatically grow by a contemplation of the personality of Bharata. In order to recreate the scene and the person in his own mind the reader must bring into play his reverent imagination. We bring with us into this world as our inborn gift some wisdom and reverence. This gift is always in us and though sometimes obscured by prejudice or passion it keeps alive the divine in man which prevents him from reeling back into the beast.
Bharata and his retinue went on towards Bharadawaja's ashrama. When they reached the Prayaga wood, they saw at a distance a beautiful grove with a cottage in its midst. Learning that this was Bharadwaja's ashrama, Bharata left his retinue behind and, accompanied only by Vasishtha and a few other elders, walked towards it with due humility.
Divesting himself of his silk garments and his weapons and accompanied only by the ministers he went on foot behind Vasishtha. A little further on, he left behind even the ministers, and he and Vasishtha alone went forward.
When Bharadwaja saw Vasishtha, he rose from his seat and went to meet the illustrious visitor and bade his disciples to bring the customary water for the feet of the guests.
Bharata offered humble salutations to Bharadwaja. Learning who he was, the rishi received him with the respect due to a king and made inquiries concerning his welfare. He thoughtfully refrained from making any mention of the sad fate of Dasaratha.
The narration that follows is as told in Valmiki's epic. A few words by way of explanation may be useful. Bharadwaja suspected and questioned Bharata, just as Guha had done earlier. This is, however, not so put in the Tulasidas Ramayana which is a poem of pure bhakti. There is nothing that was not within the knowledge of rishis. How then could Bharadwaja (in the Tulasidas Ramayana) entertain any doubt about Bharata?
Kamban, the Tamil poet of the Ramayana, follows Valmiki closely not only here but in many other places where Tulasidas differs. Although Kamban carefully follows Valmiki, he adds many beautiful passages out of his own imagination. With a touch here and a touch there, Kamban manages skilfully to disentangle many knots. The changes he makes are very few, while Tulasidas deals freely with the story, taking such liberties as he likes with the story as a great bhakta may who has made his god his own by self-forgetting surrender.
Following Valmiki, Kamban reports the conversation between Bharadwaja and
Bharata and very beautifully expresses Bharata's indignation.
We may not, reading it all today, appreciate Bharadwaja's doubts about innocent Bharata. Such suspicion was perfectly natural to Guha, but not so in a wise rishi. Valmiki makes the rishi justify himself saying: "Don't I know you, young prince? I put you these questions only the more clearly to reveal your innocence."
Valmiki pictures rishis not as omniscient sages, but as very human wise men and seekers after truth, liable to love and fear somewhat like the rest of us. Just as Valmiki delineates Rama as a hero rather than as an avatar, so he makes Bharadwaja doubt Bharata because of his tender affection for Rama. Bound by his attachment to Rama, he hurts Bharata. Seeing the latter suffer, he at once consoles him with an explanation.
All Valmiki's characters are human beings with heightened human qualities. It is only under great stress or in exceptional circumstances that divinity shines faintly through the human nature. In the time of Tulasidas, bhakti had reached its noonday height. It shone dispelling every shade. Though bhakti predominates in Kamban's picture also, he contrives to retain the humanity of Valmiki's characters and in places makes them even more beautiful.
Bharadwaja, after making the usual personal inquiries, asked Bharata: "Why did you leave your kingly duties and go over here? Should you not stay in Ayodhya? Listening to his young wife, Dasaratha ordered Rama to live for fourteen years in the forest and the prince accordingly left the city with his brother and Sita. Do you feel that even now the way is not clear for your rule and have you come to complete what Dasaratha began and make assurance doubly sure?"
Hearing these words, Bharata wept. The tears gushed and he could hardly speak. "Death," he said, "would be better than such a life as this."
"Do you doubt me, master?" he asked. "Do not blame me for what was done by my mother in my absence without my knowledge or consent. I have come now to do my utmost and persuade Rama to go back with me to Ayodhya, and there to be crowned King. And it is my purpose to be his humble slave all my life. I have come here to ask you where Rama dwells, to go and beg of him to return home. And me, you suspect!"
Bharadwaja said: "Bharata, I know your real nature. You are a scion of the race of Raghu. I questioned you because I wished to draw out a revelation of your affection and loyalty and thereby establish and spread your glory. Do not grieve. The Prince is dwelling on Chitrakuta hill. Stay here today. Tomorrow, you and your ministers shall go there. You will please me by accepting hospitality for a day in the ashrama."
Bharata said: "My Lord, your wishes and words of affection are a feast. What more is required?"
Bharadwaja smilled because he could see that Bharata was unwilling to cast the burden of feeding an army on a poor ascetic. He said: "I am bound to entertain you in a manner worthy of your status and goodness. Why have you left behind your army and retinue?"
Bharata answered: "I followed the rule that one should not approach a rishi's dwelling with a retinue. There is a big crowd following me. It would be a great disturbance to you if they all come here."
The rishi said: "Nothing of the sort. Order them all to come up."
And so Bharata ordered.
Bharadwaja went to the sacrificial fire and, uttering mantras, sipped water thrice and called on Viswakarma, Maya, Yama, Varuna, Kubera, Agni and other celestial beings and ordered them to produce a great feast for Bharata and his followers.
Then a miracle happened. The feast that was ready in Bharadwaja's ashrama was like that which Vasishtha gave of old to Viswamitra. The only difference was that here, there was no quarrel or commotion. Everyone had ample accommodation. Sandal paste, flowers, food and drink, music and dance by divine performers were all provided.
Bharadwaja's feast was more sumptuous than that given by emulous kings to one another. Dwellings, vehicles, servants rose suddenly into being. The guests forgot themselves in the feast. The soldiers in Bharata's army in the ecstasy of present enjoyment exclaimed to one another: "We shall not go to the Dandaka forest. We shall not return to Ayodhya. We shall stay here forever."
How were they to know that the good things they enjoyed were for a day, and would disappear at dawn, like the stage and the crowd after a village play is over?
The guests ate fully and soon fell fast asleep.
The following morning Bharadwaja said to Bharata: "At a distance of two-anda- half yojanas from here runs the river Mandakini. On its banks is an unpeopled forest with Chitrakuta hill to its south. On the slope of the hill, in a hut your brothers and Sita are dwelling." And he explained in detail the way they should follow.
The three queens were presented to receive the sage's blessings. "This is Queen Kausalya," said Bharata, "the mother of Rama and here, to her right and supporting her, stands the mother of Lakshmana and Satrughna, sorrow- stricken and limp like a creeper stricken by summer winds." "And here is my mother, the cause of all our sorrow," said Bharata, pointing to Kaikeyi who along with the other Queens prostrated before the sage.
"Do not judge your mother harshly," said Bharadwaja casting his gentle eyes on the sorrowing lady. "All that has happened has happened for the good of the world."
This episode of introducing the mothers is placed by Kamban in the earlier scene with Guha. Guha reverently inquires about the queens and Bharata explains. What Valmiki describes as having taken place in Bharadwaja's ashrama is, with more poetical effect, transferred by Kamban to its proper place.
Introducing Kausalya to Guha, Bharata says, in the Ramayana of Kamban: "This is the mother of Rama. Her treasure was Rama and she lost it because of me." Of Sumitra he said: "This is the mother of Lakshmana, truer brother to Rama, who has a happiness beyond the reach of poor me." Kaikeyi in Kamban, as in Valmiki, is introduced by Bharata in harsh terms.
Bharata and his great retinue took the forest path as directed by Bharadwaja. They saw from afar the Chitrakuta hill and as they proceeded eagerly a column of smoke indicated the spot where the prince's dwelling was and shouts of joy arose from the crowd. Leaving his following behind, Bharata went forward accompanied only by Sumantra and Vasishtha.
"Who is this and why has he come here with a large army, apparently to cross the river? The flag suggests that it is Kaikeyi's son Bharata and his army. Yes, I see the flag flying on the top of the chariot and I can recognise the tree painted on it. That is the flag of the King of Ayodhya. Is not Rama's enemy, Bharata, the King of Ayodhya too? Having secured the kingdom unjustly through his mother Kaikeyi, it looks as though he has pursued Rama here to slay him. Get together our warriors and kinsmen and friends. Let them stand ready on this bank. Gather all the boats and fill them with armed men ready for battle. Let us wait and see. If the newcomers are well disposed towards Rama, we shall help them to cross the river and come over to this side. But, if their intention is hostile, we shall prevent them from crossing the Ganga."
And so having made all preparations, Guha, in accordance with rules of courtesy, took some presents, got into a boat and went to meet Bharata.
On the other bank at the same time Sumantra, was telling Bharata:
"Look! Guha, the hunter-king, devoted friend of Rama, has come with his people to welcome us. He is the ruler of this region. He and his kinsmen are well acquainted with every nook and corner of this forest. They could tell us where Rama is to found and lead us safely and swiftly to the place."
Meanwhile Guha crossed the stream and, approaching Bharata, bowed and said: "Though we have been taken by surprise by your unexpected visit, still all that is mine here you may consider as your own and command me. I consider it an honor to be able to welcome and entertain you and your army."
Bharata answered: "It is very kind of you, O friend of my brother, to offer hospitality to such a large army. I wish to proceed to the hermitage of Bharadwaja. We do not know the way, and, we also need to cross this great river."
Guha bowed before him with clasped hands and said politely: "My lord, my servants and myself are ready to go with you and act as guides. But you must excuse me for expressing a doubt which occurs to me on seeing this large army you have brought. Surely you have no intentions hostile to Rama?"
Pained by these words and from a heart clear and pure as the summer sky, Bharata said: "Alas, what greater shame can come to me than this, that men who love Rama should fear and suspect me? Have no misgivings, Guha. Rama is my father now, for he has taken the place of my lost father. I have come here to beg of him to return to Ayodhya. I swear, I have no other purpose in my mind."
Guha rejoiced to see in Bharata's face his intense love for Rama and his grief at what had happened. He said: "My Lord, who in the world can equal you in sacrifice? Who but you would renounce such wealth and power coming to him unsought? Your glory will shine forever."
The hunter-king supplied Bharata's army with all it needed. The hosts and the guests retired for the night.
The meeting with Guha only increased Bharata's sorrow. Bharata was endowed with a heart of utter innocence. He sighed and said: "AIas, that it should come to this," and rolled sleepless on the ground. His whole body burned with thoughts of the infamy that had come as a cloud over him, his father's death and the parting from Rama. Guha spoke words of comfort and tried to console him. This meeting of Bharata and Guha and the way they shared their sorrow is an episode dear to the Vaishnava Alvars and other true Bhaktas.
Bharat questioned: "What food did Rama take when he was here? Where did he sit? Where did he sleep? What did he say? And what did he do?"
Guha answered every question lovingly and pointed the spot where Rama had slept. And when he was asked, "Where did Lakshmana sleep?" He replied: "Lakshmana said, 'When Rama and Sita lie stretched on the bare earth, how can I sleep?' and he shed tears and, like me, stood on guard the whole night, bow in hand."
As Bharata pictured this scene, his grief became unendurable. He saw the spot where Rama and Sita had slept that night and showed it to the weeping queens.
Asked what Rama ate, Guha answered: "My Lord, they fasted that night.
Lakshmana brought some water and Rama drank of it and handed it back to Lakshmana to drink. The food brought was returned untasted. The following morning, they matted their locks and walked into the forest."
Bharata had found some relief from sorrow in his resolve to seek out Rama and persuade him to return, but his talk with Guha and the sights he saw brought it back in full flood.
"For my sake, Rama, you slept on the grass. I have seen the spot and still live. And they want me to wear a crown, on top of all this!" Thus he lamented inconsolably.
Then he told himself: "I shall somehow take Rama back and seat him on the throne. If he wants his vow fulfilled, I shall replace him in the forest for fourteen years. He will agree to this arrangement as it is only right and proper." Thus he calmed himself.
Early next morning, Bharata woke up Satrughna: "What are you still sleeping? The day has already dawned. The army has to cross the river. We should send quickly for Guha and arrange for the journey."
Satrughna answered: "I am not asleep, brother. Like you I spent the whole night thinking of Rama."
While they were speaking, Guha arrived and after courteous greetings announced that he had a fleet of many boats ready. All the baggage and the whole army were put on boats. The loaded vessels crossed the great river. The transport across raised a joyous clamor like some great festival.
The people did not see the sorrow in Bharata's heart for they had concluded, even when Bharata set out, that Rama would surely return. They went forward rejoicing that soon Rama would be in their
midst as crowned king and all their recent sorrows would pass like a bad dream.
Valmiki describes the scene on the bank of the Ganga in a way that recalls to one a crowded railway station during a popular festival. When the whole army had crossed the river, Bharata followed it in a boat specially fitted up for him.
They reached the ashrama of Bharadwaja.
The story of Bharata in the Ramayana portraying a character of unrivalled purity and sublime selflessness is something, more than an episode, and stands out by itself even in that noble epic, as holy shrines do on the banks of the Ganga.
It uplifts the heart, and gives one a glimpse of the heights to which human nature can rise when cleansed by love and devotion. Whether Rama and Bharata were incarnations of the Deity or merely supreme creations of a nation's imagination this episode is among the masterpieces of the world's literature.
Jnana and bhakti will automatically grow by a contemplation of the personality of Bharata. In order to recreate the scene and the person in his own mind the reader must bring into play his reverent imagination. We bring with us into this world as our inborn gift some wisdom and reverence. This gift is always in us and though sometimes obscured by prejudice or passion it keeps alive the divine in man which prevents him from reeling back into the beast.
Bharata and his retinue went on towards Bharadawaja's ashrama. When they reached the Prayaga wood, they saw at a distance a beautiful grove with a cottage in its midst. Learning that this was Bharadwaja's ashrama, Bharata left his retinue behind and, accompanied only by Vasishtha and a few other elders, walked towards it with due humility.
Divesting himself of his silk garments and his weapons and accompanied only by the ministers he went on foot behind Vasishtha. A little further on, he left behind even the ministers, and he and Vasishtha alone went forward.
When Bharadwaja saw Vasishtha, he rose from his seat and went to meet the illustrious visitor and bade his disciples to bring the customary water for the feet of the guests.
Bharata offered humble salutations to Bharadwaja. Learning who he was, the rishi received him with the respect due to a king and made inquiries concerning his welfare. He thoughtfully refrained from making any mention of the sad fate of Dasaratha.
The narration that follows is as told in Valmiki's epic. A few words by way of explanation may be useful. Bharadwaja suspected and questioned Bharata, just as Guha had done earlier. This is, however, not so put in the Tulasidas Ramayana which is a poem of pure bhakti. There is nothing that was not within the knowledge of rishis. How then could Bharadwaja (in the Tulasidas Ramayana) entertain any doubt about Bharata?
Kamban, the Tamil poet of the Ramayana, follows Valmiki closely not only here but in many other places where Tulasidas differs. Although Kamban carefully follows Valmiki, he adds many beautiful passages out of his own imagination. With a touch here and a touch there, Kamban manages skilfully to disentangle many knots. The changes he makes are very few, while Tulasidas deals freely with the story, taking such liberties as he likes with the story as a great bhakta may who has made his god his own by self-forgetting surrender.
Following Valmiki, Kamban reports the conversation between Bharadwaja and
Bharata and very beautifully expresses Bharata's indignation.
We may not, reading it all today, appreciate Bharadwaja's doubts about innocent Bharata. Such suspicion was perfectly natural to Guha, but not so in a wise rishi. Valmiki makes the rishi justify himself saying: "Don't I know you, young prince? I put you these questions only the more clearly to reveal your innocence."
Valmiki pictures rishis not as omniscient sages, but as very human wise men and seekers after truth, liable to love and fear somewhat like the rest of us. Just as Valmiki delineates Rama as a hero rather than as an avatar, so he makes Bharadwaja doubt Bharata because of his tender affection for Rama. Bound by his attachment to Rama, he hurts Bharata. Seeing the latter suffer, he at once consoles him with an explanation.
All Valmiki's characters are human beings with heightened human qualities. It is only under great stress or in exceptional circumstances that divinity shines faintly through the human nature. In the time of Tulasidas, bhakti had reached its noonday height. It shone dispelling every shade. Though bhakti predominates in Kamban's picture also, he contrives to retain the humanity of Valmiki's characters and in places makes them even more beautiful.
Bharadwaja, after making the usual personal inquiries, asked Bharata: "Why did you leave your kingly duties and go over here? Should you not stay in Ayodhya? Listening to his young wife, Dasaratha ordered Rama to live for fourteen years in the forest and the prince accordingly left the city with his brother and Sita. Do you feel that even now the way is not clear for your rule and have you come to complete what Dasaratha began and make assurance doubly sure?"
Hearing these words, Bharata wept. The tears gushed and he could hardly speak. "Death," he said, "would be better than such a life as this."
"Do you doubt me, master?" he asked. "Do not blame me for what was done by my mother in my absence without my knowledge or consent. I have come now to do my utmost and persuade Rama to go back with me to Ayodhya, and there to be crowned King. And it is my purpose to be his humble slave all my life. I have come here to ask you where Rama dwells, to go and beg of him to return home. And me, you suspect!"
Bharadwaja said: "Bharata, I know your real nature. You are a scion of the race of Raghu. I questioned you because I wished to draw out a revelation of your affection and loyalty and thereby establish and spread your glory. Do not grieve. The Prince is dwelling on Chitrakuta hill. Stay here today. Tomorrow, you and your ministers shall go there. You will please me by accepting hospitality for a day in the ashrama."
Bharata said: "My Lord, your wishes and words of affection are a feast. What more is required?"
Bharadwaja smilled because he could see that Bharata was unwilling to cast the burden of feeding an army on a poor ascetic. He said: "I am bound to entertain you in a manner worthy of your status and goodness. Why have you left behind your army and retinue?"
Bharata answered: "I followed the rule that one should not approach a rishi's dwelling with a retinue. There is a big crowd following me. It would be a great disturbance to you if they all come here."
The rishi said: "Nothing of the sort. Order them all to come up."
And so Bharata ordered.
Bharadwaja went to the sacrificial fire and, uttering mantras, sipped water thrice and called on Viswakarma, Maya, Yama, Varuna, Kubera, Agni and other celestial beings and ordered them to produce a great feast for Bharata and his followers.
Then a miracle happened. The feast that was ready in Bharadwaja's ashrama was like that which Vasishtha gave of old to Viswamitra. The only difference was that here, there was no quarrel or commotion. Everyone had ample accommodation. Sandal paste, flowers, food and drink, music and dance by divine performers were all provided.
Bharadwaja's feast was more sumptuous than that given by emulous kings to one another. Dwellings, vehicles, servants rose suddenly into being. The guests forgot themselves in the feast. The soldiers in Bharata's army in the ecstasy of present enjoyment exclaimed to one another: "We shall not go to the Dandaka forest. We shall not return to Ayodhya. We shall stay here forever."
How were they to know that the good things they enjoyed were for a day, and would disappear at dawn, like the stage and the crowd after a village play is over?
The guests ate fully and soon fell fast asleep.
The following morning Bharadwaja said to Bharata: "At a distance of two-anda- half yojanas from here runs the river Mandakini. On its banks is an unpeopled forest with Chitrakuta hill to its south. On the slope of the hill, in a hut your brothers and Sita are dwelling." And he explained in detail the way they should follow.
The three queens were presented to receive the sage's blessings. "This is Queen Kausalya," said Bharata, "the mother of Rama and here, to her right and supporting her, stands the mother of Lakshmana and Satrughna, sorrow- stricken and limp like a creeper stricken by summer winds." "And here is my mother, the cause of all our sorrow," said Bharata, pointing to Kaikeyi who along with the other Queens prostrated before the sage.
"Do not judge your mother harshly," said Bharadwaja casting his gentle eyes on the sorrowing lady. "All that has happened has happened for the good of the world."
This episode of introducing the mothers is placed by Kamban in the earlier scene with Guha. Guha reverently inquires about the queens and Bharata explains. What Valmiki describes as having taken place in Bharadwaja's ashrama is, with more poetical effect, transferred by Kamban to its proper place.
Introducing Kausalya to Guha, Bharata says, in the Ramayana of Kamban: "This is the mother of Rama. Her treasure was Rama and she lost it because of me." Of Sumitra he said: "This is the mother of Lakshmana, truer brother to Rama, who has a happiness beyond the reach of poor me." Kaikeyi in Kamban, as in Valmiki, is introduced by Bharata in harsh terms.
Bharata and his great retinue took the forest path as directed by Bharadwaja. They saw from afar the Chitrakuta hill and as they proceeded eagerly a column of smoke indicated the spot where the prince's dwelling was and shouts of joy arose from the crowd. Leaving his following behind, Bharata went forward accompanied only by Sumantra and Vasishtha.
27) THE BROTHERS MEET :
WHILE Bharata was thus engaged in trying to undo the mischief wrought by others, in the forest hut at Chitrakuta, life went on fairly cheerfully. With Lakshmana and Sita by his side, Rama lacked nothing. The grandeur of the mountain scenery and the forest and the sweet songs and play of the birds pleased his heart. He forgot the sorrow of his exile from kinsfolk and city.
"Look, Sita, at those birds playing," he would say. "Look at that rock on the hill with the blue, yellow and red veins shining on it. Look at these plants and creepers with their flowers. We feared life in the forest, not knowing how pleasant it would be. I am so happy here. And I have in addition to this pleasure the feeling that I carry out my father's promise. We have the joy of duty done besides leading a happy life here. Over and above all this, I am happy that my brother Bharata is ruling the kingdom."
Thus Rama, free from sorrow himself, made Sita happy. Descending from the hill they would sometimes go to the river Mandakini and spend time there.
"Look at those sand hillocks," Rama would say. "Look at the swans playing among the lotuses. The stream is as lovely as yourself, beloved. The fords where animals come to drink are beautifully red with new earth. Even the river in Kubera's kingdom cannot be as beautiful as this. Sea the rishis bathing there and standing in supplication and offering hymns to the sun. Look at the flowers falling from the boughs on the water. Look at that pearl- scattering cascade. We are indeed lucky to be far away from the crowded city here in the forest. There, we cannot see rishis and pure souls such as we see here bathing everyday. This hill is our Ayodhya. The birds and beasts are our subjects. The Mandakini is our Sarayu. With you and Lakshmana by me, I am so happy and content. How pleasant it is to see the animals drinking water in the stream without any fear! Plunging in the water here, eating fruits and roots, walking about in the forest and climbing the hills, why should I think of kingdom or power?"
Thus, in the company of Sita and Lakshmana, Rama was spending happy days.
One day as they were sitting as usual on the slope of the hill in utter peace, suddenly at a distance, they saw a cloud of dust rise in the sky which seemed moving towards them. And soon they heard a great noise as of a big crowd. Rama saw the forest animals stampeding hither and thither in fear. It looked as if an army entered the forest.
"Do you hear that noise?" Rama said to Lakshmana, "'The elephants, bisons and deer are running helter skelter. What could it be? Could it be some king come here hunting? Or is it that some tiger or other fierce wild beast has come rummaging? Just see and tell me."
Lakshmana climbed up a tall tree and looked all around. He saw a large army approaching from the north, a complete force of all limbs, chariots, elephants, horses and foot soldiers.
He shouted to Rama in warning: "Listen, brother. A great army is approaching with flags flying and in complete formation. Let us be careful. Put out the fire. Take Sita into the cave for safety. Let us don our armor and get ready for battle."
Rama said: "Do not be in such hurry. Look again at the flag on the chariot and tell me which king is leading his army here."
Lakshmana looked and was filled with anger. "O my brother, it is Bharata. Not satisfied with getting the kingdom, he is pursuing us here. I can see the tree on our flag flying in the breeze. He has come to slay us. But the son of Kaikeyi shall not escape with life from me today. What sin is there in killing this destroyer of dharma? The only question now is, shall we wait for them here, or shall we give them battle on the top of the hill? We will make him pay for all the harm be has done us. It is surely no sin to kill one who comes to slay us. With him will be destroyed the greed of his mother. You will soon see the forest paths running with blood. Like a tree uprooted by an elephant, Bharata will be felled to the ground by me. We shall destroy this army. We shall feed fat the beasts of prey in the forest. " Lakshmana spoke thus, beside himself with rage.
Rama proceeded to calm him. "I know you can destroy the seven worlds if you are so minded. Listen, you can easily kill Bharata and his army, but there is a thing to consider before you set to work. Disobeying and disgracing our father and killing our brother and earning infinite obloquy, what good shall we gain by battling for and winning the kingdom? What we gain by killing our kinsfolk will be like food with which is mixed poison. Why and for whom do we seek wealth and kingdom? Is it not for the sake of others, whose joy is our own? Who would want to acquire a kingdom by wrong means? And what joy is there in a kingdom which you cannot share with those you love? Truly I tell you, I will never look at wealth and power that you and Bharata and Satrughna cannot enjoy with me. I know why Bharata is coming here now and I will tell you. He knows the way of dharma. He is coming here to give the kingdom to me. If he had been in Ayodhya instead of in the far-away land of his uncle he would have dissuaded Kaikeyi, and saved our father from the great sorrow which has befallen him. I am certain he is coming now to take me back to the city. It is wrong of you to think ill of Bharata and speak such harsh words about him. If it is desire for the kingdom that makes you so cruel in your suspicion, tell me. I have only to tell Bharata to pass it on to you, and I have no doubt he will do it with pleasure."
Rama said this laughing, and Lakshmana shrank into himself with shame.
"Perhaps our father, the King," Lakshmana said. " Is himself coming to see us."
After listening to Rama, he was convinced that his fear was improper. He wondered then why the army was marching and thought that perhaps Dasaratha was coming to visit them in the forest and a large retinue followed the King. The commentator remarks that Lakshmana, realising his folly in having spoken ill of Bharata, was trying by some explanations to cover up his shame.
Rama cheered up Lakshmana saying: "Yes, it may be as you say. Thinking that life in the forest was hard, the King might have come to take us, and specially Sita, back to the city. But then, we do not see the King's great white umbrella. But whatever be the case, you should be calm." Lakshmana stood humbly with folded hands by Rama.
Halting the army at some distance, Bharata sent a few men to observe and report on the place whence the smoke rose. They brought the news that this was the very spot described by Bharadwaja and that the cottage was very probably Rama's forest abode.
Bharata started forward with Satrughna, Vasishtha and Sumantra. As they advanced, they saw indications that the ashrama was habited. There was a path that led to the river and the trees were blazed on either side of it as though to make it easy to find it in the dusk. Presently they came to a cottage thatched with leaves, near which were stacks of faggots and the dry dung of deer and wild buffaloes heaped for use in winter.
In the cottage, on the walls were mighty bows and quivers full of deadly arrows, swords which seemed to radiate victory and other weapons all of superlative excellence. They saw also, spread out to dry on the branches of trees, garments of bark. Bharata beheld all these sure signs of his brothers' residence in the hermitage with a swelling heart.
From inside came smoke from the oblations of daily worship. Entering, Bharata saw the altar with its blazing fire and Rama himself seated by it with matted locks, majestic, though in deer-skin and bark, a ruler of the world, with his mighty arms, breadth of chest and a countenance made to command love and obedience. By him were Sita and Lakshmana. He had been thinking all the time of the infamy that had gathered on his head, and wondering what to say and what to do when he met Rama.
But now when he saw Rama, he forgot all this in the great love that surged within him and submerged all other thoughts and fears. He sprang forward to the spot where Rama was seated. He could utter no word, beyond "Brother," and fell at his feet, and sobbed. By this time, Sumantra and Guha joined him.
Rama saw before him lying on the ground Bharata with hands clasped in supplication, with matted locks and in garments of bark. With grief and fasting, his body had grown lean and he was tanned with fatigue and exposure. Rama embraced him, and kissed him on the head, and said: "Brother beloved, why did you leave our father's side and come all this way into the forest? And why have you grown so thin?"
Bharata was speechless. Rama put to him the formal questions which members of the royal family asked each other when they met after an absence.
After an interval, Bharata gathered strength and gave answer. "Why do you question me about the kingdom, brother, as though I were its ruler? What connection is there between the kingdom and myself? When you are the rightful king, how could I call myself king or rule over the land? My duty is to do you humble service. It has not been given to me to do it. The eldest son should bear the burden of the kingdom. This is the law and custom. Come with me to Ayodhya, wear the crown and shower your grace on our family and people. The old King's work in the world is over and he has entered Swarga. When you had left Ayodhya for the forest and before I returned from Kekaya the King gave up his life, slain by the grief of separation from you. Do not give way to sorrow. Perform the obsequies of our father. Thinking of you, he gave up his life. The obsequies you perform will alone satisfy his spirit." Thus Bharata steadied himself and spoke.
When Rama heard that his father was dead, he fell down like a tree felled by an axe. Bharata had no need to repeat before Rama all the apologies and explanations which he had to give to Kausalya, Guha and Bharadwaja. Where was the need for explanations when Rama set his eyes on that grief-stricken body and that ravaged face? Bharata, whose one concern was to take Rama back to Ayodhya, spoke only of this and not at all of himself.
The princes, with Sita and Sumantra went to the river and offered libations for the peace of the departed soul of the King. After other customary ceremonies, the princes returned to the cottage. They held each other's hands and relieved their sorrow by loud lamentation.
In this episode, where Bharata meets Rama, we read in Valmiki a long lecture on the art of government, delivered by Rama to his brother. Often in our epics, we come across such long dissertations on politics or morality. Modern fiction gives high priority to narrative vigor, dramatic suspense and surprise. In old works, in addition to plenty of these qualities, there were generous doses of didacticism.
It may be added here that even old commentators noticed that the chapters of this episode have got mixed up and displaced in Valmiki. Kamban has of course regularised and modernised the narrative. In Tulsidas the meeting of Rama and Bharata is steeped in bhakti and there is no room for any complications.
"Look, Sita, at those birds playing," he would say. "Look at that rock on the hill with the blue, yellow and red veins shining on it. Look at these plants and creepers with their flowers. We feared life in the forest, not knowing how pleasant it would be. I am so happy here. And I have in addition to this pleasure the feeling that I carry out my father's promise. We have the joy of duty done besides leading a happy life here. Over and above all this, I am happy that my brother Bharata is ruling the kingdom."
Thus Rama, free from sorrow himself, made Sita happy. Descending from the hill they would sometimes go to the river Mandakini and spend time there.
"Look at those sand hillocks," Rama would say. "Look at the swans playing among the lotuses. The stream is as lovely as yourself, beloved. The fords where animals come to drink are beautifully red with new earth. Even the river in Kubera's kingdom cannot be as beautiful as this. Sea the rishis bathing there and standing in supplication and offering hymns to the sun. Look at the flowers falling from the boughs on the water. Look at that pearl- scattering cascade. We are indeed lucky to be far away from the crowded city here in the forest. There, we cannot see rishis and pure souls such as we see here bathing everyday. This hill is our Ayodhya. The birds and beasts are our subjects. The Mandakini is our Sarayu. With you and Lakshmana by me, I am so happy and content. How pleasant it is to see the animals drinking water in the stream without any fear! Plunging in the water here, eating fruits and roots, walking about in the forest and climbing the hills, why should I think of kingdom or power?"
Thus, in the company of Sita and Lakshmana, Rama was spending happy days.
One day as they were sitting as usual on the slope of the hill in utter peace, suddenly at a distance, they saw a cloud of dust rise in the sky which seemed moving towards them. And soon they heard a great noise as of a big crowd. Rama saw the forest animals stampeding hither and thither in fear. It looked as if an army entered the forest.
"Do you hear that noise?" Rama said to Lakshmana, "'The elephants, bisons and deer are running helter skelter. What could it be? Could it be some king come here hunting? Or is it that some tiger or other fierce wild beast has come rummaging? Just see and tell me."
Lakshmana climbed up a tall tree and looked all around. He saw a large army approaching from the north, a complete force of all limbs, chariots, elephants, horses and foot soldiers.
He shouted to Rama in warning: "Listen, brother. A great army is approaching with flags flying and in complete formation. Let us be careful. Put out the fire. Take Sita into the cave for safety. Let us don our armor and get ready for battle."
Rama said: "Do not be in such hurry. Look again at the flag on the chariot and tell me which king is leading his army here."
Lakshmana looked and was filled with anger. "O my brother, it is Bharata. Not satisfied with getting the kingdom, he is pursuing us here. I can see the tree on our flag flying in the breeze. He has come to slay us. But the son of Kaikeyi shall not escape with life from me today. What sin is there in killing this destroyer of dharma? The only question now is, shall we wait for them here, or shall we give them battle on the top of the hill? We will make him pay for all the harm be has done us. It is surely no sin to kill one who comes to slay us. With him will be destroyed the greed of his mother. You will soon see the forest paths running with blood. Like a tree uprooted by an elephant, Bharata will be felled to the ground by me. We shall destroy this army. We shall feed fat the beasts of prey in the forest. " Lakshmana spoke thus, beside himself with rage.
Rama proceeded to calm him. "I know you can destroy the seven worlds if you are so minded. Listen, you can easily kill Bharata and his army, but there is a thing to consider before you set to work. Disobeying and disgracing our father and killing our brother and earning infinite obloquy, what good shall we gain by battling for and winning the kingdom? What we gain by killing our kinsfolk will be like food with which is mixed poison. Why and for whom do we seek wealth and kingdom? Is it not for the sake of others, whose joy is our own? Who would want to acquire a kingdom by wrong means? And what joy is there in a kingdom which you cannot share with those you love? Truly I tell you, I will never look at wealth and power that you and Bharata and Satrughna cannot enjoy with me. I know why Bharata is coming here now and I will tell you. He knows the way of dharma. He is coming here to give the kingdom to me. If he had been in Ayodhya instead of in the far-away land of his uncle he would have dissuaded Kaikeyi, and saved our father from the great sorrow which has befallen him. I am certain he is coming now to take me back to the city. It is wrong of you to think ill of Bharata and speak such harsh words about him. If it is desire for the kingdom that makes you so cruel in your suspicion, tell me. I have only to tell Bharata to pass it on to you, and I have no doubt he will do it with pleasure."
Rama said this laughing, and Lakshmana shrank into himself with shame.
"Perhaps our father, the King," Lakshmana said. " Is himself coming to see us."
After listening to Rama, he was convinced that his fear was improper. He wondered then why the army was marching and thought that perhaps Dasaratha was coming to visit them in the forest and a large retinue followed the King. The commentator remarks that Lakshmana, realising his folly in having spoken ill of Bharata, was trying by some explanations to cover up his shame.
Rama cheered up Lakshmana saying: "Yes, it may be as you say. Thinking that life in the forest was hard, the King might have come to take us, and specially Sita, back to the city. But then, we do not see the King's great white umbrella. But whatever be the case, you should be calm." Lakshmana stood humbly with folded hands by Rama.
Halting the army at some distance, Bharata sent a few men to observe and report on the place whence the smoke rose. They brought the news that this was the very spot described by Bharadwaja and that the cottage was very probably Rama's forest abode.
Bharata started forward with Satrughna, Vasishtha and Sumantra. As they advanced, they saw indications that the ashrama was habited. There was a path that led to the river and the trees were blazed on either side of it as though to make it easy to find it in the dusk. Presently they came to a cottage thatched with leaves, near which were stacks of faggots and the dry dung of deer and wild buffaloes heaped for use in winter.
In the cottage, on the walls were mighty bows and quivers full of deadly arrows, swords which seemed to radiate victory and other weapons all of superlative excellence. They saw also, spread out to dry on the branches of trees, garments of bark. Bharata beheld all these sure signs of his brothers' residence in the hermitage with a swelling heart.
From inside came smoke from the oblations of daily worship. Entering, Bharata saw the altar with its blazing fire and Rama himself seated by it with matted locks, majestic, though in deer-skin and bark, a ruler of the world, with his mighty arms, breadth of chest and a countenance made to command love and obedience. By him were Sita and Lakshmana. He had been thinking all the time of the infamy that had gathered on his head, and wondering what to say and what to do when he met Rama.
But now when he saw Rama, he forgot all this in the great love that surged within him and submerged all other thoughts and fears. He sprang forward to the spot where Rama was seated. He could utter no word, beyond "Brother," and fell at his feet, and sobbed. By this time, Sumantra and Guha joined him.
Rama saw before him lying on the ground Bharata with hands clasped in supplication, with matted locks and in garments of bark. With grief and fasting, his body had grown lean and he was tanned with fatigue and exposure. Rama embraced him, and kissed him on the head, and said: "Brother beloved, why did you leave our father's side and come all this way into the forest? And why have you grown so thin?"
Bharata was speechless. Rama put to him the formal questions which members of the royal family asked each other when they met after an absence.
After an interval, Bharata gathered strength and gave answer. "Why do you question me about the kingdom, brother, as though I were its ruler? What connection is there between the kingdom and myself? When you are the rightful king, how could I call myself king or rule over the land? My duty is to do you humble service. It has not been given to me to do it. The eldest son should bear the burden of the kingdom. This is the law and custom. Come with me to Ayodhya, wear the crown and shower your grace on our family and people. The old King's work in the world is over and he has entered Swarga. When you had left Ayodhya for the forest and before I returned from Kekaya the King gave up his life, slain by the grief of separation from you. Do not give way to sorrow. Perform the obsequies of our father. Thinking of you, he gave up his life. The obsequies you perform will alone satisfy his spirit." Thus Bharata steadied himself and spoke.
When Rama heard that his father was dead, he fell down like a tree felled by an axe. Bharata had no need to repeat before Rama all the apologies and explanations which he had to give to Kausalya, Guha and Bharadwaja. Where was the need for explanations when Rama set his eyes on that grief-stricken body and that ravaged face? Bharata, whose one concern was to take Rama back to Ayodhya, spoke only of this and not at all of himself.
The princes, with Sita and Sumantra went to the river and offered libations for the peace of the departed soul of the King. After other customary ceremonies, the princes returned to the cottage. They held each other's hands and relieved their sorrow by loud lamentation.
In this episode, where Bharata meets Rama, we read in Valmiki a long lecture on the art of government, delivered by Rama to his brother. Often in our epics, we come across such long dissertations on politics or morality. Modern fiction gives high priority to narrative vigor, dramatic suspense and surprise. In old works, in addition to plenty of these qualities, there were generous doses of didacticism.
It may be added here that even old commentators noticed that the chapters of this episode have got mixed up and displaced in Valmiki. Kamban has of course regularised and modernised the narrative. In Tulsidas the meeting of Rama and Bharata is steeped in bhakti and there is no room for any complications.
(My humble salutations to Sreeman Chakravarti Rajagopalachari for the collection )
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