by Vanamali
Ravana could not believe this story. He said, “I’ll go immediately to Janasthana and kill this man.”
Akampana replied, “I would not advise you to do so, my lord. Rama is invincible. He can destroy this universe and create a new one if he wants. He has command of all astras and weapons. You will never be able to defeat him in fair combat. But I can tell you a means by which you can defeat him. He has a wife called Sita, whom he loves dearly. She is his weak point. Her beauty is unparalleled in all the three worlds. Even the gods are bewitched by her charm. She is the daughter of King Janaka of Mithila. You will never be able to withstand her beauty. I suggest that you go to Dandaka and abduct her. If she is lost, Rama will not be able to live. He will pine away and die. This is the only way you can destroy him.”
Ravana’s eyes gleamed with green fire at the thought of adding another conquest to his harem. “Your idea is very good, O Akampana,” he said, “I will go to the forest of Dandaka tomorrow and capture this beauty for myself. As you know, I am a connoisseur of women’s beauty, so let me add another jewel to my collection.”
Ravana called for his golden aerial chariot, yoked to magic asses with the faces of fiends, and went to the ashrama of Maricha, son of Tataka, whom Rama had sent hurtling off for a few hundred miles in his very first battle, when he went to save the yaga of sage Vishwamitra. Maricha had now become an ascetic and was living a simple life at a place called Gokarna. He was honored that the king had come to visit him and paid him all respect.
Ravana did not waste time in idle talk. He came straight to the point. “My dear uncle,” he said, “did you hear that the entire rakshasa encampment at Janasthana has been totally decimated?”
Maricha was amazed that such a thing could have occurred and wanted to know how it happened.
“It was wiped out by a mere mortal—a man called Rama!”
At the name Rama, Maricha trembled like a leaf and began to perspire.
Ravana pretended not to notice and continued, “Evidently Rama seems to possess some sort of extraordinary powers or else this could not have happened. I hear that his wife, Sita, is amazingly beautiful. I wish to capture her and for that, I need your help. That is the only way to punish Rama.”
Maricha said, “My lord, have you offended or insulted someone? For it is clear that someone wishes to see your downfall. The person who suggested this to you is indeed your great enemy. Trying to steal Sita from Rama is like trying to extract a poisonous tooth from the mouth of a cobra. He is like a wild elephant who will crush you if you taunt him. Please do not attempt this foolish thing. I have had personal experience of his great strength, and that when he was only sixteen. What will he be like now? That is why I took to a life of sannyasa. I am old enough to give you advice and I have nothing to gain or lose from you, so listen to me and leave Sita alone. Let them live happily in the forest and be content with your own harem of wives. Do not lust after another man’s wife.”
Though Ravana was not put off by the tales of Rama’s valor, he valued the advice of Maricha and decided to give up his plan and return to Lanka.
The next day when Ravana was sitting resplendent on his golden throne and holding court, Shurpanekha rushed in with her tale of woe. Ravana was extremely noble looking and a hero of many wars. There was no end to his glories. He and his son, Meghanatha, had even defeated Indra, king of the gods. Ravana was the son of Vaishravas and the half-brother of Kubera, whom he had defeated, and from whom he had stolen the beautiful flying machine called Pushpaka, made out of flowers. He had obtained a boon from Brahma that he could not be killed by demons, gods, celestial beings, or beasts. In his arrogance he did not ask for immunity from humans, since he presumed they were not worthy of his might. His atrocities and inequities had become so great that at last the gods were forced to approach Brahma and ask for protection. Vishnu had appeared before the gods and agreed to incarnate as a human being in order to kill Ravana. This had happened just at the time when King Dasaratha was holding his great yaga for the sake of progeny, from which Rama, the seventh incarnation of Vishnu, was born as his son.
Shurpanekha now stood before Ravana and started howling like a mad dog about her bad luck. The story she told was totally different from the actual fact. She began with a burst of vituperative insults hurled at her brother.
“What sort of a king are you?” she shrieked. “You sit here indulging in wine and women, totally oblivious to your duties. Don’t you know that your outpost at Janasthana has been totally wiped out by a mere mortal called Rama?”
Ravana let her rant and rave for some time. Then he interrupted her, “Who is this Rama? What does he look like? What are his weapons?”
“Rama is the son of King Dasaratha of Ayodhya. He looks like the god of love incarnate but he is deadly in combat. He shoots forth arrows that are like cobras. He has a brother called Lakshmana who is as valiant as he and who is completely devoted to him. He also has a wife called Sita, a woman whose beauty is beyond compare. He loves her very much and she is devoted to him. She has one of the most captivating figures that I have ever seen. Her complexion is that of molten gold, her waist is slender and can be spanned by your hand, her breasts are full, and her hair is long and lustrous. Her eyes are like lotus petals and her beautiful hands have rounded, pink-tipped nails. There is no woman to equal her in all the three worlds. Seeing her, I thought she would make a perfect mate for you. I tried to capture her and bring her to you as my gift and this is what Lakshmana did to me. Rama was furious when I tried to capture his beloved wife and would have killed me, had I not been a woman. As it is he has maimed me for life. If you have any compassion for me, if you want to avenge the death of your people at Janasthana, if you want to own that beauty for yourself, then go immediately and kill those two and capture her for yourself.”
Ravana dismissed the court and pondered his sister’s words. He knew that Rama would be no mean match for him, but his heart beat fast at the thought of getting Sita for himself. At last his lust overcame his caution and he went again to Maricha’s ashrama. Maricha saw him coming and was filled with foreboding, but he masked his feelings and welcomed the great personage.
“What has brought you once again to this humble abode, my lord?” he asked.
Ravana replied, “I told you already about this mean creature Rama who killed my general and his forces at Janasthana, and mutilated my sister. Obviously he is a wicked fellow or else his father would not have banished him. Uncle, you are the only one who can help me now. My sister has pointed out that Sita is Rama’s weak point. If I capture her, he is as good as dead. Now this is where I need your help. I want you to take the form of a golden deer and go near Rama’s ashrama. You should frisk and frolic in front of Sita and beguile her so that she will ask Rama to catch the deer for her. You should then lead him far away from the hermitage so that Sita will be left alone. Then I will go and capture her. What do you think of my plan?”
Maricha shivered at the thought of invoking Rama’s wrath once again. His mouth had gone dry and he could hardly speak. At last he stammered out a few words, “My child, you are a king and you are surrounded by sycophants. They will speak only what is pleasing to your ears and not what is good for you. Rama is full of noble qualities. He is more powerful than Indra and Kubera. His wrath will surely fall on your head if you steal Sita. She is dearer to him than life. She will surely be the cause of your death. You are now the happy and powerful king of the rakshasas. If you want it to last, let Rama alone. You have many women in your harem, all equally beautiful. Why should you lust after another man’s wife?”
Ravana remained silent and Maricha thought he had almost convinced him, so he continued his story.
“I will tell you of my first encounter with Rama, when he was only a boy of sixteen. Once, when the sage Vishwamitra was performing a yaga, I was bent on disturbing it, so Vishwamitra brought Rama to protect his yajnashala. I remember him vividly. What a wonderful picture he presented, young and handsome with a huge
bow in his hands. But I thought he was only a boy and continued with my act of desecrating the yajnashala. For some reason Rama did not kill me but his arrow pierced me and carried me many miles away and dropped me into the ocean. A few years ago I had my next encounter with him, in the Dandaka forest. You know how we rakshasas love to eat the flesh of the rishis living in the forest. I had gone with two others, taking on the form of a deer, and we had killed many rishis before I saw Rama. I thought that I would gore him to death to punish him for what he had done to me. I went near and charged at him with lowered horns. He shot just three arrows at us and my companions died on the spot. Somehow I managed to escape. Since then I decided to turn over a new leaf and take to the life of a recluse. I live here alone in this forest and shun all company. I have given up eating flesh and killing people and live on only fruits and roots. I am old and tired and all I want is to be left in peace and do penance for my sins. The very mention of the name Rama frightens me out of my wits. If you persist in this foolish plan, both of us will surely die. As for the tragedy at Janasthana, I am sure Shurpanekha must have incited Rama’s wrath. By listening to her lies, you will come to a bad end.”
Ravana now gave up all pretence of trying to coax Maricha. He had made up his mind to go on with his suicidal plan. Fate was beckoning him to his approaching doom.
In an angry voice he said, “Maricha, you are overstepping the limits of decorum in talking to your king in this manner. I do not need any advice from you about what I should do. All I want is implicit obedience. Go immediately to Rama’s ashrama in the form of a golden deer and entice him deep into the forest. If Lakshmana remains behind to guard Sita, you should imitate Rama’s voice and cry in a loud voice, ‘Ha Sita! Ha Lakshmana!’ Sita will be frightened and send Lakshmana after Rama. At that time I will enter the hermitage and capture her. After having done this you can return to your own abode. If, however, you refuse to obey me, I will send you straightaway to the abode of Yama, god of death!”
Maricha was in a sorry plight but he realized he had no options. He knew he was doomed to die either way, so he thought to himself that it was better to die at Rama’s hands than at the hands of his wicked nephew. He said sorrowfully, “Ravana, I see that we are both doomed. If you capture Sita, remember, you will be capturing death in your arms. As for me this will be my third and last encounter with Rama.”
Ravana scarcely heard what he said. “Come! Let be us away,” he said. “I will deliver you to a place near the ashrama so that no time will be lost.”
He took Maricha in his aerial vehicle drawn by magic asses and they soon came to the vicinity of Rama’s ashrama.
The chariot landed and Ravana told Maricha to make haste and change his form.
Vasishta says:
“The entire universe is nothing but Pure Consciousness.
As it was and as it is.
Even when there is perception of forms and
Apprehension of notions and concepts,
That Consciousness alone exists.”
Hari Aum Tat Sat
Mayamareechahantre Namaha!
CANTO V
The Golden Deer
Lilashareeram ranarangatheeram
Vishwaikaveeram, Raghuvamsa dheeram!
Gambheeranatham jithasarvavadam!
Sri Ramachandram sathatham namami!
I bow to Sri Ramachandra, scion of the race of Raghu,
Who, though of playful form, could annihilate all enemies,
Who was invincible in battle and had a powerful voice.
Maricha changed himself into a most captivating deer, with a face like glowing topaz from which gleamed amethyst eyes. Its coat was golden with streaks of silver and glistened in the sun, and its dainty antlers sparkled as if set with gems. It had a long, curved neck and a tantalizing way of tilting its head at an angle to gaze sideways through beautiful lash-fringed eyes. It suddenly appeared on the lawn in front of the ashrama and frisked and danced about on hooves that looked like polished black onyx, casting long looks in Sita’s direction. At times it would pause and pretend to be nibbling at the grass, and at times it would step softly, as if afraid of being caught. The other deer grazing nearby sensed that this was no ordinary deer and ran away in panic; in his former days Maricha would have loved to eat one of them. He kept looking at the ashrama, for Sita was not outside. Just then she came out to gather flowers for their morning worship. The deer came close to her and stood still with bent head, as if grazing. The morning sun fell in golden shafts on its coat and it glowed like a flame. Sita stood absolutely still when she saw it. She could not believe her eyes. Never had she seen such a fascinating creature in all her days in the forest. Though her hand reached automatically to pick flowers, she could not avert her eyes from the little deer, who took care to see that it was always within her gaze. It did the most absurd things to beguile her. It pranced and frolicked and turned its long neck to look sideways at her. It appeared almost human in its enchanting ways. She ran forward to try to catch it, but it adroitly evaded her grasp and skipped a few feet in front of her. Again and again she tried to grasp it, but it skillfully avoided her. She tried to tempt it with bits of grass and leaves. Sometimes it would pretend to nibble at her offerings, but the moment her other hand came up to catch it, it pranced off like a filly with a tantalizing backward glance. She chased it round and round the lawn, forgetting the flowers she had come to pick; her flower basket had fallen to the ground and the blossoms were lying forlornly on the grass. At last she was quite dejected and called out to Rama and Lakshmana. Hearing her voice raised in appeal, both of them came running.
Raising her charming face to him, she said, “Rama, please capture this deer for me. Look how beautiful he is. Such an enchanting figure! I’ve never seen anything like it. I must have him for myself. Please catch him for me. He’s so clever that he has dodged every effort of mine to catch him, but I am sure you can do it.”
Lakshmana peered closely at the deer and said, “Brother, I am sure this is not a deer. This must be our old friend Maricha in disguise. Remember how clever he is in taking on the disguise of a deer in order to kill the rishis. This must be he. No ordinary deer could be so extraordinarily beautiful.”
Rama looked at Sita’s excitement and was moved. He had never seen her so excited. He could deny her nothing. Moreover, there was no doubt about it, the deer was indeed enchanting. He looked at her tenderly and said, “My love, I shall surely capture this deer for you if that is your wish.” Then turning to Lakshmana he said, “I think that your suspicions are correct and this deer could well be a rakshasa, but even so, it is my duty to kill it. Whatever it is, I must chase it, for Sita wants it and I can deny her nothing. If even a man like me should feel so attracted to this deer, then why not she? She loves all animals, as you know. I will either capture this deer alive, or kill it and be back soon. Please stay with Sita. Do not leave her even for a single moment. Be on the lookout for danger. I can sense danger, it is close by. I feel that some crisis is imminent in our lives. Guard Sita with your life, and I will return with the deer, dead or alive.”
He strapped his sword to his waist, took up his bow and quiver, and turned to smile reassuringly at Sita. She looked adoringly at him, sure that her beloved Rama would get the deer for her. As he reached the edge of the forest, he turned round once again to look at her. It was the last time he was ever to see her so happy. Her wide-eyed, excited look and enchanting smile were to haunt him for many months before he saw her again.
Rama turned toward the deer, which was prancing and cavorting just in front of him. Rama was not unduly worried; he was sure he would capture the deer very soon. He followed casually but looked around cautiously, for although Ravana’s aerial vehicle was well hidden and he could not see it, Rama could sense danger close at hand. Now the deer seemed to be playing some sort of game with Rama. It would come almost within his grasp and then dance away with a naughty look, as if to say, “Catch me if you can.” Rama began to feel impatient and a
lso to worry a little, for the day was wearing on and the deer seemed to be deliberately luring him deeper and deeper into the forest. Like the moon playing hide-and-seek among the clouds, the deer would appear for some time in front of his gaze and then disappear within the forest. At times it would turn and look at him with terror, at others it would stop as if totally exhausted and pretend to rest, but as soon as Rama stretched his hand to catch it, it would dart away like an arrow, looking mockingly back at him. Finally Rama realized that he had come a long way from the ashrama. He also realized that this was no ordinary deer, but a rakshasa, as Lakshmana had suspected. He stood still for a while and it suddenly appeared before him. He rushed toward it and the animal fled in panic. This was the end. He decided to kill it since it seemed impossible to capture it. Fixing an arrow to his bow, he let it fly. With unerring accuracy the arrow entered the body of the animal and split it in two. Maricha howled like a mad dog and fell to the ground, regaining his true hideous form. So Lakshmana was right, realized Rama, and this is indeed the wicked rakshasa, Maricha. Maricha’s life was ebbing fast and with his last breath he let out a cry. Imitating Rama’s voice perfectly, he called out loudly, “Ha Sita! Ha Lakshmana!”
Rama was deeply disturbed when he heard that cry imitating his voice. He realized that the whole enterprise had been a trick to lure him away from the ashrama and now this cry was no doubt to bring Lakshmana to his aid. All of a sudden he was terribly frightened and feared for the safety of his beloved. What if some harm should come to her? Of course he could depend on Lakshmana to guard her with his life, but this cry was most disturbing. He knew that Sita would be distraught with grief when she heard it, and perhaps she might even believe that he was in danger. He started to run back as fast as he could, but he was a long, long way from the hermitage.