21. A MOTHER'S GRIEF
Sumantra and Guha stood watching the three figures as long as they could. When they disappeared from sight, they were plunged in sorrow and went back to Guha's town. After a while Sumantra returned to Ayodhya. As the charioteer approached the city, he found it desolate and devoid of the usual cheerful bustle of urban life. As soon as he crossed the fortress-gate and entered the city, his chariot was surrounded by a crowd eagerly asking: "Where did you leave Rama? How was he when you left him?"
"Dear people of Ayodhya," said Sumantra, "Rama and Lakshmana have crossed the Ganga. Ordering me to return home, they entered the forest on foot." A great cry of grief rose from the multitude and many cursed themselves and attributed the catastrophe to their own sins. On both sides of the streets, women stood as the chariot passed and cried: "Look at the car which departed with the princes and Sita and has come back empty."
Sumantra drove forward covering his face with the end of his upper garment, ashamed of himself. He stopped the chariot in front of Dasaratha's palace and alighted. There in front of the palace a great crowd had gathered. Women were saying, "How is Sumantra going to meet Kausalya and tell her that he left her son in the forest? How will she survive the report?" With increasing sorrow and confusion, Sumantra entered the Queen's apartment.
There he saw the King more dead than alive. In low tones, he spoke of Rama's message to the King who heard it in heartbroken silence. Then Kausalya, unable to control her wrath, addressed the King: "Here stands your minister who has returned from the forest after leaving my child to fulfil your command. Why are you silent? It was easy and pleasant to give boons to Kaikeyi. Why are you ashamed of it now? Did you not know that this would be the result of what you did? You have honored your word. You may be happy over that. But who can share my sorrow with me? I have to bear it all. My grief cannot be reduced by your pain. No convention binds you to feel or appear to be grieved for what you have deliberately done. Why are you silent? You need not refrain from giving expression to sorrow for fear of offending Kaikeyi, for she is not here. Surely you should inquire of Sumantra about Rama. Have you no humanity? Why do you try to suppress even natural feelings?" Her grief and love for Rama blinded her to the state of her husband's body and mind. Instead of lightening, she aggravated his suffering. Dasaratha opened his eyes and Sumantra reported duly Rama's message in his own words. Sumantra tried his best to console Kausalya. But she went on repeating: "Take me and leave me where Rama is. Young Sita is there with him facing the hardships of the forest. I cannot bear this hardships of the forest. I cannot bear this agony. Let me go to Dandaka and be with Sita."
Sumantra answered: "Queen, be brave. Banish this grief. Rama spends his time even more happily in the forest than he did in Ayodhya. He feels no sorrow. Lakshmana finds joy in the supreme job of dutiful service to the brother he loves. He is very happy. As for Sita, there in the forest, as here in the palace, she lives for Rama with every breath and knows neither fear nor sorrow. She spends her time as though she was a sylvan goddess and is as happy there as she was here playing in the groves and gardens of Ayodhya. The beauty of her face is still like the rising moon's. Like a forest fawn she lives there with care-free grace, spending the, golden hours with Rama by her side.
. Every sight and sound is a new source of joy to her and the theme of talk with Rama and Lakshmana. Walking barefoot, her feet are red like the lotus, and need no painting with henna. She walks in the forest as if she were dancing.
She only lacks the tinkling anklets to make it complete. All that I say is true. There is no need for you to grieve. The three of them are fulfilling their sacred duty and offering an object lesson to the world. They are making the King's word good. Their life will be remembered and praised forever. Why, then, should we grieve for them?" With such talk, Kausalya would be consoled for a while. But soon she would break down again and cry: "Alas, alas, Rama, my child." Her grief seemed redoubled when she saw Sumantra come back, leaving Rama in the forest.
JAI SRI RAM/JAI SITA RAM/OM SRI RAM JAYA RAM JAYA JAYA RAM.
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22. IDLE SPORT
22. IDLE SPORT AND TERRIBLE RESULT
Dasaradha had been driven ruthlessly by circumstances to an action which not only broke his heart but made him hate himself and deprived him even of self pity. The only way out of the dilemma of either breaking his plighted word or doing a great wrong to Rama would have been for the latter to disobey him and insist on his rights. But Rama placed his duty to his father high above all other things. And Rama was all the world to Sita and Lakshmana. So they had all gone together. To Dasaratha, agonising on his bed of pain in desolation and remorse, Kausalya spoke reproachful words. The stinging words in which Kausalya's sorrow found expression caused excruciating pain to Dasaratha, but she seemed to find some relief in giving vent to her feelings in this way. "Proud of having kept your word and happy in young Kaikeyi's approval and gratification, have you any thought for others? You have been my world and my god, my joy in this world and my hope for the next and you have forsaken me. My son, the light of my life, has been wrenched away from me and banished. I live here alone, old, helpless woman, without the love of my lord or the sight of my only son. Was ever a woman left more desolate? But you, are you not delighted with what you have done? It is enough for you that Kaikeyi and Bharata are happy. You need not entertain any fear that Rama will mar that happiness, even if he returned from the forest after fourteen years. He will not touch the kingdom once ruled by Bharata. The tiger does not touch the leavings of another animal's. Like a fish, eating its offspring, you have killed your own child." Touched to the quick, the King even in the intensity of his anguish turned to his wife with a humble prayer for forgiveness with clasped hands. "Have pity on me, Kausalya," he moaned. "You have been kind and forgiving even to strangers. Do have some compassion on your husband who has always loved and honored you and whose heart is broken by a sorrow which knows no remedy!" These piteous words and the sight of her husband in supplication and the memory of happier hours pierced the noble queen to the heart and she fell at his feet imploring forgiveness for unbecoming words forced out of her by grief. As the leaden hours crept slowly on, Dasaratha remembered something that had happened long ago and it aggravated had happened long ago and it aggravated the anguish of his heart. The King turned to Kausalya and said: "Are you still here, my dear? The fruit of one's action can never be escaped. I now endure the result of a great sin that I committed in the days that are gone. Men in their ignorance sometimes do great evils for the sake of some slight momentary pleasure. Then when the time comes, the price has to be paid. When I was young, I had the skill to use my bow against unseen targets aiming by sound only. For the pleasure of exercising this skill, I once killed an innocent man and committed a great sin. Listen, I shall relate to you that sad adventure. It was before you came to me. One night I went, out in my chariot to hunt on the banks of the Sarayu. It had been raining heavily and, from the mountainsides, the streams were running dyed with the rich colors of minerals and fresh soil. The birds were silent. The forest seemed asleep. I could take the aim by the ear and shoot, without seeing, a tiger or bear or other wild beast that might come to slake its thirst in the stream. I wanted to test this skill of mine. It was dense darkness. I waited for some wild animal to come. Then I heard a gurgling sound as of an elephant drinking. At once I aimed an arrow in the direction whence the sound came. Like a venomous serpent, swish went my dart and hit the object. But I was shocked to hear a human voice exclaim 'Alas! I am dead!' I heard the man cry again piteously, 'Who can be my enemy? Never have I done any harm to anyone. Who then could want to kill me thus as I was filling my pitcher with water? What could he gain by this? Why should anyone bear hate against one living his innocent hermit life in the forest? What is to happen to my old blind parents now, with none to look after them? O misery!' Horror-struck, I stood trembling in every limb. My bow and arrow slipped from my hands. I approached the place from where the voice came and I found a young ascetic lying on the ground with dishevelled hair, covered all over with blood and earth. Beside him lay an upturned pitcher. The look of his eyes was as fire. When he saw me, he cried, 'O Sinner that has killed me! Why did you aim your arrow at me that was taking water from the stream? My old blind parents are thirsty and are waiting for me in the ashrama, thinking that I would return with my pitcher filled. Why did you kill me? O God, my penances and my devotions have all gone to naught. My parents do not know that I lie here stricken and helpless. They will go on waiting for me and even if they knew it, what could they do, blind and helpless? Who are you? What! Are you not the King of Kosala? And so, you, the King, who should by right protect me, have slain me. Very well, O King, go yourself and tell them what you have done. Fall at their feet and beg for forgiveness. Else, their anger will reduce you to ashes. Go straight to the ashrama. Take that path there. Go at once and save yourself. But this arrow is a torture. Pull it out and relieve me of the pain before you go.' I knew that if I pulled out the arrow from his body, his pain would end indeed his body, his pain would end indeed, but so would his life in a gush of blood. My hand refused to do the deed. For a while I stood, not knowing what to do. Then, the young ascetic said: 'Do not hesitate. Do end my pain. My mind is now clear and I have calmed myself. Boldly pull out the arrow and release my life.' Gently I pulled the arrow out. The young ascetic turned on the ground, heaved a sigh and, with his eyes fixed on me, breathed his last. It is this crime of mine that is now pursuing me. The agony of those blind parents who were deprived by me of their son has come now for me to endure."
JAI SRI RAM/JAI SITA RAM/OM SRI RAM JAYA RAM JAYA JAYA RAM.
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23. LAST MOMENTS THE STORY OF
Dasaratha continued: "Listen, I shall tell you what followed. Having committed a sin and seeing the young ascetic die, I stood wondering what-to do next. Finally I decided that it was my duty and my interest to do what he advised me. I cleaned the pitcher, and filling it with fresh water, took it and went along the footpath he had pointed out. I reached his cottage and there I saw the old couple waiting for the return of their son. They sat there like two birds with broken wings shrivelled in body and unable to move. Both were blind. They were speaking to each other about the long delay of their son in fetching water from the stream. I was filled with terror as I slowly approached them. The old man, hearing my footsteps, mumbled: 'Why this long delay, my son? Quickly give me some water to drink. Your mother too is athirst. Were you making your pleasure in the stream? Was this the cause of your delay, son? Why are you silent? Even if your mother or I have offended you in any manner, you should not take it to heart. You are a perfect son and our only prop. We have lost our eyesight and you serve as our eyes. Indeed you are more than our life to us. Why are you still silent? Are you still angry. I trembled in fear when I heard the toothless old man talking thus. Gathering courage I began: 'O, holy one, I am Dasaratha by name, a Kshatriya, bound to obey and serve you, though not your son. Driven by my former karma, I have committed a terrible sin and stand in abject humility before you. I went to the riverbank for sport, hoping to shoot wild beasts. I thought I heard in the darkness an elephant drinking water. I aimed my arrow, as I am a marksman that can aim by sound as well as by sight. It was my misfortune and his fate that my arrow struck your son as he was filling his pitcher, with the gurgling I had mistaken for that of an elephant drinking. Thus, without intending it, I fatally wounded your beloved son. When I went to the spot and saw him rolling in blood with my arrow stuck in his breast, I cursed myself. I was filled with horror and stood not knowing what to do. At his request I pulled the arrow out to release him from the mortal pain. He is dead. I have told you the horrible sin I have committed. I throw myself at your mercy. I await your judgment.' The miserable couples were struck dumb by my dreadful tale about their son. Tears poured from their sightless eyes, and the old man said: 'King, your sin is indeed great. But it was done in ignorance. And you have come yourself to tell me your crime. So you shall live. Now take us both to the spot. Let us touch our beloved son with our hands and send him into Yama's keeping.' I carried them to the river bank where their son lay dead. They felt his body all over, cried and blessed his soul and performed the cremation. Then before ascending the funeral pyre and giving them selves up to the fire, they turned to me and said: 'This great grief you have brought about for us, you too, will endure in good time. You will die of grief parted from your son.' Saying this, they burnt themselves and their souls joined the gods. My sin has pursued me and I My sin has pursued me and I am now in its grip. My old crime is killing me now. As food prohibited by they doctors foolishly consumed by a sick man kills him, what that old father uttered in unbearable grief has now come true. I have sent my innocent son to the forest and, unable to bear the grief, I now enter Yama's abode. How else could these unnatural events occur? How else could I be thus deceived and betrayed? Even if I ordered Rama to go to forest, why should he obey my unjust command? Why should he insist on being exiled? It is the curse of that old blind couple, nothing else. Kausalya, I do not see you. My sight is gone. Death is fast approaching. Come nearer and let me feel you. All is over. The messengers of Yama are calling meThe messengers of Yama are calling me. Will Rama come? Shall I see him before I die? Oh, I am dying. The oil is all consumed and my light is going out! Ah Kausalya! Oh Sumitra!
His life slowly ebbed away and that night at some time unobserved by any, the King breathed his last. As described by Valmiki in the early pages of the epic, Dasaratha was one who had mastered all the Vedas and Shastras, was a farsighted person, the hero of many battles, the performer of many sacrifices, follower of dharma, a far-famed king with many friends and no foes, and one who had conquered his senses. His power was like Indra's. His wealth was like Kubera's. In statesmanship, he was like Manu. Fate had ordered that such a one should exile his beloved son and die of a broken heart, with none by him in his last moments but two faithful women stricken by himself with a common sorrow. Since the King had so often fainted and recovered, his death was not immediately noticed by Kausalya or Sumitra. They were weary, too, with grief and watching, and fell into a sleep of fatigue in a corner of the apartment. At dawn, the musicians and singers, whose duty it was to rouse the King from slumber, came to his bedchamber and played on instruments and sang the usual hymns. But they saw no sign of the King waking. The royal servants who attended to the King's morning needs waited long and wondered why he slept till so late. Then they made bold to enter the apartment and saw him lying dead. Soon the news spread and filled the palace with grief. The widows of the great Dasaratha cried like orphaned children, embracing one another in unavailing lamentation.
JAI SRI RAM/JAI SITA RAM/OM SRIRAM JAYA RAM
JAYA JAYA RAM.
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24. BHARATA ARRIVES
Kausalya clung to the King's body and cried: "I shall go with the King to Yama's abode. How can I live without my son and without my husband?" The elders and officers of the palace managed to separate her from the dead King and take her away. Then they discussed about the funeral rites. They could not be performed immediately, for Rama and Lakshmana had gone to the forest and Bharata and Satrughna were far away in their uncle's place. It was decided to send for Bharata and to keep the body immersed in oil till his arrival. The great monarch's remains were thus kept waiting for Bharata's arrival. Ayodhya, the city of splendor, was sunk in darkness and lamentation. Crowds of women met here and there and reviled Kaikeyi. There was anxiety in men's hearts. The crown prince had gone to the forest. Bharata too was far away. Anarchy was feared, for no one in those days could imagine a people going on without a king. After the long night had passed, the ministers, officers and elders assembled in the hall in the morning. Markandeya,
Markandeya, Vamadeva, Kashyapa, Katyayana, Gautama, Jabali and other learned men, with Sumantra and the other ministers, bowed to Vasishtha and said: "Sir, the night we have passed was like a century. The King is no more. Rama and Lakshmana are in the forest. Bharata and Satrughna are in far off Kekaya in their grandfather's house. Someone must forthwith be asked to take up the responsibility of rule. A land without a king cannot survive. Order will disappear, son will not obey father, nor wife her husband. The rains will hold back
After the long night had passed, the ministers, officers and elders assembled in the hall in the morning. Markandeya, Vamadeva, Kashyapa, Katyayana, Gautama, Jabali and other learned men, with Sumantra and the other ministers, bowed to Vasishtha and said: "Sir, the night we have passed was like a century. The King is no more. Rama and Lakshmana are in the forest. Bharata and Satrughna are in far off Kekaya in their grandfather's house. Someone must forthwith be asked to take up the responsibility of rule. A land without a king cannot survive. Order will disappear, son will not obey father, nor wife her husband. The rains will hold back. Thieves and robbers will range at will. There will be no mutual trust among people. Neither agriculture nor trade can flourish. Without a king, the land must lose its prosperity. The springs of ch
Without a king, the land must lose its prosperity. The springs of charity will dry up. Festivals and services will cease to be performed in temples. There will be no expounding of Shastras or epics, nor any listeners. People will no more sleep with doors open. Culture will decline and soon disappear. Penances,
vows, enjoyments, learning, all depend on the king's protection. The beauty of women will vanish. The sense of security will be lost. Men will eat one another up as, fish do. Cruelty and misery will grow apace and lay waste the land. For good to prosper and evil to be restrained, a king is essential." Thus Valmiki describes at length the dangers of anarchy through the mouths of leaders in that assembly. "It looks as if a great darkness has enveloped the land," they said. "Dharma is in danger. Let us forthwith secure a king." Vasishtha sent for tried messengers and said to them: "Start at once. Go straight and swift to Kekaya. See that you wear no sign of sorrow on your face or show it in your behavior. Bharata should not know that the King is dead. Tell him simply that the family preceptor and ministers want his presence at once in Ayodhya and bring him along with you with all the speed you may. Tell him nothing about Rama and Sita going to the forest or the King's death on account of grief. To avoid all suspicion, take with you the usual gifts of jewels and precious garments for presentation to the King of Kekaya." From this we can understand the meaning of what the Shastras and Kural say about Truth. Truthfulness should be such that it needlessly hurts no being in the world. The test for right conduct including truthfulness is harmlessness. This does not mean that truth is underrated. Soon the messengers were provisioned and equipped for the long journey and furnished with gifts of honor. Mounted on swift and sturdy horses, they sped past rivers and forests, up hill and down dale, and reached Kekaya, which was somewhere to the west of the modern Punjab, and found themselves in Rajagriha, its capital, where the Ikshvaku princes were residing in the palace of their maternal uncle. They decided to wait on the princes the next morning. The night the messengers arrived, Bharata had evil dreams and woke up in the morning filled with anxiety as to what they might portend. His face showed the state of his mind. His companions tried to entertain him with dance and mirth to make him forget his cares, but did not succeed. We still do not know all the secrets of nature and the telepathy of affection. Maybe, Dasaratha's mental anguish and death throes reached Bharata across space and caused him his bad dreams. He said to himself: "It seems to me that death is approaching my brother Rama or Lakshmana or myself. They say that an early morning dream does not fail to They say that an early morning dream does not fail to be fulfilled. And mine has been a terrible dream. I am full of fear. I know not what to do." Just then the messengers were announced. The King of Kekaya and his son Yudhajit received the envoys with due courtesy. They paid their respects to the King and that princes, then turned to Bharata and said: "The priests and ministers send you their blessings and request you to return at once to Ayodhya. They want us to convey to you that the need for your presence there is most urgent. Please touch for acceptance these garments and jewels to be given to your uncle and to the King as
be given to your uncle and to the King as gifts from the palace of Ayodhya." Bharata questioned the messengers after the welfare of all at home. The manner of his inquiry suggests that he had an uneasy premonition that his mother's headstrong and ambitious nature might have had something to do with this hasty summons home. "And is my mother, the haughty and irascible Queen Kaikeyi who
believes herself all-wise and must always have her way, is she in good health?" The messengers must have been at their wits' end for an answer. The best they could make was: "O tiger among men, all are well whose welfare is dear to you. Lakshmi, the goddess of sovereignty, whose abode is the lotus, woos you. Get into your chariot without loss of time." There was an enigmatic thought in this greeting, for according to them Bharata was to be installed on the throne. The prince took leave of his uncle and grandfather for returning home and preparations were made for his departure. The old king and Yudhajit collected rare and valuable things of their country to be sent as gifts to King Dasaratha and Prince Rama of Ayodhya. Bharata and Satrughna mounted their chariots and started with a big retinue towards Ayodhya. They travelled fast, unmindful of fatigue, and by forced marches reached Ayodhya on the morning of the eighth day. As he approached the city, Bharata's mind was filled with misgiving. Nothing seemed to be as it was before, and the air seemed heavy with disaster. He asked the charioteer: "Why does the city wear such a strange look? I do not see the usual crowds of people going in and coming out in the gardens outside the city. One used to see young men and women with bright, cheerful faces. But now they all seem sad." Bharata's chariot entered the city through the Victory Gate. The streets, houses and temples were bare and unadorned. The faces of the people looked drawn and famished. "Why are the musical instruments silent?" he asked. "Why are the citizens not decked with flowers and sandal paste? These are all bad signs. I cannot repress my anxiety." Inauspicious omens were seen everywhere. Bharata concluded that some great misfortune had overtaken the city and that was the reason why he had been so hastily sent for. He entered Dasaratha's palace. The King was not to be seen. His anxiety increased. He then entered Kaikeyi's palace. When she saw her son after a long absence, she jumped from her golden couch to embrace him. He bent down and touched her feet. She kissed his head and welcomed him with maternal blessings. "Did you have a good journey?" she asked. "Are your uncle and grandfather well? Tell me all about them." He answered: "The journey took seven days. All our people at Kekaya are happy and well. Grandfather and uncle send you their love. They have sent rich gifts for you, but these will arrive later. I have come in advance. The envoys hurried me,The envoys hurried me, saying there was urgent work demanding my presence here. What is all this about? I went to the King's palace to pay him my respects. He was not to be found there and here too his couch is empty. Perhaps he is with one of my senior mothers. I must go and see him and tender my respects." When Bharata, innocent of heart and unaware of what had happened, said this, the foolish queen intoxicated with a new sense of power answered: "My child, your father had his full share of the blessings of this life. His fame was great. He performed all the sacrifices enjoined by tradition. He was a refuge for the good. He has now entered the higher world and joined the gods."
On hearing this, Bharata fell down uttering a cry, his long arms stretched out on the ground. Rising, he looked at his father's empty bed and sobbed like a destitute orphan. The mighty hero threw his god-like frame on the earth and wept like a child in uncontrolled grief.
Looking at her son, who lay on the ground like a big tree fallen to the axe, Kaikeyi said: "Arise, O King. Stand up. It is not right for a king thus to mourn and roll on the ground. Honor and glory are waiting for your acceptance. You are to uphold the dharma and perform sacrifices in the way of your royal fathers. Your intelligence shines like the noonday sun. No misfortune dare come near you. Son, strong of limb and brave-hearted, stand up." Bharata's mind was immaculate, spotless. He did not see all that Kaikeyi had put in this her appeal! After lamenting long, he got up and said: "When I went to my uncle's house I had hoped that Rama's installation as Yuvaraja would come off soon and that on my return I would see the great festive ceremonies. How differently have things turned out! How am I to bear this calamity? No more shall I see my father's 'face. What did he die of? How did he get the illness? And I was not by his side when he lay sick! It was given to Rama to tend him in his last moments. How affectionate the King was towards me! If some dust settled on my body, he would wipe it with his hand. And how soft and pleasing was his touch! And it was not given me to serve him in his need. But mother where is Rama? Hereafter he is both father and preceptor to me. I must see him at once and kiss his feet. He is now my sole refuge. What was my father's last message to me? I want his very words." Kaikeyi's answer had to be consistent both with truth and her designs. She was pulled in contrary directions by her culture and her ambition. She found words which conveyed that the King did not think of Bharata in his last moments. She also wished to prepare him for the rest of the news. She said: "Your father breathed his last crying, 'Ha, Rama, Ha, Lakshmana, Ha, Janaki.' These were his last words." He died saying: "It is not given me to live to see Rama, Lakshmana and Sita return. Happy they who will see their return." Listening to this, Bharata gathered that Rama and Lakshmana too were absent from the Kings side. His grief increased and he asked Kaikeyi: "Where. Were they? What business took them away from our father's side during his last moments?" Hoping to pacify him, Kaikeyi said: "My son, Rama put on the garments of an ascetic and, taking Lakshmana and Sita with him, went to the Dandaka forest." Bharata's amazement now knew no bounds. He asked: "I understand nothing of what you are saying. What sin did Rama commit th
of what you are saying. What sin did Rama commit that he should undertake such expiation? Did be rob any Brahmana or cause bodily hurt to any innocent person or desire somebody else's wife? Why did he have to go to the forest? Who laid on him this penance?" In those days people went of their own will or were sent to the forest as a purifying punishment for such and other heinous crimes. Now Kaikeyi shaken out of silence by this tempest of questions came out with the truth foolishly hoping for the best. "Rama committed no crime. He neither robbed nor harmed anyone. And it was not in Rama's nature to cast eyes of desire at other people's wives. What happened was that, seeing that preparations were afoot for installing him as crown prince and regent, I approached the King for your sake and secured the fulfillment of two boons he had long ago granted to meUnable to bear this separation, your father expired of grief. Do not waste yourself in vain lamentations now. Think now what you should do. You know dharma. Your duty is to accept the burden of kingship. I did all this for your sake and you should accept the fruit of my action in the spirit in which I acted. The city and kingdom have come into your possession without your wanting or working for it. Following the injunctions of Vasishtha and other learned men, perform duly your father's obsequies and then prepare for the coronation. You are a Kshatriya. You have inherited your father's kingdom. Attend to what has fallen to you as your duty.
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