by Tulsidas
Hearing this, Lakshman grew deeply distressed,
And shrivelled at these cool and calm words,
As a red lotus when touched by frost.
Overwhelmed by love, he could not reply,
But clasped his brother’s feet in anguish.
‘Lord, I am the servant, you the master—
If you abandon me, what will I do?
(71)
You have given me sound advice, Lord,
But because of my own cowardice, it seems impossible.
Only those noble, resolute men, who steadfastly uphold dharma,
Have the right to be instructed in the Vedas and moral doctrine.
I am but a child, Lord, nurtured by your love—
Can a young swan lift Mandar or Meru?
I know no other guru, mother, or father—
I say this sincerely, Lord, believe me.
Whatever bonds of love there be in this world,
Of affection and trust, of which the Vedas themselves do sing,
For me, master, they all are you and you alone,
Friend of the humble, who pervades all hearts.
Lectures on duty and moral conduct are given to one
Who holds dear fame, glory and greatness.
But one who, in heart, deed and word, is devoted to your feet—
Should he, gracious Lord, be abandoned?’
That ocean of compassion heard
The sweet and modest words of his beloved brother,
And, knowing him to be afraid because of love,
The Lord clasped him to his heart and reassured him.
(72)
‘Go, take leave of your mother,
And quickly return to go to the forest, brother.’
Lakshman was overjoyed to hear Raghubar’s words—
Great was his gain, and his immense loss disappeared.
With a glad heart he came to his mother,
Like a blind man who has regained his eyes.
He went to his mother and bowed his head at her feet,
Though his heart was with Raghunandan and Janaki.
Seeing him troubled and distracted, his mother asked the cause,
And Lakshman told her the whole story at length.
Hearing the cruel words, she grew afraid,
Like a doe who sees wildfire all around her.
Seeing this, Lakshman despaired, ‘This may all go wrong now!
This very love of hers will ruin all my plans!’
Afraid, he hesitated to take her leave—
‘Oh God, will she let me go with them?’ he worried.
Sumitra, thinking of Ram and Sita’s beauty
And gentle, courteous natures,
And knowing the king’s love, beat her head—
‘That sinful woman has dealt a mortal blow!’
(73)
But realizing that it was an unpropitious time, and composing herself,
The gentle and kind-hearted Sumitra sweetly said,
‘My son, Vaidehi is your mother now,
And Ram, who loves you in every way, is your father.
Avadh is there where Ram resides,
Just as it is day there where is the sun’s light.
If Sita and Ram leave for the forest,
You have no work here in Avadh.
Guru, father, mother, brothers, gods and master,
Should be served like your life’s breath,
And Ram is dearer than life itself, the life of our hearts,
Selfless and unselfish and a friend to all.
All those in this world most worthy of adoration and love,
Are revered only because of their association with Ram.
Knowing this in your heart, go with him to the forest,
And receive, my son, the reward of your existence in this world.
You will receive supreme good fortune,
And I, your devoted mother, along with you,
If your heart abandons all guile,
And makes its home at Ram’s feet.
(74)
In this world, that woman alone is considered blessed
Whose son is a devotee of Raghupati.
It is better she were barren, who considers herself fortunate
In a son hostile to Ram, for she has given birth in vain.
It is only for your sake that Ram is going to the forest—
There is no other reason for it, my son—
For the highest reward for all good deeds
Is innate love for Ram and Sita’s feet.
Desire, wrath, envy, pride and delusion—
Do not fall under their sway even in your dreams.
Discarding every kind of imperfection,
Serve Ram and Sita in thought, act and word.
For you there will be every safety and comfort in the forest,
For Ram and Sita will be with you as your father and mother.
And make sure, son, that Ram does not suffer
In the forest. This is my advice.
This is my advice, dear son, that with you
Ram and Sita may find happiness,
And be able to forget, in the forest, all the comforts of
Father, mother, beloved family and city.’
Having thus instructed Lakshman, Tulsi’s Lord,12
She gave him her permission and her blessing again,
‘May your love for the feet of Sita and Raghubir
Be constant, pure and renewed afresh each day.’
Bowing his head at his mother’s feet, Lakshman
Rushed away at once, but with a heart full of apprehension,
Like a deer escaping, by good fortune,
From a perilous trap and taking flight.
(75)
Lakshman went at once to Janaki’s lord,
His heart rejoicing to find again his beloved company.
Paying homage to Ram and Sita’s lovely feet,
He went with them to the king’s palace.
Said the men and the women of the city to each other,
‘Fate made a wonderful plan, then ruined it!’
Their bodies wasted, their hearts sad, their faces downcast,
They were as distraught as bees robbed of their honey.
They wrung their hands, beat their heads and lamented,
Agitated as birds without wings.
A great crowd had assembled at the royal gate,
And their boundless grief was beyond description.
The minister raised the king and helped him sit,
And spoke the dear words, ‘Ram has come.’
Seeing his two sons accompanied by Sita,
The lord of the earth was deeply distressed.
Gazing at his two handsome sons with Sita,
The king grew ever more troubled,
And overcome with love,
Clasped them again and again to his heart.
(76)
The distraught king could not speak a word,
As in his heart burned the terrible fire of grief.
Then, bowing his head at his feet with profound love,
Raghubir arose and asked permission to depart.
‘Father, give me your blessing and your command.
At this time of joy, why do you despair?
By neglecting duty out of love for a beloved one, dear father,
One’s reputation in this world is lost and disgrace incurred.’
Hearing this, the lord of men rose, overwhelmed with love,
And taking Raghupati by the arm, made him sit down.
‘Listen, dear son—of you the munis say,
“Ram is master of all created beings, animate and inanimate.”
In accordance with our virtuous and wicked actions,
The Supreme Being, after reflecting upon them in his heart, gives their reward.
As each one does, so does he receive the fruit of his actions—
This is the law of the Vedas, and so all affirm.
But
here, one commits the offence,
And another suffers its consequences.
Strange and surprising are the ways of God.
Who in the world can understand them?’
(77)
To keep Ram from leaving for the forest, the king,
Tried every expedient, abandoning all pretence.
But seeing Ram’s face, he realized he would not stay,
He, the upholder of dharma, steadfast and wise.
Then the king held Sita to his heart,
And affectionately counselled her in many ways.
He told her of intolerable hardships in the forest,
And explained to her the joys of remaining with her in-laws or her father.
But Sita’s heart was devoted to Ram’s feet,
And home did not seem easy, nor the forest arduous, to her.
Then everyone else, too, tried to convince Sita,
By telling her again and again of the terrible hardships of the forest.
The minister’s wife and the guru’s wife, wise women both,
Said lovingly to her in gentle tones,
‘You were not the one given exile,
So do as your parents-in-law and your guru tell you.’
This advice, though soothing, well-meant, gentle and sweet,
Did not please Sita,
Just as the touch of the autumn moon’s light
Distresses the chakwi.
(78)
Sita, overcome by modesty, did not reply,
But Kaikeyi, hearing these words, flew into a passion,
And fetching an ascetic’s robes, accoutrements and utensils,
Placed them before Ram and said in a soft voice,
‘You are as dear as life to the king, Raghubir.
But that weak and timid man can’t let go virtue or love.
He will ruin his good works, honour and happiness in the next world,
But he will never tell you to go to the forest.
So reflect upon this and do what pleases you.’
Ram was glad to hear his mother’s advice,
But her words pierced the king like arrows—
‘Why does my wretched life-breath not leave?’
The people were agitated, the king in a faint,
And no one knew what to do.
Ram at once donned the ascetic garb,
Bowed to his father and mother, and departed.
Having made all preparation for the forest,
With his wife and his brother, the Lord
Paid homage to the feet of the Brahmans and his guru
And set out, leaving them all numb and confused.
(79)
Leaving the palace, he stopped at Vasishtha’s door,
And saw the people burning in the fire of separation.
With sweet words he consoled them all.
Then Raghubir summoned the Brahmans.
He asked his guru to arrange food for them for the duration of his exile,
And won them over with humility and courteous gifts.
He satisfied the mendicants with alms and respect,
And delighted his friends with love pure and unblemished.
Then, summoning his serving men and women,
He entrusted them to his guru, and said with folded hands,
‘Master, look after them all and protect them
Like a father or mother would do.’
Again and again, and with folded hands,
Ram said to them all in gentle tones,
‘He alone in every way will be my friend and well-wisher
Who ensures that the king remains well and happy,
And that all my mothers, suffering separation from me,
Do not become sad and miserable.
Make it so, all of you,
My supremely wise people of Ayodhya.’
(80)
In this way Ram consoled them all
And happily bowed his head at his guru’s lotus feet.
Then, having worshipped Ganpati, Gauri and Girish,
And received the blessings of his guru, Raghurai departed.
As soon as Ram left, there arose great lamentation,
And the sound of the city’s grief was terrible to hear.
There were bad omens in Lanka, deep sadness in Avadh,
And the realm of the gods was overwhelmed with joy mingled with sorrow.13
When the king awoke from his faint,
He called Sumantra, and began to speak thus:
‘Ram has left for the forest, but my life’s breath has not left me—
What joy does it hope to find by remaining in my body?
What pain greater than this
Can I ever suffer to cause my breath to leave this body?’
Then, composing himself, the lord of men spoke again,
‘Take your chariot, dear friend, and go with them.
The two princes are young and tender,
And young and delicate is the princess, Janak’s daughter.
Take them up into your chariot, show them the forest
For three or four days, and then return with them.
(81)
And should the two brothers, determined, do not return,
For Raghurai is true to his word and steadfast in his resolve,
Then plead with him with folded hands,
“Send back, Lord, the king of Mithila’s daughter.”
When Sita, seeing the forest, becomes frightened,
Take the opportunity and convey to her my instruction,
“Your mother- and father-in-law have sent this message:
Daughter, return home, the forest is full of hardship.
Stay sometimes in your father’s home, sometimes with your husband’s parents,
As it pleases you.”
In this manner, try all and every means,
For if she returns, my life will have some support.
Otherwise, my death will be the result.
But nothing is in one’s control once fate turns hostile.’
The king fell senseless upon the ground, crying,
‘Bring back Ram, Lakshman and Sita to me!’
Receiving the king’s royal command, Sumantra bowed
And quickly readying a swift chariot,
Went to that place outside the city,
Where the two brothers and Sita were.
(82)
Then Sumantra related to them the king’s words,
And entreated Ram to ascend the chariot.
The two brothers, with Sita, climbed into the chariot
And set out, bowing their heads to Avadh.
Seeing Ram depart, leaving Avadh orphaned,
The grief-stricken people began to follow him.
Ram, that ocean of compassion, reasoned with them in many ways,
And they turned back—but, overcome with love, they came back again.
Avadh appeared most terrifying,
As though it was the dark night of death.
The men and women of the city were like dreadful beasts,
Frightened at the sight of each other.
Homes were like cremation grounds, kinsfolk like ghosts,
And sons, well-wishers and friends like the messengers of Jam.
In gardens, trees and vines withered,
While streams and ponds were too dismal to behold.
The millions of horses and elephants, and deer kept for sport,
The town’s cattle, the chataks, peacocks,
Kokils, geese, parrots, mynahs,
Saras cranes, swans and chakors,
(83)
Confounded at the separation from Ram, stood still
Everywhere, as though images in a painting.
The city was a great fruit-laden forest, dense and mighty,
And all the men and women, its many birds and animals.
But Vidhi made Kaikeyi a tribal Kirat woman,
Who set it fiercely ablaze in all the ten directions.
; Unable to bear this fire of separation from Raghubar,
The people fled running to him in their distress.
All thought to themselves,
‘Without Ram, Lakshman and Sita, there is no happiness.
Wherever Ram is, there we should all live,
For without Raghubir, Avadh is of no use to us.’
Having thus firmly concluded, they set off with him,
Abandoning comfortable homes filled with luxuries denied even to the gods.
After all, can they who hold dear the lotus feet of Ram,
Ever be overpowered by worldly pleasures?
Leaving children and the elderly at home,
The rest of the people all joined Ram.
At the end of the first day, Raghunath made camp
On the banks of the Tamasa river.
(84)
When Raghupati saw his subjects so overpowered by love,
Great sorrow arose in his kind heart.
The Lord, Raghunath, is full of compassion,
And quick to take upon himself the pain of others.
Speaking sweet words full of love,
He consoled and reasoned with them in many ways,
Giving them many lessons on dharma.
But the people, overcome with love, refused to turn back.
Unable to abandon kindness and affection,
Raghurai found himself in a quandary.
The people, exhausted with grief and fatigue, fell asleep;
A little divine illusion, too, served to beguile their minds.
When two watches of the night had passed,
Ram affectionately said to the minister,
‘Drive the chariot, respected sir, so as to efface the tracks of its wheels,
For there is no other way to accomplish our objective.’
Bowing their heads at Shambhu’s feet,
Ram, Lakshman and Sita mounted the chariot.
The minister swiftly drove it away,
Driving now in this direction, now in that, thus concealing the tracks of its wheels.
(85)
When dawn broke, the people all awoke,
And a great cry broke out, ‘Raghunath has gone!’
They searched but could find no trace of the chariot,
And calling ‘Ram, Ram!’ they ran in all directions.
They were as frantic as a company of merchants,
When a ship sinks at sea.