by Tulsidas
And I, hearing these words, sit here and lament.
Thinking this, I do not insist
Or falsely exaggerate my love.
Yet I ask, by my love for you, that you honour our bond of mother and son,
And do not forget me.
(56)
May all the gods and ancestors, Lord,
Protect you as the eyelids do the eyes.
The period of your exile is the water, your dear kinsfolk the fish,
And you the compassionate upholder of dharma.
Keeping this in mind, make it so
That we all may live to greet you on your return.
May I take all your misfortunes upon me! Go in peace to the forest,
Leaving your people, your family and the whole town without their lord.
Today, the reward of everyone’s good deeds is exhausted,
And cruel fate has turned against us.’
Lamenting thus in many ways, she clung to Ram’s feet,
Regarding herself to be the most unfortunate of women.
Intolerable anguish pervaded her heart—
The magnitude of her grief cannot be described.
Ram raised his mother and held her to his heart,
And consoled her again with sweet and tender words.
At that moment, Sita heard the news
And rose, anxious and greatly agitated.
She went to her mother-in-law, paid homage to her lotus feet,
And sat down, her head bowed.
(57)
Her mother-in-law gave her blessings in gentle tones,
And grew even more distressed to see her extreme youth and delicate beauty.
Sita, her face lowered, sat lost in thought,
Accumulation of beauty, unblemished in her love for her husband.
‘The lord of my life wants to go to the forest,
Which of my meritorious deeds will let me accompany him?
Will it be with my body and my life, or with my life’s breath alone?
Fate’s intentions cannot be known.’
With her beautiful toenails, she scratched the earth,
Her anklets tinkled sweetly—as though, say the poets,
Overcome by love, they were imploring,
‘Let Sita’s feet never abandon us.’
Sita’s lovely eyes streamed with tears.
Seeing her, Ram’s mother said,
‘Dear son, listen. Sita is young and very delicate,
Dear to her father- and mothers-in-law, and to all our family and household.
Her father, Janak, is the jewel of earth’s protectors,
Her father-in-law, sun of the solar line,
And you, her lord, are the moon to the lilies of the sun’s dynasty,
And the abode of virtue and beauty.
(58)
And I, I have found a beloved daughter-in-law,
Beautiful, accomplished, virtuous and good-natured.
I have treasured her above all others with ever-increasing love—
My life’s breath resides in Janaki.
I have cherished her in many ways, like a celestial creeper,
Nurturing her with the water of my affection,
But just as she has begun to blossom and bear fruit, fate has turned against me—
There is no knowing what the outcome will be.
Leaving bed, chair, lap, or swing,
Sita has never set foot on hard ground.
I guard her like the life-giving Sanjivani herb,
And have never even asked her to trim the wick of a lamp.
This same Sita now wants to go with you to the forest.
What is your command, Raghunath?
How can a chakori, who takes delight in the nectar of moonbeams,
Turn her eyes towards the sun’s blazing face?
Elephants, lions, night-wandering demons,
And many other evil creatures roam the forest.
My son, how can a garden of poisonous plants
Suit the lovely Sanjivani?
(59)
For the forest, Viranchi fashioned tribal maidens, Kols and Kirats
Who know nothing of physical comfort and worldly delights.
They are by nature as hardy as insects that burrow in stone—
For them the forest presents no hardship.
Or then, the wives of ascetics are fit for the forest,
Who have, for the sake of penance, renounced all worldly pleasures.
Son, how will Sita live in the forest,
She who gets frightened by a monkey’s picture?
Is a young swan who wanders amidst the lovely lotus clusters of the divine Manas lake,
Fit to live on a pond?
Reflect upon this, and then, as you command,
I will instruct Janaki.
But should Sita remain home,’ his mother added,
She will be a great support to me.’
Raghubir, hearing his mother’s loving words,
Steeped in the nectar of grace and affection,
Spoke affectionate words full of discernment,
To console and comfort his mother.
He began to instruct Janaki,
Explaining clearly to her the virtues and faults of the forest.
(60)
He hesitated to speak to her in front of his mother,
But understanding the need of the moment, he said,
‘Princess, listen to my instructions,
And do not consider any other way in your heart.
If you want your own good and mine,
Listen to my words and remain at home—
You will fulfil my wishes and serve your mother-in-law.
In staying home, beloved, there is every kind of benefit.
To worship with reverence the feet of your mother- and father-in-law—
There is no other dharma greater than this.
Whenever Mother begins thinking of me,
And distracted by her love for me, forgets herself,
At such moments, relate to her old tales and legends
In your sweet voice, my beautiful one, and thus comfort and console her.
Sincerely and honestly I say to you and confirm with a hundred oaths—
It is only for my mother’s sake, lovely one, that I leave you at home.
This dharma is according to your guru and the Vedas,
And its fruit you will obtain without sorrow.
In the grip of their stubbornness,
Galav and King Nahush suffered every hardship.11
(61)
I shall make true my father’s word
And quickly come back, my wise and lovely one.
It will not take long for these days to pass,
So heed my advice, my beautiful one.
If, from love, my pretty wife, you insist on accompanying me,
You will find sorrow as the outcome.
The forest is cruel and exceedingly dangerous,
With terrible heat, and cold and rain and wind.
The paths have sharp grass and thorns and stones
And you will have to walk barefoot.
Your lotus feet are soft and beautiful,
And the road is difficult, the mountains huge.
The chasms and caverns, rivers, streams and torrents
Are impassable and deep, and terrible to behold.
Bears, tigers, wolves, lions and elephants
Roar so fearsomely that resolve and courage run away.
The ground will be your bed, the bark of trees your clothes,
And tubers, fruits and roots your food—
Even these you will not find always or every day,
But only in their proper season.
(62)
Night-wandering demons who eat men roam there,
Assuming deceptive forms of innumerable kinds.
The mountain water is extremely unwholesome,
And the travails of the forest are beyond all telling.
> There are huge serpents and terrifying wild birds in the woods,
And hordes of night-wandering demons who steal men and women.
Even the bravest are terrified at the thought of the forest,
And you, my doe-eyed one, are by nature timid and afraid.
My graceful one with the gait of a swan, you are not meant for the forest—
Hearing of it, people will heap disgrace upon me.
Can a swan-maiden, reared upon the nectar of the waters of Manasarovar,
Survive in the salt sea?
Can a kokil that rejoices amongst mango groves laden with new fruit,
Ever be suited to a forest of thorny karila bushes?
Reflect on all this in your heart and remain home,
My moon-faced one, for there is great hardship in the forest.
She who does not follow with reverence
The advice of a sincere friend, guru, or husband,
Repents deeply later,
And comes to definite harm.’
(63)
Hearing her beloved’s sweet and charming words,
Sita’s beautiful eyes filled with tears.
His calm and soothing advice burned her
As a moonlit autumn night burns the chakwi.iii
The anguished Vaidehi could find no answer, thinking,
‘My noble, loving husband wants to abandon me!’
Determinedly holding back her tears,
The daughter of the earthiv took courage.
Throwing herself at her mother-in-law’s feet, and folding her hands, she said,
‘Forgive me, lady, my great presumption and want of modesty—
My beloved lord has given instruction
Most beneficial for me.
But looking into my heart, I see that there is
No grief in the world as great as separation from one’s beloved.
Lord of my life, abode of compassion,
Beautiful, wise, the giver of happiness and joy—
Without you, moon to the lilies of the Raghu dynasty,
Even the city of the gods would be like hell.
(64)
Mother and father, sisters and dear brothers,
Beloved kinsfolk, a crowd of friends,
Mother-in-law, father-in-law, guru, dear companions and one’s own people,
Even a son, handsome, accomplished and the source of joy—
Whatever the bonds of kinship and affection, my lord,
For a woman without her love, they are as fiercely scorching as the sun.
Body, wealth, house, land, city, kingdom,
For a woman bereft of her husband, these are but a horde of sorrows.
Luxury is like an illness, ornaments a burden,
And the world is like the torments of Yama’s hell.
Lord of my life, without you, there is nothing in this world
Anywhere to give me joy.
A body without life, a river without water—
Just so, my lord, is a woman without her man.
Lord, for me, all happiness is with you,
In looking upon your face, bright and unblemished as the autumn moon.
Birds and deer will be my kin, the forest my city,
And the bark of trees my spotless raiment of fine silk.
And with my husband, a hut of leaves will be
As delightful as a palace of the gods.
(65)
The benevolent forest goddesses and gods,
Will take care of me like my mother- and father-in-law.
My pretty mat of kush grass and tender new leaves,
With my lord, will be Kam’s own soft mattress.
Tubers, roots and fruit will be food as sweet as amrit,
And mountains like a hundred glittering mansions of Avadh.
Gazing every moment upon my lord’s lotus feet,
I will remain as joyous as a chakwi in the daytime.
You have recounted, husband, the many hardships of the forest,
Its numerous terrors, sorrows and torments.
But, abode of mercy, all these combined do not equal the tiniest part
Of the grief of separation from my lord.
Knowing this in your heart, wisest of all men,
Take me with you, do not leave me.
How more may I beseech you, husband?
You are compassionate and tender-hearted, and pervade the hearts of all.
If you keep me in Avadh for the period of your exile,
Know that my life’s breath will leave me,
Friend of the helpless, beautiful, and giver of joy,
The abode of kindness and love!
(66)
Walking along the path will not tire me,
When every instant I see your lotus feet.
In every way I will serve my beloved,
And take away all your fatigue of the road.
Seated in the shade of a tree, I will wash your feet
And fan you, my heart full of delight.
Beholding your dark body beaded with perspiration,
Gazing at the lord of my life, what time will I have to dwell upon hardships?
Spreading a bed of grass and leaves upon even ground,
This slave will massage and rub your feet all night.
As I constantly gaze upon your sweet form,
Hot summer winds will not hurt me, my dearest.
Who, when I am with my lord, would dare raise his eyes to look at me,
Like a hare or jackal on a lion’s bride?
Am I fair and delicate, and you, my lord, fit for the forest?
Is penance proper for you, and only luxury for me?
But since my heart did not break
Even upon hearing such cruel words,
Lord, it seems my base and miserable spirit
Can endure even the terrible grief of separation from you!’
(67)
So saying, Sita grew most distraught,
She could not say the word ‘separation’.
Seeing her condition, Raghupati understood in his heart,
‘If I insist that she remain behind, she will not survive.’
Said the compassionate lord of the sun’s lineage,
‘Abandon grief, and come with me to the forest—
Today there is no occasion to lament.
Quickly now, make your preparations to leave for the forest.’
With these loving words he consoled his beloved,
And touching his mother’s feet, received her blessings.
‘Return quickly to remove your subjects’ sorrow,
And do not forget this hard-hearted mother.
Will the circumstances of my life ever change, O God,
So that I may, with my own eyes, behold this lovely pair again?
When will that blessed day and auspicious hour come, my son,
When your mother, in this life, sees the moon of your face again?
When will I again say “my darling child”, “my beloved boy”,
“Raghupati”, “Raghubar”, “my son”,
And calling you, hold you to my heart,
To gaze, rejoicing, upon your form?’
(68)
Seeing his mother so distraught with love
And so agitated that she could not speak,
Ram consoled her in many ways—
The love in that moment is impossible to describe.
Then Janaki fell at her mother-in-law’s feet.
‘Listen, mother, I am the most unfortunate of women—
When it is time to serve you, fate has given me exile in the forest,
And refused to fulfil my heart’s desire.
Abandon your anguish, but do not let go your affection for me—
Fate is cruel, but I am not at fault.’
Hearing Sita’s words, her mother-in-law was deeply distressed—
How can I describe her state?
Again and again she clasped Sita to her heart,
&nbs
p; And, composing herself, instructed and blessed her.
‘As long as the streams of the Ganga and the Jamuna flow
May your state of wedded bliss, unbroken, endure.’
Thus did her mother-in-law give Sita
Countless blessings and advice.
And Sita, with great affection, bowed again and again
At her lotus feet and took her leave.
(69)
When Lakshman heard the news,
He came rushing, his face grief-stricken,
His body trembling, his eyes full of tears.
He clasped Ram’s feet, agitated by his love for his brother.
He could not speak, but gazed unblinking,
Helpless as a fish pulled out of water.
His heart was full of worry—‘Dear God, what will happen now?
All my happiness and the rewards of my past good deeds are gone forever.
What will Raghunath say to me?
Will he leave me at home or will he take me with him?’
Ram saw his brother, his hands folded,
Having broken all ties with body and home.
Then Ram, ocean of grace, love, sincerity and bliss,
Who knew well the rules of life and correct conduct, spoke,
‘Brother, under the sway of love, do not distress yourself,
But know in your heart that the end of all this is joy.
By simply following and observing with reverence
The advice of our mother, father, guru and master,
We obtain the full benefit of our birth—
Otherwise our birth in this world has been in vain.
(70)
Know this in your heart and listen to my instruction, brother—
Serve the feet of our mothers and father.
Bharat and Ripusudan are not at home,
And the king is old and his heart is full of grief over me.
If I go to the forest taking you with me,
Avadh will be without a master in every way.
Our guru, father, mother, subjects and family,
Upon them all will fall an immense weight of intolerable grief.
So stay and comfort them all,
Otherwise, dear brother, it will be a great mistake.
A king in whose realm the beloved subjects are unhappy,
Is most certainly deserving of hell.
Stay behind, dear brother, bearing this doctrine in mind.’