The Ramayana Summary as retold by Sri C Rajagopalachari
6) SITA :
Janaka, king of Mithila, was an ideal ruler. He was a much revered friend of Dasaratha who, when he planned his yaga for progeny, sent not mere messengers but ministers to Mithila to invite King Janaka.
Janaka was not only a brave king but was as well-versed in the Sastras and Vedas as any rishi and was the beloved pupil of Yajnavalkya whose exposition of Brahmana to him is the substance of the Brihadaranyaka Upanishad. In the Bhagavad Gita, Sri Krishna cites Janaka as an illustrious example of the Karma yogin. Janaka was thus worthy to be the father of Sita who was to be the wife of Vishnu come down on Earth in human form.
Desirous of performing a yaga, Janaka at one time ploughed the chosen site. As usual, this was done by his own hand.
As the field was being cleared and leveled, Janaka saw among shrubs a baby divinely beautiful. Janaka was childless and accepted the infant as the goddess Earth's gift to him.
Taking the child in his arms he went to his beloved wife and said: "Here is treasure for us. I found this child on the yaga site and we shall make it our own." And she joyfully consented.
The beauty of the goddess Earth mortal eyes cannot see in its fulness, but we get glimpses of it as we gaze with grateful hearts on the emerald green or golden ripeness of spring time or autumn fields, or with awe and adoration on the glories of mountain and valley, rivers and ocean.
This loveliness was Sita in its entirety. Kamban would have it that Sita's beauty threw into the shade Lakshmi herself who came up with Nectar as the Ocean of Milk was being churned. This child of divine beauty was brought up by King Janaka and his dear queen.
When Sita reached the age of marriage Janaka was sad that he would have to part with her. Though he tried hard, he was for long unable to choose a prince worthy of Sita. Many kings came to Mithila, seeking Sita's hand, but in Janaka's view none of them was good enough. The King anxiously thought over the matter and came to a decision. Long ago, pleased with a yaga performed by Janaka, Varuna, presented to him Rudra's bow and two quivers. That was an ancient heavenly bow, which no ordinary man could even move.
This was kept by him as an honored heirloom. Since only a very exceptional man could be considered worthy of Sita, Janaka issued this proclamation: "Sita, my daughter, will be given in marriage to the prince who can lift, bend and string the bow of Siva which Varuna gave me and to none other."
Many princes who had heard of Sita's beauty, went to Mithila only to return disappointed. None could fulfil the condition.
Led by Viswamitra, the rishis from Siddhashrama were proceeding to Mithila, with bullock-carts transporting their luggage. The animals and the birds in the ashrama set out to follow Viswamitra, but he gently bade them stay behind.
It was evening when they reached the river Sona. There they rested for the night, Viswamitra recounting to Rama and Lakshmana the history of the place.
Getting up in the morning, they continued their journey and crossed another river, not very deep, and by noon they were at the Ganga.
They bathed in the holy river and the rishis made lustrations to their forbears. They improvised an ashrama there, performed their pujas and cooked their food. Meal over, they sat round Viswamitra who, at the request of the two princes, told the story of the Ganga. Himavan, king of mountains and his spouse, Menaka, had two daughters of whom Ganga was the elder. Himavan sent her to the land of the Devas in response to their request and she dwelt with them. Uma, the younger, won the favor of Siva and became his spouse.
Sagara, a former King of Ayodhya, had no son for a long time. With his two wives, Kesini and Sumati, he went to Himalaya and performed tapas. Sage Bhrigu, pleased with the king, blessed him and said: "You will get a number of children and will acquire undying fame. One of your wives will give birth to an only son, and through him your lineage will be continued. The other queen will bear sixty thousand strong-armed sons."
Sagara's wives bowed low before the sage and asked which one of them would get an only son and which the sixty thousand children. Sage Bhrigu asked each of them their own desire.
Kesini said she would be satisfied with one son who would continue the line; Sumati chose the other alternative. "Be it so," said the sage.
Satisfied, the king and his wives took leave of the sage and returned to Ayodhya. In course of time, Asamanjas was born to Kesini; Sumati gave birth to a fissiparous mass which divided out into sixty thousand babies. This army of children was wen taken care of by nurses.
Years rolled by; and while the sixty thousand grew into strong, handsome princes, Asamanjas turned out to be a cruel lunatic. He indulged in the pastime of throwing little children into the river and laughed merrily as they struggled and died.
Naturally people hated this maniac and banished him from the country. To the great relief of all, Asamanjas' son, Amsuman, was the opposite of his father and was a brave, virtuous and amiable prince.
King Sagara launched a great horse- sacrifice and prince Amsuman was in charge of the sacrificial horse, but Indra, in the guise of a Rakshasa, managed to carry off the animal. The Devas regarded yagas by mortals as a challenge to their superiority, and lost no opportunity of throwing obstacles in their way. If, however, all obstruction was overcome and the yaga was completed, they accepted offerings made to them. And then he who performed the yaga got due reward.
The king was greatly upset when he heard that the sacrificial horse was stolen. He sent out the sixty thousand sons of Sumati to go in search of the animal all over the earth and to spare no pains to retrieve it.
"The loss of the horse," he impressed on them, "not only means obstruction to the yaga; it casts sin and ignominy on an concerned. You should, therefore, recover the horse, wherever it may be kept hidden."
Eagerly the sons of Sagara proceeded to search the entire earth, but the horse was nowhere to be found. They even started digging the earth as for buried treasure, and in their anxiety respected neither place nor person and only succeeded in earning the hatred of all they met. The horse was not to be found; and when they reported their failure to the King, he bade them ransack the nether world also. The princes did as they were told and in Patala they saw the horse grazing in a corner of an ashrama, not far from the place where Sage Kapila who was Vishnu sat in meditation.
The princes at once jumped to the conclusion that they had not only found the stolen horse but the thief also, and they rushed on Kapila shouting, "Here is the thief pretending to be a yogi." Kapila thus disturbed opened his eyes and the sixty thousand princes were reduced to a heap of ashes. Indra, the real thief, had artfully left the horse here with this very intent.
Janaka was not only a brave king but was as well-versed in the Sastras and Vedas as any rishi and was the beloved pupil of Yajnavalkya whose exposition of Brahmana to him is the substance of the Brihadaranyaka Upanishad. In the Bhagavad Gita, Sri Krishna cites Janaka as an illustrious example of the Karma yogin. Janaka was thus worthy to be the father of Sita who was to be the wife of Vishnu come down on Earth in human form.
Desirous of performing a yaga, Janaka at one time ploughed the chosen site. As usual, this was done by his own hand.
As the field was being cleared and leveled, Janaka saw among shrubs a baby divinely beautiful. Janaka was childless and accepted the infant as the goddess Earth's gift to him.
Taking the child in his arms he went to his beloved wife and said: "Here is treasure for us. I found this child on the yaga site and we shall make it our own." And she joyfully consented.
The beauty of the goddess Earth mortal eyes cannot see in its fulness, but we get glimpses of it as we gaze with grateful hearts on the emerald green or golden ripeness of spring time or autumn fields, or with awe and adoration on the glories of mountain and valley, rivers and ocean.
This loveliness was Sita in its entirety. Kamban would have it that Sita's beauty threw into the shade Lakshmi herself who came up with Nectar as the Ocean of Milk was being churned. This child of divine beauty was brought up by King Janaka and his dear queen.
When Sita reached the age of marriage Janaka was sad that he would have to part with her. Though he tried hard, he was for long unable to choose a prince worthy of Sita. Many kings came to Mithila, seeking Sita's hand, but in Janaka's view none of them was good enough. The King anxiously thought over the matter and came to a decision. Long ago, pleased with a yaga performed by Janaka, Varuna, presented to him Rudra's bow and two quivers. That was an ancient heavenly bow, which no ordinary man could even move.
This was kept by him as an honored heirloom. Since only a very exceptional man could be considered worthy of Sita, Janaka issued this proclamation: "Sita, my daughter, will be given in marriage to the prince who can lift, bend and string the bow of Siva which Varuna gave me and to none other."
Many princes who had heard of Sita's beauty, went to Mithila only to return disappointed. None could fulfil the condition.
Led by Viswamitra, the rishis from Siddhashrama were proceeding to Mithila, with bullock-carts transporting their luggage. The animals and the birds in the ashrama set out to follow Viswamitra, but he gently bade them stay behind.
It was evening when they reached the river Sona. There they rested for the night, Viswamitra recounting to Rama and Lakshmana the history of the place.
Getting up in the morning, they continued their journey and crossed another river, not very deep, and by noon they were at the Ganga.
They bathed in the holy river and the rishis made lustrations to their forbears. They improvised an ashrama there, performed their pujas and cooked their food. Meal over, they sat round Viswamitra who, at the request of the two princes, told the story of the Ganga. Himavan, king of mountains and his spouse, Menaka, had two daughters of whom Ganga was the elder. Himavan sent her to the land of the Devas in response to their request and she dwelt with them. Uma, the younger, won the favor of Siva and became his spouse.
Sagara, a former King of Ayodhya, had no son for a long time. With his two wives, Kesini and Sumati, he went to Himalaya and performed tapas. Sage Bhrigu, pleased with the king, blessed him and said: "You will get a number of children and will acquire undying fame. One of your wives will give birth to an only son, and through him your lineage will be continued. The other queen will bear sixty thousand strong-armed sons."
Sagara's wives bowed low before the sage and asked which one of them would get an only son and which the sixty thousand children. Sage Bhrigu asked each of them their own desire.
Kesini said she would be satisfied with one son who would continue the line; Sumati chose the other alternative. "Be it so," said the sage.
Satisfied, the king and his wives took leave of the sage and returned to Ayodhya. In course of time, Asamanjas was born to Kesini; Sumati gave birth to a fissiparous mass which divided out into sixty thousand babies. This army of children was wen taken care of by nurses.
Years rolled by; and while the sixty thousand grew into strong, handsome princes, Asamanjas turned out to be a cruel lunatic. He indulged in the pastime of throwing little children into the river and laughed merrily as they struggled and died.
Naturally people hated this maniac and banished him from the country. To the great relief of all, Asamanjas' son, Amsuman, was the opposite of his father and was a brave, virtuous and amiable prince.
King Sagara launched a great horse- sacrifice and prince Amsuman was in charge of the sacrificial horse, but Indra, in the guise of a Rakshasa, managed to carry off the animal. The Devas regarded yagas by mortals as a challenge to their superiority, and lost no opportunity of throwing obstacles in their way. If, however, all obstruction was overcome and the yaga was completed, they accepted offerings made to them. And then he who performed the yaga got due reward.
The king was greatly upset when he heard that the sacrificial horse was stolen. He sent out the sixty thousand sons of Sumati to go in search of the animal all over the earth and to spare no pains to retrieve it.
"The loss of the horse," he impressed on them, "not only means obstruction to the yaga; it casts sin and ignominy on an concerned. You should, therefore, recover the horse, wherever it may be kept hidden."
Eagerly the sons of Sagara proceeded to search the entire earth, but the horse was nowhere to be found. They even started digging the earth as for buried treasure, and in their anxiety respected neither place nor person and only succeeded in earning the hatred of all they met. The horse was not to be found; and when they reported their failure to the King, he bade them ransack the nether world also. The princes did as they were told and in Patala they saw the horse grazing in a corner of an ashrama, not far from the place where Sage Kapila who was Vishnu sat in meditation.
The princes at once jumped to the conclusion that they had not only found the stolen horse but the thief also, and they rushed on Kapila shouting, "Here is the thief pretending to be a yogi." Kapila thus disturbed opened his eyes and the sixty thousand princes were reduced to a heap of ashes. Indra, the real thief, had artfully left the horse here with this very intent.
7) BHAGIRATHA AND THE STORY OF GANGA:
King Sagara waited in vain for the return of the princes who had gone in search of the sacrificial horse.
After some days he called his grandson, Amsuman, and said: "I am anxious to know what has happened to the princes who went to Patala. You are brave; go thither, well-armed and find out what has happened and come back crowned with success."
Amsuman went closely following the path of the princes and reached the nether world where he saw and paid salutations to the mighty elephants standing guard at the four quarters. These guardians of the quarters uttered encouraging words and said he would succeed in his mission.
When in due course Amsuman entered and went round Patala he was delighted when he found the sacrificial horse grazing contentedly there, but was perplexed and distressed when he saw heaps of ashes all over the place. Could they be all that remained of his valiant uncles?
Garuda, the bird-king, brother of Sumati, Sagara's second wife, who chanced to be there told Amsuman: "Those ash heaps are all that is left of the sixty thousand sons of Sagara who were consumed by the wrathful glance of Sage Kapila. Dear child, take the horse and complete the yaga. If these ashes are to be watered according to custom so that the souls of the princes may rest in peace, Ganga should be brought down here from the land of the Devas."
Amsuman rushed home with the horse and told the king all that he had found and learnt.
Sagara was immersed in sorrow at the fate that had overtaken his sons. However, the horse having been brought back, he completed the yaga. Grieving over his lost sons and despairing of ever bringing Ganga down to the nether world, he died disconsolate.
According to the Ramayana, Sagara lived for 30,000 years. Figures like 30,000 and 60,000 need not confuse us. Thirty thousand may mean either a very large number or just thirty. If we so like, we may take these figures literally.
Amsuman succeeded Sagara as King of Ayodhya and was, in turn, succeeded by Dilipa. Bhagiratha came after Dilipa.
Amsuman and Dilipa though happy and blessed in other respects, died grieving that they were unable to bring Ganga to Patala for the salvation of their forefathers.
Bhagiratha was a valiant king. He was childless. Desiring progeny and hoping to bring Ganga down, he left for Gokarna for performing penance, leaving the kingdom in the hands of his ministers.
Bhagiratha went through severe austerities. With fire on all sides and head exposed to the hot sun, and taking food but once a month, he continued his tapas. Bhagiratha's name has come to signify great perseverance in any good cause.
Brahma, pleased with the tapas, appeared before Bhagiratha and asked: "What would you have?"
Bhagiratha told him two wishes: "If you have pity on me, bless me with a child to continue the line of my forebears. Secondly, cursed by Kapila Muni, my ancestors lie a heap of ashes in Patala. The ashes should be washed by the waters of Ganga so that their souls may ascend top heaven. May you be pleased to order Ganga to go down."
Brahma replied: "The Devas are pleased with your tapas. You wishes are granted. But there is one difficulty. The earth cannot withstand the force of Ganga's descent. Siva alone can stand it. Therefore direct your penance and prayers to him."
Bhagiratha renewed his tapas and continued long without food or water, and at last won Siva's grace. Siva appeared and said to Bhagiratha: "I shall fulfil your wish. I shall receive Ganga on my head. May her grace be upon you."
When Mahadeva promised help to Bhagiratha, Ganga began her descent as ordered by Brahma. In her arrogance, she thought she would fall on Mahadeva's head and sweep him away towards Patala.
The three-eyed God decided to teach Ganga a lesson. And the moment he willed it, the flood of waters that fell on his head were held by his matted hair as in an infinite receptacle. Ganga tried her best but not a drop could emerge from the tangled maze of Siva's matted locks.
This was a lesson to Ganga to be sure, but a heart-braking disappointment to Bhagiratha. There was nothing for him but to propitiate Siva with tapas. This he did to such good purpose that Siva took pity on him and gently let out the waters of Ganga in Bindu Saras from where they flowed down in seven small separate streams.
Three of them flowed west and three east; and the seventh river followed Bhagiratha who was full of joy at the approaching salvation of his ancestors.
Ganga followed Bhagiratha's triumphal chariot; the waters danced and shone like lightning flashes as the river made its course and the Devas and Gandharvas assembled above to witness the grand sight. Sometimes slow and sometimes fast, now sliding down and now jumping up, the river went on dancing behind Bhagiratha's chariot and the folk of heaven enjoyed the sight all the way.
On her course, Ganga damaged the yaga platform of a rishi by name Jahnu. The rishi took the entire flood in his palm and sipped it off. Ganga disappeared again and Bhagiratha was sorely perplexed.
The Devas and other rishis approached Jahnu and begged him to forgive Ganga and allow Bhagiratha to reap the fruit of his great austerities and perseverance. The sage relented and let Ganga out through his right ear. The Devas were glad and blessed Ganga thus: "Coming out of the rishi's body as out of your mother's womb, you are now Jahnavi, Jahnu's daughter."
There was no further hindrance or mishap and Ganga reached Patala through the ocean. With the holy waters, Bhagiratha performed the funeral rites for his arcestors and secured for them their entry to heaven.
Bhagiratha's efforts having brought Ganga down, she is known as Bhagirathi.
After concluding this narrative, Viswamitra blessed the princes. "The sun is setting," he said. "Let us say our evening prayers in the waters of Ganga whom your ancestor brought down to this world."
Those who bathe in the holy waters of Ganga or read or listen to this divine story with devotion, will be cleansed of sin and endowed with virtue, strength and unflagging zeal.
After some days he called his grandson, Amsuman, and said: "I am anxious to know what has happened to the princes who went to Patala. You are brave; go thither, well-armed and find out what has happened and come back crowned with success."
Amsuman went closely following the path of the princes and reached the nether world where he saw and paid salutations to the mighty elephants standing guard at the four quarters. These guardians of the quarters uttered encouraging words and said he would succeed in his mission.
When in due course Amsuman entered and went round Patala he was delighted when he found the sacrificial horse grazing contentedly there, but was perplexed and distressed when he saw heaps of ashes all over the place. Could they be all that remained of his valiant uncles?
Garuda, the bird-king, brother of Sumati, Sagara's second wife, who chanced to be there told Amsuman: "Those ash heaps are all that is left of the sixty thousand sons of Sagara who were consumed by the wrathful glance of Sage Kapila. Dear child, take the horse and complete the yaga. If these ashes are to be watered according to custom so that the souls of the princes may rest in peace, Ganga should be brought down here from the land of the Devas."
Amsuman rushed home with the horse and told the king all that he had found and learnt.
Sagara was immersed in sorrow at the fate that had overtaken his sons. However, the horse having been brought back, he completed the yaga. Grieving over his lost sons and despairing of ever bringing Ganga down to the nether world, he died disconsolate.
According to the Ramayana, Sagara lived for 30,000 years. Figures like 30,000 and 60,000 need not confuse us. Thirty thousand may mean either a very large number or just thirty. If we so like, we may take these figures literally.
Amsuman succeeded Sagara as King of Ayodhya and was, in turn, succeeded by Dilipa. Bhagiratha came after Dilipa.
Amsuman and Dilipa though happy and blessed in other respects, died grieving that they were unable to bring Ganga to Patala for the salvation of their forefathers.
Bhagiratha was a valiant king. He was childless. Desiring progeny and hoping to bring Ganga down, he left for Gokarna for performing penance, leaving the kingdom in the hands of his ministers.
Bhagiratha went through severe austerities. With fire on all sides and head exposed to the hot sun, and taking food but once a month, he continued his tapas. Bhagiratha's name has come to signify great perseverance in any good cause.
Brahma, pleased with the tapas, appeared before Bhagiratha and asked: "What would you have?"
Bhagiratha told him two wishes: "If you have pity on me, bless me with a child to continue the line of my forebears. Secondly, cursed by Kapila Muni, my ancestors lie a heap of ashes in Patala. The ashes should be washed by the waters of Ganga so that their souls may ascend top heaven. May you be pleased to order Ganga to go down."
Brahma replied: "The Devas are pleased with your tapas. You wishes are granted. But there is one difficulty. The earth cannot withstand the force of Ganga's descent. Siva alone can stand it. Therefore direct your penance and prayers to him."
Bhagiratha renewed his tapas and continued long without food or water, and at last won Siva's grace. Siva appeared and said to Bhagiratha: "I shall fulfil your wish. I shall receive Ganga on my head. May her grace be upon you."
When Mahadeva promised help to Bhagiratha, Ganga began her descent as ordered by Brahma. In her arrogance, she thought she would fall on Mahadeva's head and sweep him away towards Patala.
The three-eyed God decided to teach Ganga a lesson. And the moment he willed it, the flood of waters that fell on his head were held by his matted hair as in an infinite receptacle. Ganga tried her best but not a drop could emerge from the tangled maze of Siva's matted locks.
This was a lesson to Ganga to be sure, but a heart-braking disappointment to Bhagiratha. There was nothing for him but to propitiate Siva with tapas. This he did to such good purpose that Siva took pity on him and gently let out the waters of Ganga in Bindu Saras from where they flowed down in seven small separate streams.
Three of them flowed west and three east; and the seventh river followed Bhagiratha who was full of joy at the approaching salvation of his ancestors.
Ganga followed Bhagiratha's triumphal chariot; the waters danced and shone like lightning flashes as the river made its course and the Devas and Gandharvas assembled above to witness the grand sight. Sometimes slow and sometimes fast, now sliding down and now jumping up, the river went on dancing behind Bhagiratha's chariot and the folk of heaven enjoyed the sight all the way.
On her course, Ganga damaged the yaga platform of a rishi by name Jahnu. The rishi took the entire flood in his palm and sipped it off. Ganga disappeared again and Bhagiratha was sorely perplexed.
The Devas and other rishis approached Jahnu and begged him to forgive Ganga and allow Bhagiratha to reap the fruit of his great austerities and perseverance. The sage relented and let Ganga out through his right ear. The Devas were glad and blessed Ganga thus: "Coming out of the rishi's body as out of your mother's womb, you are now Jahnavi, Jahnu's daughter."
There was no further hindrance or mishap and Ganga reached Patala through the ocean. With the holy waters, Bhagiratha performed the funeral rites for his arcestors and secured for them their entry to heaven.
Bhagiratha's efforts having brought Ganga down, she is known as Bhagirathi.
After concluding this narrative, Viswamitra blessed the princes. "The sun is setting," he said. "Let us say our evening prayers in the waters of Ganga whom your ancestor brought down to this world."
Those who bathe in the holy waters of Ganga or read or listen to this divine story with devotion, will be cleansed of sin and endowed with virtue, strength and unflagging zeal.
8) AHALYA :
After a day's stay in the City of Visala, Viswamitra and his party left for Mithila. On the way, not far from Mithila, they saw a beautiful ashrama which seemed untenanted. Rama asked Viswamitra: "Whose is this ashrama with ancient trees? Why does such a beautiful abode stand deserted?"
Viswamitra replied:
"This ashrama is subject to a curse. Sage Gautama lived here with his wife Ahalya, spending his days in peace and holy meditation. One day during the sage's absence from the ashrama, Indra, filled with unholy desire for the beautiful Ahalya, entered it disguised as Gautama and approached the lady with urgent solicitation. She was not deceived by the impersonation, but vain of her beauty and proud that it had won her the love of the lord of the celestials, she lost her judgment and yielded to his desire. When the sin had been sinned, realising its heinousness and the fierce spiritual energy of her betrayed husband, she warned Indra of his terrible peril and begged him to be gone in the instant. Indra was fleeing in guilty panic; but unfortunately for him he almost bumped into the rishi who was just returning from his ablutions, clad in wet garments and radiating spiritual lustre. Pretence was hopeless before that all- seeing wisdom and Indra bowed in abject supplication, and threw himself on the mercy of the rishi. The sage looked at him with wrath and loathing and cursed him: 'Lustful beast as you are, dead to all truth and righteousness, may your manhood fall away from you.' Indra at once became an eunuch and went back to the Devas in ignominious shame. Then the sage turned to his erring wife and prescribed a long penance for her. He said: 'Living on air, you shall stay here, unseen by anyone. After a long time, Dasaratha's son will pass this way. When he sets foot in this ashrama, you will be freed from the curse. Welcome him as a guest. You will then recover your lost virtue and get back your own beauty.' The sage then left his violated ashrama for Himalayas to engage himself in austerities there."
Viswamitra said to Rama: "Let us enter the ashrama. You will bring redemption to Ahalya and rekindle the light in her as the sage promised."
And they went into the ashrama. As Rama set foot in the ashrama, the curse was lifted and Ahalya stood before them in all her beauty. Having lain concealed behind leaves and creepers and kept her vow for many years, she now shone, says the poet, in Rama's presence, like the moon emerging from the clouds, like a flame issuing from smoke and like the sun's reflection in rippling water.
Rama and Lakshmana touched the feet of the sage's wife made pure by penance. She welcomed the divine princes with all the customary rites of hospitality. A shower of flowers descended from the heavens as Ahalya, cleansed of sin, shone like a goddess. Simultaneously the sage Gautama returned to the ashrama and received his repentant and purified wife back to his affection.
That is Ahalya's story as told by Valmiki. There are in other Puranas and popular stories slightly varying versions, but the differences need not trouble us.
Now, a word to those of our times who read Ramayana and Bharata and other Puranas. In these works, there are frequent references to Devas and Rakshasas. The latter were wicked, had no regard for dharma, and reveled in evil deeds. Asuras were also like Rakshasas. But even among Rakshasas there were a few wise and virtuous people. There spring up bad men even in the best of races and vice versa. On the whole, Asuras and Rakshasas were those who rejoiced in doing wicked deeds. It is a pity that some people in their ignorance identify the Asuras and Rakshasas with ancient Indian tribes and races, a view not supported by any literary work or tradition or recorded history.
The conjecture of foreigners that the Rakshasas were the Dravidian race, is not borne out by any authority in Tamil or other literature. The Tamil people are not descendants of the Asuras or Rakshasas.
The Devas were generally upholders of dharma and took on themselves the task of putting down the Rakshasas. According to the Puranas, they had at times to deviate from dharma in dealing with the Rakshasas, some of whom had attained great power through tapas.
The Devas were generally good; and those among them who swerved from the path of righteousness paid the price for it. There was no separate code of conduct for the Devas; the law of Karma admits of no distinction between the Devas and others. The law dealt with the Devas as with others.
Wedded to virtue as the Devas generally were, lapses on their part appear big to us, like stains on white cloth. The Rakshasas' evil deeds are taken for granted and do not attract much attention, like stains on black cloth.
The honest, when they happen to go astray, should evoke our sympathy. It is however the way of the world, but it is not right, to condemn in strong terms casual lapses of the virtuous, while tolerating habitual wrong-doers.
It should be noted that in the Puranas we see the gods getting entangled in dilemmas of Dharma. Indra and other Devas are shown often as committing serious sins.
Why did the sages who told the Puranas involve themselves in such difficulties? Their aim was to awaken people to a sense of the dangers of adharma. Else, the sages need not have deliberately attributed sinful acts to their own heroes and created difficulties for themselves.
Some persons take pleasure in jumping to wrong conclusions from the incidents in the Puranas. They argue: "Ravana was a very good king. Valmiki has falsely accused him of wicked deeds." They ask: "Did not Rama act unjustly on a certain occasion? Did not Sita utter a lie?" and the like. Valmiki could well have omitted incidents which are not edifying. Both Rama and Ravana were first presented to us by the poet Valmiki.
There was no earlier work referring to Ravana that can be quoted to contradict Valmiki and stamp him as being partial to Rama, Sita and the Devas, and twisting facts to deceive people. Valmiki's Ramayana is the fountain source of the story of Rama; in it, one comes across seemingly wrong deeds.
Calm consideration of such situations would show that they are just portrayals of similar difficulties in our day-to-day life. It is for us to benefit from the moral trials contained in them. The lesson of the Ahalya episode is that, however deadly one's sin, one may hope to be freed from its consequence by penitence and punishment. Instead of condemning others for their sins, we should look within our own hearts and try to purify them of every evil thought. The best of us have need for eternal vigilance, if we would escape sin. This is the moral of Ahalya's error.
Viswamitra replied:
"This ashrama is subject to a curse. Sage Gautama lived here with his wife Ahalya, spending his days in peace and holy meditation. One day during the sage's absence from the ashrama, Indra, filled with unholy desire for the beautiful Ahalya, entered it disguised as Gautama and approached the lady with urgent solicitation. She was not deceived by the impersonation, but vain of her beauty and proud that it had won her the love of the lord of the celestials, she lost her judgment and yielded to his desire. When the sin had been sinned, realising its heinousness and the fierce spiritual energy of her betrayed husband, she warned Indra of his terrible peril and begged him to be gone in the instant. Indra was fleeing in guilty panic; but unfortunately for him he almost bumped into the rishi who was just returning from his ablutions, clad in wet garments and radiating spiritual lustre. Pretence was hopeless before that all- seeing wisdom and Indra bowed in abject supplication, and threw himself on the mercy of the rishi. The sage looked at him with wrath and loathing and cursed him: 'Lustful beast as you are, dead to all truth and righteousness, may your manhood fall away from you.' Indra at once became an eunuch and went back to the Devas in ignominious shame. Then the sage turned to his erring wife and prescribed a long penance for her. He said: 'Living on air, you shall stay here, unseen by anyone. After a long time, Dasaratha's son will pass this way. When he sets foot in this ashrama, you will be freed from the curse. Welcome him as a guest. You will then recover your lost virtue and get back your own beauty.' The sage then left his violated ashrama for Himalayas to engage himself in austerities there."
Viswamitra said to Rama: "Let us enter the ashrama. You will bring redemption to Ahalya and rekindle the light in her as the sage promised."
And they went into the ashrama. As Rama set foot in the ashrama, the curse was lifted and Ahalya stood before them in all her beauty. Having lain concealed behind leaves and creepers and kept her vow for many years, she now shone, says the poet, in Rama's presence, like the moon emerging from the clouds, like a flame issuing from smoke and like the sun's reflection in rippling water.
Rama and Lakshmana touched the feet of the sage's wife made pure by penance. She welcomed the divine princes with all the customary rites of hospitality. A shower of flowers descended from the heavens as Ahalya, cleansed of sin, shone like a goddess. Simultaneously the sage Gautama returned to the ashrama and received his repentant and purified wife back to his affection.
That is Ahalya's story as told by Valmiki. There are in other Puranas and popular stories slightly varying versions, but the differences need not trouble us.
Now, a word to those of our times who read Ramayana and Bharata and other Puranas. In these works, there are frequent references to Devas and Rakshasas. The latter were wicked, had no regard for dharma, and reveled in evil deeds. Asuras were also like Rakshasas. But even among Rakshasas there were a few wise and virtuous people. There spring up bad men even in the best of races and vice versa. On the whole, Asuras and Rakshasas were those who rejoiced in doing wicked deeds. It is a pity that some people in their ignorance identify the Asuras and Rakshasas with ancient Indian tribes and races, a view not supported by any literary work or tradition or recorded history.
The conjecture of foreigners that the Rakshasas were the Dravidian race, is not borne out by any authority in Tamil or other literature. The Tamil people are not descendants of the Asuras or Rakshasas.
The Devas were generally upholders of dharma and took on themselves the task of putting down the Rakshasas. According to the Puranas, they had at times to deviate from dharma in dealing with the Rakshasas, some of whom had attained great power through tapas.
The Devas were generally good; and those among them who swerved from the path of righteousness paid the price for it. There was no separate code of conduct for the Devas; the law of Karma admits of no distinction between the Devas and others. The law dealt with the Devas as with others.
Wedded to virtue as the Devas generally were, lapses on their part appear big to us, like stains on white cloth. The Rakshasas' evil deeds are taken for granted and do not attract much attention, like stains on black cloth.
The honest, when they happen to go astray, should evoke our sympathy. It is however the way of the world, but it is not right, to condemn in strong terms casual lapses of the virtuous, while tolerating habitual wrong-doers.
It should be noted that in the Puranas we see the gods getting entangled in dilemmas of Dharma. Indra and other Devas are shown often as committing serious sins.
Why did the sages who told the Puranas involve themselves in such difficulties? Their aim was to awaken people to a sense of the dangers of adharma. Else, the sages need not have deliberately attributed sinful acts to their own heroes and created difficulties for themselves.
Some persons take pleasure in jumping to wrong conclusions from the incidents in the Puranas. They argue: "Ravana was a very good king. Valmiki has falsely accused him of wicked deeds." They ask: "Did not Rama act unjustly on a certain occasion? Did not Sita utter a lie?" and the like. Valmiki could well have omitted incidents which are not edifying. Both Rama and Ravana were first presented to us by the poet Valmiki.
There was no earlier work referring to Ravana that can be quoted to contradict Valmiki and stamp him as being partial to Rama, Sita and the Devas, and twisting facts to deceive people. Valmiki's Ramayana is the fountain source of the story of Rama; in it, one comes across seemingly wrong deeds.
Calm consideration of such situations would show that they are just portrayals of similar difficulties in our day-to-day life. It is for us to benefit from the moral trials contained in them. The lesson of the Ahalya episode is that, however deadly one's sin, one may hope to be freed from its consequence by penitence and punishment. Instead of condemning others for their sins, we should look within our own hearts and try to purify them of every evil thought. The best of us have need for eternal vigilance, if we would escape sin. This is the moral of Ahalya's error.
9) THE DIVINE MARRIAGE OF RAMA AND SITA :
All arrangements for Janaka's yaga had been completed and to Mithila had come many rishis and Brahman's from various kingdoms. Viswamitra and the princes
were duly welcomed. Janaka's preceptor, Satananda, was the first to pay honor to Viswamitra. Janaka followed him.
The King said to the sage: "I am indeed blessed that you should attend my yaga."
Pointing to Rama and Lakshmana, Janaka asked Viswamitra: "Who are these god-like youths who resemble each other, and carry their weapons with the proud ease of seasoned warriors? Who is the happy father of such sons?"
Viswamitra told Janaka that they were the sons of King Dasaratha. He narrated how they had protected his own yaga and destroyed the Rakshasas. "They have come here," the sage went on, "to see, if they may, the great bow of Rudra in your palace." Janaka understood the meaning of Viswamitra's words and rejoiced.
The King said: "The prince is welcome to see the bow. If he can string it, he will win the hand of my daughter. Many were the princes who saw this bow and went back, unable even to move it. I shall indeed be happy if this prince succeeds where so many have failed and I am thereby enabled to give Sita to him."
Janaka then ordered his men to bring the bow which was kept safe and sacred in an iron box. It was brought on an eight- wheeled carriage and dragged like a temple chariot during a festival.
"Here," said Janaka, "is Rudra's bow worshipped by me and my ancestors. Let Rama see this bow."
After obtaining permission from Viswamitra and the King, Rama stepped out to the iron bow-case, while all eyes were fixed on him in wishful expectation. Opening the box, he lifted the bow effortlessly, as if it were a garland of flowers, and resting one end of it against his toe, he bent and strung it and drew the string back with such irresistible force that the mighty bow snapped with a crash like a clap of thunder. And there fell from heaven a shower of flowers.
Janaka proclaimed: "My beloved daughter shall be wedded to this prince."
Viswamitra said to Janaka: "Send your swiftest messengers to Ayodhya to give the news to Dasaratha and invite him."
Janaka's messengers reached Ayodhya in three days. They met King Dasaratha who was seated, like Indra, on his throne and said to him: "Sage Viswamitra and King Janaka have sent you happy news. Your son who came to Mithila has won our princess Sita by fulfilling the condition set for her hand. He not only strung Rudra's bow which none before could so much as lift, but bent its tough pride till it broke. King Janaka eagerly awaits your gracious consent for the marriage, and your presence and blessing at the festivities. May it please you to start for Mithila with your retinue."
Dasaratha, who had sent Rama with Viswamitra with a heart not altogether free from anxiety even after the sage's assurance, was thrilled with joy on hearing this good news. He told his ministers to prepare for the journey and left the very next day for Janaka's capital.
Dasaratha and his following reached Mithila and were received with enthusiastic welcome. Exchange of courtesies over, Janaka said to Dasaratha: "My yaga will soon be over. I think it best to have the marriage as soon as the yaga is over," and sought his approval.
Dasaratha replied: "You are the bride's father and it is for you to order things as you wish."
At the appointed day and hour, giving away the bride, King Janaka said to Rama: "Here is my daughter, Sita, who will ever tread with you the path of dharma. Take her hand in yours. Blessed and devoted, she will ever walk with you like your own shadow."
Iyam Sita mama suta sahadharmacharee tava
prateechchha chainam bhadram te panim
grihneeshwa panina pativrata mahabhaga chhayevanugata sada.
This sloka is uttered in every wedding in upper India when the bride is given away.
Thus was Sita given by Janaka to Rama. Were they not Eternal Lovers reunited? And so they rejoiced like lovers come together after separation.
were duly welcomed. Janaka's preceptor, Satananda, was the first to pay honor to Viswamitra. Janaka followed him.
The King said to the sage: "I am indeed blessed that you should attend my yaga."
Pointing to Rama and Lakshmana, Janaka asked Viswamitra: "Who are these god-like youths who resemble each other, and carry their weapons with the proud ease of seasoned warriors? Who is the happy father of such sons?"
Viswamitra told Janaka that they were the sons of King Dasaratha. He narrated how they had protected his own yaga and destroyed the Rakshasas. "They have come here," the sage went on, "to see, if they may, the great bow of Rudra in your palace." Janaka understood the meaning of Viswamitra's words and rejoiced.
The King said: "The prince is welcome to see the bow. If he can string it, he will win the hand of my daughter. Many were the princes who saw this bow and went back, unable even to move it. I shall indeed be happy if this prince succeeds where so many have failed and I am thereby enabled to give Sita to him."
Janaka then ordered his men to bring the bow which was kept safe and sacred in an iron box. It was brought on an eight- wheeled carriage and dragged like a temple chariot during a festival.
"Here," said Janaka, "is Rudra's bow worshipped by me and my ancestors. Let Rama see this bow."
After obtaining permission from Viswamitra and the King, Rama stepped out to the iron bow-case, while all eyes were fixed on him in wishful expectation. Opening the box, he lifted the bow effortlessly, as if it were a garland of flowers, and resting one end of it against his toe, he bent and strung it and drew the string back with such irresistible force that the mighty bow snapped with a crash like a clap of thunder. And there fell from heaven a shower of flowers.
Janaka proclaimed: "My beloved daughter shall be wedded to this prince."
Viswamitra said to Janaka: "Send your swiftest messengers to Ayodhya to give the news to Dasaratha and invite him."
Janaka's messengers reached Ayodhya in three days. They met King Dasaratha who was seated, like Indra, on his throne and said to him: "Sage Viswamitra and King Janaka have sent you happy news. Your son who came to Mithila has won our princess Sita by fulfilling the condition set for her hand. He not only strung Rudra's bow which none before could so much as lift, but bent its tough pride till it broke. King Janaka eagerly awaits your gracious consent for the marriage, and your presence and blessing at the festivities. May it please you to start for Mithila with your retinue."
Dasaratha, who had sent Rama with Viswamitra with a heart not altogether free from anxiety even after the sage's assurance, was thrilled with joy on hearing this good news. He told his ministers to prepare for the journey and left the very next day for Janaka's capital.
Dasaratha and his following reached Mithila and were received with enthusiastic welcome. Exchange of courtesies over, Janaka said to Dasaratha: "My yaga will soon be over. I think it best to have the marriage as soon as the yaga is over," and sought his approval.
Dasaratha replied: "You are the bride's father and it is for you to order things as you wish."
At the appointed day and hour, giving away the bride, King Janaka said to Rama: "Here is my daughter, Sita, who will ever tread with you the path of dharma. Take her hand in yours. Blessed and devoted, she will ever walk with you like your own shadow."
Iyam Sita mama suta sahadharmacharee tava
prateechchha chainam bhadram te panim
grihneeshwa panina pativrata mahabhaga chhayevanugata sada.
This sloka is uttered in every wedding in upper India when the bride is given away.
Thus was Sita given by Janaka to Rama. Were they not Eternal Lovers reunited? And so they rejoiced like lovers come together after separation.
10) PARASURAMA HUMBLED :
Having thus safely handed back to Dasaratha at Mithila the princes entrusted to him in Ayodhya, and after attending the wedding celebrations, Viswamitra took leave of the two kings and went to Himalaya. In the story of Rama, Viswamitra has no further part.
Viswamitra may be said to be the foundation of the grand temple of Rama's story. After Rama's wedding in Mithila, we do not see him again. It should be noted that characters that play a leading role in one canto of Valmiki almost fade out in subsequent cantos. Viswamitra who dominates the Bala Kanda does not appear again. Similarly, Kaikeyi and Guha are prominent only in Ayodhya Kanda. The same thing can be said of Bharata whom we do not come across in the chapters intervening between the Chitrakuta meeting and Rama's return to Ayodhya.
The poet hardly brings Bharata before our eyes during the period of Rama's distress. The characters in Valmiki Ramayana (unlike those in the Mahabharata and in ordinary plays and novels) do not present themselves off and on. Critics should bear this general characteristic of Valmiki's epic in mind.
King Dasaratha returned to Ayodhya, accompanied by his retinue. On the way, there were bad omens and anxious Dasaratha asked Vasishtha what they portended. Vasishtha replied that there was no need to be alarmed, for though the birds in the air indicated approaching trouble, the animals on the land promised a happy consummation.
As Dasaratha and Vasishtha were thus conversing, there broke out a great storm. Trees were uprooted; the earth quaked and clouds of dust went up and hid the sun and there was an all-enveloping darkness. Everyone was terror-struck. Soon they knew the reason for the strange phenomenon. There stood before them the awe-inspiring figure Parasurama, the sworn enemy of Kshatriyas, with a bow on one shoulder and a battle-axe on the other, and with an arrow shining like lightning in his hand.
Terrible in appearance, with his matted locks gathered overhead, he looked like Rudra exulting in the destruction of Tripura. His face emitted flame-like radiance. The son of Sage Jamadagni struck terror among Kshatriyas, many generations of which he had annihilated. Wherever he went he was preceded by storm and earthquake. And the Kshatriya race trembled in fear.
The Brahmanas in Dasaratha's retinue said to one another: "Because his father was killed by a king, Parasurama took a vow to destroy the Kshatriya race. We dared to hope that his vengeful wrath had been quenched in the blood of the innumerable kings he has slain. Has he again started his cruel campaign?" However, they honored him with the customary offering of water.
After receiving it, Parasurama addressed himself to Rama: "Son of Dasaratha, I have heard of your prowess. I was somewhat surprised to learn that you strung the bow in King Janaka's court and that you drew the string till the bow broke. Here is my bow, equal in all respects to the one that you broke. This is the bow of Vishnu which was entrusted to my father. If you are able to string this bow, you will be worthy of my battle."
Dasaratha was perturbed at this turn of events and he begged that his son Rama should be spared the trial. He said to Parasurama: "You are a Brahmana. We have heard that, satiated with your revenge, you have gone back to tapas as becomes your order, in pursuance of your plighted word to Indra, after giving away the earth you had conquered to Kashyapa. Is it proper that you should break your vow, and seek to injure a prince of tender years who has done you no wrong, and who is dearer to us than life?"
Parasurama heard him unmoved without so much as looking at him, and addressed himself solely to Rama, as though the others did not exist: "Viswakarma originally made two exactly similar bows. One of them was given to Rudra and the other to Vishnu. This is the one given to Vishnu. What you are said to have strung and bent to the breaking point was Siva's bow. See if you can, string this bow of Vishnu; and if you do, it will be proof of your skill and strength and I will then honor you by fighting with you."
Parasurama spoke in a loud and arrogant tone. To him Rama replied in courteous manner, yet in firm tones: "Son of Jamadagni! You have been vengeful because your father was killed by a king. I do not blame you for that. But you cannot put me down as you have humbled others. Please give me your bow."
So saying, he took the bow and arrow from Parasurama. He strung the bow and setting the arrow to it, drew the string. Addressing Parasurama, he said with a smile: "This mighty Vaishnava arrow
placed on the string cannot be put back idly. It must destroy something. Tell me, shall it destroy your powers of locomotion, or would you rather that it consumes the fruits of your tapas?"
As the son of Dasaratha strung the bow of Vishnu, the glory on Parasurama's face faded, and he stood, no longer the warlike conqueror, but a self-subdued rishi, for the purpose of the Parasurama avatar was over.
Parasurama said mildly to the Prince of Ayodhya: "I realise who you are. I am not sorry that you have quenched my arrogance. Let all my tapas go to you. But because of my promise to Kashyapa, I cannot remain in his domains and have therefore to hurry back to the Mahendra Mountains before the sunsets. Let me use my power of locomotion for this single thing. Subject to this, let the arrow which you have set to the bow consume all my power earned through tapas."
So saying, Parasurama went in reverent circumambulation around the prince and departed. Ayodhya's citizens were overjoyed to bear that Dasaratha and the royal princes were returning to the capital. The city was festive with flowers and shone like the deva-loka.
Rama and Sita lived happily in Ayodhya for twelve years. Rama had surrendered his heart to Sita. It was difficult for one to say whether their love grew because of their virtues or it was planted in their beauty of form. Their hearts communed even without speech. Sita, rejoicing in Rama's love, shone like Lakshmi in heaven.
Long afterwards, when their forest-life began, Anasuya, the great sage Atri's holy wife, extolled Sita's love for Rama.
And Sita answered: "How else could it be? Rama is a perfect being. His love for me equals mine for him. His affection is unchanging. Pure of heart, he has mastered the senses."
Viswamitra may be said to be the foundation of the grand temple of Rama's story. After Rama's wedding in Mithila, we do not see him again. It should be noted that characters that play a leading role in one canto of Valmiki almost fade out in subsequent cantos. Viswamitra who dominates the Bala Kanda does not appear again. Similarly, Kaikeyi and Guha are prominent only in Ayodhya Kanda. The same thing can be said of Bharata whom we do not come across in the chapters intervening between the Chitrakuta meeting and Rama's return to Ayodhya.
The poet hardly brings Bharata before our eyes during the period of Rama's distress. The characters in Valmiki Ramayana (unlike those in the Mahabharata and in ordinary plays and novels) do not present themselves off and on. Critics should bear this general characteristic of Valmiki's epic in mind.
King Dasaratha returned to Ayodhya, accompanied by his retinue. On the way, there were bad omens and anxious Dasaratha asked Vasishtha what they portended. Vasishtha replied that there was no need to be alarmed, for though the birds in the air indicated approaching trouble, the animals on the land promised a happy consummation.
As Dasaratha and Vasishtha were thus conversing, there broke out a great storm. Trees were uprooted; the earth quaked and clouds of dust went up and hid the sun and there was an all-enveloping darkness. Everyone was terror-struck. Soon they knew the reason for the strange phenomenon. There stood before them the awe-inspiring figure Parasurama, the sworn enemy of Kshatriyas, with a bow on one shoulder and a battle-axe on the other, and with an arrow shining like lightning in his hand.
Terrible in appearance, with his matted locks gathered overhead, he looked like Rudra exulting in the destruction of Tripura. His face emitted flame-like radiance. The son of Sage Jamadagni struck terror among Kshatriyas, many generations of which he had annihilated. Wherever he went he was preceded by storm and earthquake. And the Kshatriya race trembled in fear.
The Brahmanas in Dasaratha's retinue said to one another: "Because his father was killed by a king, Parasurama took a vow to destroy the Kshatriya race. We dared to hope that his vengeful wrath had been quenched in the blood of the innumerable kings he has slain. Has he again started his cruel campaign?" However, they honored him with the customary offering of water.
After receiving it, Parasurama addressed himself to Rama: "Son of Dasaratha, I have heard of your prowess. I was somewhat surprised to learn that you strung the bow in King Janaka's court and that you drew the string till the bow broke. Here is my bow, equal in all respects to the one that you broke. This is the bow of Vishnu which was entrusted to my father. If you are able to string this bow, you will be worthy of my battle."
Dasaratha was perturbed at this turn of events and he begged that his son Rama should be spared the trial. He said to Parasurama: "You are a Brahmana. We have heard that, satiated with your revenge, you have gone back to tapas as becomes your order, in pursuance of your plighted word to Indra, after giving away the earth you had conquered to Kashyapa. Is it proper that you should break your vow, and seek to injure a prince of tender years who has done you no wrong, and who is dearer to us than life?"
Parasurama heard him unmoved without so much as looking at him, and addressed himself solely to Rama, as though the others did not exist: "Viswakarma originally made two exactly similar bows. One of them was given to Rudra and the other to Vishnu. This is the one given to Vishnu. What you are said to have strung and bent to the breaking point was Siva's bow. See if you can, string this bow of Vishnu; and if you do, it will be proof of your skill and strength and I will then honor you by fighting with you."
Parasurama spoke in a loud and arrogant tone. To him Rama replied in courteous manner, yet in firm tones: "Son of Jamadagni! You have been vengeful because your father was killed by a king. I do not blame you for that. But you cannot put me down as you have humbled others. Please give me your bow."
So saying, he took the bow and arrow from Parasurama. He strung the bow and setting the arrow to it, drew the string. Addressing Parasurama, he said with a smile: "This mighty Vaishnava arrow
placed on the string cannot be put back idly. It must destroy something. Tell me, shall it destroy your powers of locomotion, or would you rather that it consumes the fruits of your tapas?"
As the son of Dasaratha strung the bow of Vishnu, the glory on Parasurama's face faded, and he stood, no longer the warlike conqueror, but a self-subdued rishi, for the purpose of the Parasurama avatar was over.
Parasurama said mildly to the Prince of Ayodhya: "I realise who you are. I am not sorry that you have quenched my arrogance. Let all my tapas go to you. But because of my promise to Kashyapa, I cannot remain in his domains and have therefore to hurry back to the Mahendra Mountains before the sunsets. Let me use my power of locomotion for this single thing. Subject to this, let the arrow which you have set to the bow consume all my power earned through tapas."
So saying, Parasurama went in reverent circumambulation around the prince and departed. Ayodhya's citizens were overjoyed to bear that Dasaratha and the royal princes were returning to the capital. The city was festive with flowers and shone like the deva-loka.
Rama and Sita lived happily in Ayodhya for twelve years. Rama had surrendered his heart to Sita. It was difficult for one to say whether their love grew because of their virtues or it was planted in their beauty of form. Their hearts communed even without speech. Sita, rejoicing in Rama's love, shone like Lakshmi in heaven.
Long afterwards, when their forest-life began, Anasuya, the great sage Atri's holy wife, extolled Sita's love for Rama.
And Sita answered: "How else could it be? Rama is a perfect being. His love for me equals mine for him. His affection is unchanging. Pure of heart, he has mastered the senses."
11) FESTIVE PREPARATIONS :
Rama and Sita spent twelve happy years in Ayodhya. But now the Lord and his consort in human form had to experience the hardships, sorrows and conflicts of life on earth.
As Bhagavan himself explains: "Whatever avatar I assume, my play must go through the feelings and experiences appropriate to that incarnation."
Who was the Prince of Ayodhya who through his body, life and experience, suffered the sorrows of mankind and saved the gods? The ever-present, all- pervasive Being who rules the world from within and without.
Kamban, the Tamil poet, begins the Ayodhya Kanda referring to this marvel of how the King of Kings allowed himself to suffer the cruel machinations of the hunchback maid-servant and of a stepmother which deprived him of the sceptre and banished birn to the forest and beyond the sea.
Dasaratha loved all his, four sons and yet he had a special affection for Rama. And the latter deserved it by his royal qualities and adherence to dharma. Queen Kausalya, like Aditi, the mother of the gods, was proud that she had such a son as Rama. Valmiki has filled pages with the tale of Rama's virtues. The muni is never satiated drinking from the ocean of Rama's qualities. He describes Rama's gifts and graces sometimes directly, sometimes as seen and admired by others. Thus and in many other ways he dwells on the qualities that made Rama the ideal man.
Rama's graceful frame and virile beauty, his strength, his courage, the purity of his heart, his perfect life, his compassion, sweetness of speech, his serenity, his deep wisdom and his states manship were admired by the people and made them eagerly look forward to his becoming king.
And Dasaratha knew and rejoiced in this expectation. Hence, considering his old age, he wished to crown Rama as Yuvaraja and entrust him with the de facto rule of the kingdom. Informing his ministers of his desire, he had the Raja Sabha convened. Rishis and wise men, leaders of the city and kings from neighboring lands, attended the Raja Sabha. When all were seated, each in his appropriate place, Dasaratha rose and addressed them.
His deep manly voice, like the sound of a trumpet or the roar of rain-bearing clouds, filled the great hall. A royal radiance shone from his face. His words were full of meaning and charmed all ears.
"Like my ancestors, I have tended this kingdom as a mother cares for her child. I have worked unremittingly for the people, Now my body is old and infirm. I wish therefore to appoint my eldest son as Yuvaraja and transfer to him the burden of responsibility. Following the holy custom of my forefathers, I hope to spend the rest of my life in austerities in the forest. Rama is fully equal to the task of kingship. He is expert in administration and statecraft and he is unequalled in valor. I can transfer this trust of sovereignty to him without any anxiety and I hope that this honored assembly will permit me to do so."
Shouts of joyous acclaim rose from the great assembly and with one voice the gathered princes and potables exclaimed: "So be it."
The King spoke again: "You agree with my proposal but give no reason. This will not do. Let the wise men explain why they agree."
Then several speakers rose and explained Rama's virtues and fitness to rule. The King's heart was filled with joy to hear these praises of Rama.
At last the whole assembly rose and said with one voice: "Let there be no delay. Let Rama be anointed Yuvaraja."
The King answered that he was happy and would forthwith carry out their wishes. Then turning to Vasishtha, Vamadeva and the other holy men and guardians of the sacred rites, he said: "This is the auspicious month of Chaitra, the season when the trees in the forest are covered with flowers. Revered elders, make all preparations for the anointing of Rama."
The assembly was glad to hear these prompt orders. As bidden by the King, Sumantra, the minister in charge of the household, went to fetch Rama. Rama, ignorant of all these happenings, came and stood before his father.
Hearing of the decision to anoint him Yuvaraja, he humbly bowed acceptance, saying, "I am in duty bound to carry out your orders, whatever they be."
Dasaratha blessed Rama and said: "You are a good prince beloved of the people. Let not your courtesy and your consideration flag but increase with your opportunities of doing good, and earn you enduring glory." And Rama returned to his dwelling.
Hardly had Rama returned home when Sumantra called in haste and told him that his father wished to see him. Asked for the reason, Sumantra could not tell; he only knew he had been enjoined to fetch the prince at once.
Rama thought: "The King must have taken counsel over the coronation ceremony and perhaps met with some difficulty. But whatever happens is for the best." Rama was not eager to assume authority, but looked on it as only a duty to be done. If the King wanted him to take it up, he was ready to do so. But if the King wanted him to give it up, he was equally willing. In this mood, Rama went to his father.
As Bhagavan himself explains: "Whatever avatar I assume, my play must go through the feelings and experiences appropriate to that incarnation."
Who was the Prince of Ayodhya who through his body, life and experience, suffered the sorrows of mankind and saved the gods? The ever-present, all- pervasive Being who rules the world from within and without.
Kamban, the Tamil poet, begins the Ayodhya Kanda referring to this marvel of how the King of Kings allowed himself to suffer the cruel machinations of the hunchback maid-servant and of a stepmother which deprived him of the sceptre and banished birn to the forest and beyond the sea.
Dasaratha loved all his, four sons and yet he had a special affection for Rama. And the latter deserved it by his royal qualities and adherence to dharma. Queen Kausalya, like Aditi, the mother of the gods, was proud that she had such a son as Rama. Valmiki has filled pages with the tale of Rama's virtues. The muni is never satiated drinking from the ocean of Rama's qualities. He describes Rama's gifts and graces sometimes directly, sometimes as seen and admired by others. Thus and in many other ways he dwells on the qualities that made Rama the ideal man.
Rama's graceful frame and virile beauty, his strength, his courage, the purity of his heart, his perfect life, his compassion, sweetness of speech, his serenity, his deep wisdom and his states manship were admired by the people and made them eagerly look forward to his becoming king.
And Dasaratha knew and rejoiced in this expectation. Hence, considering his old age, he wished to crown Rama as Yuvaraja and entrust him with the de facto rule of the kingdom. Informing his ministers of his desire, he had the Raja Sabha convened. Rishis and wise men, leaders of the city and kings from neighboring lands, attended the Raja Sabha. When all were seated, each in his appropriate place, Dasaratha rose and addressed them.
His deep manly voice, like the sound of a trumpet or the roar of rain-bearing clouds, filled the great hall. A royal radiance shone from his face. His words were full of meaning and charmed all ears.
"Like my ancestors, I have tended this kingdom as a mother cares for her child. I have worked unremittingly for the people, Now my body is old and infirm. I wish therefore to appoint my eldest son as Yuvaraja and transfer to him the burden of responsibility. Following the holy custom of my forefathers, I hope to spend the rest of my life in austerities in the forest. Rama is fully equal to the task of kingship. He is expert in administration and statecraft and he is unequalled in valor. I can transfer this trust of sovereignty to him without any anxiety and I hope that this honored assembly will permit me to do so."
Shouts of joyous acclaim rose from the great assembly and with one voice the gathered princes and potables exclaimed: "So be it."
The King spoke again: "You agree with my proposal but give no reason. This will not do. Let the wise men explain why they agree."
Then several speakers rose and explained Rama's virtues and fitness to rule. The King's heart was filled with joy to hear these praises of Rama.
At last the whole assembly rose and said with one voice: "Let there be no delay. Let Rama be anointed Yuvaraja."
The King answered that he was happy and would forthwith carry out their wishes. Then turning to Vasishtha, Vamadeva and the other holy men and guardians of the sacred rites, he said: "This is the auspicious month of Chaitra, the season when the trees in the forest are covered with flowers. Revered elders, make all preparations for the anointing of Rama."
The assembly was glad to hear these prompt orders. As bidden by the King, Sumantra, the minister in charge of the household, went to fetch Rama. Rama, ignorant of all these happenings, came and stood before his father.
Hearing of the decision to anoint him Yuvaraja, he humbly bowed acceptance, saying, "I am in duty bound to carry out your orders, whatever they be."
Dasaratha blessed Rama and said: "You are a good prince beloved of the people. Let not your courtesy and your consideration flag but increase with your opportunities of doing good, and earn you enduring glory." And Rama returned to his dwelling.
Hardly had Rama returned home when Sumantra called in haste and told him that his father wished to see him. Asked for the reason, Sumantra could not tell; he only knew he had been enjoined to fetch the prince at once.
Rama thought: "The King must have taken counsel over the coronation ceremony and perhaps met with some difficulty. But whatever happens is for the best." Rama was not eager to assume authority, but looked on it as only a duty to be done. If the King wanted him to take it up, he was ready to do so. But if the King wanted him to give it up, he was equally willing. In this mood, Rama went to his father.
(My humble salutations to Sreeman Chakravarti Rajagopalachari for the collection )
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