The Ramayana Summary as retold by Sri C Rajagopalachari
12) MANTHARA'S EVIL COUNSEL :
THE King embraced Rama, seated him beside him on the throne and said: "I am old. I have enjoyed my life as a man and a king. I have discharged all my duties to my ancestors. There is nothing left for me to do. My only desire is to install you on the throne of our fathers. Last night I had bad dreams. Those who read, the future advise me that a great sorrow, even death, may overtake me very soon. Hence I wish to have the coronation performed tomorrow. Tomorrow, the readers of the stars say, is auspicious. Something within me says, 'Do this at once.' You and Sita should prepare for tomorrow's anointment by fasting tonight. Lie down on a bed of darbha grass and have trusty and vigilant friends to look after your safety. It seems to me that the present time when Bharata is away is particularly opportune for your installation. Not that I do not know that Bharata is the soul of righteousness in thought and conduct alike, and that he is devoted to you, but the minds of men are changeful and open to unexpected influences."
And so the King decided that the coronation should be performed on the very next day and told Vasishtha of his decision. Bad dreams added to the reasons for fixing the day for the coronation at once.
Taking leave of his father, Rama went to Kausalya's apartment to give her the news and seek her blessing. But the Queen had heard the news already. Sumitra, Sita and Lakshmana were all there with Kausalya, who, clad in ceremonial white, sat offering prayers for her son.
Rama reported to his mother the King's latest command. She answered: "This I have heard. May you live long. Be a good ruler. Conquer your foes and protect your subjects and kinsfolk. You have pleased your father and you have made me happy."
Then bidding farewell to his mother and step-mother, Rama went to his own apartment. As directed by the King, Vasishtha came to Rama's place. He was welcomed by him at the entrance, Vasishtha initiated Rama with due mantras in his pre-coronation fast.
As Vasishtha returned to the King, he saw groups of people on the royal road, cheerfully discussing the great festival of the morrow. Houses were being decorated with flowers, festoons and flags. It was with difficulty that Vasishtha could make his way through the crowds to the King's palace. The King was pleased to hear that the fast had begun duly and all was being got ready for the ceremony.
But in his heart of hearts there was a fear that some mishap might come between him and his one wish.
The city was in a joyous commotion of expectancy. In every house, in every street, men, women and children looked on the coronation as a great and auspicious occasion in their own lives and awaited it with enthusiasm.
Rama and Sita in their dwelling meditated long on Narayana, fed with ghee the sacrificial fire, and reverently sipped what remained of the ghee, and slept on grass spread on the floor. Early the following morning, they were roused from slumber by music and held themselves in readiness to proceed to the palace and in expectation of the auspicious call.
But the summons that came was of an entirely opposite nature.
In accordance with the practice in royal households, Queen Kaikeyi had a woman companion and confidential servant. She was a hunchback named Manthara. Being a distant relation of the Queen, she claimed great intimacy with her.
Manthara is one of the best known characters in the Ramayana. Every man, woman and child in our land knows and detests her, as the cause of Rama's exile, Dasaratha's death and all the sorrows which befell the royal family.
On the day on which Dasaratha summoned the Assembly and decided to anoint Rama as Yuvaraja, Manthara happened to climb up to the terrace of the women's apartments and stood surveying the town below. She saw the streets were sprinkled with water and gaily decorated. Flags flew from the house-tops. Wearing new clothes and bright jewels, smeared with sandal paste and decked in flowers, people moved about in crowds, engrossed in happy talk.
Musical instruments played in the temples. Manthara could not understand the reason for all this, for she did not know what the King had decided. Some celebration was on, she guessed. Manthara turned to a servant and asked her: "Why are you wearing this silk dress? What is on in the City? Kausalya seems to be distributing gifts to Brahmanas. She is a thrifty lady and would not be doing this for nothing. There are festive sights and sounds everywhere. Do you know what all this is about?"
The little servant girl answered, dancing with joy: "Why, do you not know that our Ramachandra is going to be anointed Yuvaraja tomorrow morning?"
This was news! Manthara was overpowered with sudden anger. Quickly she hobbled downstairs. Straight she entered Kaikeyi's room. Kaikeyi was resting on her bed.
"Rise, rise, foolish woman! A flood of misfortune is rising to drown and swallow you! You are betrayed and ruined. Your star is setting. Foolish girl, is this the time to sleep?"
Kaikeyi, fearing that some calamity had overtaken Manthara, asked her gently: "What is troubling you? Why are you thus upset?"
And the clever Manthara began: "Destruction has come upon both you and me, my girl. Dasaratha has decided to make Rama Yuvaraja, the real ruler of this land. What greater cause for sorrow need I have? When grief comes to you, how can I remain unconcerned? I have come running to you. You were born and bred in a royal family. You were married into a royal family. Now, alas, all is over. Like the simple woman you are, you have been deceived. Your husband has cheated you with sweet words. It is a deep plot, as any one can see. He put Bharata out of the way by sending him to the distant place of his uncle, and is taking advantage of his absence by hurriedly crowning Rama. By tomorrow it will all be over. And you watch all this, lying in bed and doing nothing, while you and all who depend on you are being destroyed."
And so, Manthara went on talking. Kaikeyi's ears heard the words without quite heeding their drift. Like the rest of the royal household her mind was overwhelmed now with the joyous expectation of Rama's coronation, for she loved and esteemed Rama like everybody else.
"Manthara, you have brought me good news," she said. "Is my son Rama to be crowned tomorrow? What greater joy can come to me? Here, take this. Ask me for anything else." So saying, Kaikeyi took the necklace off her neck and gave it to
Manthara. It was a royal custom at once to reward with a rich gift the bringer of any important good news.
Kaikeyi thought Manthara, like any other officious personal attendant, was ingratiatingly jealous in her mistress's interests. How could this woman understand the goodness of Rama, or affairs of State? And so she thought her foolish fears would be banished if she saw that her mistress was happy at the event. Kaikeyi's mind was still uncorrupted. She had the culture of her noble lineage and was not easily amenable to low thoughts.
This but increased Manthara's grief. She flung away the necklace and said: "Woe to you, stupid woman. All is lost and stupidly you laugh with joy. How can you be blind to the misfortune that is coming to you? Am I to laugh or cry at this folly? Your rival, Rama's mother, has conspired to making him King. And you jump with joy. Insane woman! What would be Bharata's state when Rama reigns? Would not Rama fear and ever look upon Bharata as a dangerous enemy? Rama knows human nature. He knows that Bharata alive would be a constant threat to his power and therefore must be killed. Does not one kill a cobra out of fear? Hereafter there is no security for Bharata's life. Tomorrow morning Kausalya will be a happy woman and you will bend before her as a well-dressed slave. You will stand before her, hands clasped in obedience. From tomorrow your son too will be a subject and a slave. In these apartments there will be no more honor or joy."
And she stopped, unable for grief to continue. Kaikeyi heard all this and wondered "Why should Manthara have such fears? Does she not know Rama? Is he not dharma embodied in human form?"
She said: "Manthara, have you not known and rejoiced in Rama's truthfulness, right conduct and humility? He is the elder prince and he gets the kingdom. Bharata will get it one day after him. What is wrong with all this? Why, dear friend, do you feel such grief? After Rama, Bharata will reign for a hundred years. Do not cry. You know how affectionate Rama is to me. Indeed he cares for me more than for his own mother. Does not Rama hold his brothers as dear as life? It is not right that you should fear any harm from Rama."
"Alas, Alas!" said Manthara. "Why are you so foolish? Once Rama is crowned king, what chance has Bharata? Do you not know the rule of succession? When Rama ascends the throne all prospects of royalty for Bharata and his line are at an end. After Rama, Rama's son will be king, and after him that son's son will be king, and so the succession will go on. Eldest son succeeds eldest son. There is no chance for a younger brother, no matter how good or manly he is. My dear, you know not even this. What is one to do?"
"Once Rama is crowned," she continued, "he will not leave Bharata alone. There will be danger to Bharata's life. If you want Bharata to live, advise him to remain away, an exile from home; for if he returns he will be coming to his death. It would be safest for him to leave even his uncle's house, and hide his head in obscurity in some more distant land. And Kausalya is no friend of yours. She bears you a grudge because you are the King's favorite and have often slighted her. And now she is sure to wreak vengeance on you. You know the wrath of a rival wife is a raging fire when it finds its chance. You may take it that, if Rama is king, Bharata is as good as dead. Therefore, think hard. Be firm. Decide something and stick to it. Somehow Bharata must be crowned. Rama must be banished from the kingdom."
Fear now entered the heart of the Queen. Manthara won. Kaikeyi's face was flushed; her breath became hot. Helpless she clung to Manthara for comfort and safety.
Because his first two wives had borne no children, Dasaratha, following the royal custom, married Kaikeyi. At that time Kaikeyi's father secured from Dasaratha the promise that the child of her womb should become king after him. In such a promise given by a childless king there was nothing surprising and nothing wrong. At that time, his then queens had long been childless. The King took a third wife for the sake of progeny. Even then his wish for a son to be born was not fulfilled. Many years passed.
After the great sacrifice was performed, all three wives bore children. The son of the Queen Eminent, Rama, was the eldest among four sons. He was also great in virtue, fully equal to the burden of Kingship, acceptable to ministers, citizens and vassal princes. How could Dasaratha violate the royal custom and ignoring Rama's claim anoint Bharata?
Moreover, neither Bharata nor Kaikeyi had ever thought of or wished for the fulfilment of this old and forgotten promise. During all the intervening years, no word had been spoken on this subject. Hence the King thought there could be no difficulty in installing Rama as Yuvaraja in accordance with the custom of the dynasty and public expectation. And there was no cloud in Kaikeyi's mind. This is clear from Kaikeyi's behavior. And Bharata was too noble to raise this question.
And, yet, as Dasaratha told Rama, even the purest of minds is mutable. When fate conspires with bad counsel, any one of us might be corrupted. And this happened to Kaikeyi. The gods in Heaven had received an assurance, and the sages had performed tapas or the destruction of Ravana. What we call destiny, therefore, ordained that Kaikeyi's pure heart should be changed by Manthara's evil counsel. So says Kamban in the Tamil Ramayana in his own inimitable style.
Fearing that delay might bring some unpredictable obstacles, Dasaratha had ordered the coronation to be done without waiting for Bharata's return to the capital. This same fear and hurry were used by Manthara to persuade Kaikeyi to take the wrong path. "Think, my Queen. Why this haste? Why does your husband rush through the ceremony when your son is absent? Is it not to cheat him of his right? Is not the motive plain? The King pretends to be enamored of you. But this is only his hypocritical shrewdness."
Thus tempted, Kaikeyi thought over Manthara's advice. Kaikeyi was weak like any other woman. She had good feeling and good culture, besides a keen intellect. But she had little knowledge of the world. She was also terribly obstinate. Easily deceived, she did not have the power to foresee the full consequences of her action. Thus began the charter of grief in the Ramayana.
And so the King decided that the coronation should be performed on the very next day and told Vasishtha of his decision. Bad dreams added to the reasons for fixing the day for the coronation at once.
Taking leave of his father, Rama went to Kausalya's apartment to give her the news and seek her blessing. But the Queen had heard the news already. Sumitra, Sita and Lakshmana were all there with Kausalya, who, clad in ceremonial white, sat offering prayers for her son.
Rama reported to his mother the King's latest command. She answered: "This I have heard. May you live long. Be a good ruler. Conquer your foes and protect your subjects and kinsfolk. You have pleased your father and you have made me happy."
Then bidding farewell to his mother and step-mother, Rama went to his own apartment. As directed by the King, Vasishtha came to Rama's place. He was welcomed by him at the entrance, Vasishtha initiated Rama with due mantras in his pre-coronation fast.
As Vasishtha returned to the King, he saw groups of people on the royal road, cheerfully discussing the great festival of the morrow. Houses were being decorated with flowers, festoons and flags. It was with difficulty that Vasishtha could make his way through the crowds to the King's palace. The King was pleased to hear that the fast had begun duly and all was being got ready for the ceremony.
But in his heart of hearts there was a fear that some mishap might come between him and his one wish.
The city was in a joyous commotion of expectancy. In every house, in every street, men, women and children looked on the coronation as a great and auspicious occasion in their own lives and awaited it with enthusiasm.
Rama and Sita in their dwelling meditated long on Narayana, fed with ghee the sacrificial fire, and reverently sipped what remained of the ghee, and slept on grass spread on the floor. Early the following morning, they were roused from slumber by music and held themselves in readiness to proceed to the palace and in expectation of the auspicious call.
But the summons that came was of an entirely opposite nature.
In accordance with the practice in royal households, Queen Kaikeyi had a woman companion and confidential servant. She was a hunchback named Manthara. Being a distant relation of the Queen, she claimed great intimacy with her.
Manthara is one of the best known characters in the Ramayana. Every man, woman and child in our land knows and detests her, as the cause of Rama's exile, Dasaratha's death and all the sorrows which befell the royal family.
On the day on which Dasaratha summoned the Assembly and decided to anoint Rama as Yuvaraja, Manthara happened to climb up to the terrace of the women's apartments and stood surveying the town below. She saw the streets were sprinkled with water and gaily decorated. Flags flew from the house-tops. Wearing new clothes and bright jewels, smeared with sandal paste and decked in flowers, people moved about in crowds, engrossed in happy talk.
Musical instruments played in the temples. Manthara could not understand the reason for all this, for she did not know what the King had decided. Some celebration was on, she guessed. Manthara turned to a servant and asked her: "Why are you wearing this silk dress? What is on in the City? Kausalya seems to be distributing gifts to Brahmanas. She is a thrifty lady and would not be doing this for nothing. There are festive sights and sounds everywhere. Do you know what all this is about?"
The little servant girl answered, dancing with joy: "Why, do you not know that our Ramachandra is going to be anointed Yuvaraja tomorrow morning?"
This was news! Manthara was overpowered with sudden anger. Quickly she hobbled downstairs. Straight she entered Kaikeyi's room. Kaikeyi was resting on her bed.
"Rise, rise, foolish woman! A flood of misfortune is rising to drown and swallow you! You are betrayed and ruined. Your star is setting. Foolish girl, is this the time to sleep?"
Kaikeyi, fearing that some calamity had overtaken Manthara, asked her gently: "What is troubling you? Why are you thus upset?"
And the clever Manthara began: "Destruction has come upon both you and me, my girl. Dasaratha has decided to make Rama Yuvaraja, the real ruler of this land. What greater cause for sorrow need I have? When grief comes to you, how can I remain unconcerned? I have come running to you. You were born and bred in a royal family. You were married into a royal family. Now, alas, all is over. Like the simple woman you are, you have been deceived. Your husband has cheated you with sweet words. It is a deep plot, as any one can see. He put Bharata out of the way by sending him to the distant place of his uncle, and is taking advantage of his absence by hurriedly crowning Rama. By tomorrow it will all be over. And you watch all this, lying in bed and doing nothing, while you and all who depend on you are being destroyed."
And so, Manthara went on talking. Kaikeyi's ears heard the words without quite heeding their drift. Like the rest of the royal household her mind was overwhelmed now with the joyous expectation of Rama's coronation, for she loved and esteemed Rama like everybody else.
"Manthara, you have brought me good news," she said. "Is my son Rama to be crowned tomorrow? What greater joy can come to me? Here, take this. Ask me for anything else." So saying, Kaikeyi took the necklace off her neck and gave it to
Manthara. It was a royal custom at once to reward with a rich gift the bringer of any important good news.
Kaikeyi thought Manthara, like any other officious personal attendant, was ingratiatingly jealous in her mistress's interests. How could this woman understand the goodness of Rama, or affairs of State? And so she thought her foolish fears would be banished if she saw that her mistress was happy at the event. Kaikeyi's mind was still uncorrupted. She had the culture of her noble lineage and was not easily amenable to low thoughts.
This but increased Manthara's grief. She flung away the necklace and said: "Woe to you, stupid woman. All is lost and stupidly you laugh with joy. How can you be blind to the misfortune that is coming to you? Am I to laugh or cry at this folly? Your rival, Rama's mother, has conspired to making him King. And you jump with joy. Insane woman! What would be Bharata's state when Rama reigns? Would not Rama fear and ever look upon Bharata as a dangerous enemy? Rama knows human nature. He knows that Bharata alive would be a constant threat to his power and therefore must be killed. Does not one kill a cobra out of fear? Hereafter there is no security for Bharata's life. Tomorrow morning Kausalya will be a happy woman and you will bend before her as a well-dressed slave. You will stand before her, hands clasped in obedience. From tomorrow your son too will be a subject and a slave. In these apartments there will be no more honor or joy."
And she stopped, unable for grief to continue. Kaikeyi heard all this and wondered "Why should Manthara have such fears? Does she not know Rama? Is he not dharma embodied in human form?"
She said: "Manthara, have you not known and rejoiced in Rama's truthfulness, right conduct and humility? He is the elder prince and he gets the kingdom. Bharata will get it one day after him. What is wrong with all this? Why, dear friend, do you feel such grief? After Rama, Bharata will reign for a hundred years. Do not cry. You know how affectionate Rama is to me. Indeed he cares for me more than for his own mother. Does not Rama hold his brothers as dear as life? It is not right that you should fear any harm from Rama."
"Alas, Alas!" said Manthara. "Why are you so foolish? Once Rama is crowned king, what chance has Bharata? Do you not know the rule of succession? When Rama ascends the throne all prospects of royalty for Bharata and his line are at an end. After Rama, Rama's son will be king, and after him that son's son will be king, and so the succession will go on. Eldest son succeeds eldest son. There is no chance for a younger brother, no matter how good or manly he is. My dear, you know not even this. What is one to do?"
"Once Rama is crowned," she continued, "he will not leave Bharata alone. There will be danger to Bharata's life. If you want Bharata to live, advise him to remain away, an exile from home; for if he returns he will be coming to his death. It would be safest for him to leave even his uncle's house, and hide his head in obscurity in some more distant land. And Kausalya is no friend of yours. She bears you a grudge because you are the King's favorite and have often slighted her. And now she is sure to wreak vengeance on you. You know the wrath of a rival wife is a raging fire when it finds its chance. You may take it that, if Rama is king, Bharata is as good as dead. Therefore, think hard. Be firm. Decide something and stick to it. Somehow Bharata must be crowned. Rama must be banished from the kingdom."
Fear now entered the heart of the Queen. Manthara won. Kaikeyi's face was flushed; her breath became hot. Helpless she clung to Manthara for comfort and safety.
Because his first two wives had borne no children, Dasaratha, following the royal custom, married Kaikeyi. At that time Kaikeyi's father secured from Dasaratha the promise that the child of her womb should become king after him. In such a promise given by a childless king there was nothing surprising and nothing wrong. At that time, his then queens had long been childless. The King took a third wife for the sake of progeny. Even then his wish for a son to be born was not fulfilled. Many years passed.
After the great sacrifice was performed, all three wives bore children. The son of the Queen Eminent, Rama, was the eldest among four sons. He was also great in virtue, fully equal to the burden of Kingship, acceptable to ministers, citizens and vassal princes. How could Dasaratha violate the royal custom and ignoring Rama's claim anoint Bharata?
Moreover, neither Bharata nor Kaikeyi had ever thought of or wished for the fulfilment of this old and forgotten promise. During all the intervening years, no word had been spoken on this subject. Hence the King thought there could be no difficulty in installing Rama as Yuvaraja in accordance with the custom of the dynasty and public expectation. And there was no cloud in Kaikeyi's mind. This is clear from Kaikeyi's behavior. And Bharata was too noble to raise this question.
And, yet, as Dasaratha told Rama, even the purest of minds is mutable. When fate conspires with bad counsel, any one of us might be corrupted. And this happened to Kaikeyi. The gods in Heaven had received an assurance, and the sages had performed tapas or the destruction of Ravana. What we call destiny, therefore, ordained that Kaikeyi's pure heart should be changed by Manthara's evil counsel. So says Kamban in the Tamil Ramayana in his own inimitable style.
Fearing that delay might bring some unpredictable obstacles, Dasaratha had ordered the coronation to be done without waiting for Bharata's return to the capital. This same fear and hurry were used by Manthara to persuade Kaikeyi to take the wrong path. "Think, my Queen. Why this haste? Why does your husband rush through the ceremony when your son is absent? Is it not to cheat him of his right? Is not the motive plain? The King pretends to be enamored of you. But this is only his hypocritical shrewdness."
Thus tempted, Kaikeyi thought over Manthara's advice. Kaikeyi was weak like any other woman. She had good feeling and good culture, besides a keen intellect. But she had little knowledge of the world. She was also terribly obstinate. Easily deceived, she did not have the power to foresee the full consequences of her action. Thus began the charter of grief in the Ramayana.
13) KAIKEYI SUCCUMBS :
Kaikeyi, who had looked upon Rama as her own son, was enmeshed in Manthara's arguments and became helpless.
"Indeed, I am afraid," she said. "Tell me what we should do. Am I to be a servant to Kausalya? Never, Bharata must be crowned. You are quite right. And Rama must be sent to forest. But how shall we get all this done? Tell me. You are clever and know the way."
And she clung to Manthara. In Kaikeyi's eyes at that time Manthara's crooked frame appeared handsome. This is not a joke; it is a subtle psychological phenomenon, "This is indeed strange, Kaikeyi," said Manthara. "Is it for me to tell you how this could be brought about? Have you really forgotten? Or, are you only pretending? But if you want me to say it, I shall do so. Listen."
And then she paused. Kaikeyi, all impatient, cried: "Tell me, tell me. Somehow Bharata must be crowned and Rama's coronation must be stopped."
"Very well," said Manthara, "I shall tell you. Do not be impatient. You remember how your husband Dasaratha, long ago, fought against Sambara in the South? And you were with him, were you not? Your husband went, did be not, to help Indra? Sambara of Vaijayanti was too powerful for Indra, who sought Dasaratha's help. Did not Dasaratha get wounded in battle and lose consciousness? Then, you drove his chariot skilfully out of the battlefield, gently removed the arrows from his body and revived him and saved his life. Have you forgotten all this? And what did be tell you then? He told you in gratitude: 'Ask me for two boons. I shall give you anything you want.' Then you answered: 'I shall ask for my boons later. I want nothing now.' Then he promised, did he not, 'You will have your two gifts whenever you want them'? You told me all this long ago yourself. You may have forgotten it, but I have not. The time has arrived to get him to redeem his promise. Demand that he should crown Bharata instead of Rama. This will be the first of two gifts he promised. For the second gift, ask that Rama be sent to the forest for fourteen years. Do not be frightened. Do not fear to ask. Do not think it sinful to demand this. Do what I tell you. It is only if Rama is sent into the forest that his hold on the people will relax and disappear in course of time and your son's position will be secure. Go now and lie down in the sulking room. Throw away your fine dress and your jewels, wear an old sari and stretch yourself on the floor. When the King enters the room, do not speak to him. Do not even look at him. I am sure he cannot endure your sorrow. You will then have your way with him. The King will try to get round you. Do not yield. He will offer many alternatives. Accept none of them. Insist on the two boons. Be firm. Bound by his promise the King will finally come round. I know how passionately he loves you. He would give up his life for your sake. To please you he would jump into fire. Do what I tell you. Do not be afraid. Unless Rama is sent to the forest, your wish will not be fulfilled. Rama must be sent away. Only then the position you get for Bharata will be real and lasting. Remember this and mind you do not weaken."
Listening to this exhortation, Kaikeyi's face shone with hope. "What a brain you have, Manthara," exclaimed Kaikeyi. "You have been the saving of me." And she jumped about in joy like a filly.
Manthara repeated again and again that Rama must be sent to the forest. "Do not delay. What needs to be done, do at once. It is no good strengthening the tank-bund after the waters have flown out. Remember what I have told you. Everything depends on your firmness. Victory is yours if you do not yield."
Kaikeyi assured Manthara of her firmness and forthwith entered the sulking room, removed her jewels and scattered them on he floor, changed her clothes and stretched herself on the floor. Then, assuming a broken voice, she said:
"Manthara, you will yourself carry the news to my father Kekaya. You will yourself tell him one of two things: either that Bharata is to be crowned or that
Kaikeyi is dead. My dear, dear Manthara!"
Kaikeyi in her anger believed that Dasaratha had really been treacherous to her. Even then, stretched on the ground divesting herself of all ornaments and putting on a face of grief and anger, she looked inexpressibly beautiful. So great was her beauty.
The sinful thought had found lodgment in her mind and her whole nature was transformed. The fear that she would lead a slave's life, and that even Bharata's life was in peril, had got hold of her. For the first time in her life she cast aside the sense of shame and sin and hardened her heart. Heaving heavy sighs, perspiring, and with eyes closed, Kaikeyi, beautiful like a Naga goddess, unbraided her hair and lay on the floor with dishevelled tresses and sprawling like a bird shot down by a hunter. The flowers and shining jewels, which once adorned her person, lay scattered in the dark room like stars in the midnight sky.
Having dismissed the Assembly and given orders for the due celebration of the coronation ceremony, Dasaratha, relieved of care and wishing to relax, sought the apartments of his favorite consort. He had decided on the coronation of Rama after receiving the approval of all those who had a right to be consulted and he felt happy and free, as after laying down a heavy burden.
He entered Kaikeyi's chamber to tell her the happy news and spend in pleasant talk the night before the coronation. The junior queen's residence was a beautiful palace with lovely gardens and tanks, birds playing in the water and peacocks dancing with tails spread out and trees resplendent with bright flowers. In Dasaratha's happy mood it appeared unusually beautiful that night.
Like the full moon rising brightly before an eclipse, without knowing of the eclipse that lies in wait for her, the poor old King entered Kaikeyi's dwelling with a beaming face. The incense pots and drinks were in their usual places but he did not see the Queen whom he was eager to meet.
Of all his consorts Kaikeyi was the one whose company he sought for joyous relaxation from all cares of state, for she never interfered in public affairs, and always waited for him at the entrance and welcomed him with a warm embrace. But, today, she was nowhere to be found.
The King was perplexed. He went around and looked in vain for her in all her favorite haunts thinking that she was playing a sweet game of hide and seeks. He did not find her. This sort of thing had never happened before! He asked a maidservant where the Queen was. Folding her hands in reverence, the girl said: "Lord, the Queen is angry. She is in the inner chamber."
The surprised King entered the room. And he saw a sight which amazed and distressed him, for there she lay on the bare floor, with draggled robes and disheveled hair, like one in mortal pain. She seemed too full of anguish even to look at him as he entered.
The poor guileless King, all unconscious of having given any cause for offence, behaved with the doting fondness of an old husband and seating himself by her on the floor stroked her hair and strove to console her with loving words and caresses:
"What has come over you? Are you ill? Do you feel any pain? Have I not the best doctors in the land? I shall send for them at once. They can cure any malady. Do not be afraid."
Kaikeyi sighed heavily, but would not speak.
The King proceeded: "Was anyone in the palace guilty of discourteous behavior? Tell me and I shall punish him. Did anyone slight you or was there anything you wanted which I neglected to give you? Tell me."
In this way, he mentioned faults that might have occurred in the running of a big house and asked her what the matter was and why she was upset. Kaikeyi paid no attention to his questions and was mute like one possessed.
The King begged her more importunately: "State your wish. It shall be done. Do you want anyone punished? I shall punish him. Do you want anyone freed from punishment? I shall free him, even if he be a murderer. You know my absolute authority, I can give and I can take, as I please. Anything, to anyone, I can do what I wish. Ask me anything and it shall be done at once."
Kaikeyi sat up. The King was pleased. And she began: "No one slighted or dishonored me. But there is something which you can do and you must do it for my sake. Give me your word that you will fulfil my desire. Then I shall tell you what it is."
Hearing this, the unsuspecting old man was filled with joy. Possessing absolute powers, he had no doubt that he could fulfil her wishes whatever they were, and so boldly and joyously he said: "Well, Kaikeyi, tell me your wish. It shall be done. I swear it. I swear it on all I love most on you, the dearest among women, and on Rama, dearest to me among men! I swear in the name of Rama: Whatever you desire, I shall do, I promise, I swear."
Guileful wickedness and trustful misfortune were reaching the climax in their unequal encounter. The King's swearing in the name of Rama filled Kaikeyi with supreme delight. She was now sure that she had won, for the King would never break a promise coupled with that beloved name.
"Do you promise? Very well!" she exclaimed. "Swear again in the name of Rama that you will do what I wish without fail. Swear it!"
The King said: "My beloved queen, I promise. I swear it on Rama. Whatever you wish I shall do. This is my sworn word."
At this stage, as she thought of the tremendousness of her intended request, Kaikeyi's heart misgave her and she feared that on hearing it her horror- stricken husband would exclaim: 'God forbid! No oath or promise is strong enough to justify so heinous a sin!' and recoil from her with abhorrence.
She stood erect and with folded hands, turning in the four directions, invoked in a solemn voice the heavenly powers to witness and confirm the oath: "Oh, Ye Gods! You have heard and witnessed the promise given to me by my husband. Sun, Moon and Planets, you are my holy witnesses. Ye, Five Elements! You have heard the promise. He who has never broken his word, my husband, has sworn to do my wish. Bear witness to this."
Dasaratha was looking at her with hungry, joyous eyes. She knew her man and she began boldly: "Do you remember, King, how, when long ago in the field of battle you were about to lose your life, I drove your chariot in the dark night, took you out of the battlefield, removed the arrows from your body and comforted and revived you? When you came out of your faint, you said something, did you not? You said: 'You have restored to me the life which my foes had taken from me. I shall give you any two gifts you ask.' Then I said: 'I want nothing now. It is joy enough now for me that you are alive. I shall ask for my gifts later.' Do you remember this?"
The King answered: "Yes, I do remember this. Ask for your two gifts. You shall have them now."
Kaikeyi said: "Remember you have made a vow. You have given a pledge. You have sworn in the name of Rama. The gods and the five elements have witnessed your promise. I shall state my wishes. Your ancestors never broke their word. Prove yourself their worthy descendant by being true to the word you have given. With the preparations now afoot for the coronation, crown my son Bharata. This is my first wish. The second boon that I demand is, send your son Rama to live in the Dandaka forest for fourteen years. Remember your solemn vow that you cannot break. The good fame of your great dynasty is in your hands."
"Indeed, I am afraid," she said. "Tell me what we should do. Am I to be a servant to Kausalya? Never, Bharata must be crowned. You are quite right. And Rama must be sent to forest. But how shall we get all this done? Tell me. You are clever and know the way."
And she clung to Manthara. In Kaikeyi's eyes at that time Manthara's crooked frame appeared handsome. This is not a joke; it is a subtle psychological phenomenon, "This is indeed strange, Kaikeyi," said Manthara. "Is it for me to tell you how this could be brought about? Have you really forgotten? Or, are you only pretending? But if you want me to say it, I shall do so. Listen."
And then she paused. Kaikeyi, all impatient, cried: "Tell me, tell me. Somehow Bharata must be crowned and Rama's coronation must be stopped."
"Very well," said Manthara, "I shall tell you. Do not be impatient. You remember how your husband Dasaratha, long ago, fought against Sambara in the South? And you were with him, were you not? Your husband went, did be not, to help Indra? Sambara of Vaijayanti was too powerful for Indra, who sought Dasaratha's help. Did not Dasaratha get wounded in battle and lose consciousness? Then, you drove his chariot skilfully out of the battlefield, gently removed the arrows from his body and revived him and saved his life. Have you forgotten all this? And what did be tell you then? He told you in gratitude: 'Ask me for two boons. I shall give you anything you want.' Then you answered: 'I shall ask for my boons later. I want nothing now.' Then he promised, did he not, 'You will have your two gifts whenever you want them'? You told me all this long ago yourself. You may have forgotten it, but I have not. The time has arrived to get him to redeem his promise. Demand that he should crown Bharata instead of Rama. This will be the first of two gifts he promised. For the second gift, ask that Rama be sent to the forest for fourteen years. Do not be frightened. Do not fear to ask. Do not think it sinful to demand this. Do what I tell you. It is only if Rama is sent into the forest that his hold on the people will relax and disappear in course of time and your son's position will be secure. Go now and lie down in the sulking room. Throw away your fine dress and your jewels, wear an old sari and stretch yourself on the floor. When the King enters the room, do not speak to him. Do not even look at him. I am sure he cannot endure your sorrow. You will then have your way with him. The King will try to get round you. Do not yield. He will offer many alternatives. Accept none of them. Insist on the two boons. Be firm. Bound by his promise the King will finally come round. I know how passionately he loves you. He would give up his life for your sake. To please you he would jump into fire. Do what I tell you. Do not be afraid. Unless Rama is sent to the forest, your wish will not be fulfilled. Rama must be sent away. Only then the position you get for Bharata will be real and lasting. Remember this and mind you do not weaken."
Listening to this exhortation, Kaikeyi's face shone with hope. "What a brain you have, Manthara," exclaimed Kaikeyi. "You have been the saving of me." And she jumped about in joy like a filly.
Manthara repeated again and again that Rama must be sent to the forest. "Do not delay. What needs to be done, do at once. It is no good strengthening the tank-bund after the waters have flown out. Remember what I have told you. Everything depends on your firmness. Victory is yours if you do not yield."
Kaikeyi assured Manthara of her firmness and forthwith entered the sulking room, removed her jewels and scattered them on he floor, changed her clothes and stretched herself on the floor. Then, assuming a broken voice, she said:
"Manthara, you will yourself carry the news to my father Kekaya. You will yourself tell him one of two things: either that Bharata is to be crowned or that
Kaikeyi is dead. My dear, dear Manthara!"
Kaikeyi in her anger believed that Dasaratha had really been treacherous to her. Even then, stretched on the ground divesting herself of all ornaments and putting on a face of grief and anger, she looked inexpressibly beautiful. So great was her beauty.
The sinful thought had found lodgment in her mind and her whole nature was transformed. The fear that she would lead a slave's life, and that even Bharata's life was in peril, had got hold of her. For the first time in her life she cast aside the sense of shame and sin and hardened her heart. Heaving heavy sighs, perspiring, and with eyes closed, Kaikeyi, beautiful like a Naga goddess, unbraided her hair and lay on the floor with dishevelled tresses and sprawling like a bird shot down by a hunter. The flowers and shining jewels, which once adorned her person, lay scattered in the dark room like stars in the midnight sky.
Having dismissed the Assembly and given orders for the due celebration of the coronation ceremony, Dasaratha, relieved of care and wishing to relax, sought the apartments of his favorite consort. He had decided on the coronation of Rama after receiving the approval of all those who had a right to be consulted and he felt happy and free, as after laying down a heavy burden.
He entered Kaikeyi's chamber to tell her the happy news and spend in pleasant talk the night before the coronation. The junior queen's residence was a beautiful palace with lovely gardens and tanks, birds playing in the water and peacocks dancing with tails spread out and trees resplendent with bright flowers. In Dasaratha's happy mood it appeared unusually beautiful that night.
Like the full moon rising brightly before an eclipse, without knowing of the eclipse that lies in wait for her, the poor old King entered Kaikeyi's dwelling with a beaming face. The incense pots and drinks were in their usual places but he did not see the Queen whom he was eager to meet.
Of all his consorts Kaikeyi was the one whose company he sought for joyous relaxation from all cares of state, for she never interfered in public affairs, and always waited for him at the entrance and welcomed him with a warm embrace. But, today, she was nowhere to be found.
The King was perplexed. He went around and looked in vain for her in all her favorite haunts thinking that she was playing a sweet game of hide and seeks. He did not find her. This sort of thing had never happened before! He asked a maidservant where the Queen was. Folding her hands in reverence, the girl said: "Lord, the Queen is angry. She is in the inner chamber."
The surprised King entered the room. And he saw a sight which amazed and distressed him, for there she lay on the bare floor, with draggled robes and disheveled hair, like one in mortal pain. She seemed too full of anguish even to look at him as he entered.
The poor guileless King, all unconscious of having given any cause for offence, behaved with the doting fondness of an old husband and seating himself by her on the floor stroked her hair and strove to console her with loving words and caresses:
"What has come over you? Are you ill? Do you feel any pain? Have I not the best doctors in the land? I shall send for them at once. They can cure any malady. Do not be afraid."
Kaikeyi sighed heavily, but would not speak.
The King proceeded: "Was anyone in the palace guilty of discourteous behavior? Tell me and I shall punish him. Did anyone slight you or was there anything you wanted which I neglected to give you? Tell me."
In this way, he mentioned faults that might have occurred in the running of a big house and asked her what the matter was and why she was upset. Kaikeyi paid no attention to his questions and was mute like one possessed.
The King begged her more importunately: "State your wish. It shall be done. Do you want anyone punished? I shall punish him. Do you want anyone freed from punishment? I shall free him, even if he be a murderer. You know my absolute authority, I can give and I can take, as I please. Anything, to anyone, I can do what I wish. Ask me anything and it shall be done at once."
Kaikeyi sat up. The King was pleased. And she began: "No one slighted or dishonored me. But there is something which you can do and you must do it for my sake. Give me your word that you will fulfil my desire. Then I shall tell you what it is."
Hearing this, the unsuspecting old man was filled with joy. Possessing absolute powers, he had no doubt that he could fulfil her wishes whatever they were, and so boldly and joyously he said: "Well, Kaikeyi, tell me your wish. It shall be done. I swear it. I swear it on all I love most on you, the dearest among women, and on Rama, dearest to me among men! I swear in the name of Rama: Whatever you desire, I shall do, I promise, I swear."
Guileful wickedness and trustful misfortune were reaching the climax in their unequal encounter. The King's swearing in the name of Rama filled Kaikeyi with supreme delight. She was now sure that she had won, for the King would never break a promise coupled with that beloved name.
"Do you promise? Very well!" she exclaimed. "Swear again in the name of Rama that you will do what I wish without fail. Swear it!"
The King said: "My beloved queen, I promise. I swear it on Rama. Whatever you wish I shall do. This is my sworn word."
At this stage, as she thought of the tremendousness of her intended request, Kaikeyi's heart misgave her and she feared that on hearing it her horror- stricken husband would exclaim: 'God forbid! No oath or promise is strong enough to justify so heinous a sin!' and recoil from her with abhorrence.
She stood erect and with folded hands, turning in the four directions, invoked in a solemn voice the heavenly powers to witness and confirm the oath: "Oh, Ye Gods! You have heard and witnessed the promise given to me by my husband. Sun, Moon and Planets, you are my holy witnesses. Ye, Five Elements! You have heard the promise. He who has never broken his word, my husband, has sworn to do my wish. Bear witness to this."
Dasaratha was looking at her with hungry, joyous eyes. She knew her man and she began boldly: "Do you remember, King, how, when long ago in the field of battle you were about to lose your life, I drove your chariot in the dark night, took you out of the battlefield, removed the arrows from your body and comforted and revived you? When you came out of your faint, you said something, did you not? You said: 'You have restored to me the life which my foes had taken from me. I shall give you any two gifts you ask.' Then I said: 'I want nothing now. It is joy enough now for me that you are alive. I shall ask for my gifts later.' Do you remember this?"
The King answered: "Yes, I do remember this. Ask for your two gifts. You shall have them now."
Kaikeyi said: "Remember you have made a vow. You have given a pledge. You have sworn in the name of Rama. The gods and the five elements have witnessed your promise. I shall state my wishes. Your ancestors never broke their word. Prove yourself their worthy descendant by being true to the word you have given. With the preparations now afoot for the coronation, crown my son Bharata. This is my first wish. The second boon that I demand is, send your son Rama to live in the Dandaka forest for fourteen years. Remember your solemn vow that you cannot break. The good fame of your great dynasty is in your hands."
14) WIFE OR DEMON? :
Dasaratha was thunder-struck.
When his mind resumed its function, he doubted the reality of what had happened. "Could it be other than a hideous dream? Or the phantasmagoria of a disordered brain? Or the sudden materialisation of the sins of some past birth called up for my chastisement? I am certainly the victim of an illusion. I cannot believe this to be reality."
Unable to stand the confused agony of shapeless terrors, he closed his eyes and became unconscious. Opening his eyes a little later, they fell on Kaikeyi and he trembled like a stag at the sight of a tiger. He sat up on the floor and moaned, swaying helplessly this side and that like a cobra held by the spell of a potent charm. Again he swooned.
After a long interval, be recovered his senses and, with eyes turned to his tormentor and inflamed with helpless anger, cried out: "O wicked ogress! Destroyer of my dynasty! What harm has Rama done to you? Has he not looked upon you as his own mother? I thought you were a woman. I now see you are a venomous serpent brought from far away and cherished in my bosom only to sting me to death!"
Kaikeyi was unmoved and spoke not a word.
The King went on: "On what pretext can I banish Rama, whom all the people love and praise? I may lose Kausalya and survive. I may lose the pure-minded Sumitra and survive. But if I lose Rama, I cannot live thereafter. Without water, without sunlight, I may live for a while, but never without Rama. Expel from your mind this sinful thought. With my head bowed at your feet, I beg of you. Have you not said many a time, 'Two dear sons I have. And of them Rama, the elder, is dearer to me'? In deciding to crown Rama, what have I done but carry out in action your unspoken wish? Why then do you demand these cruel boons? No, no, it cannot be really that you mean this. You are only testing me to find out if I indeed love your son Bharata. Do not, through a great sin, destroy our famous line of Kings."
Even then Kaikeyi spoke no word, but her eyes blazed scornful anger.
The King continued: "Till this day you have done nothing to cause me sorrow, never spoken an unworthy word. Who has corrupted you now? I cannot believe that this evil thought is your own. How often have you told me, my dear, that, noble as Bharata is, Rama is nobler still? Is it the same Rama that you now want to be sent to the forest? How can he dwell in the forest? How can you even entertain the thought of his going away into the wilderness infested by ferocious beasts? How lovingly has Rama treated you and served you! How can you forget all this and steel your heart and utter the words, 'Send him to the forest'? What fault has he committed? Of the hundreds of women in the palace, has anyone ever uttered a word against his honor or virtue? The whole world loves him for his great and good qualities. How did you alone among so many find cause to dislike him? Is not Rama like Indra himself? Is not his face radiant with goodness and spiritual light like a rishi's? The whole world praises his truthfulness and friendliness, his learning and wisdom, his heroism and humility. No one has heard a harsh word from his lips. How can I, his father, say to him 'Son, go to the forest'? This can never be. Have mercy on me, an old man nearing the end of his days. Kaikeyi, ask for anything else in this kingdom, ask for everything else, and I will give. With folded hands, I beg you, do not send me to Yama. Clinging to your feet I beg you, I beg you humbly, save Rama! Save me from sin!"
To the King thus struggling in a sea of grief, pitiless Kaikeyi spoke cruel words:
"King, if having promised the boons you regret it and will be forsworn, what sort of king would you be and what right would you have to speak of satya and dharma? How can you face other kings? Will you shamelessly confess to them, 'Yes, Kaikeyi saved me from death and I gave her a promise. Later, I was sorry I gave it and I broke it'? What else could you tell them? All monarchs will shun you as a disgrace to their order! And common people will laugh in scorn at their rulers and say, 'Kings break promises even when given to their queens. Do not expect kings to keep their word.' Do you not know that Saibya, to redeem the pledge he gave to a bird, cut the very flesh off his bones and gave it away? Have you not heard of Alarka who plucked his eyes out to keep his word? The sea stays within its limits and does not overflow the land, because it feels bound by its agreement. Do not violate your solemn pledge. Follow the path of your royal ancestors. O, I fear that you, their unworthy descendant, will forsake dharma; you will crown Rama and you will dally with Kausalya. What do you care what happens to dharma? What do you care what happens to satya? If you deny me the gifts you promised on oath, I shall this very night drink poison and end my life. You may anoint and install Rama, but before your eyes, O, promise breaker, I shall be dead. This is certain. And I swear it in the name of Bharata. It will be well and good if you fulfil your promise and banish Rama to the forest. Else, I shall end my life."
With this firm declaration, Kaikeyi stopped. Dasaratha stood speechless, staring at his pitiless wife. Was this lovely creation really Kaikeyi or a demon? Then, like a huge tree felled by a forester with his axe, the King shook and toppled down and lay stretched unconscious on the floor in pitiful ruin.
Regaining his senses after a while, he spoke in a low voice: "Kaikeyi, who has corrupted your mind to see me dead and our race destroyed? What evil spirit has possessed you and makes you dance in this shameless fashion? Do you really think that Bharata will agree to be king after sending Rama to the forest? He never will, and you know it. Can I possibly bear to tell Rama to go to the forest? Will not the kings of the world despise me, saying, 'This uxorious old dotard has banished his eldest son, the best of men'? Don't you see that they would laugh at me? It is easy enough for you to say 'Send Rama away to the forest,' but can Kausalya or I survive his departure? And have you thought of Janaka's daughter? Would it not kill her to hear that Rama is to go away to the Dandaka forest? Cheated by your face I thought you a woman and took you for my wife. Like a deluded man, tempted by the flavor of poisoned wine, I was lured by your beauty into marrying you. Like a deer ensnared by a hunter, I am caught in your net and perish. Like a drunken Brahmana in the streets I shall be universally despised. What boons have you demanded? Boons that forever will taint the fame of our dynasty with the ignominy of lustful dotage that drove an old fool to the banishment of a beloved and peerless son. If I tell Rama to go to the forest, yes, he will cheerfully obey and go to the forest. Myself and then Kausalya and Sumitra will die. How will you enjoy the kingdom thus secured, O sinful, foolish woman? And will Bharata agree to your plans? If he does agree, he shall not perform my obsequies. O shameless woman, my life's enemy, kill your husband and attain widowhood to enjoy the kingdom with your son. O, how sinful are women and how pitiless! No, no. Only this woman is cruel. Why should I insult other women? What a pity that my Bharata should have this monster for a mother! No, I can never do this. Kaikeyi, I fall at your feet and beg you. Have some pity on me!"
The King rolled on the ground and writhed in agony. What shall we say of this scene? A great emperor, famous for his long and glorious reign, crying and rolling on the ground, clasping his wife's feet and begging for mercy. It was like Yayati, thrown back to earth when, his accumulated merit exhausted, he was ejected from Swarga.
No matter how humbly he begged, Kaikeyi was obstinate and said firmly: "You have yourself boasted that you are a truth speaker. But now having sworn before the gods that you have granted a boon, you attempt to retract your promise. If you break your word, I shall surely kill myself and that, will not add greatly to the glory of your dynasty, of which you are so proud!"
"Very well, then," said Dasaratha. "Let Rama go to the forest and let me die. Having destroyed me and my race, a jubilant widow, you will gain your wish and seek joy in your life!"
Again, after a while, the old King cried: "What good you will gain by sending Rama to the forest, I fail to see. The only result will be that the whole world will despise you. After many years of prayer and penance, I had Rama by the grace of God. And him I now banish into the forest, I, most wretched of men!"
Lifting his eyes to the sky, he said: "Oh night! Stay on. For when you pass and day dawns, what shall I do? What shall I say to those eager crowds, who, full of love for Rama, will be awaiting the coronation festivities? O heavens! Stay still for my sake with your stars! No, no. Stay not, for then I must keep looking at this sinful woman. Depart at once, O night, so that I may escape this face."
Thus delirious and conscious by turns, the poor old man suffered agony, a king who had reigned for sixty thousand years.
"Pity me, Kaikeyi," he said. "Forget the harsh things I uttered .in anger. I beg you in the name of the love you bore me. You may take it that I have given the kingdom to you. It is yours. And you can give it with your own hands to Rama and see that the coronation goes through. The Raja Sabha has decided and I have announced to the elders and to Rama that his coronation is to take place tomorrow. Let not this announcement become false. Have pity on me. Give the kingdom as you own to Rama. The fame of this magnanimous gift will last as long as the world endures. My wish, the people's wish, the Elders' wish, Bharata's wish, they are all that Rama should be crowned.
Do this, my love, my life." Again the King clung to the feet of Kaikeyi.
But she answered: "Have done with this foolery, see that you do not break your word and drive me to keep mine, and kill myself. It is useless for you to try to evade."
The King said: "With due rites and in the presence of Fire, I took your hand and called you wife. Here and now I renounce you, and with you the son you bore. Night is gone; the dawn is near and the morning will see not Rama's coronation, but my funeral." Kaikeyi cut him short: "You are prattling vainly. Send at once for Rama. Let him come here. Tell him the kingdom is Bharata's and he should go to the forest. Keep your promise. Do not waste time."
Dasaratha groaned: "Very well. Let me at last set eyes on Rama's face. My death is near. Let Rama come. Let me see his face before I die. Tied down by dharma this old fool is helpless."
And again he fell unconscious.
When his mind resumed its function, he doubted the reality of what had happened. "Could it be other than a hideous dream? Or the phantasmagoria of a disordered brain? Or the sudden materialisation of the sins of some past birth called up for my chastisement? I am certainly the victim of an illusion. I cannot believe this to be reality."
Unable to stand the confused agony of shapeless terrors, he closed his eyes and became unconscious. Opening his eyes a little later, they fell on Kaikeyi and he trembled like a stag at the sight of a tiger. He sat up on the floor and moaned, swaying helplessly this side and that like a cobra held by the spell of a potent charm. Again he swooned.
After a long interval, be recovered his senses and, with eyes turned to his tormentor and inflamed with helpless anger, cried out: "O wicked ogress! Destroyer of my dynasty! What harm has Rama done to you? Has he not looked upon you as his own mother? I thought you were a woman. I now see you are a venomous serpent brought from far away and cherished in my bosom only to sting me to death!"
Kaikeyi was unmoved and spoke not a word.
The King went on: "On what pretext can I banish Rama, whom all the people love and praise? I may lose Kausalya and survive. I may lose the pure-minded Sumitra and survive. But if I lose Rama, I cannot live thereafter. Without water, without sunlight, I may live for a while, but never without Rama. Expel from your mind this sinful thought. With my head bowed at your feet, I beg of you. Have you not said many a time, 'Two dear sons I have. And of them Rama, the elder, is dearer to me'? In deciding to crown Rama, what have I done but carry out in action your unspoken wish? Why then do you demand these cruel boons? No, no, it cannot be really that you mean this. You are only testing me to find out if I indeed love your son Bharata. Do not, through a great sin, destroy our famous line of Kings."
Even then Kaikeyi spoke no word, but her eyes blazed scornful anger.
The King continued: "Till this day you have done nothing to cause me sorrow, never spoken an unworthy word. Who has corrupted you now? I cannot believe that this evil thought is your own. How often have you told me, my dear, that, noble as Bharata is, Rama is nobler still? Is it the same Rama that you now want to be sent to the forest? How can he dwell in the forest? How can you even entertain the thought of his going away into the wilderness infested by ferocious beasts? How lovingly has Rama treated you and served you! How can you forget all this and steel your heart and utter the words, 'Send him to the forest'? What fault has he committed? Of the hundreds of women in the palace, has anyone ever uttered a word against his honor or virtue? The whole world loves him for his great and good qualities. How did you alone among so many find cause to dislike him? Is not Rama like Indra himself? Is not his face radiant with goodness and spiritual light like a rishi's? The whole world praises his truthfulness and friendliness, his learning and wisdom, his heroism and humility. No one has heard a harsh word from his lips. How can I, his father, say to him 'Son, go to the forest'? This can never be. Have mercy on me, an old man nearing the end of his days. Kaikeyi, ask for anything else in this kingdom, ask for everything else, and I will give. With folded hands, I beg you, do not send me to Yama. Clinging to your feet I beg you, I beg you humbly, save Rama! Save me from sin!"
To the King thus struggling in a sea of grief, pitiless Kaikeyi spoke cruel words:
"King, if having promised the boons you regret it and will be forsworn, what sort of king would you be and what right would you have to speak of satya and dharma? How can you face other kings? Will you shamelessly confess to them, 'Yes, Kaikeyi saved me from death and I gave her a promise. Later, I was sorry I gave it and I broke it'? What else could you tell them? All monarchs will shun you as a disgrace to their order! And common people will laugh in scorn at their rulers and say, 'Kings break promises even when given to their queens. Do not expect kings to keep their word.' Do you not know that Saibya, to redeem the pledge he gave to a bird, cut the very flesh off his bones and gave it away? Have you not heard of Alarka who plucked his eyes out to keep his word? The sea stays within its limits and does not overflow the land, because it feels bound by its agreement. Do not violate your solemn pledge. Follow the path of your royal ancestors. O, I fear that you, their unworthy descendant, will forsake dharma; you will crown Rama and you will dally with Kausalya. What do you care what happens to dharma? What do you care what happens to satya? If you deny me the gifts you promised on oath, I shall this very night drink poison and end my life. You may anoint and install Rama, but before your eyes, O, promise breaker, I shall be dead. This is certain. And I swear it in the name of Bharata. It will be well and good if you fulfil your promise and banish Rama to the forest. Else, I shall end my life."
With this firm declaration, Kaikeyi stopped. Dasaratha stood speechless, staring at his pitiless wife. Was this lovely creation really Kaikeyi or a demon? Then, like a huge tree felled by a forester with his axe, the King shook and toppled down and lay stretched unconscious on the floor in pitiful ruin.
Regaining his senses after a while, he spoke in a low voice: "Kaikeyi, who has corrupted your mind to see me dead and our race destroyed? What evil spirit has possessed you and makes you dance in this shameless fashion? Do you really think that Bharata will agree to be king after sending Rama to the forest? He never will, and you know it. Can I possibly bear to tell Rama to go to the forest? Will not the kings of the world despise me, saying, 'This uxorious old dotard has banished his eldest son, the best of men'? Don't you see that they would laugh at me? It is easy enough for you to say 'Send Rama away to the forest,' but can Kausalya or I survive his departure? And have you thought of Janaka's daughter? Would it not kill her to hear that Rama is to go away to the Dandaka forest? Cheated by your face I thought you a woman and took you for my wife. Like a deluded man, tempted by the flavor of poisoned wine, I was lured by your beauty into marrying you. Like a deer ensnared by a hunter, I am caught in your net and perish. Like a drunken Brahmana in the streets I shall be universally despised. What boons have you demanded? Boons that forever will taint the fame of our dynasty with the ignominy of lustful dotage that drove an old fool to the banishment of a beloved and peerless son. If I tell Rama to go to the forest, yes, he will cheerfully obey and go to the forest. Myself and then Kausalya and Sumitra will die. How will you enjoy the kingdom thus secured, O sinful, foolish woman? And will Bharata agree to your plans? If he does agree, he shall not perform my obsequies. O shameless woman, my life's enemy, kill your husband and attain widowhood to enjoy the kingdom with your son. O, how sinful are women and how pitiless! No, no. Only this woman is cruel. Why should I insult other women? What a pity that my Bharata should have this monster for a mother! No, I can never do this. Kaikeyi, I fall at your feet and beg you. Have some pity on me!"
The King rolled on the ground and writhed in agony. What shall we say of this scene? A great emperor, famous for his long and glorious reign, crying and rolling on the ground, clasping his wife's feet and begging for mercy. It was like Yayati, thrown back to earth when, his accumulated merit exhausted, he was ejected from Swarga.
No matter how humbly he begged, Kaikeyi was obstinate and said firmly: "You have yourself boasted that you are a truth speaker. But now having sworn before the gods that you have granted a boon, you attempt to retract your promise. If you break your word, I shall surely kill myself and that, will not add greatly to the glory of your dynasty, of which you are so proud!"
"Very well, then," said Dasaratha. "Let Rama go to the forest and let me die. Having destroyed me and my race, a jubilant widow, you will gain your wish and seek joy in your life!"
Again, after a while, the old King cried: "What good you will gain by sending Rama to the forest, I fail to see. The only result will be that the whole world will despise you. After many years of prayer and penance, I had Rama by the grace of God. And him I now banish into the forest, I, most wretched of men!"
Lifting his eyes to the sky, he said: "Oh night! Stay on. For when you pass and day dawns, what shall I do? What shall I say to those eager crowds, who, full of love for Rama, will be awaiting the coronation festivities? O heavens! Stay still for my sake with your stars! No, no. Stay not, for then I must keep looking at this sinful woman. Depart at once, O night, so that I may escape this face."
Thus delirious and conscious by turns, the poor old man suffered agony, a king who had reigned for sixty thousand years.
"Pity me, Kaikeyi," he said. "Forget the harsh things I uttered .in anger. I beg you in the name of the love you bore me. You may take it that I have given the kingdom to you. It is yours. And you can give it with your own hands to Rama and see that the coronation goes through. The Raja Sabha has decided and I have announced to the elders and to Rama that his coronation is to take place tomorrow. Let not this announcement become false. Have pity on me. Give the kingdom as you own to Rama. The fame of this magnanimous gift will last as long as the world endures. My wish, the people's wish, the Elders' wish, Bharata's wish, they are all that Rama should be crowned.
Do this, my love, my life." Again the King clung to the feet of Kaikeyi.
But she answered: "Have done with this foolery, see that you do not break your word and drive me to keep mine, and kill myself. It is useless for you to try to evade."
The King said: "With due rites and in the presence of Fire, I took your hand and called you wife. Here and now I renounce you, and with you the son you bore. Night is gone; the dawn is near and the morning will see not Rama's coronation, but my funeral." Kaikeyi cut him short: "You are prattling vainly. Send at once for Rama. Let him come here. Tell him the kingdom is Bharata's and he should go to the forest. Keep your promise. Do not waste time."
Dasaratha groaned: "Very well. Let me at last set eyes on Rama's face. My death is near. Let Rama come. Let me see his face before I die. Tied down by dharma this old fool is helpless."
And again he fell unconscious.
15) BEHOLD A WONDER! :
POOR Dasaratha was in extreme agony, pulled by natural affection on one side and by the moral obligation to fulfil a pledge on the other. He had fondly hoped that Kaikeyi would relent and that somehow the conflict of duties would be resolved. But now he saw that this was not to be.
He had still one faint hope: "Rama is in no way bound by my promises and pledges. Strong as he is in people's love and in his peerless prowess, he may disregard my promise, and stand on his own rights. But I cannot conceive his doing so, for my slightest wish has always been sacred to him. Yet, if by some chance he did so, it would save the situation."
In the confusion and anguish of his heart, the old King consoled himself with such false hopes, forgetting that Rama would never think of disregarding his father's promise and that filial obedience was a fundamental rule of his life.
But the false hopes did not persist long. He felt that his death was near. In this agonising conflict of duties, death would be a relief, and save him from the disruption and sorrows to come.
As death drew near, his mind recalled past events. He remembered a great sin committed by him in youth. He felt that he was now reaping what he then sowed: "I killed the Rishi's son and brought grief to his aged parents. How could this sin be wiped off except by my suffering the anguish of losing a dear son?" Thus Dasaratha resigned himself to his fate as a just retribution for the wrong he had once done.
He concluded that be had no alternative but to fulfil his word to his cruel wife and left the ordering of things entirely to Kaikeyi.
Day dawned. The hour fixed for the coronation was approaching. The procession of Vasishtha and his disciples carrying the golden vessels containing the waters of holy rivers was coming towards the palace.
The great street was decorated and was crowded with eager men and women. They rejoiced to see Vasishtha and his disciples march to the palace with the holy waters, and the paraphernalia of installation. As they saw the honey, curds, clarified butter, fried rice, sacred grass, flowers, maidens, elephants, horses and chariots, the white umbrella, the bull, the horse and the tiger-skin seat moving to the accompaniment of music from many instruments, the people made loud and jubilant acclamations which filled the air.
Vasishtha, approaching the palace gate, saw Sumantra and said to him: "Pray, go in at once and inform the King that the people are waiting and all preparations are complete."
Sumantra approached the King's bedchamber and chanting the morning hymn, conveyed Vasishtha's message. "Oh King," he said, "arise from slumber to the hymn of your charioteer as the king of the gods does to Matali's waking songs. May all the gods be gracious unto you. The elders, generals, and chief citizens are waiting for your darshan. The goddess of night has withdrawn. The day's work awaits your ordering. Oh King of kings, be pleased to rise. Holy Vasishtha and his men are waiting."
At that moment the King was speechless with agony, but Kaikeyi boldly answered for him and told Sumantra: "The King spent the night talking of Rama's coronation and had no sleep. So now he is in a slumber. Go at once and bring Rama."
Thus the clever woman sent Sumantra to fetch Rama to convey the King's command. She knew that Dasaratha had agreed but had not the strength to do what had to be done. Hence Kaikeyi resolved that she would herself do what needed to be done.
Sumantra went to Rama's palace. Sita and Rama were getting ready for coronation. Then Sumantra gave to Rama the message that the King and Queen Kaikeyi wanted his presence. Rama hastened to obey.
The unexpected delay and these strange goings and comings roused doubts, but no one dared to talk of them. The men concerned hoped that somehow things would turn out right and went on with their allotted work.
The streets were brightly decorated; the great hour was approaching as in the Queen's chamber strange and sinister events were developing.
"Why this long delay?" the people wondered. "Perhaps the preliminary rites are more elaborate than we had thought."
The crowds in the streets grew bigger and bigger and more impatient.
Sumantra accompanied Rama to Kaikeyi's palace, treading the way with difficulty through the throng. Rama entered the Queen's apartment. As he stepped over the threshold, he started as if he had set his foot upon a snake, for he saw with awe-struck amazement his father lying on the bare floor in anguish. The King evidently had been struck down with some great sorrow. His face was like a parijata blossom wilted in the sun.
He touched his father's feet and paid the same filial worship to Kaikeyi.
Dasaratha uttered in a low voice the name of Rama and stopped. He could speak no more. He could not look straight into the face of Rama.
Rama was perplexed and filled with apprehension at the sight of his father, lying there unable to speak, in the grip of some great agony. What it could be Rama could not even guess.
He turned to Kaikeyi and said: "Mother, this is indeed strange. No matter how angry he was, my father would speak sweetly to me. Have I without knowing it offended him in any matter? Has some sudden sickness struck him down? Has someone spoken rudely to him? Do tell me what has happened. I can bear this suspense no longer."
Bold Kaikeyi seized the chance and said: "The King is angry with no one. There is nothing wrong with his health. But there is something in his mind which he is afraid to tell you. That is all. He is afraid to say it to you, lest you should feel hurt. That is why he is silent. Once upon a time, pleased with me he offered, and I accepted, the gift to two boons. Now, like an uncultured person, the King regrets he did so. Is this worthy of him? Is it not unbecoming of a King to pledge his word and then regret it? You have the power to fulfil his promise, but he fears even to tell you of it and is thinking of violating it. Would it be right? If you assure him that he need not be anxious about your attitude and that he should keep his word at all costs, you will give him the needed strength to behave righteously. You must give him the help he needs. The thing is in your hands. I shall tell you what it is, but after you promise me that you will help the King to fulfil his pledge."
Rama, saddened at the thought that he should in any way be the occasion of distress to his father, said to Kaikeyi: "Mother, am I indeed the cause of all this trouble? I do not deserve that you should have any doubts about me. If my father asks me to jump into the fire, I shall not hesitate to do it. If he asks me to drink poison, I shall drink it without hesitation. You know this. You know well enough that at his bidding I would drown myself in the sea. Here mother, I give you my solemn promise that I shall fulfil the King's promise to you, and I never break my word."
When Rama uttered these words, Kaikeyi exulted, for she knew she had conquered. The King for his part was in despair, seeing that all escape was now barred.
Thereupon the pitiless Kaikeyi uttered these terrible words: "Rama, your words are worthy of you. What higher duty has a son than helping fulfilment of the word his father has given? Now I shall let you know your father's promise to me. When in the battle with Sambara your father was wounded, I rescued and revived him. Your father in gratitude for having been rescued by me when grievously wounded gave me two boons to be claimed and specified when I choose. I have claimed and specified them now. They are that Bharata should be anointed Yuvaraja and that you should be sent away this very day to the Dandaka forest, to remain in exile for fourteen years. You have sworn solemnly to carry out his promise to me, and now it is your duty to prove true to your pledged word. If you find right conduct as hard as your father did, that is another matter. Otherwise, listen to what I say. It is for you now to relinquish the installation and to go out into exile with matted locks and hermit weeds, leaving the preparations now ready to serve for Bharata's installation."
When she uttered these cruel words the King writhed in agony, but Rama heard her untroubled. Kaikeyi beheld a miracle. There was not the slightest sign of disappointment or sorrow in Rama's face. Smiling, the Prince said: "Is that all, mother? Surely, the King's promise must be fulfilled. My hair shall be twisted and I shall wear the bark and I shall go this very day to the forest."
Kaikeyi spoke prophetic words when she said Rama's dutifulness would bring him glory undying. That glory will continue as long as the Himalaya stands and the waters of Ganga flow and as long as the ocean-waves beat on the solid earth.
Rama said to Kaikeyi, in unperturbed tones: "I am not in the least annoyed. Would I not be happy to give anything to Bharata? Even if no one asked me, I would cheerfully give him my all. And how can I hold back a moment when my father commands it? What pains me a little is that father should have entertained any doubt about my willingness. Why should he have hesitated to tell me what he wanted and left it to you to say it to me? Am I not his son, bound to do his behest? What glory or what joy can I look for except to make good his word? How did I deserve it that my father should avert his face from me and refrain from speaking loving words to me? My grievance, if at all, is that he did not send for me straight and give me his command. I shall go to the forest this very day, with no regret. Send swift messengers at once to fetch Bharata home."
The Prince's face glowed like a sacrificial fire bursting into flame as the ghee is poured into it. Kaikeyi felt glad at her apparent success. She could not look into the future and its sorrow, for what greater grief can come to a woman than the scorn of her own son? Greed deceived her into folly. It prevented her from understanding aright the mind of her own son Bharata.
Like a captive elephant hemmed in on all sides, Dasaratha lay in anguish. With needless harshness, Kaikeyi hurried Rama saying, "Do not wait for the King to speak and prolong the affair."
At this Rama said: "Mother, you have not, it seems, known me. I value no pleasure higher than to honor my father's pledge. Let Bharata carry the burden of kingship, and look after our aged father. It will indeed give me the greatest joy."
Dasaratha, silent till now though listening intently, moaned aloud. Rama touched the feet of his father and Kaikeyi and hurried out of the chamber. Lakshmana had been standing outside. He knew what had happened and with eyes red with anger he followed Rama.
On the way Rama saw the vessels holding the consecrated water for the coronation. He walked round them in worship. With calm majesty lie left behind the white umbrella and other royal insignia and advised the crowds to disperse. The Prince, in whom desire had been vanquished, went to the house of Queen Kausalya to give her the news and take her blessings before departing to the forest.
Readers should exercise their imagination and build up in their own hearts the passions and sorrows of the persons figuring in this epic. Dasaratha's anguish, Rama's cheerful renunciation and the greedy passion of Kaikeyi which smothered all noble impulses these are familiar phases in our daily lives.
Valmiki and Kamban saw with the vision of genius and made the events in Rama's story live again in song. We too should see them through imagination. This is the meaning of the tradition that wherever Rama's tale is told Hanuman himself joins the gathering and reverently stands listening with tear-filled eyes. May everyone that reads this chapter receive by Rama's grace and strength to bear the sorrows that have to be faced in life.
He had still one faint hope: "Rama is in no way bound by my promises and pledges. Strong as he is in people's love and in his peerless prowess, he may disregard my promise, and stand on his own rights. But I cannot conceive his doing so, for my slightest wish has always been sacred to him. Yet, if by some chance he did so, it would save the situation."
In the confusion and anguish of his heart, the old King consoled himself with such false hopes, forgetting that Rama would never think of disregarding his father's promise and that filial obedience was a fundamental rule of his life.
But the false hopes did not persist long. He felt that his death was near. In this agonising conflict of duties, death would be a relief, and save him from the disruption and sorrows to come.
As death drew near, his mind recalled past events. He remembered a great sin committed by him in youth. He felt that he was now reaping what he then sowed: "I killed the Rishi's son and brought grief to his aged parents. How could this sin be wiped off except by my suffering the anguish of losing a dear son?" Thus Dasaratha resigned himself to his fate as a just retribution for the wrong he had once done.
He concluded that be had no alternative but to fulfil his word to his cruel wife and left the ordering of things entirely to Kaikeyi.
Day dawned. The hour fixed for the coronation was approaching. The procession of Vasishtha and his disciples carrying the golden vessels containing the waters of holy rivers was coming towards the palace.
The great street was decorated and was crowded with eager men and women. They rejoiced to see Vasishtha and his disciples march to the palace with the holy waters, and the paraphernalia of installation. As they saw the honey, curds, clarified butter, fried rice, sacred grass, flowers, maidens, elephants, horses and chariots, the white umbrella, the bull, the horse and the tiger-skin seat moving to the accompaniment of music from many instruments, the people made loud and jubilant acclamations which filled the air.
Vasishtha, approaching the palace gate, saw Sumantra and said to him: "Pray, go in at once and inform the King that the people are waiting and all preparations are complete."
Sumantra approached the King's bedchamber and chanting the morning hymn, conveyed Vasishtha's message. "Oh King," he said, "arise from slumber to the hymn of your charioteer as the king of the gods does to Matali's waking songs. May all the gods be gracious unto you. The elders, generals, and chief citizens are waiting for your darshan. The goddess of night has withdrawn. The day's work awaits your ordering. Oh King of kings, be pleased to rise. Holy Vasishtha and his men are waiting."
At that moment the King was speechless with agony, but Kaikeyi boldly answered for him and told Sumantra: "The King spent the night talking of Rama's coronation and had no sleep. So now he is in a slumber. Go at once and bring Rama."
Thus the clever woman sent Sumantra to fetch Rama to convey the King's command. She knew that Dasaratha had agreed but had not the strength to do what had to be done. Hence Kaikeyi resolved that she would herself do what needed to be done.
Sumantra went to Rama's palace. Sita and Rama were getting ready for coronation. Then Sumantra gave to Rama the message that the King and Queen Kaikeyi wanted his presence. Rama hastened to obey.
The unexpected delay and these strange goings and comings roused doubts, but no one dared to talk of them. The men concerned hoped that somehow things would turn out right and went on with their allotted work.
The streets were brightly decorated; the great hour was approaching as in the Queen's chamber strange and sinister events were developing.
"Why this long delay?" the people wondered. "Perhaps the preliminary rites are more elaborate than we had thought."
The crowds in the streets grew bigger and bigger and more impatient.
Sumantra accompanied Rama to Kaikeyi's palace, treading the way with difficulty through the throng. Rama entered the Queen's apartment. As he stepped over the threshold, he started as if he had set his foot upon a snake, for he saw with awe-struck amazement his father lying on the bare floor in anguish. The King evidently had been struck down with some great sorrow. His face was like a parijata blossom wilted in the sun.
He touched his father's feet and paid the same filial worship to Kaikeyi.
Dasaratha uttered in a low voice the name of Rama and stopped. He could speak no more. He could not look straight into the face of Rama.
Rama was perplexed and filled with apprehension at the sight of his father, lying there unable to speak, in the grip of some great agony. What it could be Rama could not even guess.
He turned to Kaikeyi and said: "Mother, this is indeed strange. No matter how angry he was, my father would speak sweetly to me. Have I without knowing it offended him in any matter? Has some sudden sickness struck him down? Has someone spoken rudely to him? Do tell me what has happened. I can bear this suspense no longer."
Bold Kaikeyi seized the chance and said: "The King is angry with no one. There is nothing wrong with his health. But there is something in his mind which he is afraid to tell you. That is all. He is afraid to say it to you, lest you should feel hurt. That is why he is silent. Once upon a time, pleased with me he offered, and I accepted, the gift to two boons. Now, like an uncultured person, the King regrets he did so. Is this worthy of him? Is it not unbecoming of a King to pledge his word and then regret it? You have the power to fulfil his promise, but he fears even to tell you of it and is thinking of violating it. Would it be right? If you assure him that he need not be anxious about your attitude and that he should keep his word at all costs, you will give him the needed strength to behave righteously. You must give him the help he needs. The thing is in your hands. I shall tell you what it is, but after you promise me that you will help the King to fulfil his pledge."
Rama, saddened at the thought that he should in any way be the occasion of distress to his father, said to Kaikeyi: "Mother, am I indeed the cause of all this trouble? I do not deserve that you should have any doubts about me. If my father asks me to jump into the fire, I shall not hesitate to do it. If he asks me to drink poison, I shall drink it without hesitation. You know this. You know well enough that at his bidding I would drown myself in the sea. Here mother, I give you my solemn promise that I shall fulfil the King's promise to you, and I never break my word."
When Rama uttered these words, Kaikeyi exulted, for she knew she had conquered. The King for his part was in despair, seeing that all escape was now barred.
Thereupon the pitiless Kaikeyi uttered these terrible words: "Rama, your words are worthy of you. What higher duty has a son than helping fulfilment of the word his father has given? Now I shall let you know your father's promise to me. When in the battle with Sambara your father was wounded, I rescued and revived him. Your father in gratitude for having been rescued by me when grievously wounded gave me two boons to be claimed and specified when I choose. I have claimed and specified them now. They are that Bharata should be anointed Yuvaraja and that you should be sent away this very day to the Dandaka forest, to remain in exile for fourteen years. You have sworn solemnly to carry out his promise to me, and now it is your duty to prove true to your pledged word. If you find right conduct as hard as your father did, that is another matter. Otherwise, listen to what I say. It is for you now to relinquish the installation and to go out into exile with matted locks and hermit weeds, leaving the preparations now ready to serve for Bharata's installation."
When she uttered these cruel words the King writhed in agony, but Rama heard her untroubled. Kaikeyi beheld a miracle. There was not the slightest sign of disappointment or sorrow in Rama's face. Smiling, the Prince said: "Is that all, mother? Surely, the King's promise must be fulfilled. My hair shall be twisted and I shall wear the bark and I shall go this very day to the forest."
Kaikeyi spoke prophetic words when she said Rama's dutifulness would bring him glory undying. That glory will continue as long as the Himalaya stands and the waters of Ganga flow and as long as the ocean-waves beat on the solid earth.
Rama said to Kaikeyi, in unperturbed tones: "I am not in the least annoyed. Would I not be happy to give anything to Bharata? Even if no one asked me, I would cheerfully give him my all. And how can I hold back a moment when my father commands it? What pains me a little is that father should have entertained any doubt about my willingness. Why should he have hesitated to tell me what he wanted and left it to you to say it to me? Am I not his son, bound to do his behest? What glory or what joy can I look for except to make good his word? How did I deserve it that my father should avert his face from me and refrain from speaking loving words to me? My grievance, if at all, is that he did not send for me straight and give me his command. I shall go to the forest this very day, with no regret. Send swift messengers at once to fetch Bharata home."
The Prince's face glowed like a sacrificial fire bursting into flame as the ghee is poured into it. Kaikeyi felt glad at her apparent success. She could not look into the future and its sorrow, for what greater grief can come to a woman than the scorn of her own son? Greed deceived her into folly. It prevented her from understanding aright the mind of her own son Bharata.
Like a captive elephant hemmed in on all sides, Dasaratha lay in anguish. With needless harshness, Kaikeyi hurried Rama saying, "Do not wait for the King to speak and prolong the affair."
At this Rama said: "Mother, you have not, it seems, known me. I value no pleasure higher than to honor my father's pledge. Let Bharata carry the burden of kingship, and look after our aged father. It will indeed give me the greatest joy."
Dasaratha, silent till now though listening intently, moaned aloud. Rama touched the feet of his father and Kaikeyi and hurried out of the chamber. Lakshmana had been standing outside. He knew what had happened and with eyes red with anger he followed Rama.
On the way Rama saw the vessels holding the consecrated water for the coronation. He walked round them in worship. With calm majesty lie left behind the white umbrella and other royal insignia and advised the crowds to disperse. The Prince, in whom desire had been vanquished, went to the house of Queen Kausalya to give her the news and take her blessings before departing to the forest.
Readers should exercise their imagination and build up in their own hearts the passions and sorrows of the persons figuring in this epic. Dasaratha's anguish, Rama's cheerful renunciation and the greedy passion of Kaikeyi which smothered all noble impulses these are familiar phases in our daily lives.
Valmiki and Kamban saw with the vision of genius and made the events in Rama's story live again in song. We too should see them through imagination. This is the meaning of the tradition that wherever Rama's tale is told Hanuman himself joins the gathering and reverently stands listening with tear-filled eyes. May everyone that reads this chapter receive by Rama's grace and strength to bear the sorrows that have to be faced in life.
16 ) STORM AND CALM :
RAMA went to Queen Kausalya's dwelling. Many visitors were assembled there, eagerly awaiting the coronation. In the innermost apartment, the Queen, clad in white silk, was before the sacrificial fire invoking blessings on her son.
As soon as Rama entered, she embraced him and showed him, who she thought, was to become the Yuvaraja, to a specially raised seat.
"Mother, this seat is now too high for me," said Rama. "I am a hermit and should sit on grass spread on the floor. I have brought you news, which may sadden you. Listen, and give me your blessings."
And he told her briefly what had happened: "The King wishes to give the crown to Bharata. His command is that I should spend fourteen years in the Dandaka forest. I must leave today, mother, and I come for your blessings before I go."
When Kausalya heard this, she fell on the ground like a plantain tree suddenly cut down. Lakshmana and Rama gently raised her.
She clung to Rama and cried: "Is my heart made of stone or iron that I still live?"
Lakshmana could not bear the sight of the Queen's grief. Angrily he spoke: "This old King has pronounced on Rama a doom that is reserved for the most wicked evil-doers. What sin or crime has Rama committed? Not even his worst enemy could find any fault in Rama. The doting old man has lost his senses over his young wife and is not fit to be king any more. How can a king listen to a woman and violate dharma? Even your enemies, O! Rama, when they look at you begin to love you, but this dotard of a father sends you to the forest. Look here, brother, let us together throw out this King and take charge of the kingdom. Who will dare oppose us? I shall make an end of anyone who dares. Only give me leave and I shall do this single-handed. A young brother to become King and you to go to the forest! The world would laugh at this absurdity. Don't consent to this. I at any rate won't stand this. I shall put down all opposition and see that you rule the kingdom without delay or hindrance. Never doubt but I have strength to do it. Instead of the sun rising, a great darkness has descended upon the land this morning, for when we were expecting your coronation the King sentences you to banishment! In the face of such injustice there is no use being nice and polite. I cannot stand this. I must do my duty. Mother, now you will see the strength of my arm and so will you, brother."
Lakshmana's words were some solace to Kausalya, but yet this strange talk of ousting the King and seizing the throne frightened her.
She said: "Rama, consider well what Lakshmana says. Don't go to the forest. If you go away, how can I stay here all alone among enemies? I too shall go with you."
Rama had listened in silence to Lakshmana's outburst, for it was wise to let the pent up passion find outlet in words. Then, turning to Kausalya he said: "Mother, let there be no talk of anyone going with me to the forest. It is your duty to stay here serving the King and sharing the sorrow that has come to him in his old age. How can the crowned Queen of an Emperor wander with me like a widow in the forest? This cannot be. I shall return after my term of forest life. It is my duty to fulfil my father's word. It is all the same to me, whether it is just or unjust, spontaneous or extorted by force or fraud. If I fail in this primary duty, I can gain no satisfaction or good name through any amount of wealth or power. Lakshmana, your proposals are quite wrong. I know your great strength and I have no doubt that you can vanquish and destroy all opponents and secure for me the kingdom. I know also your affection for me. But the way in which you propose to use it is not worthy of the dynasty to which we belong. Our highest duty is to fulfil our father's word. If we fail in that, no other achievement can make up for it."
Rama tried to console both his mother and his brother, but Lakshmana's anger could not be easily put down. Perhaps it could have been, if he himself, not Rama, were the sufferer. But it was Rama who was the victim of this cruel injustice. And so Lakshmana writhed in anger like a wounded cobra. Rama took him apart, made him sit down and tried to calm him:
"Lakshmana, are you not my other self, my very soul in another body? Listen to me. You are courageous and strong. Control your anger and grief on my account. Don't allow these evil spirits to possess you. Holding fast to dharma, let us convert our present disgrace into a great joy. Let us forget all about the coronation, and think worthily as becomes our race. Consider our father's condition. Our hearts should go out to him in sympathy, for he is stricken with a great sorrow. Whatever be the reason, he gave a promise and if he should break it, he would be committing a shameful sin which would besmirch and blot out all his great and glorious deeds. He is heartbroken at the wrong he feels he has done me. But I do not feel it a wrong at all, for a king must keep his word and a son must obey his father. You should show that you too are free from any sense of injury. Only so can we bring him mental relief. He gave us the life that we hold and we should give him peace of mind. He is afraid about the other world. We should free him from this fear. So far, we have never given him cause for sorrow or dissatisfaction. Now we have become the cause of a great fear in his mind about what is to happen to him in the other world. We can easily relieve him. Instead of doing this, are we to add to his troubles? For this reason my mind has altogether turned away from the coronation and is intent on the journey to the forest. My sole desire now is to go to the forest and see that Bharata is crowned. This would please me best. If I delay, Kaikeyi will grow suspicious. Hence I should go to the forest this very day and bring peace to her mind. Rid of the fear of the sin of breaking a promise and assured of my willing and cheerful acceptance of his command, our father will be happy. And we should not be angry with Kaikeyi either. Has she not been kind to us all these years? That she should suddenly conceive this idea is surely the working of fate. We should not blame her for it. One proposes something and fate decides otherwise. In this, Kaikeyi is but a passive instrument in the hand of fate. Our little mother will have to bear the grievous burden of the world's blame, but our love for her should remain the same as ever. If, before this, there had been evil in her thought, her conduct would have shown it. There is no doubt that some higher force has made her say suddenly and harshly, 'Rama, go to the forest.' Otherwise how could a high-minded woman who so far looked upon us as her own children now behave so brazenly before her husband? Who can oppose destiny? Even steadfast sages have swerved suddenly from their tapas. How can poor Kaikeyi hope to resist fate? Let us resolve firmly to change this sorrow into joy. That would be a proof of our nobility and courage, Lakshmana. With the blessings of my mothers and elders, I shall go to the forest. Bring here the water, the water from the Ganga for the coronation. I shall use it for ablution before departing for the forest. No. no, that water belongs to the State and is intended for the coronation. How can we touch it? We shall go to holy Ganga ourselves and fetch the water for my ablution. Brother, be not sad thinking of kingdom or wealth; life in the forest will be my highest joy."
So Rama revealed to his brother his inmost thoughts. In these passages Valmiki uses the word daiva. In Sanskrit literature, daivam means fate. Daivam, dishtam, bhagyam, niyati and vidhi are all words conveying the idea of something unexpected and inexplicable. Because of the belief in God as the Prime Cause, a natural confusion arises between fate and God's will. What Rama said to Lakshmana on the present occasion does not mean that he thought that the gods contrived Kaikeyi's action for their own benefit. Rama offered no more than the usual consolation: "It is the work of fate. Do not grieve. No one is to blame for this."
In the Kamban Ramayana also, addressing his brother 'raging like the fire of dissolution,' Rama says: "It is not the river's fault that the bed is dry. Even so, my going hence is not the King's fault, nor Queen Kaikeyi's nor her son's. The wrong is the work of fate. Why should one be angry then?"
This explanation calmed Lakshmana for a while. But soon his anger boiled up again. He said: "Very well, then. This is the work of fate. Fate, I grant, is the cause of our step-mother's sudden folly. And I am not angry with her. But are we, on that account, to sit still and do nothing? It is Kshatriya dharma to overcome evil and establish justice. A hero does not bow down before fate. Having announced Rama's coronation by beat of drum to the town and country, the treacherous King invokes some old forgotten boon and orders you to go to the forest. Is it manly to call this fate and obey it meekly? Only cowards go down under fate. Heroes should oppose and vanquish it. I am no weakling to yield to fate. You will see today the might of a hero matched against fate. I shall tame the mad elephant fate and make it serve me. I shall banish to the forest those who conspired to banish you. If you wish to visit the forest for a change, you can do so later. The proper time for it will be when you have reigned as king for many years and then entrusted the crown to your sons. That was the way of our ancestors. If anyone questions your kingship now, I stand here to annihilate him. Are these two shoulders merely for beauty? This bow, these arrows and this sword hanging on my side are they mere decorations? Or do you think they are theatrical equipment put on for show? I await your orders. Give me the word and test my prowess."
Rama gently pacified Lakshmana's rage which was flaming up into a conflagration. "As long as our parents are alive," said Rama, "it is our duty to obey them. I cannot dream of disobeying my father. It is our prime duty to do his bidding and enable him to fulfil his pledge. What joy is there in getting a kingship after insulting our parents and slaying Bharata, the embodiment of dharma?"
And he wiped with his hand the tears from Lakshmana's eyes. When Rama did this, Lakshmana grew calm for the affectionate magic of Rama's hand could work wonders.
As soon as Rama entered, she embraced him and showed him, who she thought, was to become the Yuvaraja, to a specially raised seat.
"Mother, this seat is now too high for me," said Rama. "I am a hermit and should sit on grass spread on the floor. I have brought you news, which may sadden you. Listen, and give me your blessings."
And he told her briefly what had happened: "The King wishes to give the crown to Bharata. His command is that I should spend fourteen years in the Dandaka forest. I must leave today, mother, and I come for your blessings before I go."
When Kausalya heard this, she fell on the ground like a plantain tree suddenly cut down. Lakshmana and Rama gently raised her.
She clung to Rama and cried: "Is my heart made of stone or iron that I still live?"
Lakshmana could not bear the sight of the Queen's grief. Angrily he spoke: "This old King has pronounced on Rama a doom that is reserved for the most wicked evil-doers. What sin or crime has Rama committed? Not even his worst enemy could find any fault in Rama. The doting old man has lost his senses over his young wife and is not fit to be king any more. How can a king listen to a woman and violate dharma? Even your enemies, O! Rama, when they look at you begin to love you, but this dotard of a father sends you to the forest. Look here, brother, let us together throw out this King and take charge of the kingdom. Who will dare oppose us? I shall make an end of anyone who dares. Only give me leave and I shall do this single-handed. A young brother to become King and you to go to the forest! The world would laugh at this absurdity. Don't consent to this. I at any rate won't stand this. I shall put down all opposition and see that you rule the kingdom without delay or hindrance. Never doubt but I have strength to do it. Instead of the sun rising, a great darkness has descended upon the land this morning, for when we were expecting your coronation the King sentences you to banishment! In the face of such injustice there is no use being nice and polite. I cannot stand this. I must do my duty. Mother, now you will see the strength of my arm and so will you, brother."
Lakshmana's words were some solace to Kausalya, but yet this strange talk of ousting the King and seizing the throne frightened her.
She said: "Rama, consider well what Lakshmana says. Don't go to the forest. If you go away, how can I stay here all alone among enemies? I too shall go with you."
Rama had listened in silence to Lakshmana's outburst, for it was wise to let the pent up passion find outlet in words. Then, turning to Kausalya he said: "Mother, let there be no talk of anyone going with me to the forest. It is your duty to stay here serving the King and sharing the sorrow that has come to him in his old age. How can the crowned Queen of an Emperor wander with me like a widow in the forest? This cannot be. I shall return after my term of forest life. It is my duty to fulfil my father's word. It is all the same to me, whether it is just or unjust, spontaneous or extorted by force or fraud. If I fail in this primary duty, I can gain no satisfaction or good name through any amount of wealth or power. Lakshmana, your proposals are quite wrong. I know your great strength and I have no doubt that you can vanquish and destroy all opponents and secure for me the kingdom. I know also your affection for me. But the way in which you propose to use it is not worthy of the dynasty to which we belong. Our highest duty is to fulfil our father's word. If we fail in that, no other achievement can make up for it."
Rama tried to console both his mother and his brother, but Lakshmana's anger could not be easily put down. Perhaps it could have been, if he himself, not Rama, were the sufferer. But it was Rama who was the victim of this cruel injustice. And so Lakshmana writhed in anger like a wounded cobra. Rama took him apart, made him sit down and tried to calm him:
"Lakshmana, are you not my other self, my very soul in another body? Listen to me. You are courageous and strong. Control your anger and grief on my account. Don't allow these evil spirits to possess you. Holding fast to dharma, let us convert our present disgrace into a great joy. Let us forget all about the coronation, and think worthily as becomes our race. Consider our father's condition. Our hearts should go out to him in sympathy, for he is stricken with a great sorrow. Whatever be the reason, he gave a promise and if he should break it, he would be committing a shameful sin which would besmirch and blot out all his great and glorious deeds. He is heartbroken at the wrong he feels he has done me. But I do not feel it a wrong at all, for a king must keep his word and a son must obey his father. You should show that you too are free from any sense of injury. Only so can we bring him mental relief. He gave us the life that we hold and we should give him peace of mind. He is afraid about the other world. We should free him from this fear. So far, we have never given him cause for sorrow or dissatisfaction. Now we have become the cause of a great fear in his mind about what is to happen to him in the other world. We can easily relieve him. Instead of doing this, are we to add to his troubles? For this reason my mind has altogether turned away from the coronation and is intent on the journey to the forest. My sole desire now is to go to the forest and see that Bharata is crowned. This would please me best. If I delay, Kaikeyi will grow suspicious. Hence I should go to the forest this very day and bring peace to her mind. Rid of the fear of the sin of breaking a promise and assured of my willing and cheerful acceptance of his command, our father will be happy. And we should not be angry with Kaikeyi either. Has she not been kind to us all these years? That she should suddenly conceive this idea is surely the working of fate. We should not blame her for it. One proposes something and fate decides otherwise. In this, Kaikeyi is but a passive instrument in the hand of fate. Our little mother will have to bear the grievous burden of the world's blame, but our love for her should remain the same as ever. If, before this, there had been evil in her thought, her conduct would have shown it. There is no doubt that some higher force has made her say suddenly and harshly, 'Rama, go to the forest.' Otherwise how could a high-minded woman who so far looked upon us as her own children now behave so brazenly before her husband? Who can oppose destiny? Even steadfast sages have swerved suddenly from their tapas. How can poor Kaikeyi hope to resist fate? Let us resolve firmly to change this sorrow into joy. That would be a proof of our nobility and courage, Lakshmana. With the blessings of my mothers and elders, I shall go to the forest. Bring here the water, the water from the Ganga for the coronation. I shall use it for ablution before departing for the forest. No. no, that water belongs to the State and is intended for the coronation. How can we touch it? We shall go to holy Ganga ourselves and fetch the water for my ablution. Brother, be not sad thinking of kingdom or wealth; life in the forest will be my highest joy."
So Rama revealed to his brother his inmost thoughts. In these passages Valmiki uses the word daiva. In Sanskrit literature, daivam means fate. Daivam, dishtam, bhagyam, niyati and vidhi are all words conveying the idea of something unexpected and inexplicable. Because of the belief in God as the Prime Cause, a natural confusion arises between fate and God's will. What Rama said to Lakshmana on the present occasion does not mean that he thought that the gods contrived Kaikeyi's action for their own benefit. Rama offered no more than the usual consolation: "It is the work of fate. Do not grieve. No one is to blame for this."
In the Kamban Ramayana also, addressing his brother 'raging like the fire of dissolution,' Rama says: "It is not the river's fault that the bed is dry. Even so, my going hence is not the King's fault, nor Queen Kaikeyi's nor her son's. The wrong is the work of fate. Why should one be angry then?"
This explanation calmed Lakshmana for a while. But soon his anger boiled up again. He said: "Very well, then. This is the work of fate. Fate, I grant, is the cause of our step-mother's sudden folly. And I am not angry with her. But are we, on that account, to sit still and do nothing? It is Kshatriya dharma to overcome evil and establish justice. A hero does not bow down before fate. Having announced Rama's coronation by beat of drum to the town and country, the treacherous King invokes some old forgotten boon and orders you to go to the forest. Is it manly to call this fate and obey it meekly? Only cowards go down under fate. Heroes should oppose and vanquish it. I am no weakling to yield to fate. You will see today the might of a hero matched against fate. I shall tame the mad elephant fate and make it serve me. I shall banish to the forest those who conspired to banish you. If you wish to visit the forest for a change, you can do so later. The proper time for it will be when you have reigned as king for many years and then entrusted the crown to your sons. That was the way of our ancestors. If anyone questions your kingship now, I stand here to annihilate him. Are these two shoulders merely for beauty? This bow, these arrows and this sword hanging on my side are they mere decorations? Or do you think they are theatrical equipment put on for show? I await your orders. Give me the word and test my prowess."
Rama gently pacified Lakshmana's rage which was flaming up into a conflagration. "As long as our parents are alive," said Rama, "it is our duty to obey them. I cannot dream of disobeying my father. It is our prime duty to do his bidding and enable him to fulfil his pledge. What joy is there in getting a kingship after insulting our parents and slaying Bharata, the embodiment of dharma?"
And he wiped with his hand the tears from Lakshmana's eyes. When Rama did this, Lakshmana grew calm for the affectionate magic of Rama's hand could work wonders.
17) SITA'S RESOLVE :
What took place in the inner apartments of the palace was not yet known to the town-people. But Rama for his part lost no time in preparing for forest life.
He went to Queen Kausalya to receive her blessings before leaving the city. Kausalya said to him again: "How can I stay in Ayodhya after you are gone? It is best that I go with you to the forest." Of course, she knew that her duty was to serve her husband in his old age and share his sorrow in Ayodhya. And yet her mind was now so confused by grief that she did not see things clearly.
But Rama would not hear of it and put her in mind of her duty to be with the heart-stricken old King in his sad solitude.
She recognised the justice of this counsel. She gave him her benedictions in sweet words diluted with the salt of broken tears. "Do as your father has decreed and return in glory." Rama put heart in her with a smile saying: "The fourteen years will pass quickly and you will see me back."
The poet says that, as Rama received his mother's benedictions, his bright face glowed with added effulgence. How truly he pictures the sublime loveliness that comes of a great renunciation that illumines one's being as with an Inner Light!
We saw that Rama left Sita and went to the King in answer to the message brought by Sumantra. Sita was expecting Rama to return in a chariot with the royal umbrella, followed by a great retinue. But now she saw Rama return alone, unattended, with none of the royal insignia. And she noted on his face the glow of some fixed resolve. Rama was thinking as he came how he could break to his beloved the news that his father had decreed that he was to go to forest.
"Something troubles the mind of my lord," thought Sita, "but what can anything matter so long as there is our love?" And she asked him: "What is the matter? Why do you look so strangely?"
Rama told the story briefly and then added: "Princess, my love, I can well imagine your sorrow at having to part from me and stay here. Janaka's daughter requires not my guidance to her duty. Be thoughtful of the comfort of the King and the three Queens, your mothers. Do not expect any better treatment than that given to the other princesses in the palace. Be respectful to Bharata who will be ruler and guard against any offence to his feelings. Your love for me, I trust, will not grow any less during this absence. I shall return from forest after these fourteen years. Till then do not neglect customary rites and ceremonies. Mother Kausalya in her sorrow will need your attentive care. Bharata and Satrughna are dear to me. You will look upon them as your brothers. Conduct yourself as befits your royal race and your own nature. Avoid extolling me so as to give possible offence to other good men. I must go to the forest today. Keep your mind steady and calm."
When Sita heard this unexpected speech, her love for Rama manifested itself as anger that he should for a moment conceive that she could consent to part from him and live in comfort in the palace while he was a homeless wanderer in pathless forests. "A fine speech you have made, knower of dharma. It is to me a strange doctrine that a wife is diverse from her husband and that his duty is not hers, and that she has no right to share in it. I can never accept it. I hold that your fortunes are mine, and if Rama has to go to the forest, the command includes Sita also, who is a part of him. I shall walk in front of you in the forest ways and tread the thorns and the hard ground to make them smooth for your feet. Do not think me obstinate. My father and mother have instructed me in dharma. What you tell me is totally opposed to what they have taught me. To go with you wherever you go, that is my only course. If you must go to the forest today, then today I go with you. There is no room here for any discussion. Do not think that I cannot bear forest life. With you by my side it will be a joyous holiday. I shall not be a source of trouble to you. I shall eat fruit and roots like you and I shall not lag behind as we walk. I have long wished to go to the woods with you and rejoice in the sight of great mountains and rivers. I shall spend the time most happily among the birds and flowers, bathing in the rivers and doing the daily rites. Away from you, I do not care for Heaven itself. I shall surely die if you leave me behind. I implore you to take me with you. Have pity on me. Do not forsake me now."
Beginning in anger, her speech ended in sobs. Rama explained to Sita that life in the forest was not as easy as she thought and set out at great length the difficulties and dangers and again insisted that she should not think of accompanying him.
Sita's eyes filled with tears. "Tigers, lions, bears, snakes none of them will come near me. They will flee from us at the sight of you. The sun, rain, wind and hunger and the spikes and thorny shrubs you speak of, I shall endure them all cheerfully. I am not in the least afraid, and on the other hand you may be certain life will depart from this body if you leave me here and go."
"When I was in Mithila," she said, "the Brahmanas and astrologers told my mother that I was destined to live in the forest for a while. Can I fulfil this prediction alone in the forest? Here is the opportunity for me to fulfil it in your company which will make the forest a garden of delight. For whom is forest life unpleasant? Only to those men and women who have not controlled their senses. You and I can be masters of our senses and miss nothing. I implore you, put me not away from you, for parting from you is more cruel than death."
There is a strength in supreme love which defies reason and laughs at death itself. And Rama suffered himself to be persuaded, partly because his love was great as hers and every passionate word she spoke found ready lodgment in his heart, and partly because he was confident of his ability to protect her. It was settled that Sita should accompany Rama to the forest.
She sent for the poor and gave away all her belongings and prepared herself for life in the forest. Lakshmana also decided to go with his brother and be of service to him in the forest, and Rama had to agree. The three went to take leave of the aged King.
In the streets and on the balconies were crowds of people looking on. Through the windows and from the terraces of mansions, men and women saw Rama and Lakshmana and the princess proceeding on foot, like the poorest in the land.
Filled with boundless grief and indignation, the people said to one another: "What kind of a King is this who sends so noble a prince to the forest? And their Sita walks a princess that should command the service of the royal chariot. Can she bear the heat and the rain of the forest? This is monstrous! We shall go then to the forest too. Let us gather up all we have and get away to the forest with these princes. The forest where Rama dwells shall be our Ayodhya. Let these houses here henceforth deserted be infested with snakes and rats. Let Kaikeyi rule over the ruins of Ayodhya. Wild beasts and vultures of the forest will come to stay here. This will become a forest, and the forest will become Ayodhya."
Rama heard people talking thus, but took no notice. At the entrance to Kaikeyi's palace, Rama saw Sumantra seated sorrow fully aside in a corner. Rama tenderly spoke to him: "The three of us have come to meet the King. Sumantra, crave leave for us to enter his presence."
Sumantra went, in accordingly to announce them to the King. What a sight met him there! Like the sun in eclipse, like an oven filled all over with ash, like a tank gone dry, the King was stretched flat on the floor, his glory gone and his face shrunken and distorted with anguish.
Sumantra, his voice trembling with grief and his hands clasped together, said: "The Prince waits at the entrance and seeks audience to take your blessings before he gives away all he has to the Brahmanas and starts for the Dandaka forest."
The King bade Sumantra let the Prince in.
Rama came and bowed to the King from a distance. As soon as he saw Rama, the King suddenly rose and rushed with out stretched arms to embrace him, but dropped in a swoon before reaching his son.
Rama and Lakshmana tenderly lifted him up and put him on the couch. "My Lord," said Rama, "we have come to seek your leave to go to I the forest. Vaidehi and Lakshmana too are going with me in spite of all I could do to make them desist. Pray give us your benedictions and leave to depart."
Dasaratha then said: "Rama, I am bound by the boons that I have given to Kaikeyi. But you are not so bound. Why do you not brush me aside and seize the kingdom by force?"
That had long been in the King's mind as the best and only solution of this cruel problem and came out now clearly in words.
But Rama said: "I have no desire for kingdom or power, father. May you reign for a thousand years more. My heart is now set on going to the forest and I am even now in readiness to start after receiving your blessing. When the fourteen years have passed I shall return and tender obeisance."
The King's faint hope, it was now clear, must be abandoned. "My son! Bring glory to our line of kings. Go, but come back unscathed. May danger flee from your path. Cling to dharma. You are unshakable in resolution. Firm and unchangeable is your will. But do not go away today. Spend but this night here with me. Let me fill my eyes with the sight of you. You can go away at dawn. Like one handling a live coal deceptively covered with ash, I gave the promise to Kaikeyi not knowing what was in her mind. I am now helpless and caught in her net. And you say, 'I shall fulfil my father's promise. I shall not let dishonor blot the name of my father. I shall give up the kingdom and go to the forest.' Where in the world can one find a son like unto you? I swear to you, I did not intend this great wrong."
Thus piteously spoke the King. It was Dasharatha's wish to die without losing, even in his last moments, the respect of Rama.
"Father, send for Bharata at once and fulfil the promise you have given to mother Kaikeyi. Do not be troubled by the thought that you are doing me a wrong, for I had no desire for the throne, and do not feel it a deprivation to be denied it. Untroubled by grief or doubt, have Bharata crowned and give him your blessings. Cast all grief aside. Shed no tears. Can the ocean dry up? So may you too not lose your balance ever, great father. My sole wish is to make good the word you gave. If I got all the wealth of the world, but falsify your word, what joy would that be to me? I shall spend my time happily in the forest. Where but in the forests can one find beauty or joy? Father, you are my God. I take it that it is God that sends me to the forest. When the fourteen years are over, you will see me again. Do not grieve. What profits it that I stay here a night longer and go tomorrow? Time is made up of a succession of tomorrows and one day is just like another. Inevitable sorrows do not become joys by postponement."
"Well then, send for the commanders," said the King to Sumantra, "and order them to get ready the chariots, elephants, horses and foot soldiers, to go with Rama to the forest. And along with the army send all the necessary stores for Rama to live with the Rishis of the forest. Let there be nothing wanting in men, money or things."
Poor Dasaratha imagined that he could make Rama's exile to the forest something like a royal tour affording a pleasant change from routine and enlivened by exchange of gracious hospitalities with the sylvan population.
As he spoke Kaikeyi's face paled with anger. She glowered at the King, and in a voice tremulous with scornful wrath she said:
"A good and generous monarch surely! You will give Bharata this kingdom after squeezing out of it all the good it holds, as one might offer in mockery an empty drinking vessel to a man dying of thirst! What pleasure or glory will my son have in ruling a deserted state?"
Dasaratha groaned in helpless chagrin and marveled at a cruelty that could stab a man already crushed under an intolerable burden. Angry words rose from the mouths of those around, for even the courtiers found this open heartlessness more than they could suffer in silence. Rama put an end to all recriminations by saying he would not agree to take paraphernalia incongruous with what was intended in forest life.
"Honored Lord," he said, "what use have I, who am departing to the forest to live on what sylvan nature yields, for an army or the glittering equipage of a royal pageant? After gladly renouncing the throne, what use have I for its restrains? Would it not be covetous folly, after having parted with the elephant, to burden oneself with the ponderous chain? Father, I have cheerfully relinquished my claim to the kingdom in favor of Bharata and his mother, and with it all the incidents of royalty. For my fourteen years of forest life I require nothing but bark garments such as Rishis wear and simple necessaries of forest life such as spades and baskets."
Hardly had Rama spoken these words when the unabashed Kaikeyi hastened to produce the forest dress! She had kept it ready and gave it herself without a blush to Rama. Then and there Rama dressed himself in bark. And in these garments be shone like a Rishi. Lakshmana too changed into bark dress, while Dasaratha watched all this in helpless anguish.
Then Kaikeyi brought a bark dress for Sita too. She received it and stood bewildered, for she had never worn such garments before and did not know how to change into them.
Approaching Rama, who stood there resplendent with divine effulgence, Sita said shyly: "Pray tell me, how does one put this thing on?" As Rama took up the bark dress and, wrapping it over Sita's silk, made a knot over her shoulder, the ladies-in-waiting wailed aloud and Dasaratha fell into a swoon.
When he regained consciousness, he loudly reviled Kaikeyi, but she only smiled scornfully. She surely was not responsible for Sita going to the forest. The princess sought her own pleasure by going to the forest with her husband and would not be dissuaded.
Lowering his eyes as he was leaving, Rama said: "Father, I leave behind my mother Kausalya, blameless and tenderhearted lady, bereft of her son in her old age. This sudden fate is bitter to her as death, but she consents to live only for your sake, to share your sorrow and console you. She is incapable of harboring an unkind thought towards anyone, and she has never before felt the pang of such poignant parting. Be kind to her when I am no longer here and, when I return after my long exile in the hope of putting my head on her feet, let me not hear that she has died of sorrow." Thus Rama spoke, unable to bear the thought of his mother's grief. As Rama went out speaking thus, Dasaratha could not endure the sight and covered his face with his hands.
He went to Queen Kausalya to receive her blessings before leaving the city. Kausalya said to him again: "How can I stay in Ayodhya after you are gone? It is best that I go with you to the forest." Of course, she knew that her duty was to serve her husband in his old age and share his sorrow in Ayodhya. And yet her mind was now so confused by grief that she did not see things clearly.
But Rama would not hear of it and put her in mind of her duty to be with the heart-stricken old King in his sad solitude.
She recognised the justice of this counsel. She gave him her benedictions in sweet words diluted with the salt of broken tears. "Do as your father has decreed and return in glory." Rama put heart in her with a smile saying: "The fourteen years will pass quickly and you will see me back."
The poet says that, as Rama received his mother's benedictions, his bright face glowed with added effulgence. How truly he pictures the sublime loveliness that comes of a great renunciation that illumines one's being as with an Inner Light!
We saw that Rama left Sita and went to the King in answer to the message brought by Sumantra. Sita was expecting Rama to return in a chariot with the royal umbrella, followed by a great retinue. But now she saw Rama return alone, unattended, with none of the royal insignia. And she noted on his face the glow of some fixed resolve. Rama was thinking as he came how he could break to his beloved the news that his father had decreed that he was to go to forest.
"Something troubles the mind of my lord," thought Sita, "but what can anything matter so long as there is our love?" And she asked him: "What is the matter? Why do you look so strangely?"
Rama told the story briefly and then added: "Princess, my love, I can well imagine your sorrow at having to part from me and stay here. Janaka's daughter requires not my guidance to her duty. Be thoughtful of the comfort of the King and the three Queens, your mothers. Do not expect any better treatment than that given to the other princesses in the palace. Be respectful to Bharata who will be ruler and guard against any offence to his feelings. Your love for me, I trust, will not grow any less during this absence. I shall return from forest after these fourteen years. Till then do not neglect customary rites and ceremonies. Mother Kausalya in her sorrow will need your attentive care. Bharata and Satrughna are dear to me. You will look upon them as your brothers. Conduct yourself as befits your royal race and your own nature. Avoid extolling me so as to give possible offence to other good men. I must go to the forest today. Keep your mind steady and calm."
When Sita heard this unexpected speech, her love for Rama manifested itself as anger that he should for a moment conceive that she could consent to part from him and live in comfort in the palace while he was a homeless wanderer in pathless forests. "A fine speech you have made, knower of dharma. It is to me a strange doctrine that a wife is diverse from her husband and that his duty is not hers, and that she has no right to share in it. I can never accept it. I hold that your fortunes are mine, and if Rama has to go to the forest, the command includes Sita also, who is a part of him. I shall walk in front of you in the forest ways and tread the thorns and the hard ground to make them smooth for your feet. Do not think me obstinate. My father and mother have instructed me in dharma. What you tell me is totally opposed to what they have taught me. To go with you wherever you go, that is my only course. If you must go to the forest today, then today I go with you. There is no room here for any discussion. Do not think that I cannot bear forest life. With you by my side it will be a joyous holiday. I shall not be a source of trouble to you. I shall eat fruit and roots like you and I shall not lag behind as we walk. I have long wished to go to the woods with you and rejoice in the sight of great mountains and rivers. I shall spend the time most happily among the birds and flowers, bathing in the rivers and doing the daily rites. Away from you, I do not care for Heaven itself. I shall surely die if you leave me behind. I implore you to take me with you. Have pity on me. Do not forsake me now."
Beginning in anger, her speech ended in sobs. Rama explained to Sita that life in the forest was not as easy as she thought and set out at great length the difficulties and dangers and again insisted that she should not think of accompanying him.
Sita's eyes filled with tears. "Tigers, lions, bears, snakes none of them will come near me. They will flee from us at the sight of you. The sun, rain, wind and hunger and the spikes and thorny shrubs you speak of, I shall endure them all cheerfully. I am not in the least afraid, and on the other hand you may be certain life will depart from this body if you leave me here and go."
"When I was in Mithila," she said, "the Brahmanas and astrologers told my mother that I was destined to live in the forest for a while. Can I fulfil this prediction alone in the forest? Here is the opportunity for me to fulfil it in your company which will make the forest a garden of delight. For whom is forest life unpleasant? Only to those men and women who have not controlled their senses. You and I can be masters of our senses and miss nothing. I implore you, put me not away from you, for parting from you is more cruel than death."
There is a strength in supreme love which defies reason and laughs at death itself. And Rama suffered himself to be persuaded, partly because his love was great as hers and every passionate word she spoke found ready lodgment in his heart, and partly because he was confident of his ability to protect her. It was settled that Sita should accompany Rama to the forest.
She sent for the poor and gave away all her belongings and prepared herself for life in the forest. Lakshmana also decided to go with his brother and be of service to him in the forest, and Rama had to agree. The three went to take leave of the aged King.
In the streets and on the balconies were crowds of people looking on. Through the windows and from the terraces of mansions, men and women saw Rama and Lakshmana and the princess proceeding on foot, like the poorest in the land.
Filled with boundless grief and indignation, the people said to one another: "What kind of a King is this who sends so noble a prince to the forest? And their Sita walks a princess that should command the service of the royal chariot. Can she bear the heat and the rain of the forest? This is monstrous! We shall go then to the forest too. Let us gather up all we have and get away to the forest with these princes. The forest where Rama dwells shall be our Ayodhya. Let these houses here henceforth deserted be infested with snakes and rats. Let Kaikeyi rule over the ruins of Ayodhya. Wild beasts and vultures of the forest will come to stay here. This will become a forest, and the forest will become Ayodhya."
Rama heard people talking thus, but took no notice. At the entrance to Kaikeyi's palace, Rama saw Sumantra seated sorrow fully aside in a corner. Rama tenderly spoke to him: "The three of us have come to meet the King. Sumantra, crave leave for us to enter his presence."
Sumantra went, in accordingly to announce them to the King. What a sight met him there! Like the sun in eclipse, like an oven filled all over with ash, like a tank gone dry, the King was stretched flat on the floor, his glory gone and his face shrunken and distorted with anguish.
Sumantra, his voice trembling with grief and his hands clasped together, said: "The Prince waits at the entrance and seeks audience to take your blessings before he gives away all he has to the Brahmanas and starts for the Dandaka forest."
The King bade Sumantra let the Prince in.
Rama came and bowed to the King from a distance. As soon as he saw Rama, the King suddenly rose and rushed with out stretched arms to embrace him, but dropped in a swoon before reaching his son.
Rama and Lakshmana tenderly lifted him up and put him on the couch. "My Lord," said Rama, "we have come to seek your leave to go to I the forest. Vaidehi and Lakshmana too are going with me in spite of all I could do to make them desist. Pray give us your benedictions and leave to depart."
Dasaratha then said: "Rama, I am bound by the boons that I have given to Kaikeyi. But you are not so bound. Why do you not brush me aside and seize the kingdom by force?"
That had long been in the King's mind as the best and only solution of this cruel problem and came out now clearly in words.
But Rama said: "I have no desire for kingdom or power, father. May you reign for a thousand years more. My heart is now set on going to the forest and I am even now in readiness to start after receiving your blessing. When the fourteen years have passed I shall return and tender obeisance."
The King's faint hope, it was now clear, must be abandoned. "My son! Bring glory to our line of kings. Go, but come back unscathed. May danger flee from your path. Cling to dharma. You are unshakable in resolution. Firm and unchangeable is your will. But do not go away today. Spend but this night here with me. Let me fill my eyes with the sight of you. You can go away at dawn. Like one handling a live coal deceptively covered with ash, I gave the promise to Kaikeyi not knowing what was in her mind. I am now helpless and caught in her net. And you say, 'I shall fulfil my father's promise. I shall not let dishonor blot the name of my father. I shall give up the kingdom and go to the forest.' Where in the world can one find a son like unto you? I swear to you, I did not intend this great wrong."
Thus piteously spoke the King. It was Dasharatha's wish to die without losing, even in his last moments, the respect of Rama.
"Father, send for Bharata at once and fulfil the promise you have given to mother Kaikeyi. Do not be troubled by the thought that you are doing me a wrong, for I had no desire for the throne, and do not feel it a deprivation to be denied it. Untroubled by grief or doubt, have Bharata crowned and give him your blessings. Cast all grief aside. Shed no tears. Can the ocean dry up? So may you too not lose your balance ever, great father. My sole wish is to make good the word you gave. If I got all the wealth of the world, but falsify your word, what joy would that be to me? I shall spend my time happily in the forest. Where but in the forests can one find beauty or joy? Father, you are my God. I take it that it is God that sends me to the forest. When the fourteen years are over, you will see me again. Do not grieve. What profits it that I stay here a night longer and go tomorrow? Time is made up of a succession of tomorrows and one day is just like another. Inevitable sorrows do not become joys by postponement."
"Well then, send for the commanders," said the King to Sumantra, "and order them to get ready the chariots, elephants, horses and foot soldiers, to go with Rama to the forest. And along with the army send all the necessary stores for Rama to live with the Rishis of the forest. Let there be nothing wanting in men, money or things."
Poor Dasaratha imagined that he could make Rama's exile to the forest something like a royal tour affording a pleasant change from routine and enlivened by exchange of gracious hospitalities with the sylvan population.
As he spoke Kaikeyi's face paled with anger. She glowered at the King, and in a voice tremulous with scornful wrath she said:
"A good and generous monarch surely! You will give Bharata this kingdom after squeezing out of it all the good it holds, as one might offer in mockery an empty drinking vessel to a man dying of thirst! What pleasure or glory will my son have in ruling a deserted state?"
Dasaratha groaned in helpless chagrin and marveled at a cruelty that could stab a man already crushed under an intolerable burden. Angry words rose from the mouths of those around, for even the courtiers found this open heartlessness more than they could suffer in silence. Rama put an end to all recriminations by saying he would not agree to take paraphernalia incongruous with what was intended in forest life.
"Honored Lord," he said, "what use have I, who am departing to the forest to live on what sylvan nature yields, for an army or the glittering equipage of a royal pageant? After gladly renouncing the throne, what use have I for its restrains? Would it not be covetous folly, after having parted with the elephant, to burden oneself with the ponderous chain? Father, I have cheerfully relinquished my claim to the kingdom in favor of Bharata and his mother, and with it all the incidents of royalty. For my fourteen years of forest life I require nothing but bark garments such as Rishis wear and simple necessaries of forest life such as spades and baskets."
Hardly had Rama spoken these words when the unabashed Kaikeyi hastened to produce the forest dress! She had kept it ready and gave it herself without a blush to Rama. Then and there Rama dressed himself in bark. And in these garments be shone like a Rishi. Lakshmana too changed into bark dress, while Dasaratha watched all this in helpless anguish.
Then Kaikeyi brought a bark dress for Sita too. She received it and stood bewildered, for she had never worn such garments before and did not know how to change into them.
Approaching Rama, who stood there resplendent with divine effulgence, Sita said shyly: "Pray tell me, how does one put this thing on?" As Rama took up the bark dress and, wrapping it over Sita's silk, made a knot over her shoulder, the ladies-in-waiting wailed aloud and Dasaratha fell into a swoon.
When he regained consciousness, he loudly reviled Kaikeyi, but she only smiled scornfully. She surely was not responsible for Sita going to the forest. The princess sought her own pleasure by going to the forest with her husband and would not be dissuaded.
Lowering his eyes as he was leaving, Rama said: "Father, I leave behind my mother Kausalya, blameless and tenderhearted lady, bereft of her son in her old age. This sudden fate is bitter to her as death, but she consents to live only for your sake, to share your sorrow and console you. She is incapable of harboring an unkind thought towards anyone, and she has never before felt the pang of such poignant parting. Be kind to her when I am no longer here and, when I return after my long exile in the hope of putting my head on her feet, let me not hear that she has died of sorrow." Thus Rama spoke, unable to bear the thought of his mother's grief. As Rama went out speaking thus, Dasaratha could not endure the sight and covered his face with his hands.
18 ) TO THE FOREST :
AFTER Rama left his father's presence with these words, the stricken King lay prostrated in speechless sorrow, and it was some time before he could muster his faculties sufficiently even to think.
When he recovered some strength, he muttered half unconsciously: "Surely must in a previous birth have inflicted hideous suffering to loving hearts. I must have torn calves from their mothers, children from their parents, husbands from their wives. How else could I suffer thus? And death does not come when we want it. And I have to endure the torture of always having before my mind's eye my godlike son deprived of his birthright and forced into the bark-garments of a hermit. O life, how bitterly you cling to those who would be rid of you! Rama has gone into exile and yet I do not die! Rama ... Rama ... Have you gone? ..."
A little later, his mind clearer, the King said: "Sumantra, get ready the chariot and take my sons and Janaki to the frontier of the kingdom."
Lakshmana touched the feet of his mother Sumitra and uttered the single word "Mother." She embraced him, kissed his head and said: "Your devotion to your brother has filled your mother's heart with pride and joy. It is your duty, child, to guard and serve Rama. Always stand in vigilant watch by Rama's side in the forest. Your elder brother is to you both preceptor and king. This is the dharma of our race. Go with my blessing, Lakshmana. In the forest, regard Rama as your father and look upon Janaki as myself and the forest will be to you as Ayodhya. Go cheerfully, my dear son, and God bless you."
In the Ramayana, Sumitra is a woman of few words and mature wisdom and great tact and infinite courage, full of faith, in whom 'hope shines like a fame when it has gone out in all others.' The tradition is that Sumitra knew Rama's divinity and the purpose of his incarnation and that this enabled her not only to comfort Kausalya but to see a holy ministration in Lakshmana's sharing Rama's exile.
Sumitra said: "Ascend the chariot, O Prince. God blesses you. Tell me where I am to drive, for the fourteen-year period has begun, my Prince."
Sita got up the chariot cheerfully. Kausalya had made up for her a packet of personal requirements. The shields, bows and arrows and other weapons of the two brothers together with pickaxes and baskets were placed in the chariot. Pickaxes and baskets are essential in the forest. Rama and Lakshmana ascended the chariot. Sumantra drove it forward.
Let us pause a while at this stage when Rama's forest life begins, and pray that we may be purified of our sins. Truth, courage and love are the gospel of the Ramayana to us. To give it to us was Rama born. We shall gain these gifts if we meditate on the Princes and Janaki in the bark habiliment as they left the city.
The crowds in the street cried to the charioteer: "Go slow, go slow. Let us have a look at Rama's face. Alas, Alas, who could send such children to the forest? How could their mothers endure this sorrow and survive? Look at Vaidehi's face. She is indeed blessed. And Lakshmana is happy to have such a brother to whom he can give devoted service. He is indeed a hero and a knower of dharma." So the people of the city talked among themselves as they followed the chariot. And their grief swelled like a flood.
Rama was saying to the good charioteer, "Faster, faster" The people were saying, "slow, slow." And the crowd became bigger and bigger. Sumantra managed somehow to take the chariot out of the press of the mourning town where, in addition to the loud sorrow of the crowded streets, the houses were full of mourning women and children.
The King stepped out of Kaikeyi's apartment and looked at the departing chariot. A long time he stood there watching the cloud of dust as though he saw in it the beloved form of Rama. When even this went out of sight, he fell down, moaning. Kausalya and Kaikeyi sat on either side.
"Do not touch me," said Dasaratha to Kaikeyi. "I hate the sight of you, sinful woman! Everything is at an end between you and me. I renounce you here and now."
"If Bharata agrees to your arrangements and accepts the kingdom," he said again, "he need not perform my obsequies, and even if he did, my departed spirit would reject his offering of waters. How can Rama live in the forest? Will he sleep on the bare ground with a stone or a log for a pillow? Will he eat fruits and berries?"
Thus the king went on lamenting helplessly.
Sometimes he would turn to Kaikeyi and say, "May you be happy in your success! Long may you live a happy widow."
Heart-broken and empty like one returning home from the cremation ground, he entered Kaikeyi's apartment by force of habit; then suddenly he said, "Not here. Take me to the dwelling of Kausalya."
And so they did, and there he lay waiting for his end.
At midnight, he said, "Kausalya, are you there? Touch me with your hand. My sight is gone with Rama."
Poor Kausalya did her best to comfort the King, but what comfort was there in her wounded heart to give? For as the slow sorrow-laden hours crawled from watch to watch, the cold night seemed to her a devouring flame, and the gentle moon fierce as the noonday sun.
To her thus sorrowing Sumitra said: "Sister, you have heard the Shastras and know dharma. Why should you grieve like this? It is your office to put courage in others, you should not lose heart yourself. Rama has gone to the forest for guarding the King's honor. You are indeed blessed among women, for you are the mother of a hero who has scorned a kingdom and preferred to uphold his father's honor. Why should you grieve for a son who fulfils a difficult duty to perfection? We should not feel sorry for one who walks in the path of his ancestors and wins undying fame. I am proud that Lakshmana has accompanied Rama. Janaki, though knowing well the hardships she has to face, has also gone with her husband. Rama's glory will shine like an undying lamp. This is no occasion for grief. His purity, his virtue shall be a shield and armor to them. He is so great and holy that the sunrays falling on him will not burn him and the wind that blows will caress him with its coolness. His pure frame, as he sleeps at night, will be embraced and protected by the moonbeams as an infant is by its loving mother. Shed all anxiety over your heroic son. No foe can en counter him and escape with life. Our Rama is endowed with all auspicious qualities. Your hero son will surely return to Ayodhya and ascend the throne. The Lord of the world, and no other, is Rama. Sita is with him, and Sita is no other than the Goddess Lakshmi. Rama will return and ascending the throne will fill with delight the kingdom which now laments his exile. You saw the grief of the citizens as they watched his departure. My heroic son, the devoted Lakshmana, armed with bow and sword, has gone with him to guard his person. No harm, no danger can approach Rama. You will see with your own eyes Rama returning after fulfilment of his vow. Believe me, Rama will return, beautiful like the full moon, and touch your feet with joy and devotion. You will then shed tears not of grief but of joy. Dear, dear Kausalya, give up your grief. You will see the three of them returning. You should console and encourage the other women in the palace and not stand broken-hearted yourself. Who else in this world stands firm by dharma like Rama? Is this a cause for grief? No, be proud of your son, Kausalya!"
Listening to Sumitra's words, Kausalya was somewhat consoled.
The people of the city followed Rama's chariot in a huge crowd. They tried to stop the chariot, shouting, "Do not go to the forest. Return to the city."
"I am going to the forest to uphold my father's, word," Rama said. "There is no time for sorrow here and you should not seek to hinder me."
But the people would not listen to him, and went in crowds after him shouting wildly: "Do not go to the forest, do not go to the forest!" Rama stopped the chariot and addressed them with his eyes full of love for them: "Citizens of Ayodhya, I know the love you bear for me. You will show it best by transferring it on my behalf, and at my behest, to my beloved brother Bharata. Nothing else will please me more. Bharata is good and noble, has all royal qualities and is fully worthy of love. So conduct yourselves as to please him. Young in years, he is old in wisdom and his heart is at once heroic and tender. He has the strength to protect you. He is your king, and you owe him loyalty and affection. I am going to the forest to fulfil my father word and the King has appointed Bharata as Yuvaraja. He is in every way fitted for that position. You and I alike should obey the King's commands.
You should go back and try to mitigate the sorrow of my father at parting from me."
Thus Rama spoke to them in kindly tones. But they loved him all the more because of this and would not be consoled. Some Brahmanas, old in years and excellent in virtue, looking at the chariot wept and cried: "Why, O horses, do you carry our Rama into the forest? We have heard it said that horses are sharp of hearing. Listen to us then and bring back our Rama."
Hearing these words of yearning from old Brahmanas, Rama stopped the chariot. The three descended from it and went forward walking.
The common people, leading citizens and wise elders, men of penance, why, even the birds on wings, tried to prevent Rama from going to the forest. The river Tamasa, says the poet, seemed to conspire with them, for now it flowed across his path. The chariot stopped on the riverbank. Sumantra unyoked and watered the horses and let them loose to graze.
Rama said: "Lakshmana, this is the first night of our forest life. Let us spend it on the bank of this holy river. Life in the forest holds no hardship, as you and I know. Look, the birds, the animals and even the trees seem to sympathise with us. The only pain is when we think of the grief of our parents in Ayodhya, though I feel reassured as I think of Bharata's nobility and goodness. He will assuredly tend our parents with true affection. Sumantra, go, look after the horses."
Then, Rama offered the evening prayers by the river and said: "Let us fast on this first night of our forest life, Lakshmana. Your presence by my side rids me of all care."
Lakshmana spread some grass on the ground for Rama and Sita to sleep on but he himself spent the night in vigil talking with Sumantra.
Long before dawn Rama rose from sleep and told Sumantra: "The citizens who have followed us, fatigued by their long journey, are fast asleep. I am deeply moved by their affection; but I cannot permit their love to force me to go back. Let us therefore, move on even now, while they are yet asleep."
The horses were harnessed and the chariot slowly crossed the river. Standing on the southern bank, Rama told Sumantra:
"If you take the chariot to the other shore, where the people are asleep, and drive it for a little distance towards Ayodhya and then bring it back to this side, we can proceed on our journey before they wake up. They will see the track of the chariot going towards the city, and thinking that we have returned home, may themselves go back. Unless you do this the crowd will go on following us."
Sumantra did this and, when the chariot returned, the three got into it again and proceeded southwards.
When he recovered some strength, he muttered half unconsciously: "Surely must in a previous birth have inflicted hideous suffering to loving hearts. I must have torn calves from their mothers, children from their parents, husbands from their wives. How else could I suffer thus? And death does not come when we want it. And I have to endure the torture of always having before my mind's eye my godlike son deprived of his birthright and forced into the bark-garments of a hermit. O life, how bitterly you cling to those who would be rid of you! Rama has gone into exile and yet I do not die! Rama ... Rama ... Have you gone? ..."
A little later, his mind clearer, the King said: "Sumantra, get ready the chariot and take my sons and Janaki to the frontier of the kingdom."
Lakshmana touched the feet of his mother Sumitra and uttered the single word "Mother." She embraced him, kissed his head and said: "Your devotion to your brother has filled your mother's heart with pride and joy. It is your duty, child, to guard and serve Rama. Always stand in vigilant watch by Rama's side in the forest. Your elder brother is to you both preceptor and king. This is the dharma of our race. Go with my blessing, Lakshmana. In the forest, regard Rama as your father and look upon Janaki as myself and the forest will be to you as Ayodhya. Go cheerfully, my dear son, and God bless you."
In the Ramayana, Sumitra is a woman of few words and mature wisdom and great tact and infinite courage, full of faith, in whom 'hope shines like a fame when it has gone out in all others.' The tradition is that Sumitra knew Rama's divinity and the purpose of his incarnation and that this enabled her not only to comfort Kausalya but to see a holy ministration in Lakshmana's sharing Rama's exile.
Sumitra said: "Ascend the chariot, O Prince. God blesses you. Tell me where I am to drive, for the fourteen-year period has begun, my Prince."
Sita got up the chariot cheerfully. Kausalya had made up for her a packet of personal requirements. The shields, bows and arrows and other weapons of the two brothers together with pickaxes and baskets were placed in the chariot. Pickaxes and baskets are essential in the forest. Rama and Lakshmana ascended the chariot. Sumantra drove it forward.
Let us pause a while at this stage when Rama's forest life begins, and pray that we may be purified of our sins. Truth, courage and love are the gospel of the Ramayana to us. To give it to us was Rama born. We shall gain these gifts if we meditate on the Princes and Janaki in the bark habiliment as they left the city.
The crowds in the street cried to the charioteer: "Go slow, go slow. Let us have a look at Rama's face. Alas, Alas, who could send such children to the forest? How could their mothers endure this sorrow and survive? Look at Vaidehi's face. She is indeed blessed. And Lakshmana is happy to have such a brother to whom he can give devoted service. He is indeed a hero and a knower of dharma." So the people of the city talked among themselves as they followed the chariot. And their grief swelled like a flood.
Rama was saying to the good charioteer, "Faster, faster" The people were saying, "slow, slow." And the crowd became bigger and bigger. Sumantra managed somehow to take the chariot out of the press of the mourning town where, in addition to the loud sorrow of the crowded streets, the houses were full of mourning women and children.
The King stepped out of Kaikeyi's apartment and looked at the departing chariot. A long time he stood there watching the cloud of dust as though he saw in it the beloved form of Rama. When even this went out of sight, he fell down, moaning. Kausalya and Kaikeyi sat on either side.
"Do not touch me," said Dasaratha to Kaikeyi. "I hate the sight of you, sinful woman! Everything is at an end between you and me. I renounce you here and now."
"If Bharata agrees to your arrangements and accepts the kingdom," he said again, "he need not perform my obsequies, and even if he did, my departed spirit would reject his offering of waters. How can Rama live in the forest? Will he sleep on the bare ground with a stone or a log for a pillow? Will he eat fruits and berries?"
Thus the king went on lamenting helplessly.
Sometimes he would turn to Kaikeyi and say, "May you be happy in your success! Long may you live a happy widow."
Heart-broken and empty like one returning home from the cremation ground, he entered Kaikeyi's apartment by force of habit; then suddenly he said, "Not here. Take me to the dwelling of Kausalya."
And so they did, and there he lay waiting for his end.
At midnight, he said, "Kausalya, are you there? Touch me with your hand. My sight is gone with Rama."
Poor Kausalya did her best to comfort the King, but what comfort was there in her wounded heart to give? For as the slow sorrow-laden hours crawled from watch to watch, the cold night seemed to her a devouring flame, and the gentle moon fierce as the noonday sun.
To her thus sorrowing Sumitra said: "Sister, you have heard the Shastras and know dharma. Why should you grieve like this? It is your office to put courage in others, you should not lose heart yourself. Rama has gone to the forest for guarding the King's honor. You are indeed blessed among women, for you are the mother of a hero who has scorned a kingdom and preferred to uphold his father's honor. Why should you grieve for a son who fulfils a difficult duty to perfection? We should not feel sorry for one who walks in the path of his ancestors and wins undying fame. I am proud that Lakshmana has accompanied Rama. Janaki, though knowing well the hardships she has to face, has also gone with her husband. Rama's glory will shine like an undying lamp. This is no occasion for grief. His purity, his virtue shall be a shield and armor to them. He is so great and holy that the sunrays falling on him will not burn him and the wind that blows will caress him with its coolness. His pure frame, as he sleeps at night, will be embraced and protected by the moonbeams as an infant is by its loving mother. Shed all anxiety over your heroic son. No foe can en counter him and escape with life. Our Rama is endowed with all auspicious qualities. Your hero son will surely return to Ayodhya and ascend the throne. The Lord of the world, and no other, is Rama. Sita is with him, and Sita is no other than the Goddess Lakshmi. Rama will return and ascending the throne will fill with delight the kingdom which now laments his exile. You saw the grief of the citizens as they watched his departure. My heroic son, the devoted Lakshmana, armed with bow and sword, has gone with him to guard his person. No harm, no danger can approach Rama. You will see with your own eyes Rama returning after fulfilment of his vow. Believe me, Rama will return, beautiful like the full moon, and touch your feet with joy and devotion. You will then shed tears not of grief but of joy. Dear, dear Kausalya, give up your grief. You will see the three of them returning. You should console and encourage the other women in the palace and not stand broken-hearted yourself. Who else in this world stands firm by dharma like Rama? Is this a cause for grief? No, be proud of your son, Kausalya!"
Listening to Sumitra's words, Kausalya was somewhat consoled.
The people of the city followed Rama's chariot in a huge crowd. They tried to stop the chariot, shouting, "Do not go to the forest. Return to the city."
"I am going to the forest to uphold my father's, word," Rama said. "There is no time for sorrow here and you should not seek to hinder me."
But the people would not listen to him, and went in crowds after him shouting wildly: "Do not go to the forest, do not go to the forest!" Rama stopped the chariot and addressed them with his eyes full of love for them: "Citizens of Ayodhya, I know the love you bear for me. You will show it best by transferring it on my behalf, and at my behest, to my beloved brother Bharata. Nothing else will please me more. Bharata is good and noble, has all royal qualities and is fully worthy of love. So conduct yourselves as to please him. Young in years, he is old in wisdom and his heart is at once heroic and tender. He has the strength to protect you. He is your king, and you owe him loyalty and affection. I am going to the forest to fulfil my father word and the King has appointed Bharata as Yuvaraja. He is in every way fitted for that position. You and I alike should obey the King's commands.
You should go back and try to mitigate the sorrow of my father at parting from me."
Thus Rama spoke to them in kindly tones. But they loved him all the more because of this and would not be consoled. Some Brahmanas, old in years and excellent in virtue, looking at the chariot wept and cried: "Why, O horses, do you carry our Rama into the forest? We have heard it said that horses are sharp of hearing. Listen to us then and bring back our Rama."
Hearing these words of yearning from old Brahmanas, Rama stopped the chariot. The three descended from it and went forward walking.
The common people, leading citizens and wise elders, men of penance, why, even the birds on wings, tried to prevent Rama from going to the forest. The river Tamasa, says the poet, seemed to conspire with them, for now it flowed across his path. The chariot stopped on the riverbank. Sumantra unyoked and watered the horses and let them loose to graze.
Rama said: "Lakshmana, this is the first night of our forest life. Let us spend it on the bank of this holy river. Life in the forest holds no hardship, as you and I know. Look, the birds, the animals and even the trees seem to sympathise with us. The only pain is when we think of the grief of our parents in Ayodhya, though I feel reassured as I think of Bharata's nobility and goodness. He will assuredly tend our parents with true affection. Sumantra, go, look after the horses."
Then, Rama offered the evening prayers by the river and said: "Let us fast on this first night of our forest life, Lakshmana. Your presence by my side rids me of all care."
Lakshmana spread some grass on the ground for Rama and Sita to sleep on but he himself spent the night in vigil talking with Sumantra.
Long before dawn Rama rose from sleep and told Sumantra: "The citizens who have followed us, fatigued by their long journey, are fast asleep. I am deeply moved by their affection; but I cannot permit their love to force me to go back. Let us therefore, move on even now, while they are yet asleep."
The horses were harnessed and the chariot slowly crossed the river. Standing on the southern bank, Rama told Sumantra:
"If you take the chariot to the other shore, where the people are asleep, and drive it for a little distance towards Ayodhya and then bring it back to this side, we can proceed on our journey before they wake up. They will see the track of the chariot going towards the city, and thinking that we have returned home, may themselves go back. Unless you do this the crowd will go on following us."
Sumantra did this and, when the chariot returned, the three got into it again and proceeded southwards.
(My humble salutations to Sreeman Chakravarti Rajagopalachari for the collection )
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