by Vanamali
He left behind a city in which life was frozen into immobility. The fires in all the hearths died down, for no one cared to attend to them. No food was cooked that day in Ayodhya, for no one could eat a morsel. Cows lowed piteously and refused to feed their calves. All shops remained shuttered and closed. No one could think of either food or recreation. Even the sun was obscured by clouds so that it appeared as if darkness had fallen over the city soon after Rama departed. The city of Ayodhya, which had been festooned and gay just that morning, appeared to be in deep mourning—the festive banners were fluttering forlornly in the wind, the garlands were torn and flowers scattered, clouds of dust rose up in the streets, and the citizens wandered about with sad faces, lamenting their cursed luck that had robbed them of their savior at the last minute. They cursed Kaikeyi, whom they perceived to be the root cause of the problem.
Dasaratha kept his eyes glued to the quickly vanishing chariot until at last only the dust raised by the wheels remained. He then turned and tottered back to the palace, refusing Kaikeyi’s help and leaning heavily on Kausalya’s arm. That whole night, the bereft parents lamented their lot until at last Lakshmana’s mother, Sumitra, came and gave wise counsel. She told them that they should be proud to have a son who was such a dharmatma, one who was bound to righteousness and was prepared to give up a kingdom so that his father’s word would be honored.
The next evening the charioteer Sumantra returned to Ayodhya at dusk. Dasaratha was anxiously waiting for information about Rama but the only news Sumantra could give him was that Rama had crossed the river at night and had asked him to return to the city. He believed that Rama had proceeded to the forest of Chitrakoota, and gave Dasaratha a message that had been given to him by Rama.
Both Kausalya and Dasaratha were greatly agitated on hearing this news and Dasaratha related a story from his youth, that he had once inadvertently killed a young ascetic in the forest as he was filling his pot with water at the river. Mistaking the gurgling sound for the sound of an elephant, Dasaratha had killed the boy with his arrow. The parents of the boy were blind and had no one to help them, and when they heard of this heinous act, they cursed the king that he, too, would meet his death in the agony of separation from his son. Thus saying, they gave up their lives.
After the grief-stricken king had narrated the entire episode to Kausalya and Sumitra, he fell into a swoon from which he never awakened. When the bards came to wake him the next morning, they found him dead. The consorts of the king now began wailing and lamenting their loss, and the entire city was immobilized with grief. The sages urged Vasishta to send for Bharata and Shatrugna immediately and install Bharata as king, for a land without a ruler would be easy prey for invaders. Messengers were forthwith sent to the land of Kekeya to recall the prince.
He who protects himself with the name of Rama can never be harmed by the denizens of the netherworld.
Hari Aum Tat Sat
Pithrubhaktaya Namaha!
CANTO IV
Bharata's Vow
Anyonyasadrishakarau!
Trailokyagrihadampathim!
Imau yuvam pranamyaham!
Bhajamyadhya krithartatham!
I bow to this divine couple
Who look like each other,
I worship them for fulfillment.
In the meantime all the citizens who were able to follow had raced after Rama’s chariot, determined not to be left behind. Rama tried his best to persuade them to return but they refused, so the three exiles alighted from the chariot and walked with them until they reached the banks of the Tamasa river. Here they all spent the night. A bed of leaves was made for Rama and Sita, and they slept while Lakshmana and Sumantra kept vigil. Waking well before dawn, Rama observed that the tired citizens were still fast asleep. He feared that they would keep urging him to return, so he summoned Sita and Lakshmana and asked Sumantra to drive them to the forest before the others awoke. Upon waking in the morning, the citizens were heartbroken to find Rama gone. Lamenting their lot they sadly traced their way back to Ayodhya.
The chariot, meanwhile, quickly crossed the boundary of Kosala and arrived at the banks of the Ganga, where the trio was met by the Nishada chief, Guha, who was delighted to meet the young princes and Sita. The tribal chief did all he could to host the royal three. That night was spent on the banks of the sacred river. At dawn, Rama woke and asked Guha to take them across the river. He asked Sumantra to return to Ayodhya, saying he preferred to proceed on foot. The charioteer was very unhappy to hear this and begged him to return with him, for the king had made him promise to bring him back, but he had no option but to obey Rama.
Rama said, “Sumantra, it is up to you to take care of my father. There is no one so devoted to our family as you. Please bring Bharata to the city immediately and then my father will feel better. Tell the king that I am not in the least unhappy at leaving Ayodhya and living in the forest. Sita and Lakshmana also are not unhappy. After fourteen years I shall return and take the dust off his feet. Convey my respects to my mothers and love to Bharata and Shatrugna. Sumantra, it is your duty to return and give what comfort you can to my aged parents. Please do not worry about us.” Reluctantly, with tears streaming from his eyes, the noble Sumantra returned to Ayodhya.
In the meantime Guha had arranged a boat and soon the three of them were rowed across the sacred river Ganga. From there they proceeded on foot, much to Sita’s delight. The next day they reached the hermitage of the sage Bharadwaja, picturesquely situated at a holy site—the prayaga, or confluence of the rivers Ganga and Yamuna. After spending a night at that delightful hermitage, they proceeded to the sacred hill of Chitrakoota, as directed by the sage. Rama was very conscious of his responsibility to Maithili (Sita), the dainty princess of Mithila, who was prepared to brave the dangers of the forest in order to be with him, and he tenderly helped her over the rough patches and cheered her spirits. She, on the other hand, was filled with delight at seeing all the wonderful plants and flowers of the forest, and exclaimed with joy at everything, pointing out many new things to Rama and asking him about them. Rama said, “O Lakshmana, please walk in front of the princess of Videha and clear a path for her so that her tender feet will not be hurt by the sharp stones and thorns. I will come after and guard her from the rear. If you see any beautiful flowers or fruits, please pick them for her.”
Lakshmana was delighted to do this service and soon Sita was loaded with bunches of flowers and fruit, so that she looked like a wood nymph. As they approached the region of Chitrakoota, made holy by the sages who lived there, Rama pointed out to Sita the various interesting things to be seen.
“Behold these trees, my love, heavy with fruits and nuts, this huge hive filled with honey, and all these delicious roots. We will never go hungry. Though you may not have the delicacies of the palace, you will feast on the abundance of nature. You shall sleep on a bed of fragrant grass and flowers and have the nightingale to sing a lullaby for you. You will be awakened by the cooing of the wood pigeons. Tell me, are they not more melodious than the bards of Ayodhya?”
Thus beguiling Sita with many interesting anecdotes, the party soon reached the holy mountain of Chitrakoota. Rama requested Lakshmana to build a hut of wattle for them, for he felt that this was the right place for them to live. Lakshmana made a beautiful hermitage for them and they lived comfortably and happily for about three months at this charming place. Sita and Rama roamed around the mountains hand in hand while Lakshmana kept watch. Tiny wild flowers carpeted the hillsides, and silver cascades of water tumbled down the rocks. One day Rama and Sita bathed in the Mandakini River and then relaxed on the banks, tired from their walk and swim. Sita leaned against a tree while Rama slept on her lap. At this time a curious incident occurred, one she would narrate to Hanuman long afterward. As Rama lay sleeping a sharp wind came along and whipped off her upper scarf. Just at that moment a crow flying by saw the beauty of her breasts and flew down and pecked at her rosy nipples, perhaps thinking they were ripe berri
es. Sita screamed and shooed it off, time and time again. Hearing her cries Rama awoke but did not realize the extent of her injury; he told her not to distress herself and went back to sleep. Again the crow swooped down and pecked her hard. Rama awoke when drops of hot blood fell on his face, and he realized this was no ordinary crow, but Jayanta, the son of Indra. Seeing Sita’s tearful face he angrily snatched a reed, muttered the fierce incantation of Brahma, and hurled it at the crow, who flew off in great fright. The potentized reed followed the crow to all the worlds and at last, in great terror, the crow returned to Rama and begged his forgiveness. As usual Rama could never resist anyone in distress, so he agreed to spare his life. But the reed, once discharged and made potent with the mantra, had to find a target; instead of killing him, it blinded the crow in his right eye. Rama then comforted his frightened wife, who was sobbing with pain and rage.
While the three exiles were having their adventures in the forest, the messengers sent by Vasishta brought the two princes, Bharata and Shatrugna, back to Ayodhya. As they entered the city they were surprised to see the gloomy faces of the citizens. They went first to the king’s apartments, but not finding him there, Bharata went to his mother’s abode. Kaikeyi rejoiced to see her handsome son. When he asked about the sorrowful looks of the citizens and the absence of his father, she told him the entire story, anticipating his joy at soon becoming king in his brother’s place. Bharata could not believe his ears and was amazed to see how little his mother knew him. “Surely my eldest brother, Rama, should be king, and not I,” he exclaimed.
Now Kaikeyi told him the whole story of the king’s promise and Rama’s exile, and waited expectantly for her son’s words of appreciation at his mother’s cleverness. She was shocked at his reaction. He jumped back as if stung by a wasp and exclaimed in horror, “Can you really expect me to rejoice at this news? Having deprived me of the two people I value most in life, my father and my brother, do you imagine I will seize the throne for myself and rejoice at my good fortune? O wicked woman! I cannot bear to call you “mother.” It was my misfortune to have been born in your womb. You have brought nothing but calamity on our race, and now you are bent on exterminating it. What possessed you to act in this insane fashion?” Having ranted and raved at his mother thus, Bharata rushed to Kausalya’s apartments, for he could not bear to look at Kaikeyi’s face.
Kausalya turned her head away when she saw him approach. He was totally bereft at this treatment and fell at her feet, reiterating his innocence. At last she was convinced of his ignorance of his mother’s plot and comforted him. Controlling his grief Shatrugna and he proceeded to perform last rites for their father.
The next day the sage Vasishta asked him to come to the court and urged him to accept the kingdom. Bharata vehemently declined the offer, saying he had decided to go to the forest to try to persuade his brother to return and take up his rightful heritage. When this news was spread abroad, the whole city decided to accompany him. A huge cavalcade consisting of elephants, horses and chariots, soldiers, and even the three dowager queens set out happily from the city, determined to persuade Rama to return. When they reached the banks of the Ganga, the Nishada chief, Guha, gave orders that they should be stopped from crossing the river, for he suspected some foul play on Bharata’s part. But when he realized that Bharata’s intentions were completely honorable, he allowed him to proceed. From there they went to the hermitage of the sage Bharadwaja, who apprised them of Rama’s whereabouts. The sage, with his extraordinary powers, or siddhis, then proceeded to feed the entire army in a rare and lavish manner to the amazement of all.
The next morning the entourage proceeded to Chitrakoota. Rama had been sitting outside the hermitage with Sita, beguiling her with his graphic descriptions of forest life, when he realized that the whole woodland was in a state of uproar. Birds were screaming and animals running about, and a cloud of dust could be seen rising in the distance. He asked Lakshmana to climb a tree and determine the cause of this disturbance. Lakshmana was horrified to see the approaching army with Bharata at its head, and thought Bharata had followed them with the intention of killing Rama, thus ensuring there would be no contender to the throne. He swore that he would kill him before he dared to approach. Rama pacified his impetuous brother and they awaited Bharata’s coming with some trepidation on Lakshmana’s part and full confidence on Rama’s.
Bharata’s eyes were so full of tears at the sight of his brother with matted locks and bark clothing that he stumbled and would have fallen had not Rama run forward and caught him in a tight embrace. Seating him next to him, Rama tenderly inquired about the welfare of his father and others. He was greatly upset to hear of the demise of his father. Bharata then begged him to return and take up the reins of government, for he was unfit for the task. Rama advised him to do his duty, as he himself had done, and return to Ayodhya and rule for fourteen years till his return. Bharata tried many methods to persuade Rama to return. He even said he would fast unto death unless Rama returned, but with his usual conciliatory and pacifying words, Rama persuaded the grief-stricken prince to do his duty. Then Bharata begged that he be allowed to stay in the forest in lieu of his brother but to this also Rama gave a negative reply and said that in this case there was no question of proxy. It is rare indeed to find such a noble soul as Bharata, especially in those times, when it was quite common for the younger brother to kill the elder and usurp the throne. If Rama was the soul of dharma, Bharata was in no way inferior to him and was the very soul of honor. The Ramayana is thus an inspiring narrative wherein every character vies with the other to sacrifice his own interest for the sake of the other.
In the meantime Vasishta led the royal ladies to Rama’s presence. Rama hugged his mother and bemoaned the loss of his father. Rama and Lakshmana then performed last rites for their father. Bharata was at last reconciled to the fact that he would have to play the role of prince regent, for that appeared to be the only way he could serve his beloved brother. From the many beautiful items he had brought for his brother, Bharata took out a pair of polished wooden sandals embellished with gold. These he put before Rama and requested him to kindly place his feet on them. He swore that he could never ascend the throne of his father, which rightfully belonged to Rama, but would place the sandals on the throne and serve as an instrument for carrying out the orders of his brother. He also swore that as long as his brother lived in the forest, he would also live outside the city wearing the bark of trees, with matted locks and subsisting only on fruits and roots as his brothers were doing. This he would do for fourteen years, at the end of which he would immolate himself if his brother did not return.
Rama embraced his noble brother and tenderly stroked his head as Bharata sobbed on his shoulder. He blessed him and told him that he would certainly return the moment the fourteen years were over and take up the reins of government. He then placed his holy feet on the sandals and stood for a few minutes in contemplation before removing them and giving them to his brother. Bharata placed the footwear on his head and circumambulated Rama thrice. He then walked away while Rama bade farewell to his mothers, for he could not bear to see his weeping mothers. Having paid obeisance to the elders and his guru, Rama walked into the hut, eyes filled with tears, for he could not watch them depart.
The royal party returned to a forlorn and bereft capital. The citizens wore gloomy expressions for they had failed in their endeavor. Having escorted his mothers back to the palace, Bharata took up residence at the village of Nandigrama, a few miles from Ayodhya. The golden throne of the kings was brought to Nandigrama and he placed the wooden sandals on the throne and bowed low before them.
He said to his ministers, “The kingdom will be ruled by me as a sacred trust till my brother returns. Hold the white umbrella of sovereignty over these sandals for they will rule and not me. Until I see his royal feet placed once more on these sandals, I will live like an ascetic.”
All those who had assembled applauded these noble sentiments. For the next
fourteen years Bharata lived a hermit’s life. Every day the ministers came from Ayodhya, also clad in bark. They bowed low to the sandals as they would before the king, and all matters of state were discussed before them. For fourteen years there was no sound of mirth or music in Ayodhya. The chariots were taken away and all the people walked, since Rama had to go on foot. Only the gardens surrounding the empty palace were kept watered and alive, in anticipation of Rama’s return. Meanwhile Rama had Sita and Lakshmana with him and they enjoyed the simple pleasures of a forest life.
Bharata was not even mentioned by Valmiki until Rama’s return, but we can imagine what a strict life he led, denying himself even the simplest of pleasures. With matted locks and wearing bark garments, he refused even the pleasure of eating good food. It is said that his only fare was a few grains of wheat soaked in water. He conversed with the sandals and reported everything to them, doing nothing without consulting them. It is impossible for us to even imagine such a character; such sacrifice and self-denial are not seen even in sages. No wonder Bharata has been extolled as a paragon of virtue!
An aura of gloom covered the ashrama after Bharata left. The tear-stained eyes of his brother haunted Rama. None of the three could forget the painful episodes connected with Bharata’s visit. The hermitage that had once been a scene of joy was now filled with sorrow. At the same time Rama noticed that the sages who lived in the other ashramas seemed to be troubled about something. When he inquired into the matter, he was told that rakshasas, who were living in their settlement, called Janasthana, had begun to harass them. The rakshasas were cannibals who made a practice of swooping down on the hermitages of the rishis and capturing many of the ascetics. Their leader was Khara and he was the cousin of their king, Ravana. Due to this harassment the sages decided to leave Chitrakoota.