by Vanamali
Hearing this Sita and the two brothers also decided to leave. They proceeded to the ashrama of sage Atri and his wife Anasuya, who was famous for her chastity and for her tapas. They were welcomed with great love by the old man and his wife. She took Sita inside their hut and praised her for her fidelity and love for her husband, and her courage that had made her renounce the comforts of palace life for the rigors of life in the forest.
Sita, in turn, said, “Mother, if you only knew the wonderful qualities of my husband, you would not wonder that I preferred to be with him rather than live in the luxurious apartments of the palace.” Anasuya was delighted to hear this reply. She had done so much tapas that she was capable of giving boons, and now she caressed Sita fondly and told her to ask for any boon. Sita was surprised to learn that a woman ascetic had accumulated so much power by performing austerities.
Sita smiled and said, “Mother, what need have I for boons? Am I not the most fortunate woman alive? Have I not got the noblest living being as my husband?”
Anasuya was charmed by this reply. She brought forth all her garments and jewelry and adorned Sita like a bride. She also gave her specially prepared perfumes that would make her smell sweet and keep her fresh at all times. Then she made Sita recount the events of her swayamvara (choosing of a husband), which Sita did with great joy. By this time night was falling and the old lady blessed her and told her to go to her husband. Rama’s eyes glowed with appreciation when he saw his beloved, dressed as she had every right to be.
They spent that night at the hermitage. In the morning Atri asked Rama to go to the Dandaka forest, warning that the forest was infested with rakshasas who delighted in molesting rishis. He wanted Rama to protect the sages from harassment by these cannibals and allow them to continue their life of simplicity and renunciation. Rama willingly agreed to this and the three entered the dark and foreboding forest of Dandaka.
Rama asks:
“How can you say THAT is ‘not empty, not illumined, not dark?’”
Vasishta replies:
“Even as the uncarved image is latent in the block of wood.
The world, whether you regard it as real or unreal, is inherent in the Absolute.
Just as in a calm ocean you cannot say there are no waves, the Absolute is not empty of the world.
In truth, however, the world does not arise from the Absolute, nor does it merge in it.
The Absolute alone exists now and forever.”
Hari Aum Tat Sat
Dandakaranya-karthanaya Namaha!
BOOK THREE
Aranya Kanda
Book of the Forest
Raghupunghavaya Namaha!
CANTO I
The Forest Dwellers
Kausalyagarbha sambhutham.
Vedigarbhoditham swayam!
Pundareekakshalaksham!
Sphuradindeevarekshanam.
(Rama) Born of the womb of Kausalya,
(Sita) Born from the womb of the Earth,
(Rama) With eyes like a lotus petal,
(Sita’s) Gaze sparkling like the moon.
The forest looked dark and dreary from the outside, yet as they entered it they were amazed to find that it was filled with ashramas, in which lived many sages. The pleasant aroma of sandal and incense coming from the sacrificial fires assailed their nostrils, and even the wild animals walked about freely without fear. Rama and Lakshmana unstrung their bows, for they realized they had nothing to fear in this place. There were plentiful lakes and flowers and the trees were laden with fruits and nuts. The spiritual energy that permeated the place could be physically perceived by all three of them. Rama’s fame had spread before him and the sages welcomed him with all love and invited him to spend the night at one of the hermitages.
Next morning the three set out once again and penetrated deeper into the forest. It was only now that they understood why this forest had been called fearful. The ground was rough, trackless, and deserted. The trees were twisted with vines trailing their tentacles, ready to catch the throats of the unwary traveler. Bamboo thickets infested with snakes creaked in the dry, hot wind. Wild animals—tigers, wolves, and bears—roamed at large. The birds seemed to have been struck dumb, for they no longer chirped happily as they had at Chitrakoota. Even the lakes looked deep and forbidding with dark waters in which no lotuses grew. Sita crept closer to her husband and timidly grasped the end of his bark garment. He turned and gave her a reassuring look, holding his hand out to her. She clung to his strong arm and shivered at the ominous sounds coming from the thickets. He knew that this was not the type of forest she enjoyed and held her comfortingly close, sometimes carrying her across swamps and fallen trees. They passed many heaps of white bones, the remains of hermits who had been killed and eaten by the cannibals. They proceeded cautiously with Lakshmana in front and Sita clinging to Rama in the rear. Lakshmana hacked his way through the fierce undergrowth of poisonous roots and vines.
Suddenly an enormous figure sprang up in front of them and blocked their path. It held a trident on which were impaled the carcasses of a lion, deer, and an elephant, all dripping blood. A long, red, hairy arm reached out and grabbed Sita round the waist and held her high above the branches of a tree while she screamed and struggled. He then roared at them.
“Who are you who have been foolish enough to enter the dreaded Dandaka forest? You are dressed like rishis yet walk with weapons and a woman in your midst. My name is Viradha and I live by eating those rishis who are stupid enough to enter this forest. You shall provide my fare for today and this woman I shall make my wife.”
Seeing his beloved trembling like a leaf in the vile hands of the monster, Rama lost his courage for a minute. Tears welled in his eyes as he thought of the injustice he had wrought on the princess by bringing her here. But Lakshmana was undaunted. He sprang at the monster with upraised sword but Viradha laughed scornfully and said, “Desist from this foolishness, O stupid mortal. Know that I have a boon by which I cannot be killed by any weapon. So leave this woman with me and I’ll let you go unmolested.”
Rama was furious when he heard this and sent seven scorching arrows at the monster, which simply fell off his chest. The monster dropped Sita on the ground and rushed at Rama with trident upraised. The latter split the trident in two and Viradha lifted both brothers on his shoulders and marched off into the forest, leaving Sita bereft. She sobbed loudly and requested the monster to take her and leave her beloved alone. Rama and Lakshmana managed to chop off the monster’s arms. Thus maimed, he fell to the ground but they were unable to kill him.
At last Rama said, “Lakshmana, let us strangle him and bury him. That’s the only way he can be killed.”
As soon as he heard these words, Viradha said, “Ah, now I know who you are. You are Rama. You are the one who has been ordained to rescue me from this curse. I am actually a Gandharva who has been cursed by Kubera. Please hurry and bury me, then I can leave this dreadful body and regain my own form. After burying me you should proceed to the hermitage of the great sage Sharabhanga and receive his blessing.”
Rama and Lakshmana did as he told them and the Gandharva was released from his curse and returned to his heavenly abode. The shades of night were falling by now, so Rama took Sita’s hand in his so that she would not be frightened. She forgot her fatigue and they hurried toward the ashrama.
They saw a divine chariot waiting outside the ashrama, and soon saw Indra, king of the gods, coming out of the hermitage and leaving in the golden chariot. The old sage was waiting for their arrival, his heart filled with joy. In fact, it is said that he had refused Indra’s offer of taking him bodily to heaven, for he did not want to leave this Earth without having a glimpse of the Lord in the form of Rama. He asked Rama to bless him with his loving gaze while he shed his mortal frame and entered the blazing fire.
The next day all the rishis living in the neighborhood came with a supplication to Rama. They showed him a heap of bleached bones and told him that it belonged to hermits wh
o had been killed and eaten by the rakshasas. They begged him to rescue them from the constant threat of these creatures. Rama gave his assurance that he would kill the rakshasas, thus enabling the rishis to carry on their austerities in peace.
The three then proceeded to the ashrama of the sage Sudeekshna, who was expecting them, having known of their coming through his intuitive powers. He invited them to stay as long as they liked but the trio decided to proceed and check on all the other ashramas in the forest, as they had promised the sages.
After a good night’s rest, they set out once again penetrating deeper into the dark forest. As they walked on Sita spoke gently to her husband.
“My lord,” she said, “for a long time I have been wondering about the meaning of the word dharma. It is not always easy to know what one’s dharma is. To act without swerving even a hair’s breadth from it is possible only for one who is absolutely without desire. I am frightened, my lord, of the possible consequences of your promise to the ashramites to protect them from the rakshasas. They have done you no wrong, yet you are prepared to kill them. Is this not against the dictates of dharma? I do not think we should go further into this forest. If you see some rakshasas, your fingers will itch to string your bow, for that is the duty of a Kshatriya. But now you have adopted the garb of a hermit. Don’t you think you should live like one? Forgive me for presuming to speak to you like this, for I know that you are the very soul of dharma. It is only my fear of the unknown that has prompted me to speak.” Poor Sita, little did she realize that what she spoke was the truth and she herself was going to be victimized for Rama’s killing of the rakshasas.
Rama was pleased to hear this discourse on dharma by his dutiful wife. He replied lovingly, “O Janaki, you are the daughter of Janaka, one of the wisest men of the age. It is not surprising, therefore, that you should know all the nuances of dharma. But consider the predicament of these sages, my love. They have abandoned all worldly pleasures only for the sake of tapas. By their tapas the country is purified and all negativity is cleared. At present, they are unable to perform their austerities due to harassment by the rakshasas. They have begged me to save them, and since I am a Kshatriya and their king, don’t you think it is my duty to protect them? Even if they had not requested me, it would have been my duty to do so. Now, of course, after having given my word, I cannot think of breaking it. I know well that it is only your wifely concern for me that made you speak as you did and I thank you for it, but my dear, I cannot stand by and see these poor ascetics being devoured by cannibals, even if it brings their wrath on my head.”
Thus saying, Rama walked ahead, with Janaki following and Lakshmana in the rear.
Rama asks:
“Where does the Lord dwell and how can I reach him?”
Vasishta replies:
“He who has been described as the Lord is not very far.
He is the pure intelligence dwelling in the body.
He is the universe, though the universe is not he.”
Hari Aum Tat Sat
Janardanaya Namaha!
CANTO II
Panchavati
Chandanadrabujamadhyam!
Kunkumardrakuchasthaleem!
Chapalamkrithahasthabjam!
Padmalamkrithapanikam.
(Rama’s) Chest smeared with sandal paste,
(Sita’s) Breast with saffron powder,
His hand, splendid with the bow
And hers, with the lotus.
Months and years passed in happy companionship as the three wandered in the forest of Dandaka, going from ashrama to ashrama. Everywhere they were welcomed with delight, for Rama’s fame had spread to all the far corners of Bharathavarsha and everyone longed for a chance to see him and give him hospitality. At some places they stayed a few days, others for six months, and sometimes even a year. Fortunately they were not accosted by rakshasas at any of these places. Sita forgot her fears and wandered happily behind her husband, enthralled by the beauty of the peaks, the lakes, the birds, and the animals. She exclaimed in delight at many of the small things that escaped the notice of Rama and Lakshmana. She would pick a twig here and a leaf there and put a flower in her hair. She would peer curiously into the nest of a small bird and run after the deer. The beauties of nature were always a delight to her and she paid no heed to the hardships of such a life, nor did she miss the more civilized palace comforts. As she had told Anasuya, even the most luxurious life would have been torture to her without the presence of her beloved husband. To her nothing was as wonderful as walking hand in hand with her beloved, lying in the sun on the mountaintops with him beside her, allowing him to place a flower garland in her hair, or else simply sitting beside him, listening to his voice. Lakshmana, too, never seemed to miss his own wife and derived maximum joy from serving his two companions.
One day Rama had gone to the forest to hunt and Lakshmana had gone to collect firewood, leaving Sita alone. It was getting dark and cold and she began to feel fearful, so she decided to go after Rama. It was the first time she had ventured into the dark forest alone and she kept tripping over roots and getting caught in brambles.
She walked on and on crying out, “Rama! O Rama! Where are you?” It wasn’t long before tears began rolling down her cheeks and falling to the ground, but she heeded them not and continued walking. At last she heard his answering call and saw him resting beneath a tree. She ran toward him and was caught in a fierce embrace.
“Why did you come here, my darling?” he asked, holding her close.
“It was getting late and I did not find you, and I felt so frightened,” she whispered into his broad chest, where her face was smothered.
“Wasn’t Lakshmana there to keep you company?” he asked. “I particularly told him never to leave you alone.”
“He had gone to fetch firewood and I could not bear to be alone any longer.”
Rama did not have the heart to scold her and they started to walk back home, but the way was long and Sita was weary. Seeing her distress Rama took her in his arms, as one would a baby, and strode along with her arms entwined round his neck. It was a hot summer night and drops of perspiration rolled down his thighs to the ground. At last they reached the ashrama where Lakshmana was anxiously awaiting their arrival. Rama chided him gently for having left Sita alone.
The following week Sita wanted to go back along the path they had taken, since that had been her first and perhaps only solo venture into the forest. As they walked holding hands they noticed that some strange new saplings had grown up in those spots where Sita’s tears had fallen, and another type of sapling where Rama’s drops of perspiration had fallen. Within a few months, the saplings had grown into bushes and Sita was delighted to find that one set of trees had unusual looking green fruit and the other set bore reddish fruit, both of which tasted delicious. They had never seen such fruit before so Rama laughingly told Sita, “These green fruits shall henceforth be known as sitaphal.” Then Sita retorted that the reddish fruit should henceforth be known as ramphal. To this day these fruits are found in India by those very names.
Ten years thus flew by without any of them feeling the burden of time. However, to poor Bharata residing at Nandigrama, those ten years were like ten eons, for the burden of kingship lay heavily on his shoulders and he did not have the exhilarating presence of Rama to uplift his spirits.
Now Rama remembered his promise to Sudeekshna to visit his ashrama once again, so they returned to that place and the sage was very happy to see them. Rama requested him to direct them to the ashrama of the famous sage known as Agastya. Sudeekshna gave them directions and the next morning the three set out to pay their obeisance to Agastya. It was in the eleventh year of their exile that they crossed the Vindhya hills and walked down the southern slopes. They first came to the hermitage of Agastya’s brother, who told them many stories of Agastya’s wonderful exploits. He explained that Agastya was a very small man who had been doing tapas in the Himalayas. At one time the Vindhya hills became jealou
s of the Himalayas and began to grow so high that none could cross them. They blocked even the passage of the rain-bearing clouds to the north. Agastya came from the Himalayas and requested the Vindhya hills to allow him passage to go south. They bowed their heads low and allowed him to pass. He never returned north and the Vindhya are still waiting for him with bowed heads. Agastya, the brother said, had also subdued the might of the two demon brothers, Vatapi and llwala. After staying the night with Agastya’s brother, they proceeded to their goal.
All of them were excited at the prospect of meeting this eminent sage about whom they had heard so much. As they neared the ashrama, they noticed that the deer were tame and the bark garments of the ascetics were drying in the sun; perfume arising from the sacrificial fires suffused the air with fragrance.
Rama told Lakshmana to go and announce their arrival. Lakshmana did as he was told. Agastya was apparently expecting them and directed his disciple to bring them in immediately. Though the sage was of small build, he was aglow with the fire of intense tapas, and as he came toward them they were not even aware of his small stature. He welcomed them with great cordiality, and after finishing the fire ceremony, he gave them food and then presented Rama with many divine weapons given to him by the gods: the bow of Lord Narayana, the inexhaustible quiver of arrows given by Indra, and a sword with a silver scabbard that Narayana had used to fight the demons. With all humility Rama accepted the wonderful gifts though he did not know what use they would be to him in this forest life. Agastya, however, knew that the time was fast approaching when Rama would need all his weapons.