The Ramayana

by Valmiki

  Lakṣmaṇa looked away, his eyes on the floor, as his mind seemed to swing between grief and happiness. His frowning face was as hard to look upon as that of a fierce and angry lion. He wrung his hands and shook his head, watching his brother out of the corner of his eye. ‘You seem perturbed about the violation of dharma and the doubts that may arise in the minds of others. This is most unlike you, Rāma. Such confusion does not become you.

  ‘How can a man like you, who stands so strong and proud in the dharma of the kṣatriya, sing praises of this thing called destiny. Fate is the refuge of the weak and the impotent. How can you grant the benefit of the doubt to those two wicked people? They pretend to follow the dictates of dharma when, in fact, they know nothing about it! The citizens will never accept anyone other than you being installed as the king’s heir! I feel only contempt for a dharma that makes even someone as resolute as you vacillate like this! It is your attachment to dharma that confuses you!

  ‘I cannot accept that all this happened because of fate. An explanation like that is for cowards, not for the brave! No capable man would ever be oppressed by the workings of destiny. And a real man would never allow fate to frustrate his aims. I will show you which is stronger, fate or manliness. The people will see that fate, which reversed your consecration, has been defeated by my courage.

  ‘My courage will turn back this fate which comes rushing headlong at us, like a rogue elephant that has broken his bonds and ignores its goad. Not the guardians of the three worlds nor all the gods together can prevent Rāma being crowned today, let alone our father! Those who plotted to banish you shall live in the very same forest for fourteen years. I shall destroy all the hopes that my father and Kaikeyī had of placing Bharata on the throne and depriving you of the kingdom. I am stronger than any fate and anyone who opposes me shall suffer the consequences!

  ‘When you retire to the forest after ruling for one thousand years, your sons shall be kings. The great sages have decreed the forest life for a king only after he has enjoined his sons to rule over the people as if they were their children. Rāma, if you feel anxious about losing the throne after you have gained it because the king may change his mind, have no fear. I will secure your position for you. I promise you this and may I never reach the world of the brave after my death if I prove untrue!

  ‘Have yourself consecrated with due ceremony. I shall hold off the mighty kings with my strength. Tell me which ones oppose you and this very day I shall see to it that they are deprived of their wealth, their families and their lives. Order me to bring the kingdom under your control! I am your servant!’

  Rāma wiped Lakṣmaṇa’s tears of rage and calmed him. ‘I am determined to follow my father’s orders. That would be walking on the right path,’ he said.

  By now, Kausalyā had realized that Rāma was not to be swayed. ‘How can a cow not go with her calf,’ she said, her voice thick with tears. ‘I will follow you wherever you go, my son!’

  But Rāma explained gently, ‘The king is being controlled by Kaikeyī. When I have gone, he will not survive if you, too, were to desert him. A woman cannot abandon her husband. It would be a cruel thing to do and is, therefore, impossible. Put that thought out of your mind. As long as my father, the ruler of the earth, is alive, so long shall you attend and care for him. That is the eternal dharma.’

  Kausalyā was somewhat comforted and agreed to stay with her husband. But her heart overflowed with sorrow as she blessed Rāma. ‘Go, my son, you have made up your mind. May good fortune attend you always!’ She tried to suppress her grief as she purified herself with water and invoked the blessings of the gods upon him. ‘May the sadhyas, the viśvadevas, the māruts and the great ṛṣis protect you. May you be protected by the Creator, by Bhaga, Pūṣa and Aryamā. May the seasons, the fortnights, the months, the years, nights, days and the minutes work for your benefit. May your learning and meditation and your adherence to dharma stand you in good stead always,’ chanted Kausalyā as she called upon each of the gods to look after her son during his time in the forest. She kissed him on the forehead, held him close to her breast and said, ‘Go in happiness, my son, and may you achieve your goals! I shall see you again when you return to Ayodhyā in good health, your aims accomplished, happy and firmly established in the royal palace.’

  She completed her blessings and her rituals but she could not bear to let him go and hugged him again and again, her eyes streaming with tears. Rāma touched her feet and then went to see Sītā, blazing with his own splendour.

  Chapter Five

  Rāma had to return along the main thoroughfare of Ayodhyā. It was still full of people whose hearts’ overflowed with love when they saw him. Meanwhile, the virtuous Sītā had heard nothing at all of what had happened and she thought constantly about her husband’s consecration. Being familiar with royal ceremonies and rituals, she had worshipped the gods and offered them thanks and now she waited for Rāma’s return.

  Rāma’s apartments were filled with joyous people but he entered quietly, his head down. Sītā rose at once when she saw her husband, growing anxious when she noticed that he seemed sad and careworn, his face beaded with sweat. ‘You seem so unhappy,’ she cried. ‘What could possibly have happened? Today is the auspicious day determined by the brahmins. Why do you appear so disheartened? Your face, normally as radiant as the moon, does not shine from below the royal canopy. Nor can I see eloquent bards and musicians singing your praises. The learned brahmins have not anointed your forehead with curds and honey as prescribed by the rituals. No one follows you in procession and the royal horses and ceremonial elephant, dark as a rain cloud, did not precede your chariot. Where is your throne that should be carried by a retainer? Everything is ready for the formal installation. How is it that your face is unusually pale and shadowed with sorrow?’

  ‘Sītā, my respected father has banished me into the forest,’ said Rāma in answer to her anxious questions. ‘You were born into a noble family so you are familiar with dharma and live by its rules. Listen, Sītā, and I will tell you how all this happened.

  ‘My father Daśaratha is a man of his word and long ago, he gave Kaikeyī two boons because he was pleased with her. Today, when everything was ready for the consecration and the king’s commands were being carried out, Kaikeyī recalled the boons. Even at a time like this, the king had to fulfil them because of dharma. Kaikeyī wants me to live in the Daṇḍaka forest for fourteen years and she wants my father to appoint Bharata heir in my place. I have come to see you before I leave for the forest.

  ‘Do not speak of me or of my virtues in Bharata’s presence because successful men do not like others being praised. Do not expect anything special from him because I am your husband. Be sure to stay within his circle of well-wishers. I must leave today to honour the promises of my elders, but you, dear one, must remain calm.

  ‘When I am in the forest, the home of sages, busy yourself with fasts and vows. Worship the gods at the appropriate times as prescribed and honour my father Daśaratha who is the king of all men. Place dharma before all else and take care of my mother Kausalyā who is now old and burdened with sorrow. And always show respect to my other mothers for they have loved me as much as my own. Treat my brothers like your sons, especially Lakṣmaṇa and Śatrughna, for they are dearer to me than my own life. Never displease Bharata for he is the head of our family and of the kingdom. Kings show favour to those who honour them and strive to serve them. They are not well-disposed to those that work against them. They even renounce their own sons who act against their wishes. But kings always welcome capable men, even if they are commoners.

  ‘Dearest wife, I am going to the forest. But you, my queen, must stay here and live in such a way that no one can criticize you. This is what I want you to do!’

  Sītā was a soft-spoken person who was worthy of affection and respect. But now she spoke to her husband with an anger that arose from her love for him. ‘Prince, a father, a mother, a brother, a son and a daughter-in
-law face the consequences of their own actions and of what their fate has in store for them. Only a wife shares the fate of her husband. It is clear to me that I, too, must go into the forest. In this life, Rāma, a woman follows neither her father nor her son, not her mother nor her friends, not even her own inclinations. She follows only her husband.

  ‘When you leave for the forest today, I shall walk ahead of you, crushing the prickly thorns on your path under my feet. Rid yourself of any anger or envy that you may have, as one throws away the water that is left after one has drunk from a cup. Take me with you, for I have never done anything wrong. A woman must be like the shadow of her husband’s feet, whether he lives in a palace or walks through the air.

  ‘My mother and father taught me how to behave in various situations. I need no advice on what I should do now. I shall live in the forest as happily as I lived in my father’s house, with not a care in the world, concerned only with my loyalty to my husband. I shall find joy in the fragrant, flowering forest as I care for you and live the life of an ascetic.

  ‘Rāma, you manage to protect all kinds of other people, why can’t you protect me? I can live on roots and fruits. I shall cause you no trouble at all. I long to see all the different kinds of trees, the rivers and the mountains and the lakes where the lotuses bloom and the swans and the water birds play. I have nothing to fear because you shall be by my side. I am happy just to be with you. I can enjoy these simple pleasures even for one hundred thousand years!

  ‘Rāma, my dearest, I could not bear to live in heaven without you. How can I possibly stay here when you have gone? I, too, shall go to the dense forest, filled with deer and monkeys and elephants, and live there as if it were my father’s house, close by you, my mind calm and serene. My thoughts are with you constantly and my heart overflows with love for you. I would die without you. Listen to what I am saying and let me go with you!’

  But even though Sītā begged and pleaded, Rāma, the best of men, who was devoted to dharma, had made up his mind to go without her. He began to enumerate the trials of life in the forest in an attempt to dissuade her.

  ‘Sītā, gentle one, you come from a noble family and you are familiar with the dictates of dharma. If you stay here and do your duty, you will set my mind at ease. Do as I say, for the forest is full of trials and tribulations. Listen, and I will tell you about them.

  ‘Give up the thought of coming with me. The forest is known for its hardships. I say this for your own good. I know that the forest offers no happiness and that difficulties abound there. It is not a pleasant place: mountain waterfalls roar like thunder and their noise is exaggerated by the roar of lions from their caves. When you are tired and have to sleep at night, it shall be on a bed of fallen leaves. You shall have to fast as much as possible, your hair shall be matted and you shall wear ragged clothes. The wind blows fiercely and the nights are dark. One is always hungry in the forest! Snakes of all shapes and sizes slide uncaring through the bushes. Even water snakes slither across forest paths, curving and winding like the rivers in which they make their homes. Gentle lady, moths, scorpions, insects and mosquitoes shall hover around you all the time. Thorny bushes will rustle their branches in your face and reeds and grasses shall toss in the great winds. See how unpleasant the forest is!

  ‘But enough of this! The more I talk about it the more I realize how many difficulties and dangers there are. The forest is not the place for you.’

  Sītā realized that Rāma was determined to go without her. Her face wet with tears, she said, ‘The horrors of living in the forest that you have just described seem like virtues to me. You will understand that only if you know how much I love you. Besides, I should go with you to respect the wishes of the elders. Rāma, if I am separated from you, I will die! No one can harm me, not even Indra, the king of the gods, if I am with you. You yourself have told me that a woman’s place is with her husband.

  ‘Apart from all this, there is something you should know. While I lived in my father’s house, I was told by brahmin seers that I would have to live in the forest. Ever since I heard this from those men who could read signs, I have been eager to go to the forest. That prophecy has to come true and its time has arrived. So, my dear, I can do nothing else but come with you.

  ‘I know that people who have not restrained their passions have a hard time in the forest. But, when I was a young girl, I heard a lot about life in the forest from a female ascetic. Since then, even though I have been living here in the palace, I have been curious to experience life in the forest. I am eager to leave now and the idea of looking after you in the forest appeals to me.

  ‘When we were married, the sacred texts recited by the brahmins declared that when a woman is given away by her father, she stays with her husband even in the lives to come. That is her dharma. I am yours now and I am devoted to you. I shall be with you even in death, so why can’t you take me to the forest with you? I shall be miserable without you. Take me with you to share your joys and sorrows. Otherwise, I shall kill myself by jumping into the fire, by drowning or by taking poison!’

  Despite Sītā’s many pleas, Rāma refused to change his mind. She wept hot tears that bathed the earth. Rāma tried hard to console her, but she was lost in her grief.

  Slowly, though, Sītā grew angry and said indignantly to Rāma, ‘How did my father, the king of Mithilā and the lord of the Videhas, get you, a woman disguised as a man, for a son-in-law! The world is wrong when they say that there is no one greater than Rāma who blazes like the sun! What could possibly have made you so depressed and frightened that you wish to leave me here, I, who have no other refuge! I shall cling to you like Sāvitrī clung to Satyavān.

  ‘I have never even thought about another man, unlike other women who bring shame on their families. Under no pressure at all, Rāma, you have decided to leave your wife with others, the wife you married as a young virgin girl and who has lived with you for so long! You are like an actor playing a role. You cannot go to the forest without me. I will go with you wherever you go, whether to the forest, to perform austerities or to heaven!

  ‘I shall feel no fatigue as I walk behind you on the forest paths, no more than if we were playing in our bed. Coarse grasses, reeds and thorny plants along the way shall feel as soft as the finest cotton if I am with you. When I am covered by the dust raised by the mighty winds, I shall think of it as the rarest sandal paste. And could the leaves that we lie upon in the forest be any softer than our finest rugs and exquisite bed linen? The roots and fruits that you gather for me, however few, shall taste sweeter than ambrosia.

  ‘I shall not give a thought to my father, my mother or my home, for I shall be enjoying the fruits and flowers. I will never cause you unhappiness nor place you in any danger. You must take me with you. My love for you makes it heaven for me to be with you and hell to be separated from you. If you leave me here, I shall drink poison because I do not want to fall into the hands of my enemies. I swear I will kill myself if you abandon me! If I cannot bear to be without you even for an hour, how will I survive ten years and then three more and then one after that!’

  Sītā wept long and piteously until she wore herself out. She clung to her husband and kissed him again and again. His many excuses to leave her behind had stung her the way a female elephant is stung by a hunter’s darts. Sītā let flow the tears she had held back for so long, like a tinder emitting sparks. Her bright tears fell from her eyes like water draining off the petals of a lotus. Rāma took her in his arms and comforted her.

  ‘Darling, I would not want heaven itself if it were to make you sad!’ he whispered, reassuring her. ‘And I fear nothing except the Creator! I know I can protect you, but I would never have taken you into the forest without knowing what you really felt. Since you are destined to live in the forest, I can no more be separated from you than a famous man from his celebrity! Dear lady, I shall walk on the path of dharma that has been established by the good men who have gone before. And you shall follow me as
Suvarcalā follows the sun!

  ‘Dharma demands that we obey our father and our mother. I could not bear to live for a moment ignoring my mother Kaikeyī’s wishes. I want to live in accordance with my father’s decree, for he stands firm in dharma and that dharma is eternal. Come with me and be my partner in the life I must lead! Go quickly and distribute your wealth to the brahmins and food to the hungry mendicants!’

  When Sītā realized that she was to go with her husband, she was overcome with happiness and began to distribute her wealth and personal belongings. Her mind was filled with her husband’s words and her heart was light as she gave away her jewels and her fine clothes.

  Chapter Six

  Rāma turned to heroic Lakṣmaṇa who stood beside him. ‘If you come with me to the forest,’ he said, ‘then who will take care of Kausalyā and Sumitrā? The mighty king, who showers the earth with his munificence like a monsoon cloud, has been caught in a web of lust. Kaikeyī will not treat the other queens well, now that she has gained the kingdom.’

  Lakṣmaṇa chose his words carefully as he replied. ‘Rāma, you will definitely be able to persuade Bharata to act honourably towards Kausalyā and Sumitrā. And Kaikeyī’s noble family has been granted a thousand villages for its maintenance. They can support scores of people. Let me walk before you with my bow and arrow, hewing a path for you with a basket and spade. Everyday I shall pick roots and fruits for you, the kind of food that is appropriate for ascetics. I shall stay wake while you sleep and you can enjoy yourself on the hills with Sītā while I do all that is necessary!’