The Ramayana Summary as retold by Sri C Rajagopalachari
36)LEFT EYELIDS THROB :
IN face of the unexpected difficulties that overtook them one after another, Rama and Lakshmana often lost heart. Their fortitude yielded place sometimes to great despair. But they managed to encourage each other and proceeded on their way.
Passing through the forest, the two princes were suddenly caught by a tremendously big Rakshasa of ugly form without head or feet. His mouth was in his great belly and he had two enormous arms which, without moving from his place, he would stretch out and clutch tiger, bear or any other living thing within reach, and swallow them.
He had only one eye which was placed in his chest but which was terrible to behold.
Caught by this monster, the princes were, for a while, bewildered and did not know what to do.
Then Rama told Lakshmana: "Let us not be confused. You will cut off one arm, I shall cut off the other."
And so they did. The name of the monster was Kabandha, which means the barrel-shaped one. Once his arms were severed, he was helpless and began to explain:
"On account of my evil deeds I was cursed by Indra to bear this form and this name. I believe you are Rama and Lakshmana. Indra promised me freedom from the curse when you two should come and cut off my arms and commit this body of mine to the flames."
The princes set fire to his body as desired by the unfortunate monster and there arose from the flames a lovely being which entered a heavenly chariot and ascended to the celestial world.
Before going, he said to Rama: "You will assuredly regain Sita. Go to the beautiful banks of the Pampa and seek the help of Sugriva living there on the Rishyamuka hill. Driven out of the kingdom by his brother Vali, he lives in constant fear and danger. Gain his friendship, and you will succeed in your attempt." Saying this Kabandha disappeared.
Rama and Lakshmana now set forward in the direction of the Pampa. In that lovely region they visited the ashrama of the aged sanyasini, Sabari, the disciple of Rishi Matanga, and accepted her hospitality. Sabari was a woman of a forest tribe and a faithful serving sister in the ashrama of the old saint Matanga. When he departed this life, she wanted to die too. But he said the time was not yet and she should await the arrival of Rama, an incarnation of Vishnu, for the bliss of his darshan was in store for her.
So the old and wrinkled woman lived her saintly life, looking faithfully after the ashrama as of old and keeping it sweet to receive the promised guest.
When the princes came, she produced the fruits she had gathered and kept for them, and described and showed to them the wonders of the Matanga ashrama.
Then with their leave, she kindled a fire and entering it ascended to heaven.
The meeting with this saintly woman and the waters of the river Pampa gave strength of mind to the princes. They thought over what should be done next.
Said Rama: "Lakshmana, I am beginning to think that we shall succeed. Let us search the forest for Sugriva whose help we should obtain."
They went all over the Pampa area. The place was lovely, but the loveliness of the spot and the animals, birds, trees and creepers only increased Rama's grief.
Every beautiful object wrung his heart and made him think: "How much would Sita have enjoyed this?" Try as he might, he could not control the human sorrow which by his incarnation he had undertaken to endure.
Lakshmana tried to revive his spirit. He said: "Even if Sita is kept hidden in the womb of Aditi, the mother of the gods, we will discover her. Ravana cannot escape. It is certain we shall kill him and redeem Sita. It is not proper that you should thus despair. How can you let anxiety or weakness come over you? If we lose a precious thing, we should work for its recovery with perseverance. Sometimes our very affection becomes our enemy. Too much love brings on grief and grief weakens effort. What need is there for me to tell you all this? You know it all. Let us not lose hope. Let us forget the grief brought on by love and bend our mind and body to exertion. Be brave. Be hopeful. We shall succeed. Get rid of your sorrow, brother!"
The younger brother thus advised Rama. Commentators look upon Lakshmana as Adisesha. Adisesha, the serpent, is said to be ever the protecting spirit of Vishnu. So Lakshmana ever tried to give Rama fresh energy and enthusiasm.
The fugitive Vanara prince Sugriva and his faithful adherents with the watchful vigilance of fear saw Rama and Lakshmana roving in the forests and were troubled with doubts. Having been ejected from his kingdom by Vali, Sugriva chose this mountainous spot because he believed that it was made by the curse of a rishi inaccessible to Vali. And now he feared that here, too, Vali in disguise was following him in order to kill him.
Or else, he feared, some Kshatriya warriors taking the side of Vali were there to kill him. The other Vanaras ran hither and thither in panic.
Hanuman was Sugriva's chief minister. He reassured Sugriva, saying: "This is not Vali, nor are they friends of Vali, it seems to me. There is no ground for fear. I shall go and talk to them and find out the truth."
Sugriva was pleased and said: "Do it, but be careful. Go, find out the truth and come back. Use all your skill. I am full of suspicion. They behave as if they are searching for someone. Could it not be that it is me they seek?"
Taking the form of a brahmana, Hanuman approached Rama and Lakshmana. As he went and stood in front of them, a confident feeling possessed his heart. Straight away he started speaking out frankly.
Hanuman went forward to learn the truth without discovering himself. But as he went on speaking, he threw all caution away and told in detail all about himself and the Vanara King.
Looking on Rama and Lakshmana, he was beside himself as a devotee in the presence of the Lord, and praised them. He said that he was a Vanara and had come there in disguise as desired by his King.
"Royal saints," he said, "your presence here fills my heart with joy. There is an aura round you as if you were gods. I take it, you are here in the forest for doing tapas. But why have you come to this inaccessible spot? Please tell me who you are. This river and this forest are made lovelier by your presence. Your faces and forms are radiantly beautiful. The creatures in the forest look on you with reverence and awe. Your strength and courage are manifest. Who are you? From which country do you come? It is clear you are entitled by birth to rule some mighty kingdom and yet you are dressed like ascetics. With matted hair and bark garments you carry also bows and arrows. Why are you silent? Here Sugriva, the Vanara King, driven out of his kingdom by his brother Vali, is in hiding. He is full of grief. I am his minister. My name is Hanuman. I am the son of Vayu. As ordered by my king, I put on the appearance of a brahmachari and am now here before you."
Listening to these courteous words of Hanuman, Rama said to Lakshmana: "Brother, this speech of Hanuman has inspired me with confidence. I trust him absolutely. Did you notice the beauty of his language and how correct and rhythmic his enunciation is? He speaks like one who has mastered the Vedas and the science of grammar. An ideal messenger he is. Fortunate is the king who has such a messenger. He whom we are searching for is himself in search of us. We came here to see Sugriva and he has sent this messenger to us. Let us welcome him."
Then they began to talk freely to one another. Rama and Lakshmana on the one hand and Hanuman on the other related their history, their joys and sorrows, hopes and fears.
As a result of this talk, Lakshmana conceived a great affection for Hanuman.
He said to Hanuman: "My brother, born to great wealth, the eldest son of an emperor, has left his kingdom and come to the forest. Here his wife, dearer to him than life itself, was abducted by Ravana, who had by a fraudulent trick inveigled us far away from the hermitage where she was. We seek Sugriva's help to rescue her and recover her, for a daitya, who under a curse took on the form of a Rakshasa, told us: 'If you secure the help of Sugriva, the Vanara King, you will regain the princess stolen by the Rakshasa.' And so we are here. We seek the friendship of your king."
Hanuman answered: "Sugriva too has been persecuted by Vali and deprived of his kingdom and his wife. It is now certain that he will regain both. My king will gain much by your friendship and with his help you will also succeed in your efforts."
Then the three went to Sugriva. The way was such that only a Vanara could traverse it. Hanuman resumed his natural shape and carried both the princes on his back.
The hearts of good men meet and instantly come together. As the Kural says, the spontaneous mutual attraction of two hearts and not long acquaintance creates friendship and this friendship was part of the divine dispensation. It was predestined that Hanuman's sublime devotion should be at Rama's service for the fulfilment of the purpose of the incarnation. And so there was acceptance at first sight.
His carrying the two princes on his shoulder was an outward symbol of inward union. As friends and lovers embrace each other, Hanuman, the loving servant, rejoiced in carrying his Lord on his shoulders.
Ascending the Malaya hill, Hanuman went in advance to Sugriva and, announcing the visit of Rama and Lakshmana, said:
"Rama is a prince full of wisdom and virtue. He is the eldest son of the famous Emperor Dasaratha. To fulfil his father's promise, he left Ayodhya with his brother and wife and came to the forest. King Dasaratha was compelled by his younger wife, in fulfilment of an undefined promise given long ago, to banish Rama. In the forest, taking advantage of the princes' absence, Ravana carried away the wife of Rama. Rama has come here, seeking your help in finding her. The princes are worthy of your friendship. You too will gain greatly from friend ship with such heroes."
Sugriva assumed the form of a handsome man and had a long and heartto- heart talk with the princes. Stretching forth his hand to Rama, he said:
"Princes, if you care for the friendship of a Vanara, here is my hand, accept it. Hanuman has told me all about your virtue and greatness."
Rama clasped his hand and embraced him. Soon Hanuman got together some faggots and kindled a fire. Circumambulating the flames Rama and Sugriva swore mutual friendship: "Let us share our joys and sorrows." They vowed: "Let our friendship be eternal."
They cut down the branch of a tree and sitting on it, Rama and Sugriva were engaged in cheerful talk and so, too, were Hanuman and Lakshmana seated on another. Sugriva narrated the story of his life. How greatly he and his elder brother, the mighty Vali, were once devoted to one another, and how malignant fate had through no fault of Sugriva's made deadly enemies of them.
It had comes about this way. Once a Rakshasa named Mayavi came at midnight to the gate of Kishkindha, their capital, and vauntingly challenged Vali to instant combat in pursuance of an ancient feud.
Vali, who never refused a fight, rushed forth impetuously, followed by Sugriva; and seeing them, the Rakshasa fled. Pursuing him they saw him disappear into a great cave the mouth of which was overgrown with brushwood. Vali bade Sugriva, exacting an oath from him, to wait at the entrance for him and plunged into the darkness of the cave after the foe.
Sugriva waited long, but Vali did not come out. As he stood racked with doubt, indistinct shouts and groans, which seemed to his horror-struck ears his brother's, issued from the cave. Presently there gushed out of it foaming blood which made him sure that Vali had perished in the struggle.
To make sure that the victorious Rakshasa would not rush out in the elation of triumph and destroy Kishkindha, Sugriva blocked the entrance of the cave with a huge rock and returned to Kishkindha with his tale of Vali's death. As a rulerless state invites disaster, he was persuaded by the ministers and elders to occupy the vacant throne.
While he was enjoying the sweets of power, like a bolt from the blue, Vali burst on them. Haggard with wrath and wounds, and accusing him of treason and unnatural conduct towards one who was at once his brother and his king, Vali drove him out with scorn and contumely as a wretch too vile to live, but whom he forebore to slay only because he was unfortunately also his brother.
So by a cruel fate he had been deprived of his home, throne, and all, including even his wife, and had to seek asylum in the forest with a few faithful friends. Here at least he was safe, for Vali had been forbidden by a rishi from entering the precincts on pain of instant death.
This incident between Vali and Sugriva is a good example of the moral teaching conveyed in the Puranas. There was nothing terribly wrong in the conduct either of Vali or of Sugriva. Anger confuses the mind. One who yields to anger loses the capacity to see the truth. That way lies destruction. Vali's anger led to his end. Sugriva humbly confessed the truth, but Vali would not listen.
He was beside himself with rage. Sugriva too, was guilty of imprudent haste. He concluded too quickly that his brother had died. He was afraid that the Asura who was victorious would come out and kill him also. So he closed the entrance of the cave and returned home. At first he was not keen on becoming king and yet he allowed himself to be persuaded by the people.
He yielded to a subconscious desire without sufficient thought. So difficulties came upon him. Thoughtless action leads to unhappiness. This is what we learn from the story of Sugriva. One should not desire what belongs to another. One has to exercise great care, and control one's desires.
In contrast to Sugriva, when the ministers and subjects in Ayodhya pressed Bharata to accept the crown, he was firm in his refusal. Bharata's strength of character was great. But Sugriva was different. He was weak, and suffered in consequence. Bharata had the courage to refuse and his name lives forever.
In every episode of the Ramayana some lesson which we should learn for our daily life is taught. The meaning is in some places plain; in others it may lie hidden. If we read with reverence and think deeply, we can always see the moral.
Sugriva concluded his story with a piteous appeal to Rama. "For fear of Vali I am a wanderer in the forest. I live concealing myself here. Could you, will you, kill Vali and restore to me my kingdom and my wife?"
Rama answered: "Certainly I will. Vali cannot escape this now. Be assured."
As Sugriva and Rama were talking thus, in the Asoka grove far away, the left eyelids of Sita throbbed, which is a good omen for women. At the same time, the left eyelids of the Rakshasa king also throbbed as an evil sign.
Passing through the forest, the two princes were suddenly caught by a tremendously big Rakshasa of ugly form without head or feet. His mouth was in his great belly and he had two enormous arms which, without moving from his place, he would stretch out and clutch tiger, bear or any other living thing within reach, and swallow them.
He had only one eye which was placed in his chest but which was terrible to behold.
Caught by this monster, the princes were, for a while, bewildered and did not know what to do.
Then Rama told Lakshmana: "Let us not be confused. You will cut off one arm, I shall cut off the other."
And so they did. The name of the monster was Kabandha, which means the barrel-shaped one. Once his arms were severed, he was helpless and began to explain:
"On account of my evil deeds I was cursed by Indra to bear this form and this name. I believe you are Rama and Lakshmana. Indra promised me freedom from the curse when you two should come and cut off my arms and commit this body of mine to the flames."
The princes set fire to his body as desired by the unfortunate monster and there arose from the flames a lovely being which entered a heavenly chariot and ascended to the celestial world.
Before going, he said to Rama: "You will assuredly regain Sita. Go to the beautiful banks of the Pampa and seek the help of Sugriva living there on the Rishyamuka hill. Driven out of the kingdom by his brother Vali, he lives in constant fear and danger. Gain his friendship, and you will succeed in your attempt." Saying this Kabandha disappeared.
Rama and Lakshmana now set forward in the direction of the Pampa. In that lovely region they visited the ashrama of the aged sanyasini, Sabari, the disciple of Rishi Matanga, and accepted her hospitality. Sabari was a woman of a forest tribe and a faithful serving sister in the ashrama of the old saint Matanga. When he departed this life, she wanted to die too. But he said the time was not yet and she should await the arrival of Rama, an incarnation of Vishnu, for the bliss of his darshan was in store for her.
So the old and wrinkled woman lived her saintly life, looking faithfully after the ashrama as of old and keeping it sweet to receive the promised guest.
When the princes came, she produced the fruits she had gathered and kept for them, and described and showed to them the wonders of the Matanga ashrama.
Then with their leave, she kindled a fire and entering it ascended to heaven.
The meeting with this saintly woman and the waters of the river Pampa gave strength of mind to the princes. They thought over what should be done next.
Said Rama: "Lakshmana, I am beginning to think that we shall succeed. Let us search the forest for Sugriva whose help we should obtain."
They went all over the Pampa area. The place was lovely, but the loveliness of the spot and the animals, birds, trees and creepers only increased Rama's grief.
Every beautiful object wrung his heart and made him think: "How much would Sita have enjoyed this?" Try as he might, he could not control the human sorrow which by his incarnation he had undertaken to endure.
Lakshmana tried to revive his spirit. He said: "Even if Sita is kept hidden in the womb of Aditi, the mother of the gods, we will discover her. Ravana cannot escape. It is certain we shall kill him and redeem Sita. It is not proper that you should thus despair. How can you let anxiety or weakness come over you? If we lose a precious thing, we should work for its recovery with perseverance. Sometimes our very affection becomes our enemy. Too much love brings on grief and grief weakens effort. What need is there for me to tell you all this? You know it all. Let us not lose hope. Let us forget the grief brought on by love and bend our mind and body to exertion. Be brave. Be hopeful. We shall succeed. Get rid of your sorrow, brother!"
The younger brother thus advised Rama. Commentators look upon Lakshmana as Adisesha. Adisesha, the serpent, is said to be ever the protecting spirit of Vishnu. So Lakshmana ever tried to give Rama fresh energy and enthusiasm.
The fugitive Vanara prince Sugriva and his faithful adherents with the watchful vigilance of fear saw Rama and Lakshmana roving in the forests and were troubled with doubts. Having been ejected from his kingdom by Vali, Sugriva chose this mountainous spot because he believed that it was made by the curse of a rishi inaccessible to Vali. And now he feared that here, too, Vali in disguise was following him in order to kill him.
Or else, he feared, some Kshatriya warriors taking the side of Vali were there to kill him. The other Vanaras ran hither and thither in panic.
Hanuman was Sugriva's chief minister. He reassured Sugriva, saying: "This is not Vali, nor are they friends of Vali, it seems to me. There is no ground for fear. I shall go and talk to them and find out the truth."
Sugriva was pleased and said: "Do it, but be careful. Go, find out the truth and come back. Use all your skill. I am full of suspicion. They behave as if they are searching for someone. Could it not be that it is me they seek?"
Taking the form of a brahmana, Hanuman approached Rama and Lakshmana. As he went and stood in front of them, a confident feeling possessed his heart. Straight away he started speaking out frankly.
Hanuman went forward to learn the truth without discovering himself. But as he went on speaking, he threw all caution away and told in detail all about himself and the Vanara King.
Looking on Rama and Lakshmana, he was beside himself as a devotee in the presence of the Lord, and praised them. He said that he was a Vanara and had come there in disguise as desired by his King.
"Royal saints," he said, "your presence here fills my heart with joy. There is an aura round you as if you were gods. I take it, you are here in the forest for doing tapas. But why have you come to this inaccessible spot? Please tell me who you are. This river and this forest are made lovelier by your presence. Your faces and forms are radiantly beautiful. The creatures in the forest look on you with reverence and awe. Your strength and courage are manifest. Who are you? From which country do you come? It is clear you are entitled by birth to rule some mighty kingdom and yet you are dressed like ascetics. With matted hair and bark garments you carry also bows and arrows. Why are you silent? Here Sugriva, the Vanara King, driven out of his kingdom by his brother Vali, is in hiding. He is full of grief. I am his minister. My name is Hanuman. I am the son of Vayu. As ordered by my king, I put on the appearance of a brahmachari and am now here before you."
Listening to these courteous words of Hanuman, Rama said to Lakshmana: "Brother, this speech of Hanuman has inspired me with confidence. I trust him absolutely. Did you notice the beauty of his language and how correct and rhythmic his enunciation is? He speaks like one who has mastered the Vedas and the science of grammar. An ideal messenger he is. Fortunate is the king who has such a messenger. He whom we are searching for is himself in search of us. We came here to see Sugriva and he has sent this messenger to us. Let us welcome him."
Then they began to talk freely to one another. Rama and Lakshmana on the one hand and Hanuman on the other related their history, their joys and sorrows, hopes and fears.
As a result of this talk, Lakshmana conceived a great affection for Hanuman.
He said to Hanuman: "My brother, born to great wealth, the eldest son of an emperor, has left his kingdom and come to the forest. Here his wife, dearer to him than life itself, was abducted by Ravana, who had by a fraudulent trick inveigled us far away from the hermitage where she was. We seek Sugriva's help to rescue her and recover her, for a daitya, who under a curse took on the form of a Rakshasa, told us: 'If you secure the help of Sugriva, the Vanara King, you will regain the princess stolen by the Rakshasa.' And so we are here. We seek the friendship of your king."
Hanuman answered: "Sugriva too has been persecuted by Vali and deprived of his kingdom and his wife. It is now certain that he will regain both. My king will gain much by your friendship and with his help you will also succeed in your efforts."
Then the three went to Sugriva. The way was such that only a Vanara could traverse it. Hanuman resumed his natural shape and carried both the princes on his back.
The hearts of good men meet and instantly come together. As the Kural says, the spontaneous mutual attraction of two hearts and not long acquaintance creates friendship and this friendship was part of the divine dispensation. It was predestined that Hanuman's sublime devotion should be at Rama's service for the fulfilment of the purpose of the incarnation. And so there was acceptance at first sight.
His carrying the two princes on his shoulder was an outward symbol of inward union. As friends and lovers embrace each other, Hanuman, the loving servant, rejoiced in carrying his Lord on his shoulders.
Ascending the Malaya hill, Hanuman went in advance to Sugriva and, announcing the visit of Rama and Lakshmana, said:
"Rama is a prince full of wisdom and virtue. He is the eldest son of the famous Emperor Dasaratha. To fulfil his father's promise, he left Ayodhya with his brother and wife and came to the forest. King Dasaratha was compelled by his younger wife, in fulfilment of an undefined promise given long ago, to banish Rama. In the forest, taking advantage of the princes' absence, Ravana carried away the wife of Rama. Rama has come here, seeking your help in finding her. The princes are worthy of your friendship. You too will gain greatly from friend ship with such heroes."
Sugriva assumed the form of a handsome man and had a long and heartto- heart talk with the princes. Stretching forth his hand to Rama, he said:
"Princes, if you care for the friendship of a Vanara, here is my hand, accept it. Hanuman has told me all about your virtue and greatness."
Rama clasped his hand and embraced him. Soon Hanuman got together some faggots and kindled a fire. Circumambulating the flames Rama and Sugriva swore mutual friendship: "Let us share our joys and sorrows." They vowed: "Let our friendship be eternal."
They cut down the branch of a tree and sitting on it, Rama and Sugriva were engaged in cheerful talk and so, too, were Hanuman and Lakshmana seated on another. Sugriva narrated the story of his life. How greatly he and his elder brother, the mighty Vali, were once devoted to one another, and how malignant fate had through no fault of Sugriva's made deadly enemies of them.
It had comes about this way. Once a Rakshasa named Mayavi came at midnight to the gate of Kishkindha, their capital, and vauntingly challenged Vali to instant combat in pursuance of an ancient feud.
Vali, who never refused a fight, rushed forth impetuously, followed by Sugriva; and seeing them, the Rakshasa fled. Pursuing him they saw him disappear into a great cave the mouth of which was overgrown with brushwood. Vali bade Sugriva, exacting an oath from him, to wait at the entrance for him and plunged into the darkness of the cave after the foe.
Sugriva waited long, but Vali did not come out. As he stood racked with doubt, indistinct shouts and groans, which seemed to his horror-struck ears his brother's, issued from the cave. Presently there gushed out of it foaming blood which made him sure that Vali had perished in the struggle.
To make sure that the victorious Rakshasa would not rush out in the elation of triumph and destroy Kishkindha, Sugriva blocked the entrance of the cave with a huge rock and returned to Kishkindha with his tale of Vali's death. As a rulerless state invites disaster, he was persuaded by the ministers and elders to occupy the vacant throne.
While he was enjoying the sweets of power, like a bolt from the blue, Vali burst on them. Haggard with wrath and wounds, and accusing him of treason and unnatural conduct towards one who was at once his brother and his king, Vali drove him out with scorn and contumely as a wretch too vile to live, but whom he forebore to slay only because he was unfortunately also his brother.
So by a cruel fate he had been deprived of his home, throne, and all, including even his wife, and had to seek asylum in the forest with a few faithful friends. Here at least he was safe, for Vali had been forbidden by a rishi from entering the precincts on pain of instant death.
This incident between Vali and Sugriva is a good example of the moral teaching conveyed in the Puranas. There was nothing terribly wrong in the conduct either of Vali or of Sugriva. Anger confuses the mind. One who yields to anger loses the capacity to see the truth. That way lies destruction. Vali's anger led to his end. Sugriva humbly confessed the truth, but Vali would not listen.
He was beside himself with rage. Sugriva too, was guilty of imprudent haste. He concluded too quickly that his brother had died. He was afraid that the Asura who was victorious would come out and kill him also. So he closed the entrance of the cave and returned home. At first he was not keen on becoming king and yet he allowed himself to be persuaded by the people.
He yielded to a subconscious desire without sufficient thought. So difficulties came upon him. Thoughtless action leads to unhappiness. This is what we learn from the story of Sugriva. One should not desire what belongs to another. One has to exercise great care, and control one's desires.
In contrast to Sugriva, when the ministers and subjects in Ayodhya pressed Bharata to accept the crown, he was firm in his refusal. Bharata's strength of character was great. But Sugriva was different. He was weak, and suffered in consequence. Bharata had the courage to refuse and his name lives forever.
In every episode of the Ramayana some lesson which we should learn for our daily life is taught. The meaning is in some places plain; in others it may lie hidden. If we read with reverence and think deeply, we can always see the moral.
Sugriva concluded his story with a piteous appeal to Rama. "For fear of Vali I am a wanderer in the forest. I live concealing myself here. Could you, will you, kill Vali and restore to me my kingdom and my wife?"
Rama answered: "Certainly I will. Vali cannot escape this now. Be assured."
As Sugriva and Rama were talking thus, in the Asoka grove far away, the left eyelids of Sita throbbed, which is a good omen for women. At the same time, the left eyelids of the Rakshasa king also throbbed as an evil sign.
40 ) HE SEES HER JEWELS :
THEN Sugriva heard the story of the calamity that had befallen the Raghu princes at Panchavati and how Rama's heart was breaking with the ache of separation from Sita and anxiety as to her fate. Deeply touched, Sugriva tried to console Rama. "I have heard everything from Lakshmana," he said. "Lay aside all doubts and fears. We shall surely discover Sita, wherever she may be concealed, and that, soon. My companions and myself noticed a Rakshasa carrying a weeping lady and speeding fast across the sky. She was crying 'O Rama! O Lakshmana!' She too noticed us and, removing her sash, tied up in it her jewels and threw down the little bundle. We picked up and have kept it. See if the jewels are Sita's."
On hearing this Rama excitedly shouted: "Fetch the bundle, fetch it."
They brought it from the cave and when Rama saw the sash he was beside himself with grief. The little bundle brought before his eyes the suffering of Sita at the hands of the Rakshasa.
He closed his eyes and told Lakshmana to untie the bundle and examine the jewels since he himself could not bear to look at them.
Lakshmana did so. "Indeed these are Sita's anklets," LakShmana said. "There is no doubt they are hers. These I know, for often have I seen them while laying my head on her feet in worship. The others I am not familiar with, never having presumed to look closely at them."
How full of loving reverence is this speech which Valmiki puts in the mouth of Lakshmana and how cruelly must Sita's unjust words have pierced his heart on the fateful day when she drove him from her.
Rama took all the jewels in his hands and pressed them one by one to his eyes. He said: "They must have fallen on the soft grass and so they are intact."
Then, grief giving place to rage, he said: "Yama's gates are wide open to receive the Rakshasa. Soon will he be destroyed with all his people."
Seeing Rama's grief and wrath, Sugriva became somewhat anxious. Though their mutual friendship and help had been pledged in the presence of the sacred fire, Sugriva was concerned over the question of priorities.
Sugriva's heart went to Rama in his suffering, indeed, he himself knew what it was to lose kingdom and wife. But then, first thing must come first. He must approach the subject guardedly and not seem to place his own affairs before Rama's. That might jeopardise their newborn friendship. But it was not purely selfish to say that he, as King of Kishkindha and lord of his tribe, would be a far more serviceable ally than he could be as a fugitive pretender.
Besides, if he launched on the enterprise of reclaiming Sita when Vali was still king of the Vanaras, one could not guess what Vali's course may be. Oh no! There could be no doubt that the first move in the enterprise must be to secure the resources of the Vanara kingdom by killing Vali and placing himself on the throne.
This alone would bring success to Rama as well as himself. But realising Rama's state of mind, he resolved to act with circumspection.
He said: "I do not know the strength or the dwelling place of this wicked
Rakshasa. We do not know where he has taken Sita and where he keeps her hidden. Still, I promise you solemnly, wherever Sita may be, I shall find her and her captor and find ways of destroying him and recovering her. You will kill the wicked Rakshasa and win glory. Do not despair or yield to grief that weakens the spirit. Look at me. Like you, I have lost my wife. I have been turned out of my kingdom and disgraced. And yet I control my sorrow and keep my courage up. If I a Vanara, can do this, it should be far easier for you. If sorrow overwhelms, one becomes helpless and can do nothing. Therefore, friend, I beg of you to control your grief."
These words of Sugriva made an impression on Rama's heart. He wiped the tears off his eyes and embraced Sugriva. He got over the weakness that possessed him at the sight of Sita's jewels and recovered his fortitude and self-control.
"Sugriva, your friendship is dear to me," he said. "I shall follow your advice. Think out when and how we should begin the search for Sita. I shall make your cause mine, and place you on the throne of Kishkindha and I, who say this, have never uttered a vain or false word in my life and never will. Tell me frankly how I can bring you relief. I shall do it."
Sugriva and his ministers were overjoyed to hear Rama's words. They were convinced that soon their troubles would end and Sugriva would once again become king of the Vanaras.
On hearing this Rama excitedly shouted: "Fetch the bundle, fetch it."
They brought it from the cave and when Rama saw the sash he was beside himself with grief. The little bundle brought before his eyes the suffering of Sita at the hands of the Rakshasa.
He closed his eyes and told Lakshmana to untie the bundle and examine the jewels since he himself could not bear to look at them.
Lakshmana did so. "Indeed these are Sita's anklets," LakShmana said. "There is no doubt they are hers. These I know, for often have I seen them while laying my head on her feet in worship. The others I am not familiar with, never having presumed to look closely at them."
How full of loving reverence is this speech which Valmiki puts in the mouth of Lakshmana and how cruelly must Sita's unjust words have pierced his heart on the fateful day when she drove him from her.
Rama took all the jewels in his hands and pressed them one by one to his eyes. He said: "They must have fallen on the soft grass and so they are intact."
Then, grief giving place to rage, he said: "Yama's gates are wide open to receive the Rakshasa. Soon will he be destroyed with all his people."
Seeing Rama's grief and wrath, Sugriva became somewhat anxious. Though their mutual friendship and help had been pledged in the presence of the sacred fire, Sugriva was concerned over the question of priorities.
Sugriva's heart went to Rama in his suffering, indeed, he himself knew what it was to lose kingdom and wife. But then, first thing must come first. He must approach the subject guardedly and not seem to place his own affairs before Rama's. That might jeopardise their newborn friendship. But it was not purely selfish to say that he, as King of Kishkindha and lord of his tribe, would be a far more serviceable ally than he could be as a fugitive pretender.
Besides, if he launched on the enterprise of reclaiming Sita when Vali was still king of the Vanaras, one could not guess what Vali's course may be. Oh no! There could be no doubt that the first move in the enterprise must be to secure the resources of the Vanara kingdom by killing Vali and placing himself on the throne.
This alone would bring success to Rama as well as himself. But realising Rama's state of mind, he resolved to act with circumspection.
He said: "I do not know the strength or the dwelling place of this wicked
Rakshasa. We do not know where he has taken Sita and where he keeps her hidden. Still, I promise you solemnly, wherever Sita may be, I shall find her and her captor and find ways of destroying him and recovering her. You will kill the wicked Rakshasa and win glory. Do not despair or yield to grief that weakens the spirit. Look at me. Like you, I have lost my wife. I have been turned out of my kingdom and disgraced. And yet I control my sorrow and keep my courage up. If I a Vanara, can do this, it should be far easier for you. If sorrow overwhelms, one becomes helpless and can do nothing. Therefore, friend, I beg of you to control your grief."
These words of Sugriva made an impression on Rama's heart. He wiped the tears off his eyes and embraced Sugriva. He got over the weakness that possessed him at the sight of Sita's jewels and recovered his fortitude and self-control.
"Sugriva, your friendship is dear to me," he said. "I shall follow your advice. Think out when and how we should begin the search for Sita. I shall make your cause mine, and place you on the throne of Kishkindha and I, who say this, have never uttered a vain or false word in my life and never will. Tell me frankly how I can bring you relief. I shall do it."
Sugriva and his ministers were overjoyed to hear Rama's words. They were convinced that soon their troubles would end and Sugriva would once again become king of the Vanaras.
41 ) SUGRIVA'S DOUBTS CLEARED :
SUGRIVA was keen on regaining his kingdom and family, but he could not see how this was to be. Vali's strength stood as an impossible barrier between him and the fulfilment of his desire.
Hanuman, his minister, tried to convince him that is would succeed with Rama's help, but Sugriva's doubts persisted. Could Rama's strength overcome Vali's? It all looked hopelessly impossible. Vali's body was like steel. How was Rama going to kill him?
Sugriva had these doubts about Rama. But he had none else to help him. And he was not prepared to give up his desire. He decided to test Rama's strength.
But how is one to subject a friend to a test without discourteously betraying one's suspicion? Rama had promised to get the thing done. How was an occasion to be created to measure his ability? Sugriva thought long and formed a plan.
He told Rama softly: "My Lord Rama! Your words have banished sorrow from my heart. I know your valor. An arrow from your bow can destroy the three worlds. How can Vali's frame stand against it? Still it is my duty to tell you all about Vali's strength. He can go round to the four oceans to take up in his palm and sip the water with the morning prayers. He can toss and play with a heavy rock as if it were a ball. He can pull out mighty forest trees as if they were blades of grass. Once Dundubhi, an Asura in buffalo form possessing the strength of a thousand elephants, challenged Ocean to a fight. Ocean evaded saying: 'You should fight with an equal. There in the north stands Himavan. Go and challenge him. Leave poor me alone'. Dundubhi agreed and, speeding northwards, met and challenged Himavan, going his rocky side with his horns. Himavan controlled his temper and said: 'Why do you assault me? I am not a fighter. I spend my life in the company of sages who love to stay with me.' Dundubhi answered: 'Very well, then. But tell me of some one I can fight with. I want a worthy foeman today.' Himavan said: 'There is one in the south who is a foe worthy of you. He is Vali, the Vanara King. His strength is like his father Indra's. If you care, you may go to him and challenge him to fight.' Dundubhi went straight to Vali's place and raised a loud uproar at the entrance of Kishkindha. He tore up trees and pulled down the gate and roared, 'Come out and prove your strength in a fight with me.' Vali was then resting with his queen. On hearing the challenge he came out accompanied by the women of his palace. 'Why, O Dundubhi, do you raise this clamor at my city gate?' be asked. 'Are you tired of life?' Vali's scornful address enraged the Asura who said: 'Don't boast of your strength in the presence of your admiring women. I have come here for a fight with you. If you have any manliness in you, come out and show it. You will say you are too drunk now to fight; but I am willing to wait till you become sober. If you like you may spend the night in your pleasures and bid a tearful leave of all your dear ones and come to me in the morning to be slain by me.' Vali laughed at Dundubhi's words and said: 'My dear women, go inside. O Asura, I am not the worse for drink and if you want a fight, there is no time like the present. The drinks I have had are what the warrior takes before he goes into battle!' So saying and with a laugh he took hold of the Asura by his tail and whirled him round and flung him. Dundubhi spat blood and fell on the ground. After a while the Asura rose again and a great battle followed. Vali, son of Indra, pounded the Asura to death. And he flung the dead buffalo so that it fell on the ground at the distance of a yojana. Drops of blood from the Asura's body were carried by the wind and fell on the ashrama of Matanga. The sage was wroth and soon found out who was responsible for this contamination. He saw at once that Vali in his pride had flung a bleeding carcass and desecrated the holy spot. The sage pronounced a curse, 'If this Vali enters the precincts of this ashrama, he will lose his life.' That is why, O Rama, with my friends I am living here in safety. Vali dare not approach this place for fear of the curse. Look at these sal trees. He can pluck one of them and just shake all the leaves off as one dusts a jacket. Such is his strength. How could I, having incurred this terrible brother's enmity, feel secure?"
Lakshmana understood that Sugriva needed a demonstration of Rama's prowess to give him confidence and he said: "How would you like Rama to show you his confidence to conquer Vali?"
Sugriva answered: "Indeed, I have no doubts. I know Rama's prowess though now it is hidden as embers in ashes. I have sought refuge under him. And yet, when I recall Vali's mighty deeds, I tremble. That is all."
Seeing Sugriva's faith in him and his great fear of Vali, Rama resolved to put an end to his doubts. By a playful flip of his toe he sent the enormous skeleton of Dundubhi which was lying there, flying in the air to a distance of ten yojanas. But Sugriva though impressed was not convinced. "When my brother sent Dundubhi's carcass hurling in the sky, it was full of flesh and blood and far heavier than this weather-beaten skeleton," he said.
Then Rama bent his bow and, pulling the string to his ear, sent forth an arrow. It pierced the sal tree pointed out by Sugriva and six other trees standing behind it. Piercing the seven trees the beautiful arrow touched the earth and returned to Rama's quiver.
Sugriva, seeing this, was beside himself with joy. He was now certain that Rama's arrow could pierce the adamant frame of Vali. He fell prostrate before Rama and said: "With my own eyes I have now seen your prowess. Even if all the gods with Indra at their head should come and oppose you, your victory is certain. Why then talk of Vali? I have gained your friendship and I have no more use for fear or grief. Slay Vali and save me. Let us go to Kishkindha today."
Both Rama and Lakshmana agreed. They talked how to set about and it was finally agreed that Sugriva should appear in Kishkindha and challenge Vali to single combat. Vali was sure to come out, and as the brothers were fighting, Rama would kill Vali with an arrow. They proceeded to Kishkindha. Sugriva went ahead. Rama followed him and stood away behind a tree in the dense forest.
Sugriva shouted. Vali heard the shout and in great rage emerged from the fortress, radiant like the morning sun.
The two brothers fought each other fiercely.
But Rama, who was standing bow in hand behind a tree, was bewildered. As they wrestled together the brothers were so similar in form and feature, in equipment and method of fighting, that Rama could not distinguish Vali from Sugriva and was afraid to shoot lest he kill the wrong combatant.
Meantime Sugriva, having the worst of the fight, broke from his brother's grip with a desperate effort and, wounded and weary, disappointed and despondent, fled for life and reached Rishyamuka forest.
Even this he was able to do because Vali did not wish to slay him and was not unwilling to give his brother another lease of life.
Rama and Lakshmana rejoined the woebegone Sugriva. He looked down at the ground without lifting his eyes. He was angry that Rama had broken his word and failed to help him.
"If you did not like to kill Vali," said Sugriva, "you could have told me so earlier. In that case, I, who know Vali's might, would never have challenged him to fight. On the contrary, you made me believe you, and I have had such a drubbing that it is a wonder I am alive."
"Do not be angry, Sugriva, but listen," said Rama. "There was a good reason why I could not send forth my deadly arrow. You and Vali were alike in height and girth, in gait and shouts, in dress and ornaments. Once the fight began, I could not tell you from Vali. And I stood bewildered and helpless. It would have been terrible if I killed you instead of Vali. Do not be angry. Challenge Vali once again. This time I shall surely slay him. Here, Lakshmana, fetch that flowering creeper. Tie it round Sugriva's neck as a garland. I shall then know who is our friend and who is Vali as they fight. Now, Sugriva, you shall see Vali rolling on the ground."
Sugriva was satisfied. His spirits recovered. Lakshmana tied the creeper round his neck. Once again, and handsomer than ever, Sugriva proceeded to Kishkindha. And Rama and Lakshmana followed him as before.
Hanuman, his minister, tried to convince him that is would succeed with Rama's help, but Sugriva's doubts persisted. Could Rama's strength overcome Vali's? It all looked hopelessly impossible. Vali's body was like steel. How was Rama going to kill him?
Sugriva had these doubts about Rama. But he had none else to help him. And he was not prepared to give up his desire. He decided to test Rama's strength.
But how is one to subject a friend to a test without discourteously betraying one's suspicion? Rama had promised to get the thing done. How was an occasion to be created to measure his ability? Sugriva thought long and formed a plan.
He told Rama softly: "My Lord Rama! Your words have banished sorrow from my heart. I know your valor. An arrow from your bow can destroy the three worlds. How can Vali's frame stand against it? Still it is my duty to tell you all about Vali's strength. He can go round to the four oceans to take up in his palm and sip the water with the morning prayers. He can toss and play with a heavy rock as if it were a ball. He can pull out mighty forest trees as if they were blades of grass. Once Dundubhi, an Asura in buffalo form possessing the strength of a thousand elephants, challenged Ocean to a fight. Ocean evaded saying: 'You should fight with an equal. There in the north stands Himavan. Go and challenge him. Leave poor me alone'. Dundubhi agreed and, speeding northwards, met and challenged Himavan, going his rocky side with his horns. Himavan controlled his temper and said: 'Why do you assault me? I am not a fighter. I spend my life in the company of sages who love to stay with me.' Dundubhi answered: 'Very well, then. But tell me of some one I can fight with. I want a worthy foeman today.' Himavan said: 'There is one in the south who is a foe worthy of you. He is Vali, the Vanara King. His strength is like his father Indra's. If you care, you may go to him and challenge him to fight.' Dundubhi went straight to Vali's place and raised a loud uproar at the entrance of Kishkindha. He tore up trees and pulled down the gate and roared, 'Come out and prove your strength in a fight with me.' Vali was then resting with his queen. On hearing the challenge he came out accompanied by the women of his palace. 'Why, O Dundubhi, do you raise this clamor at my city gate?' be asked. 'Are you tired of life?' Vali's scornful address enraged the Asura who said: 'Don't boast of your strength in the presence of your admiring women. I have come here for a fight with you. If you have any manliness in you, come out and show it. You will say you are too drunk now to fight; but I am willing to wait till you become sober. If you like you may spend the night in your pleasures and bid a tearful leave of all your dear ones and come to me in the morning to be slain by me.' Vali laughed at Dundubhi's words and said: 'My dear women, go inside. O Asura, I am not the worse for drink and if you want a fight, there is no time like the present. The drinks I have had are what the warrior takes before he goes into battle!' So saying and with a laugh he took hold of the Asura by his tail and whirled him round and flung him. Dundubhi spat blood and fell on the ground. After a while the Asura rose again and a great battle followed. Vali, son of Indra, pounded the Asura to death. And he flung the dead buffalo so that it fell on the ground at the distance of a yojana. Drops of blood from the Asura's body were carried by the wind and fell on the ashrama of Matanga. The sage was wroth and soon found out who was responsible for this contamination. He saw at once that Vali in his pride had flung a bleeding carcass and desecrated the holy spot. The sage pronounced a curse, 'If this Vali enters the precincts of this ashrama, he will lose his life.' That is why, O Rama, with my friends I am living here in safety. Vali dare not approach this place for fear of the curse. Look at these sal trees. He can pluck one of them and just shake all the leaves off as one dusts a jacket. Such is his strength. How could I, having incurred this terrible brother's enmity, feel secure?"
Lakshmana understood that Sugriva needed a demonstration of Rama's prowess to give him confidence and he said: "How would you like Rama to show you his confidence to conquer Vali?"
Sugriva answered: "Indeed, I have no doubts. I know Rama's prowess though now it is hidden as embers in ashes. I have sought refuge under him. And yet, when I recall Vali's mighty deeds, I tremble. That is all."
Seeing Sugriva's faith in him and his great fear of Vali, Rama resolved to put an end to his doubts. By a playful flip of his toe he sent the enormous skeleton of Dundubhi which was lying there, flying in the air to a distance of ten yojanas. But Sugriva though impressed was not convinced. "When my brother sent Dundubhi's carcass hurling in the sky, it was full of flesh and blood and far heavier than this weather-beaten skeleton," he said.
Then Rama bent his bow and, pulling the string to his ear, sent forth an arrow. It pierced the sal tree pointed out by Sugriva and six other trees standing behind it. Piercing the seven trees the beautiful arrow touched the earth and returned to Rama's quiver.
Sugriva, seeing this, was beside himself with joy. He was now certain that Rama's arrow could pierce the adamant frame of Vali. He fell prostrate before Rama and said: "With my own eyes I have now seen your prowess. Even if all the gods with Indra at their head should come and oppose you, your victory is certain. Why then talk of Vali? I have gained your friendship and I have no more use for fear or grief. Slay Vali and save me. Let us go to Kishkindha today."
Both Rama and Lakshmana agreed. They talked how to set about and it was finally agreed that Sugriva should appear in Kishkindha and challenge Vali to single combat. Vali was sure to come out, and as the brothers were fighting, Rama would kill Vali with an arrow. They proceeded to Kishkindha. Sugriva went ahead. Rama followed him and stood away behind a tree in the dense forest.
Sugriva shouted. Vali heard the shout and in great rage emerged from the fortress, radiant like the morning sun.
The two brothers fought each other fiercely.
But Rama, who was standing bow in hand behind a tree, was bewildered. As they wrestled together the brothers were so similar in form and feature, in equipment and method of fighting, that Rama could not distinguish Vali from Sugriva and was afraid to shoot lest he kill the wrong combatant.
Meantime Sugriva, having the worst of the fight, broke from his brother's grip with a desperate effort and, wounded and weary, disappointed and despondent, fled for life and reached Rishyamuka forest.
Even this he was able to do because Vali did not wish to slay him and was not unwilling to give his brother another lease of life.
Rama and Lakshmana rejoined the woebegone Sugriva. He looked down at the ground without lifting his eyes. He was angry that Rama had broken his word and failed to help him.
"If you did not like to kill Vali," said Sugriva, "you could have told me so earlier. In that case, I, who know Vali's might, would never have challenged him to fight. On the contrary, you made me believe you, and I have had such a drubbing that it is a wonder I am alive."
"Do not be angry, Sugriva, but listen," said Rama. "There was a good reason why I could not send forth my deadly arrow. You and Vali were alike in height and girth, in gait and shouts, in dress and ornaments. Once the fight began, I could not tell you from Vali. And I stood bewildered and helpless. It would have been terrible if I killed you instead of Vali. Do not be angry. Challenge Vali once again. This time I shall surely slay him. Here, Lakshmana, fetch that flowering creeper. Tie it round Sugriva's neck as a garland. I shall then know who is our friend and who is Vali as they fight. Now, Sugriva, you shall see Vali rolling on the ground."
Sugriva was satisfied. His spirits recovered. Lakshmana tied the creeper round his neck. Once again, and handsomer than ever, Sugriva proceeded to Kishkindha. And Rama and Lakshmana followed him as before.
42 ) THE SLAYING OF VALI :
EVENING was approaching. Once more Sugriva roared at the gate of Kishkindha and challenged Vali to fight.
Vali who was then resting happily was startled and for a moment paled with puzzled concern, but was presently overwhelmed with rage and sprung stamping the earth as though he would split it.
Tara, his queen, her heart full of loving fear, held him in arms in a close embrace and tried to restrain his impetuosity with affectionate counsel. "Put away this wrath, my dear lord, as one puts away a used garland, for you have had enough fighting today. Tomorrow would do as well for another battle, for you lack neither enemies nor valor. I pray you not to rush out on the instant. It seems to me that you should think calmly before going out now to meet your brother. I am afraid there is a deeper game. Your brother was defeated and disgraced and ran for dear life and concealed himself for safety. Now he has returned and raises this noise. Your brother is not such a fool as to challenge you again so soon after the punishment you inflicted on him unless he was assured of help and protection from an invincible ally of tried prowess. Did you not observe that his very roar of challenge had a new note of confidence in it? I shall tell you what I heard from Angada who had it from our scouts who range the forests. Two princes of unrivalled valor, Rama and Lakshmana have come from Ayodhya and Sugriva has secured the promise of their assistance. After all, my lord, your brother is virtuous and brave. Why should you hate him? Who in the world is closer to us than he? He will be your devoted servant and strong ally. It is best to forget the past and make it up with Sugriva. My dear Lord, listen to my words!"
Vali disliked this advice. Anger clouded his intellect. Caught and dragged by the noose of death, he could not see reason and only became more fixed in his resolve.
Tara, bright and beautiful as became her name Tara meaning star, spoke in vain.
"What are you saying?" he said. "Am I to hear in silence the ringing challenge of this enemy-brother? When a foe calls to battle is a warrior to hang back? Death would be better than such cowardice. Don't you worry about Rama. He knows dharma; he is one brought up in the fear of sin. Oh, let me alone, will you? I may tell you I shall not kill Sugriva, only I will teach the presumptuous fellow a lesson he won't forget and let him go. Let me go, I tell you. You have spoken out of the fullness of your love for me. I shall humble Sugriva and send him back and return soon with victory. Have no fear for me."
Thus Valmiki pictures Vali, his chivalry, his dauntless and impatient valor, his tenderness. It is true Valmiki's hero has to kill the Vanara king, the epic requires it. But the slain warrior was a noble knight, worthy of the reader's admiration and tears. Tara, with tears in her eyes, circumambulated him and praying for his success returned to her apartment full of grave apprehension. Leaving Tara and her companions behind, Vali issued from the fort hissing like an angry cobra and went to meet Sugriva.
As he saw him standing there, radiant and courageous, he girt his loins and sprang on him. And Sugriva too ran forward to meet Vali.
"If you love your life," warned Vali, "run away. Do not fall a victim to this fist of mine!"
Sugriva retorted angrily and the battle began. Fierce with remembered wrongs and keyed up above himself by the certainty of Rama's help, Sugriva maintained for long an equal combat. But presently Vali's greater might began to prevail and Sugriva was in such obvious distress that Rama who was watching with ready bow knew he could not hold out much longer.
It was now or never and placing a deadly arrow on the string and pulling it to his ear, Rama sped it at Vali's mighty chest. Pierced by that irresistible shaft Vali crashed down as falls a great forest tree cut asunder by the woodman's axe and lay stretched on the ground empurpled with blood as lies the festival flag-staff pulled down when the festival is ended.
Even so, he was radiantly handsome, his noble figure shining like a cloud lit up by the setting sun. The divine necklace given to him by Indra shone on his breast, which guarded his life and fortune. This jewel, Rama's dart, the bleeding wound, all added lustre to his mighty body.
Valmiki describes beautifully the majestic appearance of the fallen hero. A true warrior is never so beautiful as when he lies dying on the field of battle.
Astounded at being hit and laid low, when he least expected it from an unknown quarter, Vali looked round in perplexed surprise and saw Rama and Lakshmana approaching him bow in hand. With tears of indignant wrath, and in a voice faint with approaching dissolution, he accused them of ignoble perfidy in dealing causeless death to a person engaged in combat with another.
"Rama," he said, "you are the son of Emperor Dasaratha. Born of a noble race and famous by your own exploits, how did you bring yourself to do this deed? The world is full of praises for your valor and virtue. And yet, while I was absorbed in a battle with another, you came unseen, and from behind, shot a fatal arrow at me. How false and undeserved is your reputation for manly virtue, for truth and forbearance! What will the world think of you now? What harm have I ever done to you? Did I come out to fight with you? You have killed me like an assassin concealing yourself behind the trees. For a royal prince to kill an innocent person in this way is grievous sin. You are unworthy for kingship. The goddess Earth will never consent to take you for a bridegroom. My greatest sorrow is that I am killed by a base and sinful wretch. If it was battle with me you wanted, I would have given it to you, and slain by me in fair combat you might have been lying in the dust as I do now. Or if it was help to recover your Sita I would have won her back for you in a day. I would have killed Ravana and dragged his body with a rope round the neck and placed it at your feet. No matter where he has hidden Sita, I would have discovered her and restored her to you."
Thus Vali, son of Indra, reproached Rama with his dying breath. And all this is fully set out by Valmiki, the divine poet, as well as by Kamban. Against this accusation what defence could Rama offer? Valmiki has it that Rama gave some explanation with which Vali was satisfied. But I am omitting all this as pointless and pray that the learned may forgive me.
What I think is that an avatar is an avatar and that among the sorrows that the Lord and His consort had to endure in their earthly incarnation, this liability to have their actions weighed on the earthly scales is a part. Vali bruised and bleeding from the many wounds of his fight with Sugriva, lay in the throes of death.
He lived just long enough to see his queen and his beloved son Angada. The poor bewildered lad who at his mother's bidding 'to fall at the feet of his father who was going on a long long journey' prostrated himself in silence, too stunned to realise the extent of his loss. This will be narrated later. Vali's words were addressed to Rama.
"All is over, I shall blame you no more. My dear, dear son Angada is orphaned. You and Sugriva should look after him. I entrust him to you. Look after him it is your duty to see that he does not pine away like a withering lotus-plant in a dried-up tank. Tell Sugriva that he should not imagine that it was Tara who set me up against him. Ask him to treat Angada as he should treat a prince, with honor and affection. Do this for me. I want no more. The warrior's Heaven is calling me!"
So ended Vali's life.
Owing to the protective virtue of Indra's necklace, Rama could not have met Vali face to face and vanquished him, just as Ravana could not be conquered by the gods. Rama could kill Vali only when himself unseen. And still the question stands, why should Vali have been killed at all?
Perhaps the answer is to be found in what Kabandha said to Rama in gratitude for being released from his curse. "Through Sugriva's friendship you will recover Sita," Sugriva's help not Vali's. And so Rama went in search of Sugriva, found him and pledged his friendship and consecrated it by fire. Sugriva had committed no unforgivable offence against Vali. Yet Vali, with his supernatural strength, persecuted his brother. Hearing the latter's complaint, Rama had pledged his word to kill Vali and restore to Sugriva his wife and make him king as his part of the contract of alliance. Thereafter, Rama had no alternative. To kill Vali from cover became an inevitable necessity. Rama erred in running after the magic deer to please his wife.
Consequent on this, difficulties and sorrows and conflicts of duty pursued him. If we keep in mind that when God takes a lower and limited form by His own ordinance, limitations follow and we should not be confused thereby. This is my humble view as against other explanations propounded by the pious.
Vali who was then resting happily was startled and for a moment paled with puzzled concern, but was presently overwhelmed with rage and sprung stamping the earth as though he would split it.
Tara, his queen, her heart full of loving fear, held him in arms in a close embrace and tried to restrain his impetuosity with affectionate counsel. "Put away this wrath, my dear lord, as one puts away a used garland, for you have had enough fighting today. Tomorrow would do as well for another battle, for you lack neither enemies nor valor. I pray you not to rush out on the instant. It seems to me that you should think calmly before going out now to meet your brother. I am afraid there is a deeper game. Your brother was defeated and disgraced and ran for dear life and concealed himself for safety. Now he has returned and raises this noise. Your brother is not such a fool as to challenge you again so soon after the punishment you inflicted on him unless he was assured of help and protection from an invincible ally of tried prowess. Did you not observe that his very roar of challenge had a new note of confidence in it? I shall tell you what I heard from Angada who had it from our scouts who range the forests. Two princes of unrivalled valor, Rama and Lakshmana have come from Ayodhya and Sugriva has secured the promise of their assistance. After all, my lord, your brother is virtuous and brave. Why should you hate him? Who in the world is closer to us than he? He will be your devoted servant and strong ally. It is best to forget the past and make it up with Sugriva. My dear Lord, listen to my words!"
Vali disliked this advice. Anger clouded his intellect. Caught and dragged by the noose of death, he could not see reason and only became more fixed in his resolve.
Tara, bright and beautiful as became her name Tara meaning star, spoke in vain.
"What are you saying?" he said. "Am I to hear in silence the ringing challenge of this enemy-brother? When a foe calls to battle is a warrior to hang back? Death would be better than such cowardice. Don't you worry about Rama. He knows dharma; he is one brought up in the fear of sin. Oh, let me alone, will you? I may tell you I shall not kill Sugriva, only I will teach the presumptuous fellow a lesson he won't forget and let him go. Let me go, I tell you. You have spoken out of the fullness of your love for me. I shall humble Sugriva and send him back and return soon with victory. Have no fear for me."
Thus Valmiki pictures Vali, his chivalry, his dauntless and impatient valor, his tenderness. It is true Valmiki's hero has to kill the Vanara king, the epic requires it. But the slain warrior was a noble knight, worthy of the reader's admiration and tears. Tara, with tears in her eyes, circumambulated him and praying for his success returned to her apartment full of grave apprehension. Leaving Tara and her companions behind, Vali issued from the fort hissing like an angry cobra and went to meet Sugriva.
As he saw him standing there, radiant and courageous, he girt his loins and sprang on him. And Sugriva too ran forward to meet Vali.
"If you love your life," warned Vali, "run away. Do not fall a victim to this fist of mine!"
Sugriva retorted angrily and the battle began. Fierce with remembered wrongs and keyed up above himself by the certainty of Rama's help, Sugriva maintained for long an equal combat. But presently Vali's greater might began to prevail and Sugriva was in such obvious distress that Rama who was watching with ready bow knew he could not hold out much longer.
It was now or never and placing a deadly arrow on the string and pulling it to his ear, Rama sped it at Vali's mighty chest. Pierced by that irresistible shaft Vali crashed down as falls a great forest tree cut asunder by the woodman's axe and lay stretched on the ground empurpled with blood as lies the festival flag-staff pulled down when the festival is ended.
Even so, he was radiantly handsome, his noble figure shining like a cloud lit up by the setting sun. The divine necklace given to him by Indra shone on his breast, which guarded his life and fortune. This jewel, Rama's dart, the bleeding wound, all added lustre to his mighty body.
Valmiki describes beautifully the majestic appearance of the fallen hero. A true warrior is never so beautiful as when he lies dying on the field of battle.
Astounded at being hit and laid low, when he least expected it from an unknown quarter, Vali looked round in perplexed surprise and saw Rama and Lakshmana approaching him bow in hand. With tears of indignant wrath, and in a voice faint with approaching dissolution, he accused them of ignoble perfidy in dealing causeless death to a person engaged in combat with another.
"Rama," he said, "you are the son of Emperor Dasaratha. Born of a noble race and famous by your own exploits, how did you bring yourself to do this deed? The world is full of praises for your valor and virtue. And yet, while I was absorbed in a battle with another, you came unseen, and from behind, shot a fatal arrow at me. How false and undeserved is your reputation for manly virtue, for truth and forbearance! What will the world think of you now? What harm have I ever done to you? Did I come out to fight with you? You have killed me like an assassin concealing yourself behind the trees. For a royal prince to kill an innocent person in this way is grievous sin. You are unworthy for kingship. The goddess Earth will never consent to take you for a bridegroom. My greatest sorrow is that I am killed by a base and sinful wretch. If it was battle with me you wanted, I would have given it to you, and slain by me in fair combat you might have been lying in the dust as I do now. Or if it was help to recover your Sita I would have won her back for you in a day. I would have killed Ravana and dragged his body with a rope round the neck and placed it at your feet. No matter where he has hidden Sita, I would have discovered her and restored her to you."
Thus Vali, son of Indra, reproached Rama with his dying breath. And all this is fully set out by Valmiki, the divine poet, as well as by Kamban. Against this accusation what defence could Rama offer? Valmiki has it that Rama gave some explanation with which Vali was satisfied. But I am omitting all this as pointless and pray that the learned may forgive me.
What I think is that an avatar is an avatar and that among the sorrows that the Lord and His consort had to endure in their earthly incarnation, this liability to have their actions weighed on the earthly scales is a part. Vali bruised and bleeding from the many wounds of his fight with Sugriva, lay in the throes of death.
He lived just long enough to see his queen and his beloved son Angada. The poor bewildered lad who at his mother's bidding 'to fall at the feet of his father who was going on a long long journey' prostrated himself in silence, too stunned to realise the extent of his loss. This will be narrated later. Vali's words were addressed to Rama.
"All is over, I shall blame you no more. My dear, dear son Angada is orphaned. You and Sugriva should look after him. I entrust him to you. Look after him it is your duty to see that he does not pine away like a withering lotus-plant in a dried-up tank. Tell Sugriva that he should not imagine that it was Tara who set me up against him. Ask him to treat Angada as he should treat a prince, with honor and affection. Do this for me. I want no more. The warrior's Heaven is calling me!"
So ended Vali's life.
Owing to the protective virtue of Indra's necklace, Rama could not have met Vali face to face and vanquished him, just as Ravana could not be conquered by the gods. Rama could kill Vali only when himself unseen. And still the question stands, why should Vali have been killed at all?
Perhaps the answer is to be found in what Kabandha said to Rama in gratitude for being released from his curse. "Through Sugriva's friendship you will recover Sita," Sugriva's help not Vali's. And so Rama went in search of Sugriva, found him and pledged his friendship and consecrated it by fire. Sugriva had committed no unforgivable offence against Vali. Yet Vali, with his supernatural strength, persecuted his brother. Hearing the latter's complaint, Rama had pledged his word to kill Vali and restore to Sugriva his wife and make him king as his part of the contract of alliance. Thereafter, Rama had no alternative. To kill Vali from cover became an inevitable necessity. Rama erred in running after the magic deer to please his wife.
Consequent on this, difficulties and sorrows and conflicts of duty pursued him. If we keep in mind that when God takes a lower and limited form by His own ordinance, limitations follow and we should not be confused thereby. This is my humble view as against other explanations propounded by the pious.
43 ) TARA'S GRIEF :
THERE was panic in Kishkindha when the news came that Vali had been slain by an archer, and the Vanaras fled hither and thither in hopeless confusion. Tara, seeing this, laid aside her own grief and like a queen put courage in her husband's subjects saying: "Till this day you walked before the King to battle! Why, then do you flee in fear now? There is no danger for you. Rama killed Vali only to make Sugriva king. Your lives are in no danger; you will only have a different ruler; that is all. You need not fly or fear."
When she tried to go to the spot where her husband lay dead, the Vanaras stopped her saying: "We shall crown Angada king and we shall make safe the fortress. We shall defend the town against Sugriva and his allies."
But she said: "Now my noble lord is dead, nothing matters." And boldly she went straight to where Rama and Lakshmana were standing.
When she saw her husband lying wounded to death she could not control her sorrow. She sobbed and cried.
"Ah my hero!" she wept embracing the wounded Vali. "How many heroes have you laid low and now you lie low yourself! And you have left me here!"
Soon Vali's son Angada reached the spot. And Sugriva, witnessing this scene, was filled with remorse at the thought that it was all for him that this calamity had happened. The remorse was no doubt genuine. For invariably revenge, especially revenge wreaked on those who have been friends in other day; brings nothing but bitterness and grief, and the momentary feeling of triumph is all ashes to the taste. How few of us realise this in the confusion created by desires and anger!
Tara rolled on the ground and lamented: "Leaving dear Angada an orphan and myself a helpless destitute you have gone on the journey from which there is no return. My Lord! My hero! "
Hanuman tried to console her: "The dead reach their places in heaven. Why lament for Vali? Angada will be crowned in due course and we shall then rejoice. It is our duty to look after Angada. Let us now think of performing Vali's obsequies."
"I care for nothing," answered Tara. "It is for Sugriva to perform the obsequies and to look after Angada. What is there for me to do? Can a thousand Angadas equal in my eyes my husband? With him I shall enter the house of Yama. That alone will please me."
Vali, unconscious till now, opened his eyes for the last time and addressing Sugriva said: "Brother, we two could have been friends and reigned happily over the kingdom. But it was not given to us to be so wise and happy. I am more to blame than you, but why talk about that now? Hereafter you shall rule the kingdom. I have entrusted to you Angada, my son, dearer than life itself to Tara and me. He is a warrior equal to you in prowess. Be a father to him and look after him with kindness. This is my only request to you. And be kind to Tara who was not only a blameless and affectionate wife, but also a very wise and far-sighted counsellor. Whatever she foretells is bound to happen. Do not disregard her advice on any matter. Here, take the necklace that Indra gave me and take with it its secret power. My life is over and so is my resentment. May you be happy!" Thus the generous Vali blessed his brother Sugriva.
He gave good advice to Angada: "Sugriva is now your king. Be loyal to him and give him patient, affectionate service."
Like a flowering creeper embracing a forest tree felled down by an axe, Tara lay on the ground clinging to Vali.
Nila, as gently as he could, drew out the dart from Vali's chest.
Blood gushed out of the wound and spread into a pool. Vali's life left his body. Tara lamented loudly. "For the last time salute your father," she bade Angada in heart-broken accents. "O my husband!
Your dear son is bowing before you. Will you not say a word to him? Alas! I am a widow and he is an orphan."
The sight of all this struck Sugriva to the heart. He said to himself: "Moved by desire I closed the entrance of the cave and leaving Vali there, I seized and enjoyed his wealth. What a sinner have I been!"
It may be that in his penitent mood Sugriva accused himself wrongly, but it is also true that, without our knowledge, desire corrupts our mind and leads us to wrong actions and entangles us in sin. Sugriva felt that desire had unknowingly blinded and betrayed him.
Kama in Sanskrit stands for lust and greed and every kind of desire. Kama is man's internal foe which he has to vanquish. This is the lesson taught in the last seven slokas of the third chapter of the Gita. Sri Krishna concludes his exhortation with these words: "Jahi Satrum Kamaroopam Durasadam."
If desire corrupted Sugriva's mind, anger corrupted Vali's. When Vali saw that Sugriva had barred the entrance and left him shut up in the cave he felt convinced that Sugriva had accompanied him in his pursuit of the Rakshasa not as a brother but with a treacherous motive. He concluded that Sugriva had planned to sacrifice him to the Asura and usurp his place.
He became a prey to his own fury. He disgraced and drove out his blood brother and nursed his anger. Anger (krodha, as it is called in Sanskrit) betrayed Vali into sin.
Indeed kama and krodha are the ultimate causes of all sin. Unless we defend our heart against these foes and keep them out, we cannot escape sin.
Sugriva lamented: "Though my sin was great, he would not kill me. He drove me out and allowed me to escape with life.
That was all. But I conspired to slay him and succeeded. There is no sinner like me in the world and yet with his last breath he gave me the kingdom to rule and gave, too, the gift of Indra, the necklace of power. Indeed he was noble. Why should I still cling to this base life, I, who brought about the death of my heroic brother?"
At least once a year, men that follow ancient custom utter the prayer Kamokarsheet manyurakarsheet. That is: 'Desire lured me into sin, anger lured me into sin.' So saying many times with humble penitence, they seek to cleanse their hearts. This is a practice that all should follow, to repent and purify the heart and surrender it to the Lord, Kamokarsheet manyurakarsheet, Narayanaya namah.
With fear and hesitation, Rama gently approached the weeping Tara. But there was no sign of anger on her face. The words she addressed to the slayer of her husband were worthy of a hero's queen. "With the weapon with which, O Warrior, you killed my husband, kill me too and enable me to join him. Even in heaven, he will not be happy without me. Do not fear it would be a sin. It will be a meritorious act to unite husband and wife. This will cleanse your sin, your treacherous slaying of my husband."
Valmiki says at this stage that Tara knew the truth of Rama's incarnation and saw Vishnu in him. The traditional belief is that, like Sumitra, the mother of Lakshmana, Tara, the wife of Vali, was a jnani, a knower of Reality. Though at first she hated Rama for his treachery, yet when she saw him face to face she saw his divinity, so it is said.
Those who read the Ramayana as a mere tale would find all this pointless. But to the followers of bhakti marga, this will not sound improbable. Tulasidas sings at this point that Siva explains to Parvati:
"Look, Uma, how Rama, the Supreme Being, moves all creatures like puppets tied to strings!" Bhakti is needed to realise the full meaning of Hindu ancient mythology.
Even on a rational basis, Tara comes out as a diplomat, an expert in statesmanship. She had the intelligence to anticipate coming events. What had happened had happened. By his address and good fortune, Sugriva had secured the alliance of Rama. Vali was no more; Angada's welfare was all that she should care for hereafter.
Could Angada afford to antagonise Sugriva with Rama and Lakshmana ready to support him bow in hand? Peace, not war was indicated.
Hence, when she concealed her anger from Rama and put on an appearance of patient submission to events, she was really securing the best interests of Angada and winning for him the compassion and sympathy of all.
Vali's obsequies were performed with due form and ceremony. After the auspicious bath, Sugriva was crowned king and Angada was made Yuvaraja.
When she tried to go to the spot where her husband lay dead, the Vanaras stopped her saying: "We shall crown Angada king and we shall make safe the fortress. We shall defend the town against Sugriva and his allies."
But she said: "Now my noble lord is dead, nothing matters." And boldly she went straight to where Rama and Lakshmana were standing.
When she saw her husband lying wounded to death she could not control her sorrow. She sobbed and cried.
"Ah my hero!" she wept embracing the wounded Vali. "How many heroes have you laid low and now you lie low yourself! And you have left me here!"
Soon Vali's son Angada reached the spot. And Sugriva, witnessing this scene, was filled with remorse at the thought that it was all for him that this calamity had happened. The remorse was no doubt genuine. For invariably revenge, especially revenge wreaked on those who have been friends in other day; brings nothing but bitterness and grief, and the momentary feeling of triumph is all ashes to the taste. How few of us realise this in the confusion created by desires and anger!
Tara rolled on the ground and lamented: "Leaving dear Angada an orphan and myself a helpless destitute you have gone on the journey from which there is no return. My Lord! My hero! "
Hanuman tried to console her: "The dead reach their places in heaven. Why lament for Vali? Angada will be crowned in due course and we shall then rejoice. It is our duty to look after Angada. Let us now think of performing Vali's obsequies."
"I care for nothing," answered Tara. "It is for Sugriva to perform the obsequies and to look after Angada. What is there for me to do? Can a thousand Angadas equal in my eyes my husband? With him I shall enter the house of Yama. That alone will please me."
Vali, unconscious till now, opened his eyes for the last time and addressing Sugriva said: "Brother, we two could have been friends and reigned happily over the kingdom. But it was not given to us to be so wise and happy. I am more to blame than you, but why talk about that now? Hereafter you shall rule the kingdom. I have entrusted to you Angada, my son, dearer than life itself to Tara and me. He is a warrior equal to you in prowess. Be a father to him and look after him with kindness. This is my only request to you. And be kind to Tara who was not only a blameless and affectionate wife, but also a very wise and far-sighted counsellor. Whatever she foretells is bound to happen. Do not disregard her advice on any matter. Here, take the necklace that Indra gave me and take with it its secret power. My life is over and so is my resentment. May you be happy!" Thus the generous Vali blessed his brother Sugriva.
He gave good advice to Angada: "Sugriva is now your king. Be loyal to him and give him patient, affectionate service."
Like a flowering creeper embracing a forest tree felled down by an axe, Tara lay on the ground clinging to Vali.
Nila, as gently as he could, drew out the dart from Vali's chest.
Blood gushed out of the wound and spread into a pool. Vali's life left his body. Tara lamented loudly. "For the last time salute your father," she bade Angada in heart-broken accents. "O my husband!
Your dear son is bowing before you. Will you not say a word to him? Alas! I am a widow and he is an orphan."
The sight of all this struck Sugriva to the heart. He said to himself: "Moved by desire I closed the entrance of the cave and leaving Vali there, I seized and enjoyed his wealth. What a sinner have I been!"
It may be that in his penitent mood Sugriva accused himself wrongly, but it is also true that, without our knowledge, desire corrupts our mind and leads us to wrong actions and entangles us in sin. Sugriva felt that desire had unknowingly blinded and betrayed him.
Kama in Sanskrit stands for lust and greed and every kind of desire. Kama is man's internal foe which he has to vanquish. This is the lesson taught in the last seven slokas of the third chapter of the Gita. Sri Krishna concludes his exhortation with these words: "Jahi Satrum Kamaroopam Durasadam."
If desire corrupted Sugriva's mind, anger corrupted Vali's. When Vali saw that Sugriva had barred the entrance and left him shut up in the cave he felt convinced that Sugriva had accompanied him in his pursuit of the Rakshasa not as a brother but with a treacherous motive. He concluded that Sugriva had planned to sacrifice him to the Asura and usurp his place.
He became a prey to his own fury. He disgraced and drove out his blood brother and nursed his anger. Anger (krodha, as it is called in Sanskrit) betrayed Vali into sin.
Indeed kama and krodha are the ultimate causes of all sin. Unless we defend our heart against these foes and keep them out, we cannot escape sin.
Sugriva lamented: "Though my sin was great, he would not kill me. He drove me out and allowed me to escape with life.
That was all. But I conspired to slay him and succeeded. There is no sinner like me in the world and yet with his last breath he gave me the kingdom to rule and gave, too, the gift of Indra, the necklace of power. Indeed he was noble. Why should I still cling to this base life, I, who brought about the death of my heroic brother?"
At least once a year, men that follow ancient custom utter the prayer Kamokarsheet manyurakarsheet. That is: 'Desire lured me into sin, anger lured me into sin.' So saying many times with humble penitence, they seek to cleanse their hearts. This is a practice that all should follow, to repent and purify the heart and surrender it to the Lord, Kamokarsheet manyurakarsheet, Narayanaya namah.
With fear and hesitation, Rama gently approached the weeping Tara. But there was no sign of anger on her face. The words she addressed to the slayer of her husband were worthy of a hero's queen. "With the weapon with which, O Warrior, you killed my husband, kill me too and enable me to join him. Even in heaven, he will not be happy without me. Do not fear it would be a sin. It will be a meritorious act to unite husband and wife. This will cleanse your sin, your treacherous slaying of my husband."
Valmiki says at this stage that Tara knew the truth of Rama's incarnation and saw Vishnu in him. The traditional belief is that, like Sumitra, the mother of Lakshmana, Tara, the wife of Vali, was a jnani, a knower of Reality. Though at first she hated Rama for his treachery, yet when she saw him face to face she saw his divinity, so it is said.
Those who read the Ramayana as a mere tale would find all this pointless. But to the followers of bhakti marga, this will not sound improbable. Tulasidas sings at this point that Siva explains to Parvati:
"Look, Uma, how Rama, the Supreme Being, moves all creatures like puppets tied to strings!" Bhakti is needed to realise the full meaning of Hindu ancient mythology.
Even on a rational basis, Tara comes out as a diplomat, an expert in statesmanship. She had the intelligence to anticipate coming events. What had happened had happened. By his address and good fortune, Sugriva had secured the alliance of Rama. Vali was no more; Angada's welfare was all that she should care for hereafter.
Could Angada afford to antagonise Sugriva with Rama and Lakshmana ready to support him bow in hand? Peace, not war was indicated.
Hence, when she concealed her anger from Rama and put on an appearance of patient submission to events, she was really securing the best interests of Angada and winning for him the compassion and sympathy of all.
Vali's obsequies were performed with due form and ceremony. After the auspicious bath, Sugriva was crowned king and Angada was made Yuvaraja.
44) ANGER AND RECONCILIATION :
THE rainy season began. Sugriva and his companions spent the time in Kishkindha in enjoyment but Rama and Lakshmana spent the weary days waiting in a cave nearby. The forest paths were flooded and became rushing torrents, impossible to traverse. The search for Sita, therefore, had to be suspended. Rama brooded over Sita's predicament and was plunged in sorrow. Lakshmana counselled him to bear with the delay till the rainy season ended. And Rama held his soul in patience.
The edge of the keenest sorrow wears with time and perhaps Heaven's kindest gifts to men are sleep for the fleeting cares of the day and forgetfulness for the deep- seated injuries of the heart. Kishkindha mourned her Vali for a time, and then rejoiced in Sugriva and the survivors. Sugriva forgot the privations of his exile and the remorse for his brother's death. He enjoyed to the full his present prosperity and even Tara reconciled and adapted herself to altered circumstances in the interests of her son.
The royal palace of Kishkindha was full of joy and drinking, and the gloomy months of rain, which the Raghu brothers spent in leaden repining, sped with golden-winged enjoyment for Sugriva and his household. Only Hanuman felt anxious. He could not forget Rama's business. He was looking out for an opportunity to remind the king of his pledge to Rama.
At last, the rains ceased and the sky was cleared of cloud and lightning. The air was sweet with the perfumes of flowers and the songs of birds and joy came to life in the forest again. The intelligent and high virtuous Hanuman now approached his king. Sugriva had entrusted all official duties to the ministers and was absorbed in pleasure. Hanuman knew that the wisest and best of men neglect their promises in such circumstances and addressed the king with great politeness:
"You have regained the kingdom of your ancestors and are in secure possession and enjoyment of it. But something yet remains to be done. You must fulfil your promise to your allies and so increase your fame and strengthen your power. Even at the sacrifice of one's own interests and pleasure, one should carry out the business of one's friends according to one's promise. Only so can a king's authority and reputation grow. It will be best to fulfil one's promise before the due date. In any case delay should be avoided.
Fulfilment after the promised date is worse than useless. One should not wait to be reminded by one's friends of what had been promised to them. All this you know without my telling you. Remembering what Rama had done for us. We must take steps to fulfil our promise without waiting to be reminded by him. The rainy season is over. There is no ground for further delay. We can no longer postpone the task of searching for Sita. Rama may be very patient, but that does not justify any further delay on our part. Did not Rama kill your foe promptly, not minding the danger or the blame involved? We should fulfil our promise with equal promptness."
Thus politely did Maruti convey his advice to Sugriva. The latter accepted it and, thanking Hanuman, ordered Nila to mobilise the Vanara army. "All the world must be searched and Sita found," he said. "Order therefore the most powerful Vanaras to come and join up at once. Those who fail will be summarily punished." Having said this, Sugriva went back into private apartments.
Rama and Lakshmana spent the time in their cave waiting for the end of the rainy season and the fulfilment by Sugriva of his promise. But when the rains were over and the forest and its creatures shone with renewed beauty, Rama grieved intensely at the thought of Sita suffering at the hands of the Rakshasas.
"The world is full of life and joy," said Rama. "But Sita is in agony somewhere. And I sit still here, awaiting the favor of this ungrateful Vanara king. Alas, she walked cheerfully through the Dandaka forest, as if it were a palace-park. She did not mind the stony ground and the thorns in the path. What must be her suffering now? But this king, drowned in his cups and revelling in the company of his women, has forgotten his promise to me. Lakshmana! Go at once to Kishkindha and tell this base king: 'Remember! Know that the path still yawns open whereby the slaughtered Vali went to his doom. Do not follow him, but fulfil your promise to me. Ruin awaits him who forgets kindness and, neglects friends. Beware of Rama's arrows. The four months of the rainy season are over. These four months were like four ages to Rama, but to you, steeped in pleasures, they have perhaps sped like minutes! By delay you incur Rama's wrath and seek your destruction.' Go, Lakshmana, and tell him this."
This was the angry and impatient message Rama wanted Lakshmana to take to Sugriva.
Carrying this weight of his brother's grief and anger, Lakshmana was about to leave. Then Rama thought again. He knew Lakshmana's nature and feared danger from his rashness. So he called him back and said to him: "In conveying my complaint to Sugriva, do not be harsh. Whatever his faults, he is our friend. Point out his faults to him, but say nothing harsh."
Lakshmana agreed, but he found it hard to control his own anger as he approached the gates of Kishkindha.
Noting the severe face of Lakshmana who was fully armed, the Vanara sentry became alert and made ready to guard the fortress. This enraged Lakshmana still further.
Some Vanaras ran to the inner apartments and reported to Sugriva: "Lakshmana, furious with anger, is coming here bow in hand. We could not stop him."
But the Vanara king was tipsy and surrounded by women and he took no notice. The king's servants ordered the sentry at the gates to stand firm and prevent the entry of any one. Lakshmana's anger became quite uncontrollable. Lakshmana forced his way in. There he met young Angada, the thought of whose youth and misfortunes took away something of the edge of his wrath. "My child go and tell the Vanara king," he said, "that Lakshmana is waiting at the palace gate to have audience of him on behalf of his grief stricken brother."
Angada went accordingly to the king's apartment and informed him of Lakshmana's visit. But Sugriva was in no condition to understand. Angada saw this and took counsel with the ministers as to what should be done. Hanuman and some of the fellow ministers gently explained what was happening and Sugriva was at last roused from his tipsy condition.
Sugriva said: "I am not at fault, am I? Why should my friends Rama and Lakshmana be angry with me? Some enemy must have carried tales and set them up against me."
Hanuman answered: "It is my duty, O king, to say these things and I say them. Do not be angry with me. We have delayed in carrying out our promise to Rama. We have forgotten Rama's grief. It is late, but not too late. Hence let us do quickly what we should. Let us seek forgiveness from Lakshmana. Let us, without further delay, take steps to fulfil our promise to Rama."
Then Sugriva agreed to receive Lakshmana.
As Lakshmana went into the Vanara town, he marvelled at its beauty and the culture of Kishkindha. Passing through beautiful streets, he stood outside the king's palace. Hearing the sounds of revelry, of dance and song, proceeding from within, he saw that the Vanaras had forgotten their promise and were lost in enjoyment. He could hardly control his anger. Still he held back from entering the women's chamber and, standing in a corner, outside, he twanged his bowstring.
The sound filled all Kishkindha with fear and trembling. Sugriva, hearing it, realised that the prince was, indeed, angry. He saw the danger and asked Tara to go and pacify the prince. "A chivalrous man like Lakshmana will find his anger slip from him, when he speaks to a lady and it will be impossible for him to continue wrathful." said the king, shrewd even in his tipsy condition.
Tara advanced towards Lakshmana. In looks, in knowledge of the world and skill in speech, Tara was unrivalled She said to Lakshmana: "After enduring for a long time poverty and persecution, Sugriva is enjoying the pleasures and the prosperity you have secured for him. This enjoyment has gone to his head and he has lost his senses. I know his fault, but you should forgive him. The high souled that knows the foibles and imperfections of our common nature should temper their censure with compassion. So be not too harsh in judging of King Sugriva's surrender to temptations of the flesh, especially after his long trials and privations. But I can assure you, he has never lost sight of his debt or his duty to you. He has already issued orders for mobilising the Vanara warriors from all quarters. Today or tomorrow they will all be here. Then the search for Sita and the war against Ravana will begin. Have no doubts. And now, pray come in and see the King."
Lakshmana, now no longer angry, entered the apartment. Sugriva, descending from his seat, welcomed Lakshmana.
"Forgive my faults," he said. "With Rama's friendship and help I am King today. How can I ever forget what I owe to the valorous and good Rama? He can destroy his foes without any help from me. I, with my armies, can only follow him. That is all. Surely Ravana will perish. The search for Sita will soon begin. Do forgive the delay of which I am guilty."
Lakshmana was pleased. "Rama is your equal in honor and prowess, none else," he said. "Come with me to Rishyamuka and give him words of comfort in his grief."
Sugriva and Lakshmana went in a litter to Rama and, explaining the arrangements already made, satisfied him.
Rama was pleased. He said: "You indeed are a real friend. Like the clouds yielding rain, the sun destroying darkness and the moon pleasing human hearts, a good friend comes to one's help spontaneously. I am happy in your friendship. Now the end of Ravana and his race is certain."
Even as Rama was expressing his gratitude and joy, great multitudes of Vanaras under their respective leaders arrived and assembled. They came from distant forests, mountains and coasts. The dust they raised darkened the sky. Millions of monkeys and bears in a variety of shapes and colors were there.
Sugriva addressed this enormous army and showed them their appointed camping places. Later, he divided the host into eight divisions and sent each under its commander, thoroughly to search in the eight directions for Sita.
One point is worth noting here. The Tamil poet Kamban describes Tara as a chaste widow living a life of discipline and privations. It is different in Valmiki, who includes Tara and the other women as part of the inheritance Sugriva won from Vali, in fact, as an appendage of the throne. When Sugriva lost himself in bodily pleasures and forgot his duty to Rama, Tara shared his revels and is described as being flushed and unsteady with wine when she went out at her lord's command to allay Lakshmana's resentment.
In ancient times, when an elder brother died leaving a wife, there was a custom in royal and other noble families for the younger brother to take the widow as wife and protect her. It is difficult for people of one age to judge the customs of another age. Imagination and great flexibility of mind are needed to assess the merits and defects of usage's with which we are not familiar.
The edge of the keenest sorrow wears with time and perhaps Heaven's kindest gifts to men are sleep for the fleeting cares of the day and forgetfulness for the deep- seated injuries of the heart. Kishkindha mourned her Vali for a time, and then rejoiced in Sugriva and the survivors. Sugriva forgot the privations of his exile and the remorse for his brother's death. He enjoyed to the full his present prosperity and even Tara reconciled and adapted herself to altered circumstances in the interests of her son.
The royal palace of Kishkindha was full of joy and drinking, and the gloomy months of rain, which the Raghu brothers spent in leaden repining, sped with golden-winged enjoyment for Sugriva and his household. Only Hanuman felt anxious. He could not forget Rama's business. He was looking out for an opportunity to remind the king of his pledge to Rama.
At last, the rains ceased and the sky was cleared of cloud and lightning. The air was sweet with the perfumes of flowers and the songs of birds and joy came to life in the forest again. The intelligent and high virtuous Hanuman now approached his king. Sugriva had entrusted all official duties to the ministers and was absorbed in pleasure. Hanuman knew that the wisest and best of men neglect their promises in such circumstances and addressed the king with great politeness:
"You have regained the kingdom of your ancestors and are in secure possession and enjoyment of it. But something yet remains to be done. You must fulfil your promise to your allies and so increase your fame and strengthen your power. Even at the sacrifice of one's own interests and pleasure, one should carry out the business of one's friends according to one's promise. Only so can a king's authority and reputation grow. It will be best to fulfil one's promise before the due date. In any case delay should be avoided.
Fulfilment after the promised date is worse than useless. One should not wait to be reminded by one's friends of what had been promised to them. All this you know without my telling you. Remembering what Rama had done for us. We must take steps to fulfil our promise without waiting to be reminded by him. The rainy season is over. There is no ground for further delay. We can no longer postpone the task of searching for Sita. Rama may be very patient, but that does not justify any further delay on our part. Did not Rama kill your foe promptly, not minding the danger or the blame involved? We should fulfil our promise with equal promptness."
Thus politely did Maruti convey his advice to Sugriva. The latter accepted it and, thanking Hanuman, ordered Nila to mobilise the Vanara army. "All the world must be searched and Sita found," he said. "Order therefore the most powerful Vanaras to come and join up at once. Those who fail will be summarily punished." Having said this, Sugriva went back into private apartments.
Rama and Lakshmana spent the time in their cave waiting for the end of the rainy season and the fulfilment by Sugriva of his promise. But when the rains were over and the forest and its creatures shone with renewed beauty, Rama grieved intensely at the thought of Sita suffering at the hands of the Rakshasas.
"The world is full of life and joy," said Rama. "But Sita is in agony somewhere. And I sit still here, awaiting the favor of this ungrateful Vanara king. Alas, she walked cheerfully through the Dandaka forest, as if it were a palace-park. She did not mind the stony ground and the thorns in the path. What must be her suffering now? But this king, drowned in his cups and revelling in the company of his women, has forgotten his promise to me. Lakshmana! Go at once to Kishkindha and tell this base king: 'Remember! Know that the path still yawns open whereby the slaughtered Vali went to his doom. Do not follow him, but fulfil your promise to me. Ruin awaits him who forgets kindness and, neglects friends. Beware of Rama's arrows. The four months of the rainy season are over. These four months were like four ages to Rama, but to you, steeped in pleasures, they have perhaps sped like minutes! By delay you incur Rama's wrath and seek your destruction.' Go, Lakshmana, and tell him this."
This was the angry and impatient message Rama wanted Lakshmana to take to Sugriva.
Carrying this weight of his brother's grief and anger, Lakshmana was about to leave. Then Rama thought again. He knew Lakshmana's nature and feared danger from his rashness. So he called him back and said to him: "In conveying my complaint to Sugriva, do not be harsh. Whatever his faults, he is our friend. Point out his faults to him, but say nothing harsh."
Lakshmana agreed, but he found it hard to control his own anger as he approached the gates of Kishkindha.
Noting the severe face of Lakshmana who was fully armed, the Vanara sentry became alert and made ready to guard the fortress. This enraged Lakshmana still further.
Some Vanaras ran to the inner apartments and reported to Sugriva: "Lakshmana, furious with anger, is coming here bow in hand. We could not stop him."
But the Vanara king was tipsy and surrounded by women and he took no notice. The king's servants ordered the sentry at the gates to stand firm and prevent the entry of any one. Lakshmana's anger became quite uncontrollable. Lakshmana forced his way in. There he met young Angada, the thought of whose youth and misfortunes took away something of the edge of his wrath. "My child go and tell the Vanara king," he said, "that Lakshmana is waiting at the palace gate to have audience of him on behalf of his grief stricken brother."
Angada went accordingly to the king's apartment and informed him of Lakshmana's visit. But Sugriva was in no condition to understand. Angada saw this and took counsel with the ministers as to what should be done. Hanuman and some of the fellow ministers gently explained what was happening and Sugriva was at last roused from his tipsy condition.
Sugriva said: "I am not at fault, am I? Why should my friends Rama and Lakshmana be angry with me? Some enemy must have carried tales and set them up against me."
Hanuman answered: "It is my duty, O king, to say these things and I say them. Do not be angry with me. We have delayed in carrying out our promise to Rama. We have forgotten Rama's grief. It is late, but not too late. Hence let us do quickly what we should. Let us seek forgiveness from Lakshmana. Let us, without further delay, take steps to fulfil our promise to Rama."
Then Sugriva agreed to receive Lakshmana.
As Lakshmana went into the Vanara town, he marvelled at its beauty and the culture of Kishkindha. Passing through beautiful streets, he stood outside the king's palace. Hearing the sounds of revelry, of dance and song, proceeding from within, he saw that the Vanaras had forgotten their promise and were lost in enjoyment. He could hardly control his anger. Still he held back from entering the women's chamber and, standing in a corner, outside, he twanged his bowstring.
The sound filled all Kishkindha with fear and trembling. Sugriva, hearing it, realised that the prince was, indeed, angry. He saw the danger and asked Tara to go and pacify the prince. "A chivalrous man like Lakshmana will find his anger slip from him, when he speaks to a lady and it will be impossible for him to continue wrathful." said the king, shrewd even in his tipsy condition.
Tara advanced towards Lakshmana. In looks, in knowledge of the world and skill in speech, Tara was unrivalled She said to Lakshmana: "After enduring for a long time poverty and persecution, Sugriva is enjoying the pleasures and the prosperity you have secured for him. This enjoyment has gone to his head and he has lost his senses. I know his fault, but you should forgive him. The high souled that knows the foibles and imperfections of our common nature should temper their censure with compassion. So be not too harsh in judging of King Sugriva's surrender to temptations of the flesh, especially after his long trials and privations. But I can assure you, he has never lost sight of his debt or his duty to you. He has already issued orders for mobilising the Vanara warriors from all quarters. Today or tomorrow they will all be here. Then the search for Sita and the war against Ravana will begin. Have no doubts. And now, pray come in and see the King."
Lakshmana, now no longer angry, entered the apartment. Sugriva, descending from his seat, welcomed Lakshmana.
"Forgive my faults," he said. "With Rama's friendship and help I am King today. How can I ever forget what I owe to the valorous and good Rama? He can destroy his foes without any help from me. I, with my armies, can only follow him. That is all. Surely Ravana will perish. The search for Sita will soon begin. Do forgive the delay of which I am guilty."
Lakshmana was pleased. "Rama is your equal in honor and prowess, none else," he said. "Come with me to Rishyamuka and give him words of comfort in his grief."
Sugriva and Lakshmana went in a litter to Rama and, explaining the arrangements already made, satisfied him.
Rama was pleased. He said: "You indeed are a real friend. Like the clouds yielding rain, the sun destroying darkness and the moon pleasing human hearts, a good friend comes to one's help spontaneously. I am happy in your friendship. Now the end of Ravana and his race is certain."
Even as Rama was expressing his gratitude and joy, great multitudes of Vanaras under their respective leaders arrived and assembled. They came from distant forests, mountains and coasts. The dust they raised darkened the sky. Millions of monkeys and bears in a variety of shapes and colors were there.
Sugriva addressed this enormous army and showed them their appointed camping places. Later, he divided the host into eight divisions and sent each under its commander, thoroughly to search in the eight directions for Sita.
One point is worth noting here. The Tamil poet Kamban describes Tara as a chaste widow living a life of discipline and privations. It is different in Valmiki, who includes Tara and the other women as part of the inheritance Sugriva won from Vali, in fact, as an appendage of the throne. When Sugriva lost himself in bodily pleasures and forgot his duty to Rama, Tara shared his revels and is described as being flushed and unsteady with wine when she went out at her lord's command to allay Lakshmana's resentment.
In ancient times, when an elder brother died leaving a wife, there was a custom in royal and other noble families for the younger brother to take the widow as wife and protect her. It is difficult for people of one age to judge the customs of another age. Imagination and great flexibility of mind are needed to assess the merits and defects of usage's with which we are not familiar.
45 ) THE SEARCH BEGINS :
"LOOK, Rama, at this Vanara army," said Sugriva. "All these myriads, of wondrous strength, are yours to command. They are willing and able to do you all the service you demand. Consider this huge army as your own and bid them to do whatever you wish."
Rama, beside himself with joy; embraced Sugriva. He said: "First we should find out whether Sita is alive, and if so where she is. Next we should know Ravana's whereabouts. Then we shall do what needs to be done. But it is for you, not for me or Lakshmana, to command this army. You are their King. Besides, you know best what needs to be done and how to do it. Blessed am I to have a friend like you and a brother like Lakshmana!"
Then Sugriva issued stringent orders to his commanders at once to send divisions of the army to the four quarters of the earth to make a thorough search for Sita.
After sending away the other leaders, Sugriva took Hanuman aside and told him: "Son of Vayu, possessing the strength and splendor of your father, you alone can succeed in this task. You have strength, courage and intelligence and on you I rely to take up and discharge this responsibility of discovering Sita."
Rama too felt that Hanuman's efforts would be crowned with success. Whatever obstacles turned up, he felt that Hanuman would find a way of overcoming them. He gave his signet ring to Hanuman and said: "Take this ring. I am full of hope that you will discover Sita. This ring will tell her that you are my messenger. Dear Hanuman, may you bring Sita and me together again!"
Readers should realise the solemnity and pathos of the scene. Rama full of abiding trust in the devoted loyalty and valor of Hanuman placed the ring as though it was his own hungry heart in his servant's hand. The ideal servant accepted the sacred trust with a deep reverence and an unshakable resolve never to fail his master.
Sugriva gave orders to his army. "Sita must anyhow be discovered. No matter where she is hidden, you can and must find her. Within a month you must return with news of her."
And the army swarmed out like ants from an anthill and spread in the four directions.
Satabali and his army proceeded northwards. Vinata went east, Sushena westwards, Hanuman, Angada and General Tara travelled southwards. All were equally enthusiastic and equally eager to catch and kill Ravana and redeem Sita. Each group was anxious to be first to return with success. There was tumultuous rivalry.
Rama enquired of Sugriva: "You describe every quarter and region of the earth like one who has seen the whole world with his own eyes. How and when did you see it all?"
"You will remember, my Lord," said Sugriva, "how Vali pursued me in all directions. Wherever I went, he still pursued me. And so I had to wander over the face of the whole world. I thus had occasion to see every part of this planet. Later, I learnt about the spot where Rishi Matanga had built his ashrama. If Vali entered that region, his head would go to pieces by the sage's curse. I knew that he would not come to that place and could not harm me even if he came. So there I lay protected."
The hordes that went north, east and west returned in a month and reported that Sita was not to be found anywhere. "Carefully we searched forests, mountains, rivers and cities, but nowhere could we find her. Hanuman, who had gone southwards, is the lucky one. Did not the Rakshasa carrying Sita also travel southwards? And Hanuman has not yet returned."
Rama, hearing this, was satisfied that the Vanaras had done their best.
Hanuman and Angada entered and searched the caves and forests of the Vindhyas. Then they came upon a desert, where a rishi was performing tapas. By his curse it was devoid of trees and plants, of birds and beasts. Travelling further south, they saw a big Asura. The cruel one, regarding the Vanara crowd as a good meal sprang up to catch them. They thought at first that this was no other than Ravana.
Angada rushed towards him and gave him a mighty blow. Unable to stand it, the Asura spat blood and fell on the earth and lay dead like a great hill. Rejoicing in the thought that Ravana was dead, the Vanaras searched the forest for Sita. But, there was no sign of her. And so they carried the search elsewhere.
Often they would weary of their fruitless search and sit down in blank despair. At such times, Angada, Gandhamadana or some other leader would encourage them and make them resume the search. Many days were spent in this way. Yet Sita was not to be seen and they dreaded Sugriva's displeasure.
Very far they travelled southwards in their search.
Passing through a desert, fainting with hunger and thirst, they saw a cave from which issued a variety of birds full of the joy of life. The gentle breeze which came out of it covered them with the pollen of lotus flowers and filled them with fragrance. The Vanaras concluded: "undoubtedly there was water where the birds and perfume came from." And the Vanaras forming a chain with linked hands plunged cautiously into the dense darkness of the cave with hearts full of hope, though too parched with thirst even to shout.
At long last, all of a sudden, light appeared and they saw a lovely grove with streams of pellucid water and trees bowing under their wealth of fruit. Then they came to a city, with streets paved with jewels set in gold and great palaces beautiful as a dream. They went along and then they saw an aged tapasvini clad in the garments of a recluse and seated on a dark skin. The Vanaras trembled before the divine splendor of her face.
Hanuman took courage to approach her. Bowing low before her, he said: "Salutations to you, Mother. May we know who you are? Thirsty and tired, we entered the dark cave hoping for some water. And now that we see this unpeopled golden city with trees and tanks, we are afraid, lest this be a vain vision arising from the madness of too great sufferings. Explain all this to us and remove our fears."
She answered: "How did you find your way into this cave? You will have plenty of fruits and drink here. This palace was built by Maya, the architect of the Danavas. He learnt the art from Sukracharya. Long and happily did Maya live here, till he incurred the enmity of Indra, who slew him. Later Indra gave this golden palace to Hema, my friend. These buildings and parks are hers. At present she has gone to the abode of the gods. But what is your purpose in coming here? Why did you weary yourselves wandering in the forests? First eat, drink and refresh yourselves and then tell me all about yourselves."
They ate and drank and refreshed themselves and were happy. Then Hanuman explained to the ascetic the purpose of their wandering.
"Rama, son of Emperor Dasaratha, for some reason, left his kingdom and lived in the forest with his brother and wife. Then a Rakshasa carried off Sita, the wife of Rama. The two went out searching for her. They made the acquaintance of Sugriva, the Vanara King, and became friends with him. He has sent us on this mission to search for Sita and find her for Rama. Our King fixed a time limit for us to return with a clue. We lost our way in the darkness of this cave and the period is now over. Now we do not know what to do. Sugriva is a strict master. For failure to do his bidding within the time set, he is sure to visit us with the penalty of death."
Swayamprabha, that was the name of the ascetic woman, said: "Alas! You cannot by yourselves go out of this cave. No stranger who enters it can go out of it with life. But yours is a great mission and I must, by my tapasya, transport you out. Now shut your eyes."
Accordingly they shut their eyes. All at once they found themselves on the seashore.
Reaching the seashore, they looked round and they were start led to discover that it was the beginning of spring. Angada lamented: "Alas! The time set has been transgressed. If we return to Kishkindha without any clue about Sita, the King will surely punish us with death. He hates me. It was under pressure from Rama that he agreed to make me Yuvaraja, not because of love for me.
Instead of going there and losing our lives, let us fast and seek death here and now." Many of his companions agreed with Angada.
The Vanara General Tara said: "I do not agree. Why should we end our lives? Let us return to the cave of the tapasvini Swamyamprabha and live there happily. There is everything in plenty there. Neither Sugriva nor anyone else can reach this spot. We shall spend the rest of our lives, free from care."
But Hanuman said: "What unworthy talk is this! What pleasure is there in eating, drinking and sleeping in the cave, leaving our families in faraway Kishkindha? Sugriva is a good king whom we need not fear. And if indeed Sugriva is angry with us and determined to punish us, how can this cave give us safety? Can it stand against Lakshmana's rage? Will he not smash it to pieces and kill us? I see no benefit in Tara's counsel. Let us return and tell Sugriva the whole truth and beg for his forgiveness. This is the only way to safety."
"I do not agree with Hanuman," said Angada. "Sugriva has no love or pity for me. He is sure to kill me. He is of a cruel nature. Remember how he killed my father. He does not want me to live. He will find some excuse or other for killing me. He regards me as an obstacle in his way and that of his progeny, who but for me would inherit Kishkindha. To break a promise is nothing to him. Did he not forget his solemn pledge to Rama that he would search for and recover Sita? Was it not only for fear of Lakshmana and his bow that he sent us on this search? My poor bereaved mother has succumbed to fear and accepted Sugriva's protection. She clings to life for my sake. Hearing that I am dead, she will end her life. Alas! I am miserable and know not what to do."
"My death is certain", he said again, "if I return to Kishkindha. It is far better to fast to death here."
He spread on the ground the kusa grass in the manner prescribed for the vow of death, bowed to the gods and the dead and sat facing east, determined to die.
When Angada the Yuvaraja took this vow and sat in the posture of a fast unto death, the other Vanaras cried in grief and, resolving also to fast with him and die, sat facing east.
From a neighboring hill, Sampati, the vulture King, saw this crowd of Vanaras, resigning themselves to fate. Having lost his wings and being unable to move, Sampati had been famishing for a long time. He now rejoiced, saying to himself: "So many monkeys are going to die here together. I shall have enough food for a long while without effort."
Meanwhile, the Vanaras, expecting death, were recalling the past and talking to one another and loudly lamenting over all that had happened. "Because of Kaikeyi, Dasaratha died," they said: "Because of Dasaratha, Rama had to dwell in the forest. Ravana carried off Sita. The heroic Jatayu lost his life in the attempt to save Sita. If the heroic bird had strength enough to continue the struggle a little longer, Rama and Lakshmana would have arrived on the spot and recovered Sita. By fate did all these things happen and the end of the tale is that we are dying here. In what curious ways does fate work!"
Listening to these lamentations, Sampati stared at the mention of Jatayu who was his brother. Hearing him spoken of as dead, he naturally wished to hear the whole story.
Sampati was very old. He and Jatayu were the children of Aruna, the god of Dawn and brother of Garuda, Hari's vehicle. Jatayu and Sampati in their youth competed with each other as to who could fly higher and rose in the sky. As they approached the sun the heat became intolerable and Jatayu was about to be burnt up.
But Sampati spread his wings and protected his brother from the fury of the sun. Jatayu was saved, but Sampati's wings were burnt off. Unable to fly, he fell down on a hill. Since then he could not move but stayed in the same place ever hungry for meal and just alive.
"Who brings sad news of my dear brother Jatayu?" he cried in agony. "Oh, Vanaras, is beloved Jatayu dead indeed? Why did Rama son of King Dasaratha, go to the forest? Why did he lose his wife? Was Jatayu killed by Ravana? Tell me all."
The Vanaras had resolved to end their lives. The wingless, old vulture had desired to make an easy meal of them. But now things turned out otherwise. The Vanaras got up, went to Sampati and gently led him down from the hill. Then they talked and exchanged information. Sampati recounted his story. Angada related all that had happened in Kishkindha and asked old Sampati how Rama could be helped.
Sampati was old and weak, but his eyes had not lost their keenness. He could see things very far off. He could see Sita captive in Lanka and described in detail the wealth of Ravana's kingdom. He saw and described how Sita sat surrounded by Rakshasis in Lanka. The Vanaras were wild with joy. They jumped about saying, "Now we know all about Sita. There is no need for us to die, Rama's purpose will be achieved."
Sampati's troubles were also over. The boon he had received that when he helped Rama he would get back his wings came true and even as they were talking, young feathers began to spring and grow on his sides. Sampati now shone with fresh
beauty and he found satisfaction in performing the funeral obsequies of Jatayu.
Rama, beside himself with joy; embraced Sugriva. He said: "First we should find out whether Sita is alive, and if so where she is. Next we should know Ravana's whereabouts. Then we shall do what needs to be done. But it is for you, not for me or Lakshmana, to command this army. You are their King. Besides, you know best what needs to be done and how to do it. Blessed am I to have a friend like you and a brother like Lakshmana!"
Then Sugriva issued stringent orders to his commanders at once to send divisions of the army to the four quarters of the earth to make a thorough search for Sita.
After sending away the other leaders, Sugriva took Hanuman aside and told him: "Son of Vayu, possessing the strength and splendor of your father, you alone can succeed in this task. You have strength, courage and intelligence and on you I rely to take up and discharge this responsibility of discovering Sita."
Rama too felt that Hanuman's efforts would be crowned with success. Whatever obstacles turned up, he felt that Hanuman would find a way of overcoming them. He gave his signet ring to Hanuman and said: "Take this ring. I am full of hope that you will discover Sita. This ring will tell her that you are my messenger. Dear Hanuman, may you bring Sita and me together again!"
Readers should realise the solemnity and pathos of the scene. Rama full of abiding trust in the devoted loyalty and valor of Hanuman placed the ring as though it was his own hungry heart in his servant's hand. The ideal servant accepted the sacred trust with a deep reverence and an unshakable resolve never to fail his master.
Sugriva gave orders to his army. "Sita must anyhow be discovered. No matter where she is hidden, you can and must find her. Within a month you must return with news of her."
And the army swarmed out like ants from an anthill and spread in the four directions.
Satabali and his army proceeded northwards. Vinata went east, Sushena westwards, Hanuman, Angada and General Tara travelled southwards. All were equally enthusiastic and equally eager to catch and kill Ravana and redeem Sita. Each group was anxious to be first to return with success. There was tumultuous rivalry.
Rama enquired of Sugriva: "You describe every quarter and region of the earth like one who has seen the whole world with his own eyes. How and when did you see it all?"
"You will remember, my Lord," said Sugriva, "how Vali pursued me in all directions. Wherever I went, he still pursued me. And so I had to wander over the face of the whole world. I thus had occasion to see every part of this planet. Later, I learnt about the spot where Rishi Matanga had built his ashrama. If Vali entered that region, his head would go to pieces by the sage's curse. I knew that he would not come to that place and could not harm me even if he came. So there I lay protected."
The hordes that went north, east and west returned in a month and reported that Sita was not to be found anywhere. "Carefully we searched forests, mountains, rivers and cities, but nowhere could we find her. Hanuman, who had gone southwards, is the lucky one. Did not the Rakshasa carrying Sita also travel southwards? And Hanuman has not yet returned."
Rama, hearing this, was satisfied that the Vanaras had done their best.
Hanuman and Angada entered and searched the caves and forests of the Vindhyas. Then they came upon a desert, where a rishi was performing tapas. By his curse it was devoid of trees and plants, of birds and beasts. Travelling further south, they saw a big Asura. The cruel one, regarding the Vanara crowd as a good meal sprang up to catch them. They thought at first that this was no other than Ravana.
Angada rushed towards him and gave him a mighty blow. Unable to stand it, the Asura spat blood and fell on the earth and lay dead like a great hill. Rejoicing in the thought that Ravana was dead, the Vanaras searched the forest for Sita. But, there was no sign of her. And so they carried the search elsewhere.
Often they would weary of their fruitless search and sit down in blank despair. At such times, Angada, Gandhamadana or some other leader would encourage them and make them resume the search. Many days were spent in this way. Yet Sita was not to be seen and they dreaded Sugriva's displeasure.
Very far they travelled southwards in their search.
Passing through a desert, fainting with hunger and thirst, they saw a cave from which issued a variety of birds full of the joy of life. The gentle breeze which came out of it covered them with the pollen of lotus flowers and filled them with fragrance. The Vanaras concluded: "undoubtedly there was water where the birds and perfume came from." And the Vanaras forming a chain with linked hands plunged cautiously into the dense darkness of the cave with hearts full of hope, though too parched with thirst even to shout.
At long last, all of a sudden, light appeared and they saw a lovely grove with streams of pellucid water and trees bowing under their wealth of fruit. Then they came to a city, with streets paved with jewels set in gold and great palaces beautiful as a dream. They went along and then they saw an aged tapasvini clad in the garments of a recluse and seated on a dark skin. The Vanaras trembled before the divine splendor of her face.
Hanuman took courage to approach her. Bowing low before her, he said: "Salutations to you, Mother. May we know who you are? Thirsty and tired, we entered the dark cave hoping for some water. And now that we see this unpeopled golden city with trees and tanks, we are afraid, lest this be a vain vision arising from the madness of too great sufferings. Explain all this to us and remove our fears."
She answered: "How did you find your way into this cave? You will have plenty of fruits and drink here. This palace was built by Maya, the architect of the Danavas. He learnt the art from Sukracharya. Long and happily did Maya live here, till he incurred the enmity of Indra, who slew him. Later Indra gave this golden palace to Hema, my friend. These buildings and parks are hers. At present she has gone to the abode of the gods. But what is your purpose in coming here? Why did you weary yourselves wandering in the forests? First eat, drink and refresh yourselves and then tell me all about yourselves."
They ate and drank and refreshed themselves and were happy. Then Hanuman explained to the ascetic the purpose of their wandering.
"Rama, son of Emperor Dasaratha, for some reason, left his kingdom and lived in the forest with his brother and wife. Then a Rakshasa carried off Sita, the wife of Rama. The two went out searching for her. They made the acquaintance of Sugriva, the Vanara King, and became friends with him. He has sent us on this mission to search for Sita and find her for Rama. Our King fixed a time limit for us to return with a clue. We lost our way in the darkness of this cave and the period is now over. Now we do not know what to do. Sugriva is a strict master. For failure to do his bidding within the time set, he is sure to visit us with the penalty of death."
Swayamprabha, that was the name of the ascetic woman, said: "Alas! You cannot by yourselves go out of this cave. No stranger who enters it can go out of it with life. But yours is a great mission and I must, by my tapasya, transport you out. Now shut your eyes."
Accordingly they shut their eyes. All at once they found themselves on the seashore.
Reaching the seashore, they looked round and they were start led to discover that it was the beginning of spring. Angada lamented: "Alas! The time set has been transgressed. If we return to Kishkindha without any clue about Sita, the King will surely punish us with death. He hates me. It was under pressure from Rama that he agreed to make me Yuvaraja, not because of love for me.
Instead of going there and losing our lives, let us fast and seek death here and now." Many of his companions agreed with Angada.
The Vanara General Tara said: "I do not agree. Why should we end our lives? Let us return to the cave of the tapasvini Swamyamprabha and live there happily. There is everything in plenty there. Neither Sugriva nor anyone else can reach this spot. We shall spend the rest of our lives, free from care."
But Hanuman said: "What unworthy talk is this! What pleasure is there in eating, drinking and sleeping in the cave, leaving our families in faraway Kishkindha? Sugriva is a good king whom we need not fear. And if indeed Sugriva is angry with us and determined to punish us, how can this cave give us safety? Can it stand against Lakshmana's rage? Will he not smash it to pieces and kill us? I see no benefit in Tara's counsel. Let us return and tell Sugriva the whole truth and beg for his forgiveness. This is the only way to safety."
"I do not agree with Hanuman," said Angada. "Sugriva has no love or pity for me. He is sure to kill me. He is of a cruel nature. Remember how he killed my father. He does not want me to live. He will find some excuse or other for killing me. He regards me as an obstacle in his way and that of his progeny, who but for me would inherit Kishkindha. To break a promise is nothing to him. Did he not forget his solemn pledge to Rama that he would search for and recover Sita? Was it not only for fear of Lakshmana and his bow that he sent us on this search? My poor bereaved mother has succumbed to fear and accepted Sugriva's protection. She clings to life for my sake. Hearing that I am dead, she will end her life. Alas! I am miserable and know not what to do."
"My death is certain", he said again, "if I return to Kishkindha. It is far better to fast to death here."
He spread on the ground the kusa grass in the manner prescribed for the vow of death, bowed to the gods and the dead and sat facing east, determined to die.
When Angada the Yuvaraja took this vow and sat in the posture of a fast unto death, the other Vanaras cried in grief and, resolving also to fast with him and die, sat facing east.
From a neighboring hill, Sampati, the vulture King, saw this crowd of Vanaras, resigning themselves to fate. Having lost his wings and being unable to move, Sampati had been famishing for a long time. He now rejoiced, saying to himself: "So many monkeys are going to die here together. I shall have enough food for a long while without effort."
Meanwhile, the Vanaras, expecting death, were recalling the past and talking to one another and loudly lamenting over all that had happened. "Because of Kaikeyi, Dasaratha died," they said: "Because of Dasaratha, Rama had to dwell in the forest. Ravana carried off Sita. The heroic Jatayu lost his life in the attempt to save Sita. If the heroic bird had strength enough to continue the struggle a little longer, Rama and Lakshmana would have arrived on the spot and recovered Sita. By fate did all these things happen and the end of the tale is that we are dying here. In what curious ways does fate work!"
Listening to these lamentations, Sampati stared at the mention of Jatayu who was his brother. Hearing him spoken of as dead, he naturally wished to hear the whole story.
Sampati was very old. He and Jatayu were the children of Aruna, the god of Dawn and brother of Garuda, Hari's vehicle. Jatayu and Sampati in their youth competed with each other as to who could fly higher and rose in the sky. As they approached the sun the heat became intolerable and Jatayu was about to be burnt up.
But Sampati spread his wings and protected his brother from the fury of the sun. Jatayu was saved, but Sampati's wings were burnt off. Unable to fly, he fell down on a hill. Since then he could not move but stayed in the same place ever hungry for meal and just alive.
"Who brings sad news of my dear brother Jatayu?" he cried in agony. "Oh, Vanaras, is beloved Jatayu dead indeed? Why did Rama son of King Dasaratha, go to the forest? Why did he lose his wife? Was Jatayu killed by Ravana? Tell me all."
The Vanaras had resolved to end their lives. The wingless, old vulture had desired to make an easy meal of them. But now things turned out otherwise. The Vanaras got up, went to Sampati and gently led him down from the hill. Then they talked and exchanged information. Sampati recounted his story. Angada related all that had happened in Kishkindha and asked old Sampati how Rama could be helped.
Sampati was old and weak, but his eyes had not lost their keenness. He could see things very far off. He could see Sita captive in Lanka and described in detail the wealth of Ravana's kingdom. He saw and described how Sita sat surrounded by Rakshasis in Lanka. The Vanaras were wild with joy. They jumped about saying, "Now we know all about Sita. There is no need for us to die, Rama's purpose will be achieved."
Sampati's troubles were also over. The boon he had received that when he helped Rama he would get back his wings came true and even as they were talking, young feathers began to spring and grow on his sides. Sampati now shone with fresh
beauty and he found satisfaction in performing the funeral obsequies of Jatayu.
46 ) SON OF VAYU :
FROM Sampati the Vanaras learnt the place where Sita was kept a prisoner in the land of the Rakshasa, a hundred yojanas across the ocean. But of course it would not do to return to Sugriva at once with this second-hand information. They had outstayed the allotted time and only outstanding success could save them from punishment. They could not stop their search till they saw with their own eyes what Sampati had described only then could they fulfil Rama's purpose.
But then they had to cross the sea.
They went to the edge of the water and discussed matters. "How can we cross the sea, enter Lanka, see Sita and return?" Anxiety and fear overwhelmed them.
Angada said: "No matter how hard the task, one should never lose courage. Courage is the key to success. To lose heart is to lose everything."
Then he asked each one of his followers to state truly the maximum length that he could jump.
"Oh Vanara warriors!" he said, "much have I heard from Sugriva of your prowess. Your strength and your enterprise are beyond dispute. We should fulfil this task. We cannot return to Kishkindha without seeing Sita. That is certain. It is better for us to end our lives here than to be slain in disgrace by the king. Therefore, tell me, one by one, the longest jump you have the strength and courage to attempt."
Gaja said modestly: "I can jump ten yojanas." Gavaksha said: "I can do twenty." Another Vanara leader claimed he could do thirty.
And so each improved on the figure of the other. At last Jambavan, the oldest of the warriors, spoke:
"I am now old and infirm. Yet I would gladly spend myself to fulfil our king's command. But what will mere devotion avail if not seconded by strength? I think I can manage ninety yojanas, but this is not enough to cross the sea and reach Lanka. I can only regret my lost youth."
The Yuvaraja himself said: "I can do a hundred yojanas and reach Lanka, I have no doubt. But I wonder whether I shall have the strength for another jump of equal length for the return journey."
Jambavan answered, "O prince, you need not doubt your strength. Your prowess is as great as Vali's. Yet it is not proper for the crown prince to undertake this task while there are others to do it under his orders. It is neither statesmanlike nor safe for a king to act directly."
Then Jambavan cast an appraising and admiring look at Hanuman, who had sat apart, listening to the talk, but saying nothing.
"I feel that the son of Vayu, sitting there in silence is the one best fitted by strength and skill to do this deed," said the old Vanara and walked up to Hanuman and brought him to their midst.
Addressing Hanuman in the hearing of the myriad's of gloomy Vanaras, Jambavan said: "O warrior, learned in all branches of knowledge, why are you sitting silent and apart? You are the equal of King Sugriva, are you not? In strength and splendor do you not surpass all the rest of us? Why, are you not the equal of Rama and Lakshmana themselves? I have seen Garuda, the king of birds crossing the sea. The might of your shoulders is not less than that of Garuda's wings. You are not inferior to the son of Vinata in strength or speed, but you are not aware of your own prowess and intelligence. There is no equal to you in the whole world. Anjana, your mother, was a maiden among the goddesses above. By the curse of a rishi she was born as a Vanari. One day, while she was wandering carefree on a mountain slope, Vayu saw her beauty and fell in love with her and embraced her. She was wroth. 'Who are you, O wicked one' she asked, 'who dares insult me? The Wind-God answered: 'Be not angry, your body is not tainted by my touch and loses not its virgin purity. Not in body but in my heart's desire did I embrace you and out of this ethereal embrace, a child will be born to you, equal to me in strength and vigor. He will be the mightiest and most intelligent amongst the Vanaras.' Thus did the Wind- God pacify Anjana. When you were a little child, O Hanuman, you imagined the rising sun to be a fruit and flew towards it in order to pluck it. Seeing your effortless and fearless flight Indra, king of the gods, became concerned for the sun's safety and hurled his thunderbolt at you. Struck down by it, you fell on a, mountain and your right jaw was broken. Enraged by this, your father the Wind-God stopped his movements and stood still. All living creatures became breathless and felt strangled in the stillness. The gods begged Vayu to lay aside his anger and showered blessings on you. Brahma and Indra gave you boons. No weapon can slay you. Death can only come to you at your will and not other wise. You are immortal. Born of Anjana and begotten of the spirit of the Wind-God, you are equal to him in splendor, intelligence and power. But, for all your strength, you are virtuous and modest. You alone can help us to fulfil Rama's purpose. Crossing the sea is no hard task to you. This great army of Vanaras, struggling in a sea of distress, you should rescue. You, who can cross the sea, should not leave your power unused. Increase your stature. You are the equal of Garuda. Once I too was strong like you and traversed the globe twenty-one times. At the churning of the ocean of milk, I fetched herbs from the four quarters at the bidding of the gods. But now I am old and weak. You are the sole hope of the Vanaras. O, son of Anjana, we beg you, noble one! With your heritage of divine strength, delay no further. Realise your true strength and spring forward. Like Trivikrama, you can cross the sea at a single jump. Do it and end our troubles."
The aged Jambavan thus praised Hanuman, reminded him of his strength and roused his dormant courage. At once Hanuman's form began to swell like the sea in high tide. Even as the Vanaras were watching him, the son of Vayu grew in size. The radiance of his body filled Angada and his companions with wonder and joy.
From now on, Hanuman is the hero of the Ramayana. The devotees of Vishnu lovingly call him the Junior Servant of Hari. The Senior Servant is Garuda who is always with Vishnu in personal attendance.
How the Junior Servant of Hari ended the grief of Sita, destroyed by fire the city of Ravana and returned to the Lord and told him: "I found have Sita," we shall now proceed to relate. Reminded of his might by Jambavan, Hanuman was now determined to fulfil Rama's purpose. And with fervor he uttered his faith:
"May your words come true. Flying through the sky and alighting in Lanka, I shall see Janaki. I have no doubt. I shall return and bring you good news. To take the jump I must press my foot hard against the earth. This hill may stand it," he said and climbed up the Mahendra hill.
There for a while he threw his whole strength into his foot and walked a few steps. The creatures in the hill could not endure it and came out.
Standing on the hill, Hanuman looked at the sea and directed his yoga- concentrated mind towards Lanka. He said to himself: "I shall search and find Sita. I shall fly in the sky and cross the sea."
With this resolve he offered worship and prayer to Surya, Indra, Vayu, Brahma, and all creation. Then facing east, he made obeisance to his father Vayu and, magnifying his frame still further, turned towards the south.
He pressed the hill with his feet and struck it with his hands. At this impact the flowers fell from the trees and covered the hill. Squeezed irresistibly by the pressure of his feet the hill threw out springs of water, like the rut flowing down the cheeks of the elephant. Many colored veins of ore burst out of the rock. From the caves the beasts emerged with panic- stricken outcries. Hooded serpents emitting venom bit the rock and sparks flew out.
The hair of Hanuman's body stood on end and he roared and lashed his tail on the ground. He contracted his hind parts, held his breath, pressed down his feet, folded his ears and stiffened his muscles. Then with a roar of triumph he rose into the sky and like Garuda flew with the speed of Rama's arrow. With the momentum of his speed, many trees were uprooted and followed in his wake. Like friends who speed a parting guest, they accompanied him a little way, showering down their flowers, and dropped.
One by one the trees that followed Hanuman fell into the sea like the mountains which of old were pursued by Indra and denuded of their wings. Covered with bright-colored flowers the sea shone like the sky with its stars. Hanuman's arms with their outspread hands as he flew through the sky appeared like two five headed cobras. He seemed to swallow the sky as he flew forward. His eyes glistened like mountain forests on fire. His red nose shone like the evening sun.
His huge frame spanned the sky like an enormous comet. The air roared as he sped fast. Beneath him his shadow travelled like a ship on the sea. It looked as though a huge mountain with wings was flying in the sky. Hidden at times by clouds and again emerging from them, he shone like the moon sailing across the sky. The Gandharvas showered flowers. The Devarishis blessed him.
With courage equal to every occasion, with foresight, skill and resolution, Hanuman met and survived the trials on the way. Shooting up suddenly from the sea, a mighty mountain rose and stood, in his way. Hanuman struck it with his chest and the Mynaka Mountain yielded, like a cloud struck by the wind.
The mountain said: "My son, I am Mount Mynaka. My king Ocean bade me help Sri Rama, the descendant of the Sagara race. The Ocean is an old friend of that race. In honor of that ancient, association, stay here on me for a while. You will fulfil Rama's purpose all the better for this rest. When Indra struck with his thunder all the hills, I fled from his persecution and hid myself in the ocean and survived. The Ocean who gave me shelter now bids me help you. The sons of Sagara dug and deepened the ocean. Did not your father Vayu help me to escape from Indra's thunderbolt and find sanctuary in the sea? Both the Ocean and myself will be pleased if you will accept my hospitality and rest here for a while."
But Hanuman could not yield to Mynaka's importunity and said politely: "I cannot stop, my friend. I have no time to lose. My vow to fulfil Rama's purpose permits no delay. Your kind words are enough to please me."
He stroked the mountain affectionately with his hand and took its leave.
Later, a huge form stood in his way and said: "Enter my mouth. I have been without food for a long time and am eagerly waiting for you," and the monster opened its mouth wide like a cave.
Hanuman answered: "I am bent on doing Rama's purpose. Do not stop me."
"Impossible!" said the monster. "You must enter my mouth."
Hanuman thought quickly and decided what to do. Step by step he made his body grow bigger and bigger. The Rakshasa form (which had been assumed by Surasa, the Naga maiden) opened its mouth correspondingly wider and wider.
When the mouth was thus enormously wide, all of a sudden Hanuman contracted his body into a speck and, darting through the demon's mouth and body, came out again and resumed his former normal shape.
He then laughed and said: "You have had your wish, mother. I have entered your mouth. What more do you need?"
And the Naga goddess blessed him saying: "Your effort will be crowned with success. I did this at the bidding of the gods who wanted to test you. Rama's purpose, which you seek to serve, will assuredly triumph."
This was not the last of his trials. As he was flying in the sky, for no reason which he could discover, he found his speed obstructed and he suffered like a ship against a contrary wind. Some mighty force, he felt, was holding him and dragging him down.
He looked up and down and on all four sides. Then he discovered the cause. It was a huge she-demon in the sea holding him by his shadow below, arresting his speed, and dragging him down.
The demon, holding him by his shadow, said: "Come, come! Long have I
been waiting for you. No longer can I bear my hunger," and she opened her mouth like a cave.
At once Hanuman entered her mouth and ripped a way out through her entrails and emerged. The demon died and sank down in the water. Like the full moon emerging from an eclipse, Hanuman shone in the sky and resumed his journey.
Thus surviving many trials with the help of his subtle wit, courage and strength, he flew across the ocean and approached the coast of Lanka covered with plantain and coconut trees.
On the shore of the island he saw groves and mountains and forests and the mouths of rivers.
Hanuman saw the wealth of Ravana's kingdom and the beauty of the fortified city.
"I have reached the destination," said Hanuman to himself. "Now without letting the Rakshasas know who or what I am, I must search the place and find out where Sita is kept."
He reduced his huge form to the size of a normal monkey and alighted on a hilltop in Lanka.
But then they had to cross the sea.
They went to the edge of the water and discussed matters. "How can we cross the sea, enter Lanka, see Sita and return?" Anxiety and fear overwhelmed them.
Angada said: "No matter how hard the task, one should never lose courage. Courage is the key to success. To lose heart is to lose everything."
Then he asked each one of his followers to state truly the maximum length that he could jump.
"Oh Vanara warriors!" he said, "much have I heard from Sugriva of your prowess. Your strength and your enterprise are beyond dispute. We should fulfil this task. We cannot return to Kishkindha without seeing Sita. That is certain. It is better for us to end our lives here than to be slain in disgrace by the king. Therefore, tell me, one by one, the longest jump you have the strength and courage to attempt."
Gaja said modestly: "I can jump ten yojanas." Gavaksha said: "I can do twenty." Another Vanara leader claimed he could do thirty.
And so each improved on the figure of the other. At last Jambavan, the oldest of the warriors, spoke:
"I am now old and infirm. Yet I would gladly spend myself to fulfil our king's command. But what will mere devotion avail if not seconded by strength? I think I can manage ninety yojanas, but this is not enough to cross the sea and reach Lanka. I can only regret my lost youth."
The Yuvaraja himself said: "I can do a hundred yojanas and reach Lanka, I have no doubt. But I wonder whether I shall have the strength for another jump of equal length for the return journey."
Jambavan answered, "O prince, you need not doubt your strength. Your prowess is as great as Vali's. Yet it is not proper for the crown prince to undertake this task while there are others to do it under his orders. It is neither statesmanlike nor safe for a king to act directly."
Then Jambavan cast an appraising and admiring look at Hanuman, who had sat apart, listening to the talk, but saying nothing.
"I feel that the son of Vayu, sitting there in silence is the one best fitted by strength and skill to do this deed," said the old Vanara and walked up to Hanuman and brought him to their midst.
Addressing Hanuman in the hearing of the myriad's of gloomy Vanaras, Jambavan said: "O warrior, learned in all branches of knowledge, why are you sitting silent and apart? You are the equal of King Sugriva, are you not? In strength and splendor do you not surpass all the rest of us? Why, are you not the equal of Rama and Lakshmana themselves? I have seen Garuda, the king of birds crossing the sea. The might of your shoulders is not less than that of Garuda's wings. You are not inferior to the son of Vinata in strength or speed, but you are not aware of your own prowess and intelligence. There is no equal to you in the whole world. Anjana, your mother, was a maiden among the goddesses above. By the curse of a rishi she was born as a Vanari. One day, while she was wandering carefree on a mountain slope, Vayu saw her beauty and fell in love with her and embraced her. She was wroth. 'Who are you, O wicked one' she asked, 'who dares insult me? The Wind-God answered: 'Be not angry, your body is not tainted by my touch and loses not its virgin purity. Not in body but in my heart's desire did I embrace you and out of this ethereal embrace, a child will be born to you, equal to me in strength and vigor. He will be the mightiest and most intelligent amongst the Vanaras.' Thus did the Wind- God pacify Anjana. When you were a little child, O Hanuman, you imagined the rising sun to be a fruit and flew towards it in order to pluck it. Seeing your effortless and fearless flight Indra, king of the gods, became concerned for the sun's safety and hurled his thunderbolt at you. Struck down by it, you fell on a, mountain and your right jaw was broken. Enraged by this, your father the Wind-God stopped his movements and stood still. All living creatures became breathless and felt strangled in the stillness. The gods begged Vayu to lay aside his anger and showered blessings on you. Brahma and Indra gave you boons. No weapon can slay you. Death can only come to you at your will and not other wise. You are immortal. Born of Anjana and begotten of the spirit of the Wind-God, you are equal to him in splendor, intelligence and power. But, for all your strength, you are virtuous and modest. You alone can help us to fulfil Rama's purpose. Crossing the sea is no hard task to you. This great army of Vanaras, struggling in a sea of distress, you should rescue. You, who can cross the sea, should not leave your power unused. Increase your stature. You are the equal of Garuda. Once I too was strong like you and traversed the globe twenty-one times. At the churning of the ocean of milk, I fetched herbs from the four quarters at the bidding of the gods. But now I am old and weak. You are the sole hope of the Vanaras. O, son of Anjana, we beg you, noble one! With your heritage of divine strength, delay no further. Realise your true strength and spring forward. Like Trivikrama, you can cross the sea at a single jump. Do it and end our troubles."
The aged Jambavan thus praised Hanuman, reminded him of his strength and roused his dormant courage. At once Hanuman's form began to swell like the sea in high tide. Even as the Vanaras were watching him, the son of Vayu grew in size. The radiance of his body filled Angada and his companions with wonder and joy.
From now on, Hanuman is the hero of the Ramayana. The devotees of Vishnu lovingly call him the Junior Servant of Hari. The Senior Servant is Garuda who is always with Vishnu in personal attendance.
How the Junior Servant of Hari ended the grief of Sita, destroyed by fire the city of Ravana and returned to the Lord and told him: "I found have Sita," we shall now proceed to relate. Reminded of his might by Jambavan, Hanuman was now determined to fulfil Rama's purpose. And with fervor he uttered his faith:
"May your words come true. Flying through the sky and alighting in Lanka, I shall see Janaki. I have no doubt. I shall return and bring you good news. To take the jump I must press my foot hard against the earth. This hill may stand it," he said and climbed up the Mahendra hill.
There for a while he threw his whole strength into his foot and walked a few steps. The creatures in the hill could not endure it and came out.
Standing on the hill, Hanuman looked at the sea and directed his yoga- concentrated mind towards Lanka. He said to himself: "I shall search and find Sita. I shall fly in the sky and cross the sea."
With this resolve he offered worship and prayer to Surya, Indra, Vayu, Brahma, and all creation. Then facing east, he made obeisance to his father Vayu and, magnifying his frame still further, turned towards the south.
He pressed the hill with his feet and struck it with his hands. At this impact the flowers fell from the trees and covered the hill. Squeezed irresistibly by the pressure of his feet the hill threw out springs of water, like the rut flowing down the cheeks of the elephant. Many colored veins of ore burst out of the rock. From the caves the beasts emerged with panic- stricken outcries. Hooded serpents emitting venom bit the rock and sparks flew out.
The hair of Hanuman's body stood on end and he roared and lashed his tail on the ground. He contracted his hind parts, held his breath, pressed down his feet, folded his ears and stiffened his muscles. Then with a roar of triumph he rose into the sky and like Garuda flew with the speed of Rama's arrow. With the momentum of his speed, many trees were uprooted and followed in his wake. Like friends who speed a parting guest, they accompanied him a little way, showering down their flowers, and dropped.
One by one the trees that followed Hanuman fell into the sea like the mountains which of old were pursued by Indra and denuded of their wings. Covered with bright-colored flowers the sea shone like the sky with its stars. Hanuman's arms with their outspread hands as he flew through the sky appeared like two five headed cobras. He seemed to swallow the sky as he flew forward. His eyes glistened like mountain forests on fire. His red nose shone like the evening sun.
His huge frame spanned the sky like an enormous comet. The air roared as he sped fast. Beneath him his shadow travelled like a ship on the sea. It looked as though a huge mountain with wings was flying in the sky. Hidden at times by clouds and again emerging from them, he shone like the moon sailing across the sky. The Gandharvas showered flowers. The Devarishis blessed him.
With courage equal to every occasion, with foresight, skill and resolution, Hanuman met and survived the trials on the way. Shooting up suddenly from the sea, a mighty mountain rose and stood, in his way. Hanuman struck it with his chest and the Mynaka Mountain yielded, like a cloud struck by the wind.
The mountain said: "My son, I am Mount Mynaka. My king Ocean bade me help Sri Rama, the descendant of the Sagara race. The Ocean is an old friend of that race. In honor of that ancient, association, stay here on me for a while. You will fulfil Rama's purpose all the better for this rest. When Indra struck with his thunder all the hills, I fled from his persecution and hid myself in the ocean and survived. The Ocean who gave me shelter now bids me help you. The sons of Sagara dug and deepened the ocean. Did not your father Vayu help me to escape from Indra's thunderbolt and find sanctuary in the sea? Both the Ocean and myself will be pleased if you will accept my hospitality and rest here for a while."
But Hanuman could not yield to Mynaka's importunity and said politely: "I cannot stop, my friend. I have no time to lose. My vow to fulfil Rama's purpose permits no delay. Your kind words are enough to please me."
He stroked the mountain affectionately with his hand and took its leave.
Later, a huge form stood in his way and said: "Enter my mouth. I have been without food for a long time and am eagerly waiting for you," and the monster opened its mouth wide like a cave.
Hanuman answered: "I am bent on doing Rama's purpose. Do not stop me."
"Impossible!" said the monster. "You must enter my mouth."
Hanuman thought quickly and decided what to do. Step by step he made his body grow bigger and bigger. The Rakshasa form (which had been assumed by Surasa, the Naga maiden) opened its mouth correspondingly wider and wider.
When the mouth was thus enormously wide, all of a sudden Hanuman contracted his body into a speck and, darting through the demon's mouth and body, came out again and resumed his former normal shape.
He then laughed and said: "You have had your wish, mother. I have entered your mouth. What more do you need?"
And the Naga goddess blessed him saying: "Your effort will be crowned with success. I did this at the bidding of the gods who wanted to test you. Rama's purpose, which you seek to serve, will assuredly triumph."
This was not the last of his trials. As he was flying in the sky, for no reason which he could discover, he found his speed obstructed and he suffered like a ship against a contrary wind. Some mighty force, he felt, was holding him and dragging him down.
He looked up and down and on all four sides. Then he discovered the cause. It was a huge she-demon in the sea holding him by his shadow below, arresting his speed, and dragging him down.
The demon, holding him by his shadow, said: "Come, come! Long have I
been waiting for you. No longer can I bear my hunger," and she opened her mouth like a cave.
At once Hanuman entered her mouth and ripped a way out through her entrails and emerged. The demon died and sank down in the water. Like the full moon emerging from an eclipse, Hanuman shone in the sky and resumed his journey.
Thus surviving many trials with the help of his subtle wit, courage and strength, he flew across the ocean and approached the coast of Lanka covered with plantain and coconut trees.
On the shore of the island he saw groves and mountains and forests and the mouths of rivers.
Hanuman saw the wealth of Ravana's kingdom and the beauty of the fortified city.
"I have reached the destination," said Hanuman to himself. "Now without letting the Rakshasas know who or what I am, I must search the place and find out where Sita is kept."
He reduced his huge form to the size of a normal monkey and alighted on a hilltop in Lanka.
47 ) THE SEARCH IN LANKA :
FULL of hope, Hanuman alighted and set foot in Lanka. But soon the flush of triumph at the accomplishment of the journey gave place to sober thinking.
"True I have crossed the sea, but that is only the beginning of my mission. There, on mount Trikuta, stands Ravana's magnificent city, as if suspended in the sky. How beautiful, how wealthy, how well secured it is! The city and the fortress are not inferior to Amaravati or Bhagavati. The lovely groves, the elegant buildings, the engines of defence, deep moats, these fill me with much admiration but also with greater concern. Who can attack and vanquish this Ravana? How can an army cross the sea that I have just crossed? Even if it crosses the sea and reaches this shore, how can it attack and bring down this fortress defended by bulwarks manned by well-armed warriors! Neither guile nor force can bring it down. But first I must find out whether Sita is alive or not. Other questions can wait. When and how can I best enter this well guarded city? I have to search it thoroughly, if I am to discover the place where Sita is kept. If thoughtlessly I do something wrong now, this error would be irretrievable and a great purpose would fail because of haste or negligence on my part. If I enter the, city by day, it will be noticed by the Rakshasas. It is best I go in at night. But in what shape shall I go? To ward off suspicion, I must put on a trivial, inconspicuous shape."
Accordingly he shrank to the size of a little monkey, no bigger than a cat. To enter and search the palaces and parks of this vast city, this would be most convenient. His present form was as much smaller than his usual size as the latter was than the mighty proportions he had assumed as he crossed the sea.
By now the sun had set. The little Vanara walked towards the fortress gate. The moon shone brightly. Hanuman was glad and grateful for this help in his search.
Even on a distant view Hanuman wondered at the wealth and beauty displayed in Ravana's capital. The streets and mansions were bright with flags and festoons and glittered with gold and precious gems. The breeze blew gently from the sea. Like Indra's Amaravati and Kubera's Alakapuri, Ravana's capital had attained the peak of prosperity. The messenger of Rama was filled with wonder and anxiety how to overcome the master of such wealth and military power.
As he was walking along in amazement and anxiety, he was rudely accosted by the terrible-looking Guardian Goddess of the city.
"Who are you, little monkey? How did you manage to come here and why are you here at all? Speak the truth."
"Yes, I am indeed a little monkey and I have come here to look at this beautiful city. I shall go back after I have gone round and seen everything and satisfied my curiosity."
The deity struck an angry blow at the monkey. Hanuman returned the blow carelessly with his left hand. It doubled her up with agony on the ground.
But soon she got up and remembered the prophecy that, when a monkey should strike and throw her down, the city she guarded would be destroyed.
She said to herself: "Ravana's sins are many and grievous. The end of Lanka is approaching. The word of the gods is about to be fulfilled." And she stood aside. The goddess of Lanka was not a servant of Ravana. She was the spirit of the city.
Hanuman climbed over the wall and jumped into the city. It was part of the ancient code of warfare that one should not enter the enemy's fortress through the regular gate, but should make his entry in an out-of-the-way manner.
Vowing that the Rakshasas should be destroyed he entered the fortress of Lanka with his left foot foremost, for that meant defeat for the enemy.
He went along the royal street that was strewn with beautiful flowers. Like lightning shining through the clouds the buildings shone against the sky. Clambering up the mansions and going along on their roofs, he admired the beauty of the city. The Rakshasa mansions and streets and their decorations shone with ineffable beauty. The sounds of cultivated and correct music were heard. Lovely women moved about to the accompaniment of tinkling anklets. The city was filled with sounds indicating a full and joyous life.
In some houses mantras were being chanted. In some others Vedic chants were heard. In others songs celebrating the heroic exploits and glory of Ravana were being sung. Soldiers and scouts were everywhere. In the streets were people dedicated to particular religious practices and vows. There were others cruel in looks and ugly. The guards were armed with bows, swords, cudgels, slings, lances and other weapons. All the warriors were clad in armor.
Some were handsome, some ugly, complexions varied from fair through brown to black. Some figures were very tall, others very short. Thus Hanuman saw that the population had been drawn from a wide area with varying climates and that the army had been recruited from the pick of many nations.
He examined mansion after mansion. He saw women of exquisite beauty, some of them in the company of their husbands and others by themselves. He saw many young damsels, bright and beautiful like images of molten gold. Some were seated on the terraces, others were sleeping in their beds. Some were playing, others singing.
Innumerable beautiful women he saw, but not Sita pining for Rama. The sight of so much beauty only filled Hanuman's heart with disappointment and sadness.
He entered and examined the homes of many Rakshasas. There were war elephants, pure-bred horses, chariots and armories. Soldiers stood fully armed.
After passing through many mansions and gardens filled with merriment and music, he came to a great palace rising aloft in a nobility of splendor far transcending all the magnificent buildings around.
Looking at the elephants, horses and foot-soldiers in front, the high walls surrounding it and the beauty of its structure and the richness of its decorations, he concluded that this was Ravana's own palace, the central glory of splendid Lanka. He entered this palace. It was in every way a heaven on earth worthy of Ravana's peerless power and glory. The park, the birds sporting there, the shrines scattered here and there, filled Hanuman with wonder.
He said to himself: "What wealth, what beauty and what bliss!"
He was for a while lost in amazement. But soon he recollected that he had not yet found Sita. Admiration gave place to concern over the yet unfulfilled purpose for which he had come.
Passing through many mansions, he entered the innermost private apartment of Ravana and was almost overcome with the luxury and richness of its apartments which made it look a very abode of the gods. Everywhere was gold and silver, ivory and gems and pearls, and beautiful carpets and furniture and in their midst he saw the Pushpaka Vimana.
It was a magic vehicle obtained from Brahma by Kubera. Vanquishing Kubera, Ravana brought it to Lanka as his booty. As from Vasishtha's cow, in the Pushpaka car one could get anything one desired.
Ravana's chamber, which Hanuman now entered, was a very ocean of delight. Countless lovely women lay sleeping in the spacious chamber, some linked arm in arm and all in undress and the careless attitudes of sleep, making the place look like garden of bright, flower-laden creepers.
With his spirit controlled by dharma, Hanuman looked at all these sleeping women, each more beautiful than the other and all filled with joy and love, to see if any of them could be Sita. Ravana's power to take what shape he would and to please all women was evident from the sight of these lovely women.
Hanuman pulled himself together reproachfully at his own folly in supposing for a moment that Sita could be in that sensual paradise of happy damsels. "It is certain that Sita is not in this crowd. What a fool am I to search for her in this company! This is no place for her."
Then he went elsewhere. In another chamber he saw many beds. He saw one more gorgeous than the rest, covered with gold and diamonds and Ravana stretched on it, like another Mount Meru. His form and majestic splendor mace made even Hanuman tremble for it moment.
He stood on one side and scanned the sleeping figure unable for a time to take his eyes off the majestic and virile beauty of that mighty form. The great muscles now in repose, the symmetrical grace of limbs which made the Rakshasa King at once beautiful and terrible.
Then Hanuman looked at the women in the beds around and on the carpets. Some, who had fallen asleep while singing, were still hugging their musical instruments.
His eyes finally fell on a figure lying on a divinely beautiful cot. The shapeliness of her limbs and the beauty of her features made Hanuman imagine it might be Sita. He leaped up with joy.
The next instant he cursed himself for his folly. "Fie, fie," he said to himself, "how foolish have I been! Could Sita sleep thus carelessly, covered with jewels, in a stranger's chamber? The very thought is a sin." And he was overwhelmed with shame and sorrow at his error.
Then he said to himself: "Because she would not yield to him, this Rakshasa must have killed her. What use is there in continuing the search?"
He had now searched the inner apartments of Ravana's palace. The bedroom, the dining room, the hall of drink, the music room, all places had been searched and Sita was nowhere found. "I have entered every nook and corner. Against all the rules of propriety, I have even looked at every one in the women's chambers. But all in vain."
Saying this he left the hall of drink and went to the garden and looked into the little shrines and the arbours made of creepers. But all was in vain.
"I have seen all of Lanka," he thought with irrepressible grief. "I have seen every inch of Ravana's palace. What more could I do here? Am I to return without seeing Sita? No. I shall rather end my life here. Yes, that is the only thing for me to do."
But again he said to himself, "Fie, fie on me for yielding to such despondency unworthy and dishonorable."
He sprang up again and searched once again every inch of the places he had been through. He opened every door and window and looked in. There were ugly women, beautiful human and Naga maidens, all captured by the Rakshasa, but not Sita.
Once again his heart sank. He did not know what to do. He said to himself: "If I return to Kishkindha failing in my mission, with what face shall I meet my friends? If Rama loses all hopes of recovering Sita, what would happen to him? He would surely die. And after that, what would happen to others? Instead of going back to Sugriva and telling him that all my labors have been wasted, it would be far better to stay here and spend the rest of my days in the forest and seashore of Lanka. But why live on? Is it not best to end my life? But, then, was Sampati wrong in saying that Sita was in Lanka? Or has she been killed by the Rakshasa since Sampati sighted her in this island? She might well have been devoured by the
Rakshasis. Nothing is clear, everything is enveloped in doubt. What shall I do?"
Thus was Hanuman lost in anxiety and thought. Just then his eyes lighted on what he had so far left unexplored, a park attached to a shrine and surrounded by high walls. "Oh, here is a park, I have not seen or searched so far. Here surely I shall find Sita."
With these words as the son of Vayu meditated on Rama, hope sprang within his breast. The secluded park was well protected by high walls. "Yes, Sita must be here," he said to himself. Again he bowed to the gods. He jumped up and sat on the wall of the Asoka Vana and surveyed the beautiful park.
"True I have crossed the sea, but that is only the beginning of my mission. There, on mount Trikuta, stands Ravana's magnificent city, as if suspended in the sky. How beautiful, how wealthy, how well secured it is! The city and the fortress are not inferior to Amaravati or Bhagavati. The lovely groves, the elegant buildings, the engines of defence, deep moats, these fill me with much admiration but also with greater concern. Who can attack and vanquish this Ravana? How can an army cross the sea that I have just crossed? Even if it crosses the sea and reaches this shore, how can it attack and bring down this fortress defended by bulwarks manned by well-armed warriors! Neither guile nor force can bring it down. But first I must find out whether Sita is alive or not. Other questions can wait. When and how can I best enter this well guarded city? I have to search it thoroughly, if I am to discover the place where Sita is kept. If thoughtlessly I do something wrong now, this error would be irretrievable and a great purpose would fail because of haste or negligence on my part. If I enter the, city by day, it will be noticed by the Rakshasas. It is best I go in at night. But in what shape shall I go? To ward off suspicion, I must put on a trivial, inconspicuous shape."
Accordingly he shrank to the size of a little monkey, no bigger than a cat. To enter and search the palaces and parks of this vast city, this would be most convenient. His present form was as much smaller than his usual size as the latter was than the mighty proportions he had assumed as he crossed the sea.
By now the sun had set. The little Vanara walked towards the fortress gate. The moon shone brightly. Hanuman was glad and grateful for this help in his search.
Even on a distant view Hanuman wondered at the wealth and beauty displayed in Ravana's capital. The streets and mansions were bright with flags and festoons and glittered with gold and precious gems. The breeze blew gently from the sea. Like Indra's Amaravati and Kubera's Alakapuri, Ravana's capital had attained the peak of prosperity. The messenger of Rama was filled with wonder and anxiety how to overcome the master of such wealth and military power.
As he was walking along in amazement and anxiety, he was rudely accosted by the terrible-looking Guardian Goddess of the city.
"Who are you, little monkey? How did you manage to come here and why are you here at all? Speak the truth."
"Yes, I am indeed a little monkey and I have come here to look at this beautiful city. I shall go back after I have gone round and seen everything and satisfied my curiosity."
The deity struck an angry blow at the monkey. Hanuman returned the blow carelessly with his left hand. It doubled her up with agony on the ground.
But soon she got up and remembered the prophecy that, when a monkey should strike and throw her down, the city she guarded would be destroyed.
She said to herself: "Ravana's sins are many and grievous. The end of Lanka is approaching. The word of the gods is about to be fulfilled." And she stood aside. The goddess of Lanka was not a servant of Ravana. She was the spirit of the city.
Hanuman climbed over the wall and jumped into the city. It was part of the ancient code of warfare that one should not enter the enemy's fortress through the regular gate, but should make his entry in an out-of-the-way manner.
Vowing that the Rakshasas should be destroyed he entered the fortress of Lanka with his left foot foremost, for that meant defeat for the enemy.
He went along the royal street that was strewn with beautiful flowers. Like lightning shining through the clouds the buildings shone against the sky. Clambering up the mansions and going along on their roofs, he admired the beauty of the city. The Rakshasa mansions and streets and their decorations shone with ineffable beauty. The sounds of cultivated and correct music were heard. Lovely women moved about to the accompaniment of tinkling anklets. The city was filled with sounds indicating a full and joyous life.
In some houses mantras were being chanted. In some others Vedic chants were heard. In others songs celebrating the heroic exploits and glory of Ravana were being sung. Soldiers and scouts were everywhere. In the streets were people dedicated to particular religious practices and vows. There were others cruel in looks and ugly. The guards were armed with bows, swords, cudgels, slings, lances and other weapons. All the warriors were clad in armor.
Some were handsome, some ugly, complexions varied from fair through brown to black. Some figures were very tall, others very short. Thus Hanuman saw that the population had been drawn from a wide area with varying climates and that the army had been recruited from the pick of many nations.
He examined mansion after mansion. He saw women of exquisite beauty, some of them in the company of their husbands and others by themselves. He saw many young damsels, bright and beautiful like images of molten gold. Some were seated on the terraces, others were sleeping in their beds. Some were playing, others singing.
Innumerable beautiful women he saw, but not Sita pining for Rama. The sight of so much beauty only filled Hanuman's heart with disappointment and sadness.
He entered and examined the homes of many Rakshasas. There were war elephants, pure-bred horses, chariots and armories. Soldiers stood fully armed.
After passing through many mansions and gardens filled with merriment and music, he came to a great palace rising aloft in a nobility of splendor far transcending all the magnificent buildings around.
Looking at the elephants, horses and foot-soldiers in front, the high walls surrounding it and the beauty of its structure and the richness of its decorations, he concluded that this was Ravana's own palace, the central glory of splendid Lanka. He entered this palace. It was in every way a heaven on earth worthy of Ravana's peerless power and glory. The park, the birds sporting there, the shrines scattered here and there, filled Hanuman with wonder.
He said to himself: "What wealth, what beauty and what bliss!"
He was for a while lost in amazement. But soon he recollected that he had not yet found Sita. Admiration gave place to concern over the yet unfulfilled purpose for which he had come.
Passing through many mansions, he entered the innermost private apartment of Ravana and was almost overcome with the luxury and richness of its apartments which made it look a very abode of the gods. Everywhere was gold and silver, ivory and gems and pearls, and beautiful carpets and furniture and in their midst he saw the Pushpaka Vimana.
It was a magic vehicle obtained from Brahma by Kubera. Vanquishing Kubera, Ravana brought it to Lanka as his booty. As from Vasishtha's cow, in the Pushpaka car one could get anything one desired.
Ravana's chamber, which Hanuman now entered, was a very ocean of delight. Countless lovely women lay sleeping in the spacious chamber, some linked arm in arm and all in undress and the careless attitudes of sleep, making the place look like garden of bright, flower-laden creepers.
With his spirit controlled by dharma, Hanuman looked at all these sleeping women, each more beautiful than the other and all filled with joy and love, to see if any of them could be Sita. Ravana's power to take what shape he would and to please all women was evident from the sight of these lovely women.
Hanuman pulled himself together reproachfully at his own folly in supposing for a moment that Sita could be in that sensual paradise of happy damsels. "It is certain that Sita is not in this crowd. What a fool am I to search for her in this company! This is no place for her."
Then he went elsewhere. In another chamber he saw many beds. He saw one more gorgeous than the rest, covered with gold and diamonds and Ravana stretched on it, like another Mount Meru. His form and majestic splendor mace made even Hanuman tremble for it moment.
He stood on one side and scanned the sleeping figure unable for a time to take his eyes off the majestic and virile beauty of that mighty form. The great muscles now in repose, the symmetrical grace of limbs which made the Rakshasa King at once beautiful and terrible.
Then Hanuman looked at the women in the beds around and on the carpets. Some, who had fallen asleep while singing, were still hugging their musical instruments.
His eyes finally fell on a figure lying on a divinely beautiful cot. The shapeliness of her limbs and the beauty of her features made Hanuman imagine it might be Sita. He leaped up with joy.
The next instant he cursed himself for his folly. "Fie, fie," he said to himself, "how foolish have I been! Could Sita sleep thus carelessly, covered with jewels, in a stranger's chamber? The very thought is a sin." And he was overwhelmed with shame and sorrow at his error.
Then he said to himself: "Because she would not yield to him, this Rakshasa must have killed her. What use is there in continuing the search?"
He had now searched the inner apartments of Ravana's palace. The bedroom, the dining room, the hall of drink, the music room, all places had been searched and Sita was nowhere found. "I have entered every nook and corner. Against all the rules of propriety, I have even looked at every one in the women's chambers. But all in vain."
Saying this he left the hall of drink and went to the garden and looked into the little shrines and the arbours made of creepers. But all was in vain.
"I have seen all of Lanka," he thought with irrepressible grief. "I have seen every inch of Ravana's palace. What more could I do here? Am I to return without seeing Sita? No. I shall rather end my life here. Yes, that is the only thing for me to do."
But again he said to himself, "Fie, fie on me for yielding to such despondency unworthy and dishonorable."
He sprang up again and searched once again every inch of the places he had been through. He opened every door and window and looked in. There were ugly women, beautiful human and Naga maidens, all captured by the Rakshasa, but not Sita.
Once again his heart sank. He did not know what to do. He said to himself: "If I return to Kishkindha failing in my mission, with what face shall I meet my friends? If Rama loses all hopes of recovering Sita, what would happen to him? He would surely die. And after that, what would happen to others? Instead of going back to Sugriva and telling him that all my labors have been wasted, it would be far better to stay here and spend the rest of my days in the forest and seashore of Lanka. But why live on? Is it not best to end my life? But, then, was Sampati wrong in saying that Sita was in Lanka? Or has she been killed by the Rakshasa since Sampati sighted her in this island? She might well have been devoured by the
Rakshasis. Nothing is clear, everything is enveloped in doubt. What shall I do?"
Thus was Hanuman lost in anxiety and thought. Just then his eyes lighted on what he had so far left unexplored, a park attached to a shrine and surrounded by high walls. "Oh, here is a park, I have not seen or searched so far. Here surely I shall find Sita."
With these words as the son of Vayu meditated on Rama, hope sprang within his breast. The secluded park was well protected by high walls. "Yes, Sita must be here," he said to himself. Again he bowed to the gods. He jumped up and sat on the wall of the Asoka Vana and surveyed the beautiful park.
48 ) SITA IN THE ASOKA PARK :
As HANUMAN stood on the high wall, he did not know why, a thrill of joy passed through his frame. It was the invisible atmosphere which envelopes an accomplished mission and influences subtly the devoted heart. As be had at last reached the spot where Sita was, his whole being throbbed with exulting expectation without any apparent reason.
It was an early spring night. Trees and plants were in flowers. Hanuman jumped to a place where there was a thick cluster of trees. This disturbed the birds that rested there and they flew out with sweet noises. Deer and other animals moved about. Flowers dropped from the branches and covered the body of Hanuman.
The creatures in the park, looking at the lovely figure of Hanuman covered all over with flowers, thought that the God of spring was visiting the grove in the early dawn.
The garden was entrancingly beautiful. Lovely tanks, terraces decorated with gold, silver, ivory, pearl and coral crystal steps, artificial hills and waterfalls, the sight filled Hanuman's heart with joy. Around some trees were platforms overlaid with gold and silver. Little bells suspended from the trees made music in the breeze.
Hanuman climbed up and sat hidden among the leaves of a tall spreading tree with a golden platform around its stem. "If she be alive and in Lanka " said Hanuman to himself, "Sita would surely visit this garden. She would choose this place above all others for solitude and contemplation of Rama. They said, did they not, that she loved groves and trees? She would surely come here at dawn to offer worship to the Universal Mother."
He gazed all round, hiding himself among the leaves. He sat on a branch and looked below. He beheld a female figure seated on that platform, blindingly beautiful and divinely pure.
Thin and pale, she shone like the streak of the moon in the beginning of the bright half of the month. Her beauty glowed fitfully through deepest dejection like flame through enveloping smoke. Wrapped in a soiled upper garment she resembled a lovely lotus obscured by miry moss. Her face was bathed in tears, and she was wan and thin for want of food. She had no thoughts but of sorrow, no glimpse of friends or hope. There were only Rakshasis wherever she turned her eyes, and she felt like a doe which had lost its herd and found itself beset by a pack of wild dogs.
A single snake-like braid of hair wandered unregarded down to her hip. She seemed to Hanuman at once adorable and pitiful, like the holy word torn from its context by infidels, like prosperity sunk in unmerited ruin, like shattered hope and faith betrayed, like frustrated fulfilment, like intellect muddied by insanity, like blameless purity besmirched by foul slander. Hanuman said to himself with conviction: "This image of beautiful despair is surely Sita. For, behold, hanging unregarded on the branches of the tree are the jewels described by Rama as having been on her when she was carried away, all except those which she dropped during the flight and which were picked up by us on the hill. And see the scarf she wears, though soiled and crumpled, is the fellow to the one we found. Surely this sublimely beautiful lady, who seems like one steadfast in true love in a tempest- tossed sea of troubles, is Rama's beloved queen. It is for her that Rama is consumed by a three-fold agony, grief for her suffering, wrath for the insult to her and heart-broken pangs at separation from her. Surely he is ever in her heart and she in his, and in truth they are not parted or they could not live."
And as he continued to see her, his heart leapt back across the ocean and sought Rama's feet in adoration. And again he looked at Sita and said to himself: "It was for the sake of this divine lady that the mighty Vali, the peer of Ravana in prowess, was slain. For her that Kabandha and Viradha met their death, and fourteen thousand fierce Rakshasas with Khara, Dushana and Trisiras crimsoned with their gore the glades of Janasthana. It was for her that the splendid sovereignty of the Vanaras was wrested from the heroic Vali and given to Sugriva. It is to do her service that I crossed the sea, the lord of rivers, and am now here in Lanka. All this seems much, but verily, if for her sake Rama should transform or even destroy the universe, I would say from my soul it is well done! She is worth it all and more!"
And again Hanuman's heart crossed the sea back and dwelt on Rama far away.
Just then, as off the clear surface of a lake a swan might glide, so in the blue sky the moon swam into sight and shone brightly as if on purpose to help the son of Vayu.
Peering between the leaves and not knowing what to do, Hanuman took another long look at the face of Sita, a face that disclosed a sea of care like a heavily-laden ship caught in a storm. The Rakshasis who guarded her were intolerably ugly. One had only one eye, another only one ear. Some were without ears and some without noses. Some had noses turned steeply upward. Some were bald, while some had done their hair in grotesque styles.
Some had pendant stomachs and some had camel's lips. Some were hunchbacks. Some were dwarfs and some tall like palmyrah trees. Swine-face, tiger-face, buffalo-face, goat-face, all were to be seen. These unsightly creatures were holding spears and other weapons in their hands.
And in their midst, the pale-faced princess sat trembling, befriended only by her virtue, like an unsupported beautiful creeper fallen on the ground.
It was still dark and not yet dawn. Ravana was roused from his slumber by the chanting of the Vedas and the morning songs of the court bards. The moment he awoke, he thought of Sita and started towards the park where she was kept.
With all his retinue, he entered the palace park, accompanied by scented torches and the royal umbrella, surrounded by maidens, covered all over with brilliant ornaments and clad in spotless white clothes. Ravana appeared charming like another Manmatha.
As the procession entered the gate, Hanuman could hear the noise of the crowd and the tinkling of women's anklets. Soon he saw the Rakshasa king approaching. At once Hanuman hid himself more effectively than before among thick leaves.
As Ravana came towards Sita, his strength and splendor were wonderful to behold. At this sight Sita's body shrank and trembled like a plantain tree in a storm.
As one reads or listens to this sacred story, one should form a mental image of Sita in her present state. One can imagine the agony of despair of any good woman who has by misfortune fallen into the power of a lustful man. What must be the state of Sita, daughter of Janaka and wife of Ramachandra, in such a predicament? To appreciate Valmiki's metaphors and similes in this context, one should purify one's heart and fire it with piety.
One feels unequal to rendering into another language the beautiful similes by which Valmiki illustrates her condition. Only a few are cited here to give some idea of them.
Ravana approached Sita still in the hope of obtaining her consent. Sita was covered with dust and had no jewels on her person but she shone as if wearing all the jewels that a princess must wear. She looked like a beautiful tree felled down and lying low.
Her face was covered by light and shadow, like a lotus flower stained by mire. She swayed like a cobra bound by charms. Her state was like one surrounded by raging fires on four sides, like an army which had lost its chief warriors, like a river which had run dry, like a vessel for sacrificial fire that suffered desecration, like a lovely lotus tank destroyed by elephants, like a flowering creeper uprooted and cast aside, like a cow elephant separated from the leader of the herd, captured and tied as a prisoner.
Sita sat trembling, overwhelmed with grief and fear. When she perceived Ravana's approach, that very instant her heart travelled to Rama like a chariot drawn by swift steeds. With faded face and wasted form, she thought of her protectors far away. "When will they come? Will they ever come?" she asked herself and meditated on God.
Ravana approached and spoke to her. Hidden in the branches of the tree, Hanuman watched what went on below.
It was an early spring night. Trees and plants were in flowers. Hanuman jumped to a place where there was a thick cluster of trees. This disturbed the birds that rested there and they flew out with sweet noises. Deer and other animals moved about. Flowers dropped from the branches and covered the body of Hanuman.
The creatures in the park, looking at the lovely figure of Hanuman covered all over with flowers, thought that the God of spring was visiting the grove in the early dawn.
The garden was entrancingly beautiful. Lovely tanks, terraces decorated with gold, silver, ivory, pearl and coral crystal steps, artificial hills and waterfalls, the sight filled Hanuman's heart with joy. Around some trees were platforms overlaid with gold and silver. Little bells suspended from the trees made music in the breeze.
Hanuman climbed up and sat hidden among the leaves of a tall spreading tree with a golden platform around its stem. "If she be alive and in Lanka " said Hanuman to himself, "Sita would surely visit this garden. She would choose this place above all others for solitude and contemplation of Rama. They said, did they not, that she loved groves and trees? She would surely come here at dawn to offer worship to the Universal Mother."
He gazed all round, hiding himself among the leaves. He sat on a branch and looked below. He beheld a female figure seated on that platform, blindingly beautiful and divinely pure.
Thin and pale, she shone like the streak of the moon in the beginning of the bright half of the month. Her beauty glowed fitfully through deepest dejection like flame through enveloping smoke. Wrapped in a soiled upper garment she resembled a lovely lotus obscured by miry moss. Her face was bathed in tears, and she was wan and thin for want of food. She had no thoughts but of sorrow, no glimpse of friends or hope. There were only Rakshasis wherever she turned her eyes, and she felt like a doe which had lost its herd and found itself beset by a pack of wild dogs.
A single snake-like braid of hair wandered unregarded down to her hip. She seemed to Hanuman at once adorable and pitiful, like the holy word torn from its context by infidels, like prosperity sunk in unmerited ruin, like shattered hope and faith betrayed, like frustrated fulfilment, like intellect muddied by insanity, like blameless purity besmirched by foul slander. Hanuman said to himself with conviction: "This image of beautiful despair is surely Sita. For, behold, hanging unregarded on the branches of the tree are the jewels described by Rama as having been on her when she was carried away, all except those which she dropped during the flight and which were picked up by us on the hill. And see the scarf she wears, though soiled and crumpled, is the fellow to the one we found. Surely this sublimely beautiful lady, who seems like one steadfast in true love in a tempest- tossed sea of troubles, is Rama's beloved queen. It is for her that Rama is consumed by a three-fold agony, grief for her suffering, wrath for the insult to her and heart-broken pangs at separation from her. Surely he is ever in her heart and she in his, and in truth they are not parted or they could not live."
And as he continued to see her, his heart leapt back across the ocean and sought Rama's feet in adoration. And again he looked at Sita and said to himself: "It was for the sake of this divine lady that the mighty Vali, the peer of Ravana in prowess, was slain. For her that Kabandha and Viradha met their death, and fourteen thousand fierce Rakshasas with Khara, Dushana and Trisiras crimsoned with their gore the glades of Janasthana. It was for her that the splendid sovereignty of the Vanaras was wrested from the heroic Vali and given to Sugriva. It is to do her service that I crossed the sea, the lord of rivers, and am now here in Lanka. All this seems much, but verily, if for her sake Rama should transform or even destroy the universe, I would say from my soul it is well done! She is worth it all and more!"
And again Hanuman's heart crossed the sea back and dwelt on Rama far away.
Just then, as off the clear surface of a lake a swan might glide, so in the blue sky the moon swam into sight and shone brightly as if on purpose to help the son of Vayu.
Peering between the leaves and not knowing what to do, Hanuman took another long look at the face of Sita, a face that disclosed a sea of care like a heavily-laden ship caught in a storm. The Rakshasis who guarded her were intolerably ugly. One had only one eye, another only one ear. Some were without ears and some without noses. Some had noses turned steeply upward. Some were bald, while some had done their hair in grotesque styles.
Some had pendant stomachs and some had camel's lips. Some were hunchbacks. Some were dwarfs and some tall like palmyrah trees. Swine-face, tiger-face, buffalo-face, goat-face, all were to be seen. These unsightly creatures were holding spears and other weapons in their hands.
And in their midst, the pale-faced princess sat trembling, befriended only by her virtue, like an unsupported beautiful creeper fallen on the ground.
It was still dark and not yet dawn. Ravana was roused from his slumber by the chanting of the Vedas and the morning songs of the court bards. The moment he awoke, he thought of Sita and started towards the park where she was kept.
With all his retinue, he entered the palace park, accompanied by scented torches and the royal umbrella, surrounded by maidens, covered all over with brilliant ornaments and clad in spotless white clothes. Ravana appeared charming like another Manmatha.
As the procession entered the gate, Hanuman could hear the noise of the crowd and the tinkling of women's anklets. Soon he saw the Rakshasa king approaching. At once Hanuman hid himself more effectively than before among thick leaves.
As Ravana came towards Sita, his strength and splendor were wonderful to behold. At this sight Sita's body shrank and trembled like a plantain tree in a storm.
As one reads or listens to this sacred story, one should form a mental image of Sita in her present state. One can imagine the agony of despair of any good woman who has by misfortune fallen into the power of a lustful man. What must be the state of Sita, daughter of Janaka and wife of Ramachandra, in such a predicament? To appreciate Valmiki's metaphors and similes in this context, one should purify one's heart and fire it with piety.
One feels unequal to rendering into another language the beautiful similes by which Valmiki illustrates her condition. Only a few are cited here to give some idea of them.
Ravana approached Sita still in the hope of obtaining her consent. Sita was covered with dust and had no jewels on her person but she shone as if wearing all the jewels that a princess must wear. She looked like a beautiful tree felled down and lying low.
Her face was covered by light and shadow, like a lotus flower stained by mire. She swayed like a cobra bound by charms. Her state was like one surrounded by raging fires on four sides, like an army which had lost its chief warriors, like a river which had run dry, like a vessel for sacrificial fire that suffered desecration, like a lovely lotus tank destroyed by elephants, like a flowering creeper uprooted and cast aside, like a cow elephant separated from the leader of the herd, captured and tied as a prisoner.
Sita sat trembling, overwhelmed with grief and fear. When she perceived Ravana's approach, that very instant her heart travelled to Rama like a chariot drawn by swift steeds. With faded face and wasted form, she thought of her protectors far away. "When will they come? Will they ever come?" she asked herself and meditated on God.
Ravana approached and spoke to her. Hidden in the branches of the tree, Hanuman watched what went on below.
49) RAVANA'S SOLICITATION :
TO SITA, plunged in a sea of sorrow and clinging to dharma and to the thought of her lord, Ravana spoke these words:
"O beautiful one! Why do you shrink from me? Do you not see how much I care for you? Though it is lawful for a Rakshasa to take another's wife and possess her by force, I am a beggar for your love. There is no need to fear me. I shall never touch you till your heart turns towards me. Do not be afraid. My one wish is that you should care for me as I do for you. You must accept me with affection. Why do you make your body a prey to unavailing sorrow? O beautiful one! There is none like you in loveliness, none in all the world. It is not right for you to reject beautiful jewels, and clothes, to sleep on the ground and leave your hair unkempt. O gem among women, do not thus waste your youth and beauty. Now you have come under my protection, you should lack nothing. All pleasures are suitors for your selection. I cannot take my eyes away from your face bright like the full moon. Wherever on your body I set my eyes, there they remain fixed and immovable. Why should one with so much beauty suffer so much sorrow? Accept me and enjoy all the pleasures of the world. I will conquer the world and give it to Janaka for your sake. What will I not do for you? You will be my sovereign consort. All the queens and women in the palace will be ruled by you. My wealth, my kingdom, all shall be yours to enjoy. Lanka and myself, why, the whole earth, shall belong to you. My strength and courage are known to the Devas and Asuras. Vanquished by me, they stand with bowed heads. With jewels and garments fit for you my handmaidens will adorn you. I long to see you splendidly decked. And you will be free to give away generous gifts in charity. Your authority will extend over all mankind. My subjects and kinsfolk will deem it a joy to serve you. Why do you waste your thoughts on wretched Rama, wandering in the forest? How can you love, how can you trust one who has been deprived of his rights and driven out of his kingdom and is roaming about clad in bark garments? What can this helpless fellow do? The Goddess of Wealth, she that presides over power and she who rules over success have all abandoned him, and you know it. It is even doubtful whether he is alive today. Anyhow, you may take it, he will never set eyes on you again, much less come near you. Like Garuda seizing a serpent, you have captivated my heart. I am unable to escape. Even in your present state, devoid of jewels or good clothes, you have drawn me away from my other wives. What can I do now? In my apartments are innumerable lovely women. But after seeing you, I can bear the sight of none of them. You will be Queen over all of them and receive their humble service. In what sense can Rama equal me? Do you not see that in severe austerities gone through, in strength, wealth and glory, in every way I am superior to him? Shake off your fear. We shall wander over the whole world, happy in each other's company. With me you will enjoy limitless wealth and pleasure. Life will be one continuous joy. O beautiful one, have pity on me. Let us sport together in the parks and groves by the sea. Only say 'yes'."
Thus Ravana uttered his impassioned appeal for love and pity. When Ravana had finished speaking, Sita plucked a little blade of grass and, placing it between them, laughed in derision and gently spoke:
"Ravana, lay aside all such vain thoughts concerning me. It is altogether improper for you to desire me. Turn your heart to your wives. Never can I agree to what you say. Think of the family I was born in. Think of the family I was married into. How can you ever hope to persuade me? Do not give room for such foolish and impossible desires and make sorrow for yourself!"
Then she turned her face away and continued:
"How can I become your wife, when I am the wife of another? Do not violate dharma. Do not tread the path of sin. Listen to me. Think how carefully you watch over your wives to keep them safe from the touch of others. Would not other husbands do the same by their wives? Remember other men are like you. Do not cast your eyes on another's wife. To be happy with your own is the way of true happiness. But if you allow your mind to dwell on another's wife, sorrow and dishonor will be your portion. Is there none in the world to advise you aright? Why do you do evil and bring destruction on yourself and on your people? When a king loses self-control, his kingdom and wealth will all be destroyed. Be sure, this Lanka and its great wealth will be utterly destroyed if you persist in your sin and the foes whom you have conquered and humiliated will rejoice. I have no use for the wealth and the pleasures that you promise. They do not tempt me. I have married Rama and I cannot take my mind and heart away from him. I, who held his hand, can never touch another, never. I am his, the prince's, entirely and forever. I belong to him, as the Veda belongs to one who has reverently mastered it. It is not right for anyone else to look on me with longing eyes. Listen to me who speaks for your good. Beg Rama humbly for forgiveness and escape from his anger. Do not go in search of your own ruin. Rama is generous and will surely forgive you if you seek his mercy. Seek forgiveness and safety. Do not seek death and destruction. There, I hear even now the twang of Rama's bow. You cannot escape. Yama stands very near, ready to carry you away. The arrows of Rama and Lakshmana will soon be here in Lanka and your city will be in flames. Did not Rama utterly destroy the Rakshasas at Janasthana? Did you not, knowing his strength, come like a thief to our hut, when Rama and Lakshmana were away, to steal me? Can you for a moment stand before them face to face? Can a dog approach a tiger? Will it not flee from the very scent? As the sun sucks up moisture from the wet earth, Rama and Lakshmana will drink your life. Will you run to hide yourself among the mountains? Will you try to escape under the sea? Even then, as at the appointed hour the tree is struck by lightning, so will you perish at their hands. You cannot escape."
Thus Sita ended with a stern warning. Ravana controlled his anger and spoke:
"O Sita, doting on this spurious ascetic Rama, you talk foolishly and repay my loving words with insult and contumely. Because of my love for you, I have refrained, else you would be dead by now. Of the time I had allowed you, two months more remain. Change your mind before they pass. Be my wife and come to my bed. If you refuse, you will be sent to my kitchen and cooked for my meal. Beware!"
It was well-known that the food of the Rakshasas included human flesh. Hence this threat of Ravana was no exaggeration, but conveyed a clear possibility. Yet Sita was unafraid, and answered:
"Alas! Alas! Is there none to give you good advice? Have you no friend to save you from this sin and put you on the path of virtue? You cannot escape Rama's punishment. Like a rabbit antagonising a wild elephant you have incurred the wrath of Rama. O wretch, who stole me in his absence, are you not ashamed? Your destruction is certain. Your evil fate has driven you to this act. And yet you are the brother of Kubera. You are famous as a warrior. You are the master of a complete four-limbed army. Why should you do this mean deed in this mean way?"
Ravana's eyes rolled in anger and he looked fiercely at Sita, hissing like a snake. Seeing his mounting anger, one of his young wives, Dhanyamali walked up to his side and, embracing him, said:
"King! Why do you vex yourself over this mean human creature who does not seem to care for you? She has not the good fortune to be your wife, that is all. And what is there so attractive about her? Why do you waste your thoughts on this puny creature? Come away. Let us enjoy ourselves."
She drew him away affectionately and the Rakshasa went with her, laughing.
Before he went, Ravana ordered the Rakshasis who guarded Sita to bring her round somehow, and with resounding steps left the Asoka park, followed by his retinue. As soon as he turned his back, the Rakshasis surrounded Sita.
The princess, who had been bold up till now, trembled when she looked at these ugly creatures that began speaking to her.
"When Ravana, scion of a noble family, a world-famous warrior, desires you," said one, "how can you refuse him, O foolish girl? Who do you think Ravana is? Know that he is a direct descendant of Brahma. He is the grandson of Pulastya Prajapati, son of Brahma, a hero who has won many battles and vanquished many foes. How foolish to slight him!"
"Let not pride ruin you," said another. "Ravana is the son of rishi Visravas. Do not think he is a nobody. Accept him and be happy."
"The king of the Rakshasas, who defeated in battle and put to flight the gods of heaven, invites you to be his wife," said another. "You must yield, poor girl, or you must die."
"Slighting all his other wives," said another, "Ravana wants you and promises to make you chief among his queens. Forsaking all his noble wives, the King, bewitched by your beauty, begs for your love and offers to make you first among his consorts. Why are you foolishly obstinate?"
"None in all the world can equal Lord Ravana," said another. "Good fortune comes seeking you and you spurn it. How foolish!"
"The Sun and the Wind gods are afraid of the Rakshasa king. And he comes seeking you and wants to make you his favorite wife! Do not let your pride betray you. Do not reject the fortune that comes to you unsought."
And another concluded: "We have given you good advice. We have done our best and we leave the rest to you. If you reject his offer, you must surely die."
"O beautiful one! Why do you shrink from me? Do you not see how much I care for you? Though it is lawful for a Rakshasa to take another's wife and possess her by force, I am a beggar for your love. There is no need to fear me. I shall never touch you till your heart turns towards me. Do not be afraid. My one wish is that you should care for me as I do for you. You must accept me with affection. Why do you make your body a prey to unavailing sorrow? O beautiful one! There is none like you in loveliness, none in all the world. It is not right for you to reject beautiful jewels, and clothes, to sleep on the ground and leave your hair unkempt. O gem among women, do not thus waste your youth and beauty. Now you have come under my protection, you should lack nothing. All pleasures are suitors for your selection. I cannot take my eyes away from your face bright like the full moon. Wherever on your body I set my eyes, there they remain fixed and immovable. Why should one with so much beauty suffer so much sorrow? Accept me and enjoy all the pleasures of the world. I will conquer the world and give it to Janaka for your sake. What will I not do for you? You will be my sovereign consort. All the queens and women in the palace will be ruled by you. My wealth, my kingdom, all shall be yours to enjoy. Lanka and myself, why, the whole earth, shall belong to you. My strength and courage are known to the Devas and Asuras. Vanquished by me, they stand with bowed heads. With jewels and garments fit for you my handmaidens will adorn you. I long to see you splendidly decked. And you will be free to give away generous gifts in charity. Your authority will extend over all mankind. My subjects and kinsfolk will deem it a joy to serve you. Why do you waste your thoughts on wretched Rama, wandering in the forest? How can you love, how can you trust one who has been deprived of his rights and driven out of his kingdom and is roaming about clad in bark garments? What can this helpless fellow do? The Goddess of Wealth, she that presides over power and she who rules over success have all abandoned him, and you know it. It is even doubtful whether he is alive today. Anyhow, you may take it, he will never set eyes on you again, much less come near you. Like Garuda seizing a serpent, you have captivated my heart. I am unable to escape. Even in your present state, devoid of jewels or good clothes, you have drawn me away from my other wives. What can I do now? In my apartments are innumerable lovely women. But after seeing you, I can bear the sight of none of them. You will be Queen over all of them and receive their humble service. In what sense can Rama equal me? Do you not see that in severe austerities gone through, in strength, wealth and glory, in every way I am superior to him? Shake off your fear. We shall wander over the whole world, happy in each other's company. With me you will enjoy limitless wealth and pleasure. Life will be one continuous joy. O beautiful one, have pity on me. Let us sport together in the parks and groves by the sea. Only say 'yes'."
Thus Ravana uttered his impassioned appeal for love and pity. When Ravana had finished speaking, Sita plucked a little blade of grass and, placing it between them, laughed in derision and gently spoke:
"Ravana, lay aside all such vain thoughts concerning me. It is altogether improper for you to desire me. Turn your heart to your wives. Never can I agree to what you say. Think of the family I was born in. Think of the family I was married into. How can you ever hope to persuade me? Do not give room for such foolish and impossible desires and make sorrow for yourself!"
Then she turned her face away and continued:
"How can I become your wife, when I am the wife of another? Do not violate dharma. Do not tread the path of sin. Listen to me. Think how carefully you watch over your wives to keep them safe from the touch of others. Would not other husbands do the same by their wives? Remember other men are like you. Do not cast your eyes on another's wife. To be happy with your own is the way of true happiness. But if you allow your mind to dwell on another's wife, sorrow and dishonor will be your portion. Is there none in the world to advise you aright? Why do you do evil and bring destruction on yourself and on your people? When a king loses self-control, his kingdom and wealth will all be destroyed. Be sure, this Lanka and its great wealth will be utterly destroyed if you persist in your sin and the foes whom you have conquered and humiliated will rejoice. I have no use for the wealth and the pleasures that you promise. They do not tempt me. I have married Rama and I cannot take my mind and heart away from him. I, who held his hand, can never touch another, never. I am his, the prince's, entirely and forever. I belong to him, as the Veda belongs to one who has reverently mastered it. It is not right for anyone else to look on me with longing eyes. Listen to me who speaks for your good. Beg Rama humbly for forgiveness and escape from his anger. Do not go in search of your own ruin. Rama is generous and will surely forgive you if you seek his mercy. Seek forgiveness and safety. Do not seek death and destruction. There, I hear even now the twang of Rama's bow. You cannot escape. Yama stands very near, ready to carry you away. The arrows of Rama and Lakshmana will soon be here in Lanka and your city will be in flames. Did not Rama utterly destroy the Rakshasas at Janasthana? Did you not, knowing his strength, come like a thief to our hut, when Rama and Lakshmana were away, to steal me? Can you for a moment stand before them face to face? Can a dog approach a tiger? Will it not flee from the very scent? As the sun sucks up moisture from the wet earth, Rama and Lakshmana will drink your life. Will you run to hide yourself among the mountains? Will you try to escape under the sea? Even then, as at the appointed hour the tree is struck by lightning, so will you perish at their hands. You cannot escape."
Thus Sita ended with a stern warning. Ravana controlled his anger and spoke:
"O Sita, doting on this spurious ascetic Rama, you talk foolishly and repay my loving words with insult and contumely. Because of my love for you, I have refrained, else you would be dead by now. Of the time I had allowed you, two months more remain. Change your mind before they pass. Be my wife and come to my bed. If you refuse, you will be sent to my kitchen and cooked for my meal. Beware!"
It was well-known that the food of the Rakshasas included human flesh. Hence this threat of Ravana was no exaggeration, but conveyed a clear possibility. Yet Sita was unafraid, and answered:
"Alas! Alas! Is there none to give you good advice? Have you no friend to save you from this sin and put you on the path of virtue? You cannot escape Rama's punishment. Like a rabbit antagonising a wild elephant you have incurred the wrath of Rama. O wretch, who stole me in his absence, are you not ashamed? Your destruction is certain. Your evil fate has driven you to this act. And yet you are the brother of Kubera. You are famous as a warrior. You are the master of a complete four-limbed army. Why should you do this mean deed in this mean way?"
Ravana's eyes rolled in anger and he looked fiercely at Sita, hissing like a snake. Seeing his mounting anger, one of his young wives, Dhanyamali walked up to his side and, embracing him, said:
"King! Why do you vex yourself over this mean human creature who does not seem to care for you? She has not the good fortune to be your wife, that is all. And what is there so attractive about her? Why do you waste your thoughts on this puny creature? Come away. Let us enjoy ourselves."
She drew him away affectionately and the Rakshasa went with her, laughing.
Before he went, Ravana ordered the Rakshasis who guarded Sita to bring her round somehow, and with resounding steps left the Asoka park, followed by his retinue. As soon as he turned his back, the Rakshasis surrounded Sita.
The princess, who had been bold up till now, trembled when she looked at these ugly creatures that began speaking to her.
"When Ravana, scion of a noble family, a world-famous warrior, desires you," said one, "how can you refuse him, O foolish girl? Who do you think Ravana is? Know that he is a direct descendant of Brahma. He is the grandson of Pulastya Prajapati, son of Brahma, a hero who has won many battles and vanquished many foes. How foolish to slight him!"
"Let not pride ruin you," said another. "Ravana is the son of rishi Visravas. Do not think he is a nobody. Accept him and be happy."
"The king of the Rakshasas, who defeated in battle and put to flight the gods of heaven, invites you to be his wife," said another. "You must yield, poor girl, or you must die."
"Slighting all his other wives," said another, "Ravana wants you and promises to make you chief among his queens. Forsaking all his noble wives, the King, bewitched by your beauty, begs for your love and offers to make you first among his consorts. Why are you foolishly obstinate?"
"None in all the world can equal Lord Ravana," said another. "Good fortune comes seeking you and you spurn it. How foolish!"
"The Sun and the Wind gods are afraid of the Rakshasa king. And he comes seeking you and wants to make you his favorite wife! Do not let your pride betray you. Do not reject the fortune that comes to you unsought."
And another concluded: "We have given you good advice. We have done our best and we leave the rest to you. If you reject his offer, you must surely die."
(My humble salutations to Sreeman C Rajagopalachari for the collection)
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