by Tulsidas
Check him if you wish him to be spared
And tell him about my glory, might and wrath.’
Lakshman said, ‘Muni, as long as you live,
Who else can speak of your great fame?
You, with your own mouth, your own deeds
Relate many times, in many ways.
But if you are still not satisfied, tell us some more.
Do not, by holding back your rage, suffer intolerable anguish.
You have taken the pledge of valour and are resolute and steadfast
And gain no glory by cursing and abusing.
Heroes perform their valiant deeds in war
And do not themselves proclaim them.
Faced with an enemy in battle,
Only cowards boast of their might.
(274)
You keep shouting out to Death
Summoning him, again and again, for me!’
Hearing Lakshman’s harsh words
Parashuram took his dreadful axe in hand.
‘Now let no one blame me—
This rude and sharp-tongued boy deserves to be killed.
Seeing that he is a child I have spared him all this while,
But now he is about to die!’
Kaushik said, ‘Forgive his offence—
Sages do not count the faults and virtues of children.’
‘Sharp is my axe, and without mercy my wrath,
And before me stands this sinner, my guru, Shankar’s, foe.
He talks back to me, and I have let him go and not killed him
Only out of regard for you, Kaushik.
Otherwise, I would have cut him into pieces with my cruel axe
And thus, with very little effort, discharged my debt to my guru.’
The son of Gadhi smiled and said to himself,
‘The muni sees only greenery, as does one who loses his sight in the season of rains—
Having vanquished other Kshatriyas easily, he is blind to the greatness of Ram.
This is a sword of iron before him, not a stalk of sugarcane—but even now the fool does not understand.’
(275)
Lakshman said, ‘Muni, who does not know of your amiable nature?
It is renowned throughout the world.
You have become free of your debt to your mother and your father—
Now remains your debt to your guru, and you are most anxious about that.82
It seems that you have put that debt on to our heads—
Many days have passed, and so the interest upon it has grown greatly,
So now call your creditor here,
And I will immediately give him the sum owed from my own purse.’
When he heard these sharp and caustic words, the muni hefted his axe.
‘Hai! Hai!’ cried out the gathering in alarm.
‘Bhrigubar,lxxiv you threaten me with your axe,
But because you are a Brahman, I spare you, enemy of princes.
You have never met great warriors, hardened by war.
Lord of the twice-born, you are mighty only in your own home.’
‘That is not proper!’ cried out all the people,
And Raghupati with a sign made Lakshman stop.
Lakshman’s words were like offerings of ghee
Into the fire of Bhrigubar’s wrath.
Seeing it increase,
The sun of the line of Raghu spoke words that, like water, quenched the flames of his ire.
(276)
‘Lord, have pity on this child,
Naïve and barely weaned, who still has milk upon his lips. Do not be angry with him.
If he knew anything of your might and glory,
Would this foolish child have dared to defy you like an equal?
When a little boy is naughty,
The hearts of his guru, his mother and his father become filled with joy.
So have compassion on him, knowing him to be but a small child and your servant,
For you are an even-tempered, amiable, wise and tolerant sage.’
Hearing Ram’s words, Parashuram cooled down a little,
But Lakshman said something again and grinned.
Seeing him laughing at him, he was filled with rage.
‘Ram, your brother is utterly sinful!
His body is fair, but his heart is black,
It is poison, not mother’s milk, that he has upon his lips!
He is by nature crooked, and resembles you not at all,
Nor does this little villain recognize me as death.’
Lakshman said with a laugh,
‘Listen, muni, anger is the root of sin.
Under its influence, men do wrong
And set themselves against the world.
(277)
I am but your servant, great muni,
So abandon anger now, and show compassion—
The broken bow won’t be mended by anger.
And do sit down, your feet must be aching.
If that bow is so dear to you, let us devise a plan:
Let’s have it mended by calling in a skilled craftsman.’
Lakshman’s words frightened Janak, who said,
‘Be quiet! Such impertinence is not good!’
The men and women of the city trembled and declared,
‘The younger prince is much too rude!’
Hearing those bold words again and again,
Bhrigupati’s body burnt with rage and he felt his strength diminish.
Speaking as though doing Ram a great favour, he said,
‘I spare him because he is your little brother.
His heart is dark though his body is fair,
Like a golden pot filled with poison.’
Hearing this, Lakshman laughed again,
But Ram looked at him reprovingly,
And he meekly went back to his guru,
Giving up his rude and defiant talk.
(278)
With great humility, in a voice that was sweet and gentle,
And folding his hands, Ram spoke.
‘Lord, you are by nature wise—
So give no ear to a child’s words.
Madmen and children have the same inherent nature,
And saints do not find fault with either.
Besides, he has not done any wrong,
It is I, lord, who is guilty of offending you.
Therefore, revered sir, whether it be grace or anger, death or bondage,
Direct it towards me, as you would to a slave.
Tell me quickly how your anger may be appeased,
Lord of munis, and I will do whatever is required.’
The sage replied, ‘Ram, how can my anger disappear?
Even now your little brother is looking mischievously at me.
If I have not set my axe to his throat,
How effective then is my anger?
The wives of kings miscarry
When they hear of the terrible doings of my axe.
My axe is here, and yet I see
My enemy, this young prince, still alive.
(279)
My hand does not move, though my breast burns with rage,
As though my axe, this killer of kings, has become dull and lazy.
Fate has turned contrary and changed my very nature—
For when has mercy entered my heart before?
Today, compassion makes me endure this intolerable annoyance.’
Hearing this, Sumitra’s son smiled and bowed his head.
‘Your compassion is like a gust of wind and in accordance with your nature,
You speak and it seems that flowers rain from a tree.
But if compassion so sears your body, muni,
May God keep your body when you are angry!’
‘Look, Janak, this foolish boy
Persists in wanting to make Jam’s realm his home!
Make haste and get him out my sight!
Though he looks small, this king’s son is wicked!’
‘Shut your eyes and you will see no one.’
Parashuram then turned to Ram and said,
Great fury in his heart,
‘You broke Shambhu’s bow, you rogue,
And now you dare instruct me!
(280)
Your brother utters these sharp and biting words with your consent
While you pretend humility with your folded hands.
Either give me satisfaction in single combat
Or give up being called “Ram”.
You enemy of Shiv, give up deceit and fight me,
Or I will kill you along with your brother!’
Thus Bhrigupati raved and ranted, brandishing his axe.
Ram smiled to himself, his head bowed, and thought,
‘The fault is Lakshman’s, yet the muni is angry with me.
Sometimes it is a great fault to be straightforward.
Everyone praises and respects one known to be crooked—
Even Rahu does not swallow the curved crescent moon.’
Aloud, Ram said, ‘Revered muni, abandon your wrath.
Your axe is in your hand, and this head of mine before you.
Do whatever will calm your anger, my master,
And know me to be your devoted follower.
How can there be war between master and servant?
Abandon your anger, best of Brahmans.
When he saw your attire, this boy said a few things,
But it was not his fault.
(281)
Seeing you holding axe, bow and arrows,
The child thought you were a warrior and grew angry.
Even upon learning your name, he did not recognize you
And answered you in the manner of our clan.
Had you come like a muni and a sage,
This child would have put the dust of your feet on his head, respected sir.
Forgive the mistake made in ignorance,
For a Brahman’s heart should be full of compassion.
What equality or rivalry, lord, can there be between us and you?
Tell me, where are the feet and where the head?
Mine is the short name, I am merely “Ram”
Yours is the long name that comes with an “axe”—with “parashu” preceding it, you are “Ram with the axe”.
Lord, I have but a single string to my bow
While you have all the nine virtues most sacred and pure,83
We are defeated by you in every way,
Brahman, so forgive our offence.’
Again and again Ram entreated Ram,
Addressing him as ‘muni’ and ‘noble Brahman’,
Till Bhrigupati said with a wrathful laugh,
‘You are as contrary as your brother!
(282)
You look upon me as a typical Brahman
But let me tell you what sort of Brahman I am—
My bow is my sacrificial ladle, my arrows the offering
And my wrath the fiercely blazing sacred fire.
Entire armies complete with all four divisions84 are the fragrant firewood;
And great kings have come as animals—
With this very axe have I killed them and offered them up as sacrifice.
I have performed countless such sacrifices in the shape of war, chanting the mantra of battle.
You do not know my might—
That is why, mistaking me for a mere Brahman, you speak with such disrespect.
By breaking the bow, your conceit has broken all bounds,
And in your arrogance, you stand as though you have conquered the world.’
Ram said, ‘Muni, reflect before you speak—
Your anger is very great and my mistake a small one.
The old bow broke the moment I touched it,
So what reason do I have for arrogance?
If I have shown disrespect by calling you a Brahman,
Hear the truth, Bhrigunath, and consider—
Before which other warrior in this world
Would I bow my head in fear?
(283)
If anyone challenges me in battle—
Gods, demons, kings and warriors,
Whether my equal in strength or stronger than me—
I will fight him with pleasure, even if he be Death himself.
One who takes on a Kshatriya’s body but shrinks from battle
Brings disgrace to his family.
I state this not as praise of my clan, but only as its natural character:
Those belonging to the line of Raghu are not afraid even of death in battle.
But the might and glory of those who belong to the Brahman line is such
That even he who fears no one, fears you.’
Upon hearing Ram’s sweet and profound words,
The veil lifted from Parashudhar’s mind.
He said, ‘Ram, take this bow of Ramaa’s lord in your hand
And draw it so that my doubts are destroyed.’
As Parashuram held it out to him, the bow went to Ram of its own accord
And Parashuram’s heart was filled with wonder.
He then understood Ram’s majesty,
And his body trembled with joy.
Folding his hands, he spoke,
His heart overflowing with love.
(284)
‘Hail, sun to the profusion of lotus flowers that is the clan of Raghu,
Hail, fire that consumes the dense and impenetrable forest of demons!
Hail, friend of gods, Brahmans and cows,
Hail, destroyer of pride, attachment, anger and delusion!
Ocean of humility, compassion and virtue,
Hail, master of eloquence,
Who bestows happiness upon his followers, and is beautiful in every part,
Whose body shines with the splendour of a billion bodiless ones!
How can I praise him with but a single tongue?
Hail, swan on the Manas lake of Mahesh’s heart!
In my ignorance I said much that was rude and unseemly—
Forgive me, brothers both, you in whom resides mercy.’
Proclaiming ‘Hail, hail, hail to the greatest of the line of Raghu!’
Bhrigupati retired to the forest to practise penance.
The wicked kings were frightened by their own lowly fears—
The cowards fled in all directions.
The gods sounded their drums,
And showered flowers upon the Lord.
The men and women of the city all rejoiced
As their fears and doubts disappeared.
(285)
Musical instruments began to play with great noise and clamour,
And everyone began to prepare for the happy and auspicious event.
Lovely women with beautiful eyes and voices as sweet as the kokil’s
Flocked together, singing sweet songs.
Videh’s delight defied description,
As though one poor from birth had found treasure.
Sita’s fears disappeared and she became as joyful
As a young chakori at the rising of the moon.
Janak paid homage to Kaushik Vishvamitra,
‘It is by your grace, my lord, that Ram broke the bow—
The two brothers have accomplished my purpose.
Tell me, respected sir, what I now must do.’
Replied the muni, ‘Listen, wise king of men,
Marriage was conditional upon the bow
And took effect the instant the bow broke.
Gods, men and Nagas—everyone knows it.
Even so, go and perform the wedding ceremony
According to the customs of your clan and family.
Consult the Brahmans, the elders and your guru,
About the rites and rituals prescribed in the Vedas.
(286)
Send your messengers to Avadh
And invite King Dasharath here.’
The king, r
ejoicing, said, ‘Very well, gracious one!’
And summoning his messengers, sent them to Avadh at once.
He then summoned the merchants and all the important men of the city,
And they came, all of them, and with reverence bowed their heads.
‘Markets, roads, homes and temples—
Decorate the whole town in every direction.’
Each one returned home rejoicing.
He then summoned his own servants and ordered,
‘Have a handsome pavilion erected.’
Most willingly they obeyed him, and joyfully left to carry out his command,
Sending for hosts of skilled craftsmen
Accomplished in the art of building pavilions.
Invoking Brahma the Creator, they began to work.
They fashioned pillars of gold in the form of plantain trees,
With leaves and fruits made of green emerald
And flowers of rubies the colour of lotuses.
Seeing this most rare and wonderful creation,
Brahma himself was confused.
(287)
They fashioned stalks of bamboo, all from green emeralds,
Straight and jointed, and impossible to distinguish from the real.
From gold they fashioned betel vines
With beautiful leaves, so wonderfully crafted that they fooled the eye.
These vines they entwined into ropes
With strings of pretty pearls braided into them here and there.
Rubies, emeralds, diamonds and turquoises
They cut, engraved and inlaid to fashion lotus flowers.
They made bees and birds of many colours,
Which hummed and called in the breeze.
They carved figures of gods upon the pillars,
All standing with auspicious gifts in their hands.
They drew sacred ornamental squares of many kinds,
All filled in with lustrous elephant pearls.
They carved wondrously beautiful mango leaves
From blue sapphires,
With gold mango blossoms and emerald fruits
Glittering on silken cords.
(288)
They wove beautiful garlands to festoon the doorways—
It seemed that the mind-born god of love himself had woven these snares of love.
They fashioned innumerable auspicious vessels,
And beautiful banners, flags, drapes and chowries.